Sebastian Finds Himself

He made us move two chairs from against the wall and set them out down the middle of the floor so that there was enough space between each of them to allow him to address our arses correctly with his rod. I should perhaps interject here that usually the Prick thrashed those on his Friday Punishment Parade in a side room off his main study. Here, he had installed a beating horse, built by the faithful Mr Hickman, across which the errant pupil had to bend, offering his naked arse for punishment. Those on parade waited in his main study and were called in one by one to receive their punishment. It was quite a gruesome experience as those waiting, for they could hear the sound of the cane as it landed against the present delinquent's arse. But today, it was clear from what the Prick had told us to do, that he had something else in mind, which he now made clear.

"I think," he said, "that the time has come for each of you to assume the appropriate position for you to receive the corporal chastisement which you both so richly deserve and which I shall have no compunction in administering to your naked buttocks."

What a wordy old fart he was and he had not yet finished as he continued.

"Many a headmaster has observed to the errant pupil, that the punishment he was about to inflict on the miscreant youth would hurt him, the wielder of the rod, more than it would hurt the recipient of the rod. Well, let me tell you boys that I do not subscribe to this sentiment (neither did I!) and as you are shortly to find out, for the pain, and believe me, the experience will be very painful will be entirely felt by you! Now, both of you drop your gym shorts and present your naked buttocks to me for punishment. Bend firmly across the back of the chair, as I want your buttocks presented high and tight so that I can correctly apply the rod to the greatest effect. I am giving each of you a cork to bite on to help you bear the pain which you are shortly about to experience."

So there we were, the two of us, each bent across a chair back, with our naked arses sticking up into the air and our cocks and balls dangling down below. We must have been like that for at least ten minutes, waiting for Slimy to get back from his 'seeking' errand with the implements of torture.

When he finally appeared, the Prick said. "Well Mr Simmons, as it is Saturday afternoon, you obviously have had some difficulty in finding Mr Hickman, but I see that with the perspicacity which is so characteristic of you, you have found the requisite rods, which I will now take from you."

And with that he took the three canes from Slimy and started to examine them to decide which one he was going to use to roast our arses. He flexed and swished each in turn through the air and finally said that he thought one would do admirably.

"I think Mr Simmons," he said, "that we should explain to these to miscreants why the rod from the pickle bath is the most superior of all rods with which to administer corporal chastisement. I think it right and proper that they should know that they are to receive the very best that we can do for them. Now, boys as you may or may not be aware, the well known Newtonian equation , P=MF, admirably describes the dynamics of the act of corporal punishment. P is the force or pain which will result from a mass M, the rod, decelerating at a rate F, when the rod lands on the target, in this case, your buttocks. Now, by soaking the rod in brine, one can effectively double its mass, so as you can doubtless see by this simple expedient one can double the pain. Additionally the rod is rendered more flexible by the soaking and ensures the longest possible contact length with your buttocks. I think it always instructive for boys to learn something, even in such an unfortunate situation as the present, which is the reason why I am imparting this useful information to you now."

My god, what a wordy old fart the Prick was! Just get on with it I thought. Whack our arses and let's be done with it: but procedure reigned supreme.

"Mr Simmons, if you would again be kind enough to assist me in this unpleasant task (the lying sod, he was relishing whacking our arses) and call out the number of strokes. As this is the most a serious offence, I propose to administer the fifteen cuts of the rod to each boy."

"Certainly headmaster," came the reply, "it will give me great a pleasure to assist you in this matter and to see that these boys get their just deserts. I fully agree with you that their offence merits fifteen strokes, but let me add (the rotten slimy sod!) that I consider fifteen strokes quite lenient in view of the maximum number of strokes allowed and the severity of the offence."

And when he said "with great pleasure", you could see that he really meant it: Slimy was an absolute sadist!

Charlie and I had now been bent over our respective chairs for over fifteen minutes and I thought for crying out loud, get on with it and let's get it over with. The Prick now flexed the cane, (or should I say rod?) and addressed himself to my arse first. He gave me a few gentle taps to decide where he proposed to place the first cut and then suddenly, with a force than belied his years, brought the cane down across my naked arse with such a force that it knocked the breath out of me. For a second I felt nothing and then suddenly the enormous pain of the blow shot through my body and I wondered how I would ever stand fifteen such cuts

"One" said Slimy.

The Prick now turned his attention to Charlie and repeated the same procedure making poor Charlie cry out with the pain. "Take your punishment like a man," boomed the Prick, whatever that was meant to mean. "and stop howling like a baby."

So that was the Prick's idea: he was going to give each of us one stroke at a time moving from one to the other, thereby dragging out the process.

And so it went on, blow after stinging blow, one for me and the next for Charlie, with Slimy counting out the strokes. The Prick paused for some seconds between each stroke so that we could each have time to appreciate the full excruciating pain as the cane landed on our arses. And all the time between strokes, as he moved from one to the other of us, he preached to us about our sinful ways and how we would surely emerge as better young men from the ordeal we were enduring.

So he went on until we had each received fifteen cuts, which he had expertly laid across our entire arses, which by this time were covered with black and blue welts where the cane had landed. Whatever we might think of him it was a sure fact that the Prick was an expert caner. And I have to hand it to him in that he really knew how to apply the maximum of pain without breaking the skin. Black and blue we both finished up, but it was only bruiting with no blood. But then, he ahd had some thirty-five years experience of beating butt!

Slimy had looked on lasciviously whilst we took our beating and it confirmed what I had always thought of him, that he was a sadist who found pleasure in watching someone else being punished. I could see that he had a hard on and was in a pre-cum stage, as there was a damp patch on the crotch of his trousers. And so we got dressed, thanked the headmaster for correcting us, which was part of the protocol we had been taught to follow and after yet a few more homilies from him, left.

Chapter 4

But before I move on from the Sheldon Academy, there is one truly horrific event which I must tell you about, which confirmed for ever in my mind what a miserable little sod our PT instructor, Mr Simmons really was and how he worked hand in glove with the Prick to make sure that he had a regular stream of arses to beat. This time, however, the full horror of the Prick's caning power was demonstrated to the whole school and the 'victim' was our class mate Toby.

Tobias Marmeduke Fitzherbert Pennington-Smith was also an orphan from a 'good' family as you can see from the absurd names he had been given. Toby, as we all called him, was a very popular guy and he, Charlie and I spent a lot of time together during the vacations, for his guardian, much like my Aunt Agatha and Charlie's parents, was really glad to have him more or less permanently out of the way. Toby was very popular with all his class mates and was always mouthing off some inanity for the general amusement of all. And it was his big mouth that proved to be his undoing and bring down the wrath of God, in the person of Mr. Woodderowffe-Pryce, the Prick upon him.

What happened was this. We were all in the showers after an afternoon on the playing field and were arsing around with each other as lads do. I do not remember now exactly how it came about, but somehow Toby said in a loud voice, "Oh fuck old Woody Prick." Of course the ubiquitous Mr Simmons, happened to overhear his remark and that was the beginning of the end for poor Toby.

Slimy told Toby that his rudeness and disrespect of the headmaster would not be forgotten, but to our surprise he did not haul Toby of to the headmaster's study as he usually did when he thought he had another piece of fodder for the Prick's cane over and above his weekly contribution of names for the Friday afternoon Punishment Parade. For the rest of the day Toby was really nervous about what might be the consequences of his indiscretion, but as afternoon passed into evening and we all went to bed, his fears subsided and he thought that the incident had been forgotten. Of course knowing what a miserable rat Slimy was, he should have known better: it was merely the lull before the storm.

The school was run strictly on the lines of an English public school and so we had an assembly each morning, where we sang a hymn, prayed, listened to a few nonsensical homilies from the old Prick and any useful information which he felt he should impart to us. Toby's gaffe had occurred earlier on the week and as he had heard nothing he thought everything was OK. The Friday assembly was always a particularly tense day, for it was at this assembly that the headmaster announced the name of those pupils who would report to him after classes on Friday evening on what his so-called Punishment Parade.

Having finished his general remarks and announced the list of pupils he expected to see in his study at the end of the afternoon, he suddenly drew himself up and adopted his 'Old Testament Prophet' look.

"The Bible tells us that we shall not take the name of the Lord our God in vain and that vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord. Well in this school, good manners dictate that you boys shall not take the name of your masters in vain and any of you who do so can expect to be punished for your misdemeanour. There is no God here directly to exact vengeance, but as headmaster I shall see to it that any boy who steps over the line will be severely punished. Now it has come to my notice that one boy among you has been mouthing off an insulting version of the name of one of our masters, actually of my own name, which is intolerable."

At this stage, Toby suddenly realised where all this was leading.

"Tobias Pennington-Smith kindly step up on to the platform," said the Prick.

Poor Toby was now trembling with fear as he mounted the steps and stood in front of the head master.

"Is the information I have received correct," he thundered, "did you or did you not in the showers earlier this week utter a lewd transmogrification of my name in front of your school mates? I will not lower the tone of these proceeding by repeating what I am reliably informed you said, but answer me, boy, did you or did you not take my name in vain?"

Poor Toby hardly knew what to say, but he realised that the repulsive Mr. Simmons, had, in fact blown the whistle on him and told the headmaster what he had said. He had to admit that this was true but added in his defence that he really had not meant it.

"I do not believe you, boy," roared the Prick, "and I intend to make an example of you, here and now, in front of the whole school."

Toby's heart sank into his boots.

"Mr Simmons, the chair and the rod, (that antiquated word yet again!) if you please, here in front of me."

Simmons produced the requested items, as if from nowhere and it was clear to everyone that the whole thing had been stage managed beforehand by the pair of them.

"Pennington-Smith, drop your trousers and underpants, bend over the back of the chair, put your hands on the seat and present your buttocks to me for corporal chastisement. I shall now give Pennington Smith a very thorough beating to teach him a lesson never again to take in vain the name of any member of the teaching staff. Let this also be an example to you all of what will happen if any one of you dares to oversteps the line of polite behaviour."

And so he started roasting poor Toby's arse, bringing the cane (sorry, I should say rod) down with the most fearsome blows. After each stroke he waited some five seconds- a hell of a long time when you are bent across a chair having your arse beaten - partly to give himself time to prate on about the misdemeanours of youth and the necessary corrective punishment to set the miscreant to rights and partly to let poor Toby appreciate, if that is the word, the pain of each stroke.

He had not announced how many strokes he intended to deliver; he just pressed on, building up the pain in Toby's arse. It was clear to see that the Prick was intent on wreaking personal vengeance on poor Toby, for he had clearly taken the slir on his name to heart. And so he pressed on and on until finally, after the twentieth stroke he told Toby to get up, which he did with difficulty as his arse was raging with fire. He had borne the whole beating without a murmur, much the admiration of us onlookers. He pulled on his clothes and started down the steps from the platform, when Woody suddenly stopped him in his tracks.

"Pennington-Smith, where are your manners?" he roared, "Kindly return to the chair, drop your garments again and re-assume the position for you clearly need yet further correction."

Poor Toby had no idea what he had done wrong to deserve yet another dose of the cane, but could do nothing but obey.

"It is customary after you have received a beating, to thank me for having had the thoughtfulness to correct you: good manners demand it." intoned the Prick and he then proceeded to give Toby's raging arse another four cuts of the cane.

And so poor Toby had had the full two dozen cuts of the cane across his naked arse, a procedure that had taken some ten minutes.

Woody then terminated the proceedings by saying that he looked forward to welcoming (his word) those on Punishment Parade to his study that afternoon and that they should not think that he was in any way too tired out by the present exertions not to able to do them justice.

"Make no mistake" he said, "those of you on tonight's parade will enjoy the same treatment as that I have just meted out to Pennington-Smith. All misdemeanours brought to my attention will receive the severest punishment. I am a great believer in the old maxim, 'Spare the rod and spoil the child', so believe me when I say to you all, there will be no spoilt children in this school"

This was the most horrific example of sadistic brutality I had ever seen myself. I noticed that Mr Simmons, the instigator of this gruesome occasion was smiling smugly to himself. Toby became the hero of his schoolmates because of his impassive manner as the strokes were being administered and his classmates looked with awe at his bruised backside in the dormitory that night.

Looking back on things, I realize now that the relationship which Charlie and I enjoyed, and that is truly the right word, for we both enjoyed every minute of what we did together, was really strange. From the moment it was established that I was using my cock on his arse, things never, ever changed. Charlie loved being shafted and had never expressed any desire to have a return match, as it were. And now, years later, although I saw Charlie naked both in the showers and when we were alone together, I cannot, for the life in me, recollect what his cock was like! All I know is that I was chivvied in a good natured (envious, I guess) way in the showers by my classmates, because I had, by the time I turned eighteen , an absolutely formidable piece of man- meat, which was the envy of everyone who saw it.

And so it was that when we left Sheldon, Charlie and I simply said goodbye, as if we were both going home for the vacation and after that I neither saw nor heard from him ever again. It was as if our relationship had been for nothing. Neither of us had any emotional attachment to the other and we just parted, as friends, but without any lasting memories the one for the other. In retrospect, our liaison had been one of sheer physical necessity and when we parted, I guess we both expected that somehow we would each find an agreeably partner to pick up where we had left off.

But, before we leave Sheldon behind forever and allow my memories of my time there to fade, it is worthwhile recounting what happened to that slimy bastard of a sports master, Mr Simmons, easily the most heartily hated master at my time at the school. It was in 2010 that Mr Simmons suddenly, as if by magic, disappeared from the school. We the boys learned of his departure at the Monday morning assembly, when Woody Prick , the headmaster among his customary comments, suddenly announced that on the previous Saturday evening, Mr Simmons had been taken violently ill and had had to be carted off to hospital. What the illness was and to which hospital he had been taken were left unsaid. And frankly I don't think that any of us boys and possibly even his staff colleagues much cared.

Well, of course, there was a tremendous buzz of intrigue among us boys as to what had happened to Mr. Simmons, but nothing more was ever said about him. His illness, if illness he had had, clearly prevented him from ever returning to Sheldon, for within a few days, a temporary PE teacher was in place and within a month the post was filled by a full time new face, Mr. Chadwick, who turned out to be a very popular staff member, both with the boys and his colleagues, alike.

But fate, or better, chance, finally gave me the full story of Mr Simmons's demise, in the form of Mr Robert Crowther, my own popular form master who taught English literature and poetry at Sheldon. I am jumping ahead of myself here, as it is worthwhile recounting what actually happened regarding Mr. Simmons and here seems perhaps the best place to explain what actually happened

Chapter 5

It was several years later and at the time I was already well established as a Male escort in New York. One of my regular clients, a man called Clarence Parmiter, worked at a high level in a well-known firm of publishers. I I had known and serviced Clarence for several years and he was one of my few clients who was himself gay. I am not sure why he needed my services, but, apparently he did and I had just finished servicing his needs late one afternoon, when out of the blue, he invited me to a cocktail party which was being given that evening in honour of one of their new authors, for whom they had just published an anthology of his poems. I was not really sure why he should give me this invitation, but having nothing better to do that evening, I accepted, and so, together we walked to the nearby hotel, where the party was being held.

Well, you can imagine my surprise, when I discovered that the new author in whose honour the party was being given was none other than Mr Crowther, my old teacher of English literature at Sheldon. He was as surprised as I was to meet me there and I simply told him that I was an acquaintance of one of the senior staff at the firm and that he had invited me to join him, quite unexpectedly. Mr Crowther had no idea what I did for a living and I avoided touching on the subject. The upshot was that he asked me to stay on at the end of the party and have dinner with him, which I willingly did. And, over the meal, among other things we discussed about Sheldon, here out of the blue, I finally learned the facts leading up to the demise of Mr Simmons, which I will allow Mr. Crowther to tell us in his own words.