The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 05

As we all know, Patrick was by now a past expert in applying the cane and he held back not at all, as he carefully applied one stinging stroke after another to Turnbull's arse. Turnbull howled and cried out and after the the third cut was weeping like a baby. When he had finished, Turnbull's arse was a uniform bright red ground, ornamented by a series of parallel welts of the cane. If ever there was a case study in a well beaten backside, then this was it and Patrick felt very proud of his achievement. He said curtly: " Get dressed and get back to your dorm; let us hope that this is an end to your bad manners."

Patrick finally went to bed, feeling very, very satisfied indeed. Should he have taken such severe action against Turnbull? Well it was a bit debatable, but given Turnbull's history, he probably got what he deserved. And one has to remember that public schools at that time were never shy to use the cane to correct even the slightest infraction: sore arses were part and parcel of the daily life at places like Rigby. But most importantly, Patrick felt he had truly avenged his friend and lover, Roderick Pennington. He would dearly have liked to tell Roderick about the whole Turnbull saga, but held his tongue until their very last day as pupils at Rigby it fact it was not until the night before the final day when the two young men were, for one last time in bed together enjoying one last orgy of copulation, that Roderick finally learned how his closes friend and lover, Patrick Ingram-Lewis had batted for him. And there finally ended once and for all the sad business of Turnbull.

CHAPTER 15

The end of the spring term was approaching, The Court of Prefects had kept itself busy several times each week as it punished those boys who had been awarded punishment slips by the masters. As for Patrick personally, after the affair with Turnbull, with his birching and subsequent severe beating, things proceeded at a much more leisurely pace. But on the last day of term, an incident occurred which led to quite a blood bath of beating.

Patrick was walking along the corridor outside the first formers' dormitories, which you will remember consisted of a series of rooms each accommodating twelve beds, when he was suddenly became aware of a rumpus going on behind one of the closed doors. It was approaching ten in the evening and the junior boys were all supposed to be in bed by now. He paused for a moment and listened and sure enough there was some sort of fight going on behind the door. Shrieks of laughter were punctuated by a series of schoolboy oaths. Patrick opened the door and found himself in the middle of a pillow fight. At least one pillow had split open, or possibly two, for there were feathers floating around everywhere and the floor was covered in fallen plumage.

"What exactly do you lot think you are playing at?" The question was met by a sheepish silence as the young boys knew that they were in for the high jump. "Step forwards the boys who started this fight." Again no reaction from the miscreants. "I said step forward those of you who started this." Patrick repeated. There was a slight pause and finally two boys stepped forward and admitted their guilt. Not that they were alone in this affair as all twelve occupants had clearly been enjoying the "battle" to give it a name. Patrick smiled inwardly to himself. It was really a quite harmless piece of fun, but it had caused an utter mess and at least two pillows were ruined.

Patrick put on his most serious face and looked at the two originators: "As if I couldn't have guessed." He said as he looked down on Tomlinson Minor, Thomas Tomlinson by name, the younger brother of the ever errant Colin Tomlinson, whose naked backside Patrick felt he knew like the palm of his own hand: a backside which had been subjected to numerous sessions of serious percussive therapy from Patrick's cane. "And who is your partner in crime here?" Patrick asked, gazing at the other boy.

"Please Ingram-Lewis sir, I'm William Roberts."

Well, Thomas Tomlinson and William Roberts, why don't you just cut along smartly to my study and wait for me at the door. I shall be with you in a very few minutes so I shan't keep you waiting long.

"Ingram-Lewis sir, do you mean as we are sir? I mean in our pyjamas sir? Are we to go down to your study just wearing our pyjamas," said Tomlinson.

"Exactly, Tomlinson; you have totally understood me. Your pyjamas are absolutely perfect for the short walk to my study. Don't worry; you won't have time to catch a chill. But when you get there you will see that pyjamas are a perfect garment to be wearing as they lend themselves admirably to giving every easy access, very easy access indeed, to a vital part of your anatomy which is going to play an important role, indeed the most important role, in the immediate future proceedings. So get on your way, the pair of you and wait outside my study until I join you."

Having finished this circumlocutive oration with an inward smile to himself, Patrick then turned to the other lads, all of whom were standing in silence and trembling with fear, wondering what he had in store for them. It was clear what was going to happen to the ringleaders, but what about them?

"As for you lot," said Patrick, "You have fifteen minutes, exactly, to pickup every single feather and put them all back into the pillows. I want this entire place fully cleared up; I repeat: you have fifteen minutes; I trust I make myself clear." He turned to see that neither Tomlinson nor Roberts had moved in spite of his instructions so he said, adopting an angry tone of voice: "I thought I told both of you to go an wait outside my study several minutes ago; you are beginning to try my patience to the limit; so I suggest that you get along to my study right now. Go on boys; get moving on the double, we have a lot of important business to transact together; so I want you there in less than a minute's time."

There was a faint sigh of relief from other lads, who somehow thought that by cleaning up the room, they had somehow escaped any farther sanctions. Alas, had they known Patrick better, they would have known that they were wrong. They were living on a false hope. Their time would shortly come!

Patrick left the dorm went down to his study where the two ringleaders were standing shivering in the corridor. He opened the door and ushered them in. Neither lad had ever had the doubtful pleasure of entering the private sanctum of the Head Boy before and both were scared and trembling at the thought of what was about to happen to them. And let's face it, knowing Patrick's prowess with the rod, they had good reason to be fearful of their immediate futures.

"Well, gentlemen, now that we are finally here, you will see how convenient the wearing of pyjamas is as you can very quickly step out of the trousers giving access to that all important part of your anatomy, you respective arses. I am sure that you have realised that your backsides are going to play an important part, indeed a totally indispensable part in what is now about to happen to you; they are going to be the stars of the show , so to speak."

Patrick was such a past expert at the verbal build up to the beating he was about to administer that the he two young lads were, by this time, almost pissing themselves with fear. He went on: "Now boys, I am going to give each of you twelve cuts of the junior willow birch as a punishment for your outrageous behaviour. So there are two options: I can birch each of you one after the other using the birching stool you see over there or, if you prefer, as you are what might loosely be described as "partners in crime" you can pull those two chairs over there into the centre of the room and I will beat the pair of you together. It's an option you may prefer as you will each be offering up your naked bum for punishment side by side and I will apply the strokes one at a time alternating between the two of you. So you see that you will have the mental comfort of knowing that you are not undergoing your punishment alone. It's all the same to me; so it's up to you; which option do you prefer?" Again Patrick had chosen rather pompous language to heighten the drama and strike the fear of God into the boys.

"Ingram-Lewis sir," said Tomlinson, looking at Roberts for support, "I think we would like you to beat us together; but please, sir, don't be too hard on us; neither of us has ever been birched before and it's all very frightening for us, sir. And sir, Roberts, has never even been caned before at all and so if you could perhaps not be too hard on us, sir...please sir."

Roberts then spoke for the first time: "Ingram-Lewis sir, as Tomlinson says I have never ever been caned and I am really so scared sir. I don't know if I will be able to stand it. Will it be very painful, sir? And as Tomlinson said, sir, could you please perhaps not be too hard on us sir... please sir, not too hard."

"Roberts, if a boy deserves to be punished, as you two miscreants most certainly do, then I believe in punishing him properly. I am not one, Roberts, who subscribes to the more modern notion of a few gentle taps of the rod. Indeed not; when I beat a boy, as you two are now about to find out, I beat him so that he knows that he has been punished and feels the pain of retribution. It is always my aim to leave boys I punish with a backside so sore that they cannot sit down comfortably for at least two days. It is, in my view that that is the only way to teach an errant boy a proper lesson; it has to hurt; and hurt a lot. So, yes Roberts, to answer your question, a beating from me is very painful and I have to tell you that the birch is really a very effective implement of punishment. If I do my job properly, which I intend to do, the pair of you will have a very uncomfortable train journey home tomorrow. In fact, Roberts, with a well birched arse, which is what I shall leave you with, you will find that it will not be very comfortable to sit down for at least three days, which will give you ample time to reflect and repent upon the error of your ways."

"So lads, quick about it; out of your pyjama bottoms and each bend across the back of a chair. I need to see a pair of well presented bare bums which I will treat to a good dose of corrective therapy with the birch. As I said; twelve strokes each and I expect you as young gentlemen to remain perfectly still whilst I apply the rod. And yes, I know from my own personal experience just how much it is going to hurt. It may be of some consolation for you to know that I myself was birched several times in my earlier years here at Rigby, so I know exactly what I am talking about."

It goes without saying that learning about Patrick's own experiences did nothing at all to comfort the two lads who were, by this time, each bent over the back of a chair their hands on its arms with their arses exposed awaiting the first onslaught of the dreaded birch. True to his word (and when was he ever not?) Patrick applied Mr. Patterson's excruciatingly painful confection of willow twigs systematically and forcefully to the buttocks of each boy. As ever he paused for some ten seconds - an age when you are bent over a chair, arse naked, and waiting for the next blow - as he laid on stroke after stroke with maximum force. As we all know the first stroke of the birch does not seem too bad, but then the pain builds up rapidly so that by the third stroke the recipient is in agony; an agony which simply gets worse and worse as stroke follows stroke.

In no time at all, the two boys were reduced to tears as the pain in their buttocks built up to excruciating levels. After four strokes, with eight still to come, Roberts was begging Patrick to stop; but he was, of course, wasting his breath, as Patrick continued with stroke after painful stroke until each lad had taken the twelve cuts promised. He examined his handiwork and saw that, as ever, he had succeeded in beating every square inch of each boys arse and that with the twelve strokes he had achieved a uniformly bright red appearance complemented by myriads of small bruises where the individual twigs had bitten deep into their target flesh. As ever, when finished the boys each had arses which were a testimony to Patrick's professionalism. It was clear that the two lads were in absolute agony and they could not hold back their tears. Finally, Patrick told both lads they could get up from the chair and put back on their pyjama bottoms.

Tomlinson then said, his words coming out with difficulty through his tearful sobbing: "Ingram-Lewis sir; it's not at all fair what you have done. All right; Roberts and I started the pillow fight, but all the others joined in right away and helped make the mess in the dorm. So why are we the only two to be beaten for this? All the others are escaping scot- free; all you have told them to do is to clean up the room."

"My dear Tomlinson, you two have been punished as the ringleaders: the initiators of the fracas; but let me assure you that your classmates are not getting off the hook unscathed: scot-free as you put it; indeed not! Whatever gave you the idea that they were not going to be punished much as you two have been? I never told them that the matter was closed when we came down here to my study and left them to clear up the mess. So it will possibly make you feel better, if I tell you that I am now about to select one of my very best junior canes and that we are going to go back upstairs and all your classmates are going to experience a few very painful minutes as I beat their bare bums."

And with that, Patrick went over to the large oriental pot near the door where all his canes resided and withdrew a very wicked looking straight Malacca cane, which he flexed and swished through the air under the noses of the two boys. Just looking and hearing the sound of the evil implement swish through the air, sent a further shiver of fear (or was it now excitement?) down the spines of the two boys.

"As you can see, boys, a taste of this admirably flexible cane across a bare bum is not something to volunteer for. So, shall we go back upstairs to the dorm and break the glad tidings to your fellow classmates? There are ten of them, unless I am mistaken; so it is going to be what might best be described as a blood bath. It will anyway bring the school term to a suitably dramatic close."

Now that they knew their classmates were about to be beaten, Tomlinson and Roberts both brightened up. The pain in their arses seemed somehow to diminish as, like schoolboys everywhere, they prepared to enjoy watching their classmates being made to jump through the hoop. Tomlinson and Roberts, like most lads, had that hidden streak of sadism in their makeup that conditioned their reflexes when they learned that some of their classmates were to be beaten. The Germans have a marvellous word for how the boys felt. It is called "Schadenfreude" : joy at the misfortunes of others.

Although the two lads would never have split on their friends, now that they knew what was going to happen to them, they exhibited that typical prurient interest of onlookers at such exhibitions of corporal chastisement. And moreover, this was clearly going to be what might well be described as a "gala occasion" Just think of it; they were to witness ten of their classmates take a naked arse beating from the Head Boy, whose mastery with the cane was already a legend in the school. Had they been a little older, they would have realised that what they were about to see was a totally homoerotic spectacle: ten boys, arses naked, cocks and balls dangling there, waiting with apprehension for that deadly weapon, the Malacca cane, to descend on their naked buttocks. Could it ever get any better for the observers? Of course, from the point of view of the dramatis personae, the boys who were to be obliged to bare their bums for this scene, things appeared much less happy. But we are not yet there and the moment of action, when the cane comes thrashing down onto the waiting flesh, is still a few minutes away. The ten boys who are soon to pay the price for their misdemeanour, are still blissfully unaware of what is about to descend on them.

Patrick and the two boys entered the dormitory to find all the occupants already in bed and attempting to look innocent, as if butter would not melt in their mouths. The room had been totally cleaned up and not a single feather was in view and the boys clearly thought that they had done their bit and that was it. The ringleaders had had a beating and they themselves were in the clear. But they were so very, very wrong for the heavens were about to open up on them as they now learned.

"Tomlinson and Roberts; get into bed. The rest of you gentlemen kindly get out of bed and stand to attention facing the bottom end of your own bed." By now the feeling of panic and fear was setting in as the boys saw the cane which Patrick was brandishing. The moment of truth had finally arrived as Patrick said: "Now gentlemen, kindly step out of your pyjama trousers, put them on your bed and then each of you bend across the bottom of your bed and stick your naked butts into the air for my inspection, prior to beating. Quick about it now; I want to see ten naked arses presented for punishment."

The boys could do none other than obey Patrick. Once in place, the ten arses presented an amazing sight. Ten boys bent across their bed in two rows of five boys each, with their backside totally naked stuck into the air awaiting the cane. Patrick passed slowly down the row inspecting each boy's arse in turn. He noticed that a few of the lads had evidently been beaten by one or other of his co-prefects during the recent past, but for the most part he saw that he was going to have the pleasure of beating completely unblemished flesh.

"Gentlemen, I am going to give each of you twelve cuts of the cane. I shall pass from boy to boy, giving one stroke at a time and then return to the start of the row and give the second cut and so on. I shall do my very best to give each of you a magnificently welted bum to take home with you tomorrow: a bum of which you can be proud, as the strokes will create a work of art in their own right. So if you would all brace yourselves, I will begin. Oh, just one other thing; I expect all of you to remain perfectly still until I have give the last stroke. I want no hysterical jumping up and down. And to be quite clear, anybody who does not obey this rule will receive extra strokes. This is not only to be a punishment for your misbehaviour, but also an essay in self control for all of us; for you in remaining still and taking your punishment as young gentlemen should and for me as I try my very best to lay on the cane evenly and equally across all of you. I want no boy to feel that he has been badly treated. Now you will all kindly remain perfectly still and I will carry out my arduous task of teaching you all a very painful lesson."

The cane rose and fell with a swish through the air and a crack as it mated with its target of naked flesh. There was an intake of breath on the first stroke as the boys struggled to maintain his composure receiving what was a very painful cut of the cane. But as Patrick progressed and delivered stroke after stroke, most of the boys were soon yelping as the cane laded on their naked arses, reducing tem to tears. When he had delivered the final stroke he stood surveying ten bright red bottoms all with well aligned parallel welts which were already turning purple. Patrick thought to himself that he had produced what had to be a prizewinning show of well beaten arses to bring the term to its end.

He then told the boys to get up and to put back on their pyjamas and get into bed. All in all it had been for him a glorious ending to the term; 120 strokes of the cane in one evening; he felt quite exhausted with the effort. Whether or not the boys would have agreed with him if they had been asked, was very doubtful. but of course they were never asked to give their opinion. What was sure was that Patrick had laid on the cane as severely as he could - as he always did - and the lads had a very uncomfortable night before them as they attempted to massage their flaming buttocks.