Herewith chapter four which has been submitted by another master who remembers the incidents well and wished to write his version. This is ok by me, John Andrews. Chapter five and six will follow shortly.
(Another Player's Remembrances, chapter four).
Allow me to interrupt for a moment. You must remember me. Jack, I was there at the time of these stories. Remember? I was the Director of Security at the same prep school. My duties made me responsible for all security throughout the campus, and I had four security guards who patrolled the premises day and night. I was very proud that apart from the occasional childish skirmish among the boys there had been no security problem during my time there. Until I met you.
I know you remember that I was also the school's Discipline Master. Individual teachers and masters didn't punish the boys at the school. I did. You remember the reasons given for this, don't you? It was meant to prevent unduly severe punishment being inflicted by a staff member in a fit of temper, and it guaranteed fair and standard discipline. I maintained a "catalogue" of appropriate punishments which gave consideration to a boy's age and size, to his record of recidivism, and to his general attitude. It was all nice and formal. And all mine. These were the only dealings I had with the boys. I didn't have the opportunity to know them otherwise. That's another reason I had the job. As the policy said, I could assess each case without consideration of a boy's academic or other achievements or failures, and without having favourites, or personal likes or dislikes. Well I wasn't supposed to have favourites, but I did see them around all the time, and I certainly did have favourites.
A discipline problem had to be brought to me. A detailed report had to be completed describing the offense and the circumstances. Then I would assess the report, discuss it with you and the boy, then I determined the appropriate punishment, and carried it out. Of course the punishment could be a loss of privileges, extra academic or physical work, or corporal punishement. Ah yes, corporal punishment! That was why I jealously protected my position, to administer corporal punishment on those beautiful young boys. They could also be suspended, or even expelled, if I recommended that to the Head Master, but I never did. Why would I send those trouble makers away, when I could look after them so well myself? The troublesome ones were my favourites. Oh yes, I found some of those older boys to be very attractive and I yearned to be with them, and to punish them. I took my responsibilities seriously. I reported only to the Head Master, you remember, and he always fully supported me. What a great job I had, and I had it all to myself. Until I met you.
I know you remember what happened, what I'm talking about. I've been reading your story. But I want you to know the story from my point of view. How I found you. How I felt when I found you. And how I felt that night in your cellar with that beautiful young Jon.
It was summer break. I usually stayed on campus during breaks with only one security guard. There were a few boys who had not been able to go home for the full break, so remained on campus. Whenever any boys remained, there had to be one master on duty. On this occasion it was you, Assistant Head Master, the young modern hotshot educator.
I remember that morning. My security guard reported to me informally that he had seen one of the boys, a senior, entering the AHM's house early the previous evening, but didn't see him come out again. I assured him there was nothing to worry about and I'd follow up on it. I wandered into the residence a few times that day, looking for the boy, but didn't see him.
In the afternoon the guard reported he still hadn't seen the boy come out, and couldn't see whether or not the boy's bike was still behind the house where he thought he had seen him leave it. I continued looking for him in the residence, knowing the guard would let me know if he saw him anywhere else. At curfew hour that night, if the boy wasn't in the residence, I would have to visit the AHM to determine if he was there. If he was, there was going to be trouble. Either I had been scared for the boy's safety unnecessarily, or that young pretty-boy AHM was fooling with my boys, cutting into my territory, and for that he'd pay. At the time I didn't know how you'd pay, but I'd worry about that later.
Shortly after curfew I went to find the security guard and was told the boy still hadn't been seen. I told him to go on about his rounds and I'd look after it. I went to your house and crept quietly around to the back and found a boy's bike. Then I knew where he was, and had a pretty good idea what was going on. Of course I didn't realise the extent of what was going on, or the depravity of it. That shock still awaited me.
I went to your front door and listened. I could hear nothing. I knocked. Waited. Nothing. Then I knocked again. And again. Still nothing, and no sound from within. Finally I took my keys from my pocket, found the one for your house, and unlocked the door. Then slowly, quietly, I pulled the door open, and crept inside. Still no sound. Your car was there in the driveway and the bike behind the house, so you had to be there. I walked softly into the hallway, down the hallway. Then I barely made out muffled sounds behind a heavy door. I assumed it led to the cellar. I vaguely heard a voice speaking softly, and someone else sobbing. I gingerly opened the heavy door which creaked. But the voice and sobbing, more distinct now, continued. I stepped down to the first step. Then the next. Slowly I crept down the stairs, while the sounds continued below me somewhere in the dark. About halfway down the staircase I could make out a door with dim light showing around it.
"They're in there", I thought. I moved more quickly to the bottom of the stairs and over to the door. I listened. It was your voice speaking, but too softly for me to make out the words. And there was definite sobbing. Not out-and-out crying or screaming, just soft sobbing, apparently from a boy, no doubt my missing boy. It was time to move.
I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. As the light from within hit me, your head spun around and you saw me. I'll never forget you kneeling on the floor with that ludicrous look of panic on your face. The boy was in front of you laying on some kind of bench, but didn't budge, though he did stop sobbing. Only after I moved into the room did I see that he was tied down to that bench and couldn't move. As I walked over to him, you began to rise, so I grabbed my cuffs from my pocket and snapped them quickly on your wrists behind you, and pushed you back down to your knees. You looked very vulnerable on your knees in a leather g-string.
You began to sputter. "I've been trying to help young Jon with some emotional problems he has," you explained lamely.
I told you, "you aren't authorised or qualified to help the boys with problems unless they're academic. We have the health services for emotional or health problems, and I look after discipline problems. From the looks of it, this is a discipline problem which you seem to be handling in a way I'd say is somewhat irregular. Do you usually provide your emotional counselling dressed in a g-string, and with your student tied down and wearing only a handkerchief loincloth?
"Well, we were just relaxing after our discussion," you said.
In reply to that nonsense, I swung my arm out wide and fast and brought my hand back sharply across your cheek. "I know damned well what you're doing, you pervert, so stop the bullshit! This poor boy doesn't deserve to be tortured and abused by you, and you're going to pay for what you've done to him to satisfy your filthy lust."
The boy's voice was so low and soft, but when he spoke out, it was like an explosion in the room. We both stared at him. "Please don't hurt him. Don't blame him. Its my fault. I begged him to do it to me. I made him do it. Please Sir, it's all my fault." Then he broke down in convulsive sobbing.
I certainly was shocked, and I believe you were too. You and I looked at each other. Then you told me what had been going on. How the young boy, Jon, had led you into the woods and posed in bondage. How you invited him home, and he willing, even begging, did what you suggested, and continually encouraged you. Throughout your story, the young boy was nodding and sobbing.
"Is that true, boy?" I asked.
"Yes, Sir, it's all true. I want it. I need it. I need older men to tie me up, imprison me, abuse me, use my body, beat me, make me hurt, make me cry. I need that so much. And I want to make them feel good. I'll do anything to make them feel good, and to encourage them to do the things I need them to do to me."
`Are there others here in school who do these things to...er...for you?" I asked.
"One of my classmates has done it, Sir, but he doesn't really know how, and he doesn't like it, so he doesn't want to do it again. Sir here, the Assistant Head, is the only one who has been able to make me happy. So far. Please understand Sir. Please."
I was puzzled. "What do you mean, so far?"
"Sir, you are in charge of discipline and punishment here. You must know how to make me feel good too. I've seen you around and wondered how I could get to meet you, and have you punish me. I was afraid I'd just get myself suspended or expelled if I started acting up too much. Can you help me too, now that I've met you?"
I simply stammered, unable to find or form words. So much raced through my mind. All the images and fantasies I'd had ever since I had come to the school. This boy seemed to embody them all. But this was dangerous. I could be ruined by this boy and this young schoolmaster.
I turned to you. "What about you? Do you have anything to say for yourself? You know what could happen to you, don't you? And you know it isn't young Jon who should be punished, it's you."
That's when you started to show the other side of you. You began to whimper. I don't know if I was more surprised or Jon was. "I know I have to be punished, Sir," you said, "and I hope you will carry out your responsibilities and punish me. Please, Sir. Punish me for what I've done, Sir. I deserve your most severe punishment, Sir."
Again my mind went numb. Young Jon recovered faster than I did. "Yes Sir, will you punish him and me both? Please Sir? I'll do whatever you ask if you will, Sir. Anything."
Now I admit at that moment I didn't know what to do. I tried to ignore what was happening in my trousers. I could feel myself getting erect at his words, and the situation before me. I looked down at young Jon, and for the first time I let my eyes run down his body. So beautiful, so smooth, so white, so tender and soft, the body of my fantasies, my dreams, and here it was ready to be taken, to be mine. I couldn't help noticing the motion inside that little handkerchief he was wearing. I could see the effect of his young penis pushing against his makeshift handkerchief loincloth covering. I was excited.
Then I looked back at you. A goodlooking young man at my complete mercy. I certainly could do what I wanted with you, or to you. I was accustomed to giving these boys at the school spankings and beatings, but you would be a new experience. And you looked vulnerable and desperate for a good beating from me. This might work, I thought. Just might. But I wanted to humiliate you completely for what you had done to one of my boys. For taking what should have been mine. Yes, you'd get a beating, and maybe more, if I could get this equally desperate young boy to cooperate. I decided I was ready now to live my fantasy.
"Okay little master, show me what you have here to help me." I started to wander around and you stood and joined me. You didn't speak, you merely led me around so I could see all the things you had on a big table, straps, canes, whips. I was impressed. I picked each up to get the feel of it in my hand. Then you showed me ropes, leather straps, hooks and clips and rings of steel. From your face I could see you were anticipating each as you pointed it out to me.
"You've used all these things on your boys, but never had them used on you, right?" You nodded. "You really want them used on you, don't you little master?" You nodded and your eyes teared a little. I was enjoying this already.
Then you led me away to where there was a steel cross frame standing against the wall. I didn't know how this figured in all of this, but somehow thought I might enjoy it. Surely young Jon could enlighten me. I looked over at him still laying there bound to the bench. "If I beat little master, will you help me?" He managed a little shrug of the shoulders. "If you help me, then I will be able to punish you too." Then his head nodded vigorously. Yes, I thought, this is really going to be good.
I walked over to young Jon. "Well, my boy, are you ready to help me?"
"Yes Sir."
I untied all the straps holding him down. "Were you on that cross?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I want to allow little master to be on it. Can you help me do that?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You'll have to show me how to do this." I walked over to you and took you by the arm. You were so submissinve. I led you to where the cross was. "Come on Jon." He walked over and started to pull the cross to the floor. I helped him and we laid it on the floor.
"You must tie him to it", said Jon. I pushed you down to the ground, removed the cuffs and with Jon's help got you secured on the cross. Then Jon explained how the cross had to be lifted and placed in the holder. He helped me and although it was a struggle to get it upright and in the right spot to slip into the holder, we did it.
"What happened when you were up there, Jon?"
"He just let me stay up there until I couldn't stand it anymore. Then if it wasn't long enough he whipped me the next morning."
"I see. Maybe we can do it differently. We can beat him while he's up there, then leave him up there while I deal with you."
"Yes Sir, that's good."
"You realise he wants to be beaten the way you do, don't you Jon?"
"Yes Sir, I know how he feels, Sir."
I went over to the table and chose a long heavy leather whip, a single long thick thong with a comfortable handle. I walked back to you to show it to you. This is what I've chosen to use, little master. Then I went behind you and started. I raised the whip in the air, way out and up, then down on your back. Kraaak. Then I walked across to the other side and did it again, this time hitting your back from the other side. Kraaak. Then again and again, from one side to the other, until you had six hits on each side, and twelve red welts neatly lined up on your back, just neatly divided by the thin shiny metal upright of the cross. Jon just stood quietly, watching intently. Then I took the handle in both hands, and using the power of both my arms, I started applying the whip to your butt. The sound of the kraaak was louder and the welts were deeper. Again six on each side.
But I tired of the whip, so went back to the table and selected a long thick leather strap. After showing it to you, and enjoying your tears, I swung the strap high and wide in front of you and landed it on your chest. Whaaap. Then again, the other side. Whaaap. And two more on each side. Then another six on your stomach. I liked beating your stomach because I know it really hurts and I could never beat the boys on the front of their bodies. With you, there were no rules. Still Jon gazed mezmerised at what I was doing. Whaaap. Whaaap. Whaaap. Until there were a total twelve red stripes on the front of your body.
I returned the strap to the table, and walked over to sit on the bench and rest. Jon followed me and indicated he wanted to sit on my knee. I let him, and put my right arm around his soft warm shoulders, the left across his front, with my hand holding his waist. You were watching us from your cross, looking very uncomfortable hanging there.
Jon seemed apprehensive. "Are you all right Jon?" I asked.
"Yes Sir."
"Did you enjoy seeing little master getting beaten?"
"Yes Sir, but are you going to beat me like that?"
"No Jon, with you I'll do it differently. I want to hold you while I punish you. I'll do it over my knee, or with you laying down, always with my hand on you. Is that all right?"
"Oh yes Sir, that sounds really nice. Thank you, Sir."
"Now I just want to hold you while I rest a little."
I looked down at his little loincloth, which seemed to struggle to hold his erect penis. "Your penis seems to be always hard, Jon. You must really enjoy this."
"Yes Sir. Uh... Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Would you like to touch it?"
"If you like."
"Thank you Sir, I'd really like that."
I played with the handkerchief and undid the little knot of the loincloth from his hip, and let it fall to the floor. Then gently touched the smooth soft skin of his penis. It was already quite large for a twelve year old kid, and obviously would be a really good size in a couple of years. The foreskin was neat and not too long, not quite reaching the tip of the head. I fingered it and pulled back the skin. The head was pink and smooth and clean. I stroked it with my finger a few times then covered it again with the skin.
I looked up to see your intent gaze, and thought I saw jealousy in your eyes. "No doubt last night you were enjoying this boy, but tonight I'm the Master and you're just a worthless little slave. I'll enjoy the boy now, and let him enjoy you too, any way he wants."
"Jon, what would you like to do to him?"
"I don't know Sir. He was nice to me. I really like him, and you too Sir. I want to make you both happy."
"That's good Jon. But right now I want to start your punishment. I hope our audience can hold on there for a little while longer."
"Sir, it's very difficult to stay up there; it's uncomfortable and painful."
"Well, I think he needs a little more time. Let's go to the table and get something for me to start with." We walked over and I selected a wide studded leather paddle, showed it to Jon, then we returned to the bench. I was getting warm and starting to sweat, so I removed my trousers and shirt, and sat with only my white briefs on.
I told Jon to stand on my right side and then bend over my knees. I helped him, pushing him forward until his head and shoulders were extended beyond my left leg. Then I held him with my left arm across his body, my elbow bent, and my forearm under him with my hand flat on his stomach, low enough that the tip of his penis was just touching.
"I'm going to spank you now with the paddle Jon."
"Thank you Sir."
I raised the paddle and brought it down on his bottom. Smaaack. I could see, and you could see too, the spring of his cheeks as the paddle hit them and bounced. I repeated with the paddle a full six times, each time hitting a different spot on those beautiful bouncing cheeks. With my left hand I could feel his penis bounce too every time the paddle hit his bum. When I looked up at you I could see you staring enthralled at those pretty soft bouncing cheeks, with tears in your eyes. They were getting red. I laid down the paddle and ran my hand over his buttocks. They were hot, and the heat of them and the way they seemed to quiver under my touch, was exciting me tremendously. I could feel my dick pushing against the crotch of my briefs and Jon's stomach.
"Are you okay Jon?"
"Oh yes Sir. Thank you Sir."
"Do you think we should let our friend down from the cross now? Or would you like a few more with the paddle first?"
"He must be so uncomfortable there, Sir, but I'd really like more of the paddle please Sir."
"Very well then."
With that I moved my hand a couple of inches further down his stomach so I could encirle it around his penis. Now holding that rock hard warm boy dick in my left hand and the paddle in my right, I began again. I gave him six more hits, about the same locations as the first time. Then I surprised him with two more, these on his soft white thighs. The sting on the more sensitive thighs made his legs swing in the air each time. But he quickly settled them back down and apologised.
"Sorry Sir."
"That's okay Jon, you're being very good. I know the thighs hurt more."
"Yes Sir, but I really loved it there."
"Okay Jon, we'll get up now and see how the little master is doing."
We got to our feet and went over to you. I absent-mindedly wiped my left hand on my briefs. There was a little sticky liquid from the boy's penis, and I was thinking to myself that the kid could probably ejaculate already. Together we struggled with the cross until we were able to lower it to the floor, then looked down at you laying on the cross, still firmly bound, staring up at us.
"What do you think we should do with him, Jon?"
"Sir, I'd like to lay on top of him, if that's okay."
"Very well, Jon, you can lay on him and I'll get a strap and beat your bottom while you lay there."
"Oh Sir that sounds wonderful. Thank you, Sir."
I went over and got a small strap and returned as Jon was laying his body over you. He positioned his face over yours, then lay his soft smooth cheek down on your face. His penis was against your stomach. I knew you'd be happy when I began to strap him and his penis would start to bounce and poke into your stomach.
I knelt beside you and began with the strap. I held his head and began with his upper back and shoulders. High in the air, then down hard. Thwaaack. The strap laid six hits on his shoulders and upper back. Thwaaack. Thwaaack. Then six on his lower back. Thwaack. Each hit left a narrow pink stripe behind. Finally, my hand on his lower back, I delivered the strap six times to his already red bottom. As I did this, he bounced considerably. I wasn't sure how much it had to do with the pain and how much it had to do with the feeling he experienced rubbing his penis against your stomach. But I enjoyed watching his bouncing cheeks, so I wasn't about to complain.
"Okay Jon, get up."
"Already Sir? Sorry Sir, I shouldn't complain."
"That's okay. We aren't finished. I want to use the cane on you now Jon."
"Really Sir?"
"Yes. Come with me." I glanced at your stomach when Jon got off you and saw the little sticky wet spot I expected.
Jon and I went over to the table and I selected the thinnest cane. I swung it in the air and it was very flexible and made a great whoosh sound. "This is perfect. Would you like to lay on him while I cane you, Jon?"
"Oh yes Sir."
"Okay, but this time I want you to lay the opposite way, so your face is laying on his stomach. Now get over there and into position."
He got down and did what I had told him, and as I had expected, his penis landed in your face. The look on your face seemed to say you couldn't decide what to do with it. I didn't say anything but wondered whether you'd keep your mouth closed or make use of your tongue or lips. He covered your face entirely with his hips so to this day I don't know what, if anything, went on under there.
I got into position kneeling beside your head. I placed my hand firmly on his tailbone. Then I raised the cane in the air. Whooosh. Kraaak. It landed on his bottom, right over your face. I knew you'd like to see the thin red lines forming on his buttocks, but you'd have to be content with feeling the recoil of his body in your face with every hit. I continued caning his backside. Whooosh. Kraaak. Whooosh. Kraaack. He kept recoiling with each hit and then wriggling between hits. I didn't try to still him because I so enjoyed watching him move so much in pain. I decided I'd keep it up with the cane unitl he began to cry. Well, I still remember he took 13 hits with the cane before he began suddenly to bawl. I laid the cane down beside me and gently stroked his backside. Those cheeks were so red. Red from the paddling and the strapping, with the thin dark red lines of the cane on top. And they felt so hot.
I couldn't help myself from doing what I did next. I stood and removed my underwear, then swung one leg over your head and lay on top of him. My hard cock was nestled along the crack of his behind. I positioned my body so his face was against my chest. I was surprised when he opened his mouth and began to lick the hair on my chest. It felt so innocent and so nice. The heat of his burning buttocks under my hips was so beautiful, I can still feel it when I think about it now.
We all lay there for quite some time. Nobody was looking at a watch, so I can't say if it was a few minutes or an hour. Finally I knew I had to get up, and struggled to my feet, naked and hard. Come on Jon, time to get up. He reluctantly pulled his body off you and stood up. Finally I got to see his penis in the flaccid state. It was soft. At the tip there was a drop of sticky semen forming and I watched entranced as it enlarged and finally fell to the floor. He blushed as I watched, then we both looked down at your face, at the sticky mess on your chin and cheeks. I was thinking he must have ejaculated at least partly into your open mouth, but as I said, I don't really know what happened under there.
"I'm sorry I did that, Sir, it was very bad of me to do that on him."
"Don't worry, I don't think he's angry. He understands there are some things men just can't stop from happening. I'm surprised with you on top of him it didn't happen to him too."
"Really Sir? Can I do it for him? Can I touch him and make it happen? Please Sir? And then I can do it for you too Sir."
"If you'd like to, I think he'd appreciate it. Go ahead." He knelt down and began stroking your dick gently. You were hard and had been most of the night, so I didn't expect it to take him long. He obviously wasn't experienced, but he was a twelve year old boy and they all know how to masturbate.
I watched him, knowing I was going to get together with this kid again and do all the things I have dreamt about. But as he was masturbating you, doing it so attentively, I looked at your face and saw there a look of pleasure. You had been through so much that night, so much you hadn't planned on, but now you were happy. Then on an impulse I walked over to your head, stood over your face, and started to masturbate myself. Watching in turns your face and Jon's face as you and he shared your experience made me want to ejaculate too. So I continued to stroke myself, hard and fast. At the same time Jon was picking up the tempo.
Eventually I saw in your face that you were about to explode, and that made me ready too. Just as you cried out and your mouth fell open with ecstacy, I sent a heavy splash of semen into your face. It hit hard and was followed by a second smaller splash. I could see it all over your face, your forehead, your eyebrows, your nose, cheeks, lips, chin, slowly running down. I looked at Jon who was licking his fingers.
"Jon, you have to clean this off the little master's face. Come on boy, then you're finished." He slowly crawled up and licked my semen from your face. It gratified me to watch him. Such a good boy.
It was very late. I dressed to leave. I told you both that I'd see you both again. I knew too that I'd see that beautiful boy alone one time, someday. Then I turned and left you both laying there on the floor.
I'll never forget that night. But as you know there were more, weren't there? Maybe you'd like to talk about it some time?
Any comments on this chapter address to jack_strapper@hotmail.com or to jonandy678@hotmail.com as comments are always appreciated.