A Foresmark New Boy
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The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:
Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant and Me: my-sarge-his-son-the-lieutenant-and-me.html
Go All The Way: Pending on Nifty (available on my site)
Note To Nifty Readers: "Foresmark New Boy" is an example of but one of many of my British schoolboy stories. Usually set within and based on a fictitious British public high school, this type of story is very different from an American equivalent. This particular story is, on the surface, at an extreme of sexual expression which implies a non-consensual situation. In fact, that is not the case. It's companion piece (so far only available at my web site, "Go All The Way"), is very mild and at the other extreme. In general, the slang and odd British terminology in those institutions can be a bit putting off for some, just go with the flow and you'll get used to it.Enjoy!
A Foresmark New Boy
By
[PJ Franklin](mailto:pjfranklinboy2@earthlink.net?subject=Foremark New Boy, NIFTY)
Michaelmas Term – Sept 20
Rebellious, stubborn, self-centered, argumentative, defiant, obstinate and lazy; combine with that a penchant to say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time, then to top that, accuse the authority to his face of bullying. That was why my sixteen year old bare arse was about to get an impromptu, unofficial or secret "House caning" hardly two weeks into the new term of my new school. Twelve cuts, three each from the attending three prefects as well as my House Prefect, the boy I had falsely accused of bullying me, Kellen Maddock. Maddock's hair was as red as fire and his complexion as fair as a prince's. Maybe that's why I was so angry with him, the way he made me feel inside, a feeling I was desperate to shed and could not, even when I was not in his presence.
I had only met him on the first day and this was my last chance in boarding school having been banned from the last two before this one, Foresmark, my new (and apparently last) new school. This was my third turn at being a new boy resultant and Dad had chosen Foresmark because as he put it, "Maybe you simply need the tar beat out of you for a few years, Halston" and so here I was, about to get the tar beat out of me as predicted.
I stripped down my trousers and pants as instructed and went over the back of the chair. I looked to my left. One of the prefects who was about to add his three, Carstairs, was rubbing on himself. I had heard that Foresmark featured some rather tough boys, apparently horny ones too. I didn't care about that. I got horny plenty. I would get horny after my beating and deal with myself privately instead of asking for "assistance" from any of the apes around me, save maybe one, Maddock himself, and I was not about to give him the pleasure because of present circumstances.
Danforth was first. He struck, forcing me to let out a breath. I had been given canings before, but nothing of the power of these brutes. The next two were stingers of major proportions and it went on from there. Beatty was next, then Carstairs, then Maddock himself stepped up to the wicket. I had kept my mouth shut, though my legs were wobbly and weak. He took a step into me and fired a bullet. I yelped hard, couldn't help it. I could feel the sneers of delight around me, but the eleventh cane cut made me yell louder and tears coursed down now. Naturally, Maddock had to recover his authority over me and did. The last strike was massive and I fell to my knees, sobbing a bit. He had won. I lost.
Danforth and Carstairs helped me to my room, but seemed rough and unsympathetic. My roommate, Ned Chambers, stepped quickly out with a snide looking face. He didn't approve of me either and was of no assistance or sympathy, "Fucking new boy. Let him rot a bit, he'll learn," was what Chambers said and left. Soon, I was alone, on my tummy, my arse throbbing, and me feeling helpless. I was also sobbing a bit, sorry for myself, hating my new school, all the masters and Maddock himself. The next thing I knew, the door opened again. It was Danforth and Carstairs and I caught a glimpse of Beatty guarding the door on the outside as it closed.
I looked up and Danforth was on me in a flash, a big rugger he was. "Hold him fast," Carstairs said with a sneer as he pulled down his trousers and pants fully off. "Noooo!" I said, but it was too late. Danforth's big hand was clapped over my mouth and he had my arms painfully twisted up on my back with just one of his as Carstair's half naked body was on my throbbing ass quite quickly. His strong knee forced my thighs apart and worse, he put a death grip on my nads.
"I'll teach you to accuse Kellen Maddock of bullying you fucking wanker piece of shit!!" and then the pain was massive as Carstairs proceeded to rape me, bugger me, whatever you want to call it. I was being punished for having defied the ones you do not defy at Foresmark and not expect this kind of treatment. Carstair's cock split me wide open and I had to listen to my own muffled scream into Danforth's hand and cried like a baby as he pounded my arse relentlessly and filled me up with his seed.
When he was done, he got up, put himself together and they left, "Better shape up Weber or you'll never survive," and I cried myself to sleep. Later, after midnight, I awoke dry as a bone, needing water. Chambers was sound asleep and I slipped out of the room and down to the bogs. I looked at my beaten arse and my red and swollen arsehole as well as I could in the dim light, gently fingering my sore ring and my cock responded shamelessly and quickly at that.
I fingered it harder and stroked my fading cane stripes with my other hand and my cock started to drip. Then I went inside a toilet and forcing two fingers harshly up my already sore and swollen arsehole pretended it was Kellen Maddock who had raped me and shot two loads into the toilet water, one after the other, tears coursing down my face for the extra pain that my own self-abuse had caused. Then I cleaned myself, got a big drink of water and went back to bed.
Lent Term – Next to last day before leaving on Easter Holidays by train, Homeward Bound, but not happily …
My bags were only half-packed, but my mind was fully settled. I would miss the train two days hence rather than return home. Why? Because Foresmark had broken me down in Michaelmas, then gradually built me up in Lent. Maddock had caned me but three times in the interval but after each time, he was as respectful of me, as I was now of him. We hadn't discussed my first outing, there was no need, it had made its point.
Chambers had become most of a friend, but distantly. Most boys were still rather flat with me, I didn't blame them. I had become passive and not active and they were afraid I might strike out again. I would not, but I was not to blame them. I sat on my bed, wondering how I could just stay at Foresmark over the holidays when Maddock appeared at my door.
"Home?" he asked. I looked up and sat up respectfully at the boy I now idolized in more ways than one. "No Maddock, my mind is made up. I'd rather stay and billet with the Housemaster than go home."
He smiled a little, "Come home with me then, to Turnberry for the week. You'll enjoy it." I could not believe my ears. "Well I … could you stand me for that long? I'd be a bother to your folks." Now he grinned, "You're something else Hal Weber. You come to my school, act like an arsehole, get some beatings and now look at you. Fit as a fiddle, behaved as well as most and I've not heard a mean or spiteful word from your mouth for months. I think my folks will like you a site better than me. I'm likely to get pissed at my Dad and get the tawse across my bare arse and he'd let you watch!"
I was blushing. My heart was racing and I was beyond flattered, I was humbled by his offer. How could I refuse, I not only couldn't, but I wouldn't. Maddock made the arrangements and I got let off by my father as long as Maddock was in charge of me, which he was. I didn't sleep that night, I was so excited and yes, I masturbated myself not just once, my mind full of fantasies about Kellen Maddock, but that was not new.
We climbed aboard the train to Turnberry, Scotland for the four hour trip and found a private and enclosed berth by ourselves. Maddock locked the door and pulled the shades. Then we sat across from each other for the first hour and didn't even talk, not a word. He was reading a book, his nose buried in it and I just day-dreamed of nothing. Then, out of the blue, he lowered the book, looked at me, moved over to my bench right by me, looked at me again, and I at him, then he leaned over and kissed me on the lips for about fifteen seconds. He leaned back, a string of spittle snapping off a second later.
I blinked and then not only leaned over and kissed him back, but I turned and pressed myself into him and brought his hand to my crotch and put mine into his and the kiss kept on going and going a long time before it finally broke. He was flushed, I was flushed and then I removed my hand, got onto my knees the best I could in the berth and opened his trousers fly, released his enormously magnificent hard cock and started to suck on it as well as I could.
His breathing became faster and deeper as did mine, and his hands went to my head and my hands went up to his strong chest and stayed there. He pushed his cock up into my mouth a little more, but still let me control things and then he exploded, arching his body up, his loud grunting filling my ears. I tried my best, but gagged on the flooding fluids some, but kept my cool and kept on sucking and swallowing and finally completed the needful task.
I stood up and ended up sitting on the other seat panting and sweating like a mare in heat and looked at him. His eyes started to smile, as did his face and our breathing calmed and then he slipped over to where I was sitting and ever so carefully leaned over, unzipped my trousers and returned the favor with a gentleness that I could hardly believe. He sucked me off and had no problem swallowing, in fact, wiped his face after and licked his lips, "nothing better," he said, then sat back up beside me.
I was overcome with emotion and looked at him, my eyes brimming with tears. He took my head to his chest, "when we get to my home, we'll have to be careful, but we can do more if you like." Did I like? Did I fucking like? I just nodded and sniffled and cuddled with him.
Second day in Turnberry at the Maddock farm a bit out from the town …
His father Miles and Mum Myra were intensely welcoming. His Dad was a big man and like his prefect son, strict and demanding. He put us to work immediately on their small farm whilst he went to work as he usually did at the big golf course there in Turnberry, but I didn't mind the work at all. Kellen did, however, and tempted us to slack off and go to the nearby pub and drink beer and eat pies when he thought his Dad was safely at work. So I went with him, both of us knowing that if his Dad found out, there would be hell to pay.
We were sitting at a table, enjoying our fare and talking about school when a man walked in the pub's front door and bellowed, "You boy! Kellen Maddock and you too, Hal Weber, get your arses outside now!" It was Miles Maddock and he was as angry as a hornet. Kellen rolled his eyes, "Let me do all the talkin'!" and I was for that.
We got outside and Miles read us the riot act up one side and down the other and then said, "Now get your arses home! You'll both be getting good whippings with the Lochgelly!" meaning the tawse. My eyes got big, but Kellen stepped in front of me, "You'll not be putting a hand on this boy!" And I was stunned. Kellen was standing up for me defying his own father.
Miles' face got as red as a beet, "And you'll not be telling me what to do. He's not a guest, he's a family visitor is all, you said so yourself, like a brother you said, do you deny it!?" and now I was shocked. Kellen nodded, "Aye, I said it, still doesn't mean I'll let you touch a hair on him," and it was a classic standoff of giants. I could not stand the thought of coming between father and son, no matter that I had just been maximally flattered by both of them. I spoke up,
"It's OK Kellen, I can take my licks with you, it's not a problem." And Kellen scowled a little at me, "Not from him you can't. He's hard, the Lochgelly is hard." And I gulped, but I was committed. "Let the boy be a man Kellen, why are you protecting him so?" and Kellen straightened up, "Because I love him, that's why," and I almost tripped backwards and felt a little faint. I looked at Kellen, then at Miles and back to Kellen and Kellen looked at me, "You love me, don't ya?"
"Well, yes … but … " I hesitated. "But what?!" he challenged me. I could not believe my ears. I looked at his father who seemed strangely not upset and finally Miles said to Kellen, "If you think you're going to bluff me boy or use your love to deny your punishment, forget it. You can love him all you like, how you like, he still needs to take his own punishment, just like you."
Kellen looked crestfallen, knowing his father was right. It was my turn to show my love for Kellen, "If you love me, let me do as your father says. I wish to honor him and you too Kellen, I do love you." Kellen nodded, "OK then," and Miles looked at me and solemnly nodded. I nodded back with a small smile, despite I had no idea how much pain I was about to face.
At the first, I was intrigued. Kellen had me do what his tradition was, and that was put on a kilt with his family's crest on it, no pants underneath. I looked grand in it, Kellen looked absolutely spectacular in his of course. But then he marched us back to a smallish storage room where all punishments had taken place between Miles and his only son for years.
Inside stood an upright wooden trestle with a rounded leather, covered top cross piece. He explained that we were to be put over it for our leatherings. In walked Miles Maddock, bare chested, as handsome a man of his age that I had ever seen, in the same patterned kilt as ours otherwise. He was holding a very nasty looking thick two-tail tawse. I wanted to change my mind, but knew I couldn't.
Kellen went over the trestle first as I was allowed to watch, his hands gripping the bottom cross piece on the other side. Miles stepped up and flipped the bottom of the kilt hem over his son's jutting big buttocks. I had never seen another boy punished before, much less a boy of Kellen Maddock's grand stature.
"Stand there boy," Miles said to me, so that I could see, but not be inadvertently in the way. I moved and when I did, I caught Kellen's upside down face. He looked tense. That worried me a bit and then when Miles flung that tawse of his at his son's upturned arse, hitting it square to the middle, the sound and Kellen's silent but pained reaction to the strike sickened my stomach, bringing back the memory of a certain unofficial House caning clearly back to my mind.
Each of the dozen that Kellen received made him grunt, squirm and writhe. Yes, my eyes were fixed on Kellen's beautiful creamy white backside, how could they not be? The red fuzz of his natural hair was as beautiful to me as the reddish fur of a baby tabby kitten's and the gathering wide red swath of punishment mesmerized me and my cock got hard under my kilt. I couldn't help it and in fact hated that it did that.
But what chance did I have with this for myself?! He could destroy me with that leather devil! As it was, when Kellen was finally released, his face was red, tired, wet and his arse a swollen mess of crimson regret! It was my turn now. Miles nodded to me and I just kind of walked to the trestle and went over it, trembling like a child, ready to weep like one as well, wishing I had a gag or something to cover my mouth.
"My boy took twelve, but you'll only get six Hal, you're not of his size," and that made me feel a little better, only six. Yes, I took six of the most painful, gut wrenching leather strikes of my life and not silently either. I managed to stay in place, but I screamed on the last three and screamed hard. I had done my best with my six, but not as well as Kellen with his dozen. Miles then let me up, Kellen assisted me. Miles nodded, "Good, now don't do it again please!" and walked out of the room, closing the door. My hands quickly went to my arse, lifting away the kilt in back which was being sorely aggravated by the itchy wool. Kellen did the same and grinned at me, "You were magnificent Hal!"
"But I screamed like a banshee!" and he laughed, "That you did, but you stayed put, a grand effort, now let me see." And I turned and he supported the kilt and gently ran his hand across my swollen throbbing arse. My cock responded, "Better stop that, I'm starting to react," I said. "Good, so am I, let's have a good wank together then," and he faced me and I him and then I had a very strange but needful urge, "Wait!" and I opened the door a little and peering out, saw nobody, nor heard anything.
"Oh, don't worry, he won't bother us," Kellen said and I grinned, closed the door and then taking up my courage, told Kellen, "That night, after you and the boys caned me last autumn, Danforth and Carstairs, well they … they came into my room and … " Kellen held up his hand, "If you're looking for an apology Hal, I can't offer you one." and I rolled my eyes at him, "And I'm not asking for one, let me finish, OK?" He nodded.
"They came in and Carstairs forced himself into me with Danforth's help. Later, after I was sure that Chambers was asleep, I went to the bogs and wanked off, only when I did it, I went over to the toilet and forced two of my own fingers up my ravaged hole and fucked myself until I shot off, twice. I was wishing at the time, that it was you that had raped me and not Carstairs. I still wank off to the thought of that night," and then I turned, went back over to the trestle and flipping my own kilt back up over my arse, lay across the trestle once again, putting my arse at a good angle for him, my legs widely spread and waited. I didn't have long to wait either. Kellen pulled up the front of his kilt and sidled in closely to my gaping pucker, his monstrous erection ready for duty,
"Truth was, I wanted to do it myself then, but couldn't get the courage. I loved you even then Hal, but this time, no mercy!" and then he plunged himself full force into my arsehole with indeed, no mercy, and me, no regrets. Later on, late at night, Kellen cuddled me closely to himself from behind in his bed, mine across the room empty. His cock was hard once again and my arsehole was hardly sore from the first rogering. We were both stark naked. "Have ye no dignity boy?" he whispered harshly into my ear. "No, none, save if you don't do it, I'll scream 'rape' at the top of my lungs and wake your Dad up." Then he went at me a second time without saying another word, me either!
MIchaelmas term the following autumn– Close to the end of September …
His name was Giles Foster, the new boy, sixteen, as I had been; also a proud and haughty boy, thinking-of-himself-far-more-than-he-should, brash, unwise and unthinking boy, the boy about to get his arse fully beaten by myself and two of my prefect mates, not counting our House Prefect, Ned Chambers.
But like I had several years before, Foster meekly went over the chair and Ned nodded to us. One after the other, we gave the sixteen year old wise-arse each three strokes of the senior cane and Ned followed up with his three, taking a hard run-up before each one. Foster was bawling like a baby by the end of it. Flush with pride, Ned instructed Kyle Estridge and myself to "haul him away." We did and on the way out, Ned gave me "the nod." Foster had done what I had unwisely done and falsely accused Ned of bullying. Did not boys like me ever learn? I did. Kellen Maddock had seen to that. Now Kellen was making his Dad Miles proud at Glasgow University. We talked often.
Kyle and I took Foster down to his room and we entered it. His roommate, George Oliver stood up, sneered at Foster and grinning to us, said, "Fucking new boy, I'll be going for a very long walk," and left us to it. Déjà vu. We stood Foster up by his bed and he looked at us, his face red and wet. His haughty attitude seemed to have disappeared forever and he was trembling, "I heard that … that … was is it that you're going to do to me then?" I didn't feel sorry for Giles, not at all. Foresmark was a place with a reputation. Like my father, Giles' had done his homework for a wayward stubborn son.
"You can take it easy or hard, your choice," I said to him plainly. He looked at us and swallowed, knowing that escape was impossible. "I guess … easy … no point in any more trouble hey?" he said, his face downcast. I nodded and we waited, but the little bugger apparently had more grease still left in his mettle than even that beating we had just given him could squeeze completely out. He made a dash for the door. We didn't have a guard, didn't need one and neither did Giles get far. Estridge grabbed him easily, "Noo! Noo! Don't! You can't! You musn't!" Foster screamed and I joined Estridge and together, we easily stripped the struggling and by now cursing boy of all of his clothing and then Estridge held the boy face down on his own bed, easily subduing the smaller boy with a painful half-nelson wrestling hold.
My cock was angry with lust and my clothes were total history now. Estridge grinned up at me and Foster at first glared, but then upon seeing my randy condition, burst out into sobs, "Please Weber! Please don't! Please!" "Check him," I nodded to Estridge. Kyle reached under Foster and did and grinned all the more, "Fucking hard as a rock, wanker!!"
"No! No! It's not that, it's … " and Foster's mind froze for lack of a plausible explanation. I drew near to him, right over his face, my steel rod in my right hand looming over him, "It's what Foster, you like this, don't you, admit it. Admit it and I'll give you the dignity of putting yourself up for me proper and beg me for it without Estridge holding you down."
We could just see his wheels turning, thinking, measuring, wondering if he should let go of himself. "Fuck you Weber!! You too Estridge!!" he screamed and tried to escape Kyle's iron grip, but that was not going to happen. I smiled and nodded to Kyle who deftly swiveled about to above Giles' head, not letting go of the painful half-nelson and I took over, using my knee to keep his pucker wide open for me and settling in on top of him. I slipped my hand over his down-turned mouth, his tears fully running down his cheeks and before I did it, I hissed in his ear, "This'll only hurt for … well, a long time boy."
He screamed into my hand like a banshee and his sphincter seemed to try and resist me, but at the last moment, he opened up wide and I slid in, no problem. That was strange. He was not a virgin by any means. That just angered me a bit and I pounded myself into him, raped him, good and hard for it. Afterward, we checked. He had shot his load into his bed sheets under us all right, Estridge leering at him as we finally left him in his new found misery, "Fucking little wanker!!"
Six months later, end of Lent term, one day before the Easter holidays …
"Come in!" I said, sitting back, a little frustrated. I had wanted to get up to Glasgow and visit Kellen, but that would not be happening, no fault to either of us, just life. I heard the door open, then gently close. I looked over. There was Giles Foster, standing up properly, his hands carefully clasped in front of himself, his face gentle and quiet, waiting for me.
"Well, what is it Foster? Can't you see I'm deep in thought here?" I finally said with a prefect's perfect sarcasm in my voice, rocking casually back in my chair. He ignored my tone of course and cleared his throat, "Um … you said to come tell you if I wanted to take you up on your offer to go home with you for holidays. I asked my Dad and he said as long as you're in charge of me, so it's OK!" he smiled.
I sat my chair back down, his "innocent" presentation not fooling me a bit, well, maybe charming me a little. Giles Foster could usually be seen in the showers these past many months at Foresmark with a few residual cane marks, mostly from Ned Chamber's attentions, but some from mine too. But those were because, well, Giles and I had this agreement. He would present himself to me for an "unearned" thrashing every once in awhile and I would favor him back with a well begged for rogering. It wasn't like Ned didn't know what was going on. He was too busy rogering other boys to care about just one as insignificant to him as Giles. Apparently, after his first go around with me at the beginning of Michaelmas, Giles never got over it. Bless him.
I stood, "OK then, come here closer," and Giles quickly sidled over to me, standing, hands at his sides, not moving. I slowly moved around him, using my hand to feel up his rounded backside and then seeing his front side getting larger by the moment, leaned into his ear, "So, you've behaved this term, very well too, Giles. A few canings here and there but for the most part, you've lived up to code. So then … any requests?" He wasted no time,
"Yes please Weber, a round hard thrashing and then a good hard rogering … just to get the holidays started proper please!" and I nodded to him and stepped back. My cock was on full alert and I busied myself testing a few of my canes and by the time I turned, Giles was ready for me, bared of pants and trousers, bent over the back of my chair in perfect position. I went to his side, looked at my target just long enough for my cock to start to strain my trouser front, tapped his eager bum and then swung, hard, right to the center as always.
A good dozen later, I had but to pull my erection out of my pants and trousers without removing them (a little touch Foster had once suggested) and gave him the business, all of it, fully stuffed into his bum, pounding my meat hard into him, my trousers front rubbing up against his bare flesh and gave my testicles a full unloading effort. "Up!" I said quickly after and Giles bounded up, his face gleaming. I looked at him, his cock fully hard, it never now lost any strength through one of our little sessions.
I did not hesitate. The boy had earned it. I went down on one knee only and his hands gently went to my shoulders as I sucked him off and like another certain red-headed boy had often done with me in those years, smacked my lips lustily afterwards, saying, "nothing better."
Later on the train the next day, in a private berth, the door locked, the shades drawn …
The spanks were loud, at least to our ears, the train's intrinsic mechanical racket drowning out any residual outside of the berth. No matter, I had Giles comfortably stretched out across my lap, his bare upturned bum lewdly angled up so that I could see all of his stuff dangling down, the forward part hard as nails of course and my handprints deepening the lighter crimson areas into darker ones. I didn't even try to avoid the prior day's cane marks. No point. Giles would wear it all with a schoolboy's enthusiastic honor no matter the numbers or degree of bruising.
And me? I still had my needs but wanted them satisfied in a most peculiar manner his holiday, from my father. Yes, from dear old Dad. After my first year at Foresmark had concluded, the man who had fathered me had become so impressed with my "change of heart" as it were, that he abandoned his tendencies to leave "whipping to the experts" and became one himself, an expert that is, on my bum.
That first summer, the one after Kellen and I had taken to each other, I got two canings and one massive strapping from him during summer holidays, each time for purposeful cheek. He didn't know that, but I did and he didn't care, he just did his fatherly duty. I would humbly take each of my thrashings, thank him for it with a gentleman's handshake and a little bow and I think he thought he had died and gone to heaven each time. I think he put Foresmark in his will after that.
My hand well worn out from spanking Giles fairly hard, I started our routine of fingering his anus and soon after, in the cramped and steamy hot confines of the berth, I rogered Giles for the second day in a row, then finished him off afterwards as well.
Father took to Giles quite easily, especially after Giles boasted to my Dad that I was a master caner and that no boy got away with anything under Ned Chamber's and my regime, as he put it. I took my time during the early part of the week. My relationship with Dad was improved, but far from perfect and it wouldn't take much to have me sent down to his study with instructions to get ready for a good whipping or thrashing, the former meaning the strap, the latter the cane of course.
I would somehow make sure that Giles was made to watch, maybe for "his own good," father would do it for probably less reason than that. In any case, father was not having a good week at work and was easily tripped. All I had to do was to tell him that fees were to rise at Foresmark in the autumn and that they expected them to be paid two weeks earlier than usual. It was a lie of course, but it certainly rankled him a good bit. I knew he would check the news with the school on his own and he did, and then when he confronted me with my little ruse and I answered that "I can't help it if you're so sensitive father," that set him off.
Well, he had a surprise for me then. He straightened himself up in front of Giles and me, took me by my ear, very painfully by the way, and calmly said, "March! If you're going to act like an uncivilized little heathen this holiday, then you will be treated like one, come with me Giles," and we were off, Giles' mouth dropped open like a dead fish! Father was positively sparkling and new! He did not let go of my ear until we reached the study, "Heathens are naked and so shall you be, strip!" and I did, my cock enjoying every moment, even if I was just a little apprehensive of just how far father wished to go with this theme.
"Have you ever seen a boy given a sound strapping Giles?" Giles was busy gawking happily at my nakedness whilst nursing quite a lot of his own stimulation, then looked at father, "No sir, I haven't!" and father smiled thinly, "then have a seat on the couch and enjoy it!" Then I gawked at father. Father had said the word "enjoy," in conjunction with punishing me in front of Giles! I guess my expression was a bit unexpected on his part, well partially, "What? You seem to be enjoying it (looking at my wagging cock), why shouldn't Giles? Now get over the chair properly," and I turned as if I had heard a ghost and got into position. I had not had a good sound leathering since Turnberry and Miles Maddock's assault on Kellen and myself and I'm not counting the tawseing that Kellen gave me soon after we got back from holiday, but that was for sport, not punishment.
Father then got his strap, a nice thick piece and went to work, turning my white arse into a red mass of welts and throbbing burn with a massive amount of sting along the way. But I was up for it as they say. I kept my arse high for it and didn't let it fall even as the strap easily brought tears dripping down to the seat of the chair.
Father had his way, but didn't break me. He tried, fifteen strokes worth, however. It took me a full minute to work my way up to standing, but as I did, he noted my erection had maintained. His eyebrows shot up a bit, "Well, it seems you've developed into quite an artist for it yourself son. Congratulations I suppose. My job is done in any case. You boys clean up after yourselves," and then he left us alone in his study.
Giles came over to me, "You nearly made me cream my pants, that was … beautiful!" and I smiled, he was right, it was. "Give me some now," Giles offered. Well I had never used a strap, much less father's, but I was game, if he was. So we did and I was so enthralled with Giles' offering that afterwards, I whisked us both into our bedroom, closed the door and kissed him, full on the lips without even asking. At first I thought he wouldn't like it, but like I had with Kellen, he blinked, stood a moment, then threw himself at me and we got on top of my bed and as they say, the rest was history.
Turnberry, Scotland, one year later, summertime, Full Circle …
Miles Maddock's Lochgelly tawse came crashing down over my upturned bare buttocks, the itchy kilt pulled well over and up onto my back. "Five!" I grunted hard. Again it came crashing down, harder even, and lower, "Six!!" I grunted harder.
He stopped, Kellen, that is, "You're getting better, a lot better at this, are ye still hard underneath?" I checked, "Yes!" and he smiled, "Good, think ye can take six more then?" and I didn't have to think, "Yes!" and so he continued. Miles was busy at the golf course working. We were supposed to be working the farm, and we were, just not at that moment.
* * * * * * * * * *
Being a Foresmark new boy those few years ago may have not been what I would have chosen for myself had I been given a choice. Thankfully, my father knew better. He was doing well these days and our relationship had never been better. Giles Foster, well, he grew up too and became, as I had, a prefect under whoever was House Prefect that last year of his at Foresmark. God help any Foresmark new boy that would cross his path!
© Copyright PJ Franklin May 5, 2009
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Last updated: May 5, 2009