A New Broom Sweeps Clean

A  New Broom Sweeps Clean

A  Homoerotic Story

By

Jason Land 

FOREWORD

This story covers a two year period in the life of one, Dr. Andrew Waterlow, a brilliant Oxford classicist who turns to school teaching as a profession, but who is finally appointed, aged only thirty, to a research professorship at the University of Oxford.  Depending on context, he is variously referred to in the text as the Headmaster, Dr. Waterlow, Waterlow and Andrew. His friend, colleague and ultimate his life’s partner, is Mr Jeremy Foster, referred to also as Jeremy. Andrew and Jeremy are both gay.

CHAPTER 1

The Chairman, Colonel Douglas Hartley MC (retired) was incandescent with with rage.  He was addressing a meeting of the Governors of Rigby College, a small English public school located in the town of Market Ditchfeild in rural Lincolnshire.  In spite of the peculiar spelling of Ditchfeild, with the “e” before the “i”, the name was, nevertheless, pronounced “Ditchfeeld”. Just how this inversion of the two letters had come about, was lost in the mists of time, for no one had any explanation for this anomaly.  But to get back to the meeting, the reason why the Colonel was in such a rage was that Rigby College was in an utter mess; in fact it was in the process of slowly collapsing. Some five years previously the then Board of Governors had allowed itself  to be sold a bill of goods by a new “reforming” Headmaster, full of modern ideas, who after five years with his newfangled ideas, had succeeded in reducing the school to a shadow of its former self.

The problem had started in 1918, just after the Great War, in which several of the school’s younger masters had lost their lives.  The then Headmaster, who had been overdue for retirement before the war in 1914, had soldiered on  until the Armistice in November 1918 and had then suddenly died, leaving the school not only bereft of many masters, but also of a leader.  Finding themselves with a serious staffing problem and seduced by the ideas of a gentler, less rigorous, less formal and less structured approach to education for the sons of upper class families who sent their offspring to such private boarding schools,  the then Board of Governors had appointed this man, Dr. David Baldwin, to the post of Headmaster.  Dr. Baldwin had then gone on to recruit the urgently needed new staff, essentially men who agreed with his “new style” approach to education, to make up for the decimations of the war. This new team had then proceeded for a period of five years to run the school into the ground by practising their “new ideas”. And it was this present state in which the school now found itself which had brought the Chairman to the boiling point.

It has to be said that Colonel Douglas Hartley MC (retired) was a man whose temper had a very short fuse. He was a pompous, arrogant, belligerent, old style soldier, who acted as though he were still commanding a regiment and treated everyone around him as an underling.  He rode roughshod over anybody and everybody; and his fellow governors, who were all men of a certain age, allowed themselves to be swept along by the Colonel and his ideas. He ran the Board Meetings as if he were addressing a bunch of schoolboys and his co-governors simply allowed him to do so.

But to be fair to the man, on this occasion he had every reason to be angry. He had been called in, as an outsider, to replace the previous Chairman of the Board, who when faced with the problems now confronting the school had “retired due to ill health”.  Colonel Hartley had accepted the post but a few months earlier on the strict condition that he be given a free hand to correct any problems he found in his assessment of the school.  His assessment now finished, he was making a formal presentation of his findings to his co-governors, several of whom were complicit in the decisions which had led to the present well nigh catastrophic state in which the school now found itself.  Several of the board members would, frankly, have preferred not to be present at this meeting: they sat there in complete silence.

“Gentlemen, do you realise the parlous state into which this school has fallen thanks to five years of the totally misguided policies of the present Headmaster, Mr Baldwin; aided and abetted, I might add, bhis acolytes, the four housemasters whom he appointed. Rigby is a relatively small school, but until the end of the war, we had an academic record and reputation vying with the best:  Eton, Winchester, Harrow or Rugby.  Pro-rating our performance to our size, we were the equal of any of these major schools. We sent many of our boys to Oxford and Cambridge and made regularly placements in the British Civil Service, in particular to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Several of our old boys have reached Cabinet rank in the government and I am proud to say that many old Rigbyans are in senior positions in the administrations of the possessions of the British Empire around the world. In a word, gentlemen, we had a reputation of which we could be justly proud.”

Even as a newly appointed Chairman, the Colonel, as he spoke, already identified himself completely with the school and its pupils. He used the words “we” and “our pupils” with such conviction, that an outsider would have thought he had been wedded to the school all his life.  And in spite of his recent appearance on the Board of Governors, it was precisely this sense of conviction that allowed him to sweep his fellow governors along with him; he was the complete master of the situation. If anyone was going to get anything done to improve matters at the school, then it was the Colonel; by sheer force of his personality.

“And where are we today? Well I will tell you exactly where we are: at the bottom of the league of minor public schools of this country.  Just look at our results. In the last academic year only one boy went to Oxford and not one to Cambridge; our entry into the Civil Service was minimal. And, even more serious, looking at the enrolment figures for the coming year starting this September, we are lacking more than twenty boys from our normal intake. In a word, gentlemen, Rigby School has become a laughing stock; word has got round and parents are sending their offspring elsewhere.  This is the disastrous situation in which we find ourselves today.”

“So much for the academic record; but what about the school itself and its pupils? Well, gentlemen, I can tell you that I was astonished to see the lack of order into which the running of the school had been allowed to slip. As far as I can tell, there is practically no discipline of any kind, due to the “modern” thinking of the present Headmaster, who feels that each boy should be given the liberty to develop his own talents and character in his own time.  So there are no sanctions, either physical or intellectual, imposed on the boys, who, as far as I can see, are more or less free to do exactly as they please. They are allowed to come and go to classes as they wish; tests and internal examinations are non-existent; they may dress as they wish and, as far as I can see are free from any form of constraint.  In a word, gentlemen, the boys are being educated in a sort of Shangri La.  Little wonder that after five years of this, we see the dismal academic figures I have just presented to you  To sum up the whole catastrophic situation, the laissez-faire attitude of the Headmaster and his acolytes made the cardinal mistake of giving the boys that fabled inch and they, of course, have taken a mile.  This cannot go on like this any longer; things have got to change!”

When the Colonel had finished his harangue, here was complete silence from the other Governors, until one brave soul ventured to ask what the Colonel thought the solution was.

“The solution, gentlemen, is quite simple; the present Headmaster and the four Housemasters, whom he appointed, have got to go and replacements have to be found; replacements I might add, who have a more traditional approach to educating boys from our upper-class families; for it is from just this stratum of society that our pupils are drawn.  An entirely new team must be put into place; rules must be written and enforced by the strictest discipline as has always been the tradition at public schools in this country. The cane and the birch will have to be reintroduced into the daily life of the school, for words alone will not quell a load of miscreant youths.  In short, the school must re-adopt the teaching methods and profile which have stood the test of time in all our public schools and indeed, which were in force here, until this disastrous “educational experiment” was embarked upon by the present Headmaster.”

“But, Mr Chairman, to be clear, are you suggesting that we discharge the Headmaster and the four housemasters?” asked one of the governors.

“Unless you have a better suggestion, I do not see any other way: they have to go; so either we terminate their contracts; in other words dismiss them; or they resign, which I suppose is another option. Resignation would, I suppose, help them save face. But let us be under no illusions; they all have to go!”

“But, do you not think that under a new Headmaster, the housemasters might be persuaded to adapt themselves to the new approach?”

“Frankly no! Lock, stock and barrel, all of them have got to go; we need a new start: these five men, Mr. Baldwin and his four likeminded housemasters, have together brought this school to its knees and I have not the slightest compunction in telling them to go.  And, gentlemen, so that we all understand one another clearly, the dismissal of this “gang of five” if I might describe them thus, is a non-negotiable condition of my continued membership of this board: either they go or I do.  I trust I have made my position clear to all of you so that as we embark upon this salvage mission, there are no misunderstandings among us.”

The Colonel spoke as a man who is used to being obeyed and after a moment’s silence, the board agreed with his conditions; they really had no idea what they were going to do without someone to lead them.  But, there was nevertheless an undercurrent of feeling that they had appointed a strong leader; But did he actually know where he was leading them?

CHAPTER 2 

The Colonel had given a great deal of thought to the momentous staffing changes he proposed the Board to make. Accustomed to getting his way in all things, as he had been in the Army, he had already formulated a clear plan of action; the very last thing he wanted was a muddled compromising plan  designed by a committee, for that was what the Board of Governors was.

“Gentlemen, now that we have an overall agreement as to how we are going to proceed, allow me to give you my thoughts on the matter;  I have already spent considerable time thinking about the difficult situation in which we find ourselves.  Clearly we cannot simply dismiss the five masters in question without having replacements available to take over immediately, for the school cannot function, five men down, so to speak.  We are now in August and the new academic year will begin in early September; and so I am afraid that we shall probably have to endure another year comparable to those we have just experienced. In other words we shall have to look on helplessly, whilst the school continues on its downward path. I see of no solution for the coming academic year: the die, alas, is already cast.”

“My plan, however, is simple in concept but may be more complicated to carry out. We will, as a matter of utmost importance, immediately begin the search for and appoint a new Headmaster to take over the running of the school at the very latest a year from this September.  We need to secure a suitable person as soon as possible and we shall have to face the fact that we shall have to pay him his salary well before he himself occupies the Headmaster’s study.  It will then be up to him to find the four persons who will replace the present housemasters.  It is essential that we find and appoint the new Headmaster as soon as possible, as he will need time to find the replacements, who themselves will, in all probability already be occupying posts else were, which will be tied to certain terms of notice.”

“So, gentlemen, the best scenario I can see, is that we find the new Headmaster before the end of this year and that he be appointed as of January 1st next year, or even before if he is free. But he must have enough time to find four new colleagues before the start of the academic year one year from now. Once we are certain that we have the five new men on our staff, then we shall give notice to the present Headmaster and his four colleagues. I will not go into the alternative scenarios which can be envisaged if all does not go according to plan and will leave that to your imagination. So, gentlemen, do we or do we not agree that this is the best way forward?  If anyone else has a better idea, then now is the time to voice it, otherwise as the marriage ceremony says: hereafter forever hold your peace.”

The Board of Governors unanimously gave its approval to the plan outlined by the Chairman.  One member then posed the critical question, asking how the declared aim was to be achieved.

“Well gentlemen, we could, of course, advertise for a new Headmaster in the appropriate press, which may not be a bad idea if we wish to have a selection of candidates to choose from. However, quite by chance an old army colleague of mine also happens to be on Board of Governors of another school similar to ours: Cumbria Academy, situated near the town of Kendal in the Lake District.  In a conversation I had with him recently, totally unrelated to our problem, he happened to mention that the second master of that establishment, which I gather is highly regarded as a bastion of old style teaching methods and values, and where discipline is very strict, is looking to move upwards into a headmastership in another school, by way of advancing his career.”

“This man, called Dr.Andrew Waterlow, a D.Phil from Oxford, no less, is himself a classicist, and was the leading light in his year at Oxford. I gather that had the Oxford examiners been in the habit of listing the degrees in order, he would have been placed head and shoulders ahead of his fellow students.  He then went on and completed, within two years, a course for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, normally a three year course and I understand that his D.Phil dissertation was considered remarkable: something about the influence of ancient Greek democratic thinking on pagan Rome; goes way above my head, I have to say, but then that’s neither here nor there is it?  Anyway, he was offered a three year research fellowship at St. Tristan’s College, Oxford, which he turned down, preferring instead to become a classics teacher at the Cumbria Academy, which is where he has been teaching for the last five years.  He is rather young for the post of a headmastership, but, by all account is a brilliant teacher and a first rate administrator; so much so that two years ago, aged only twenty-six, he was named Assistant Master.  I understand, academic brilliance apart, that he is an excellent teacher and, most important from our point of view, he is a strict disciplinarian, who is not afraid to wield the cane. I can well understand that such a person is now seeking preferment, and I wonder whether we should not, at least talk to him and see what we think.”

Of course, the opportunity to appoint a man who appeared to come with such stellar academic qualifications and five years experience in a similar school to Rigby appealed enormously to the entire Board of Governors and the upshot was that the young man was invited down for a preliminary discussion.  The Colonel, of course, led the interview, and explained exactly what the present situation at Rigby was and how the school had been allowed to sink so low.

“So Dr. Waterlow, if we were to offer you the post of Headmaster of Rigby it would be a real challenge for you to pull matters back from the brink of disaster.  You appreciate that not only yourself as Headmaster would be new, but that you would have four new Housemasters, the senior staff, if you wish, but with an undercurrent of other masters who will probably resent your appointments and wish to avoid change. Your job would be to change completely the misguided policies introduced by the present Headmaster and to knock the school back into shape: the classic shape of a medium sized English public school; quite a tall order, I think; do you see yourself up to the task?”

Of course, Dr. Waterlow, eager to move up the academic ladder and become a Headmaster, declared, as would have anyone else in his position, that he could certainly meet the challenge.  And so, the matter was left that both parties would consider the matter further.  The Board of Governors was, on the whole very favourably impressed by Dr. Waterlow and finally decided that, subject to a further interview and a closer check, they would offer him the post.  The Colonel decided that it would be wise to see firsthand exactly what sort of an establishment the Cumbria Academy was, and so he arranged a full day’s visit there for himself and two other board members.  As Dr. Waterlow had declared his intention to seek a higher post, there was no problem with this and his present superior, the Headmaster of the Cumbria Academy welcomed the visitors with open arms.

What the visitors saw, was a well-run school with a good academic record, similar to that which Rigby had formally enjoyed and so the afternoon was to be spent in final discussion with Dr. Waterlow, at which, barring any unforeseen circumstances, the Colonel had the permission  of the Board to offer him the post.

CHAPTER 3 

It was after lunch and the Colonel and is two co-governors were ensconced with Dr. Waterlow in his study.  The Colonel noticed with a certain degree of satisfaction that over by the door was standing a large cylindrical oriental pot, of the type often used as a repository for walking sticks. However, the sight of a number of canes poking out of this receptacle filled the Colonel with hope that here was possibly a man who believed, as did the Colonel quite fervently, in the power of the cane to inculcate good manners and behaviour into the pupils, with a view to turning them into young gentlemen.

The discussion turned as to how Dr. Waterlow would set about recruiting the four new housemasters, critical to the regeneration of Rigby, when it was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.  Like many master’s studies, the door was equipped on its outside with two lights: one red for engaged and one green for enter.  If neither light was burning, then visitors simply rang the bell and waited until the green light came on to enter the room.

“Oh dear, gentlemen; do forgive me; I am afraid I had completely forgotten that I had an appointment with two boys who are in need of correction.  I am so sorry, it just slipped my mind. Let me tell them to come back later.”

As he rose to open the door to the two miscreants who were standing waiting outside, the Colonel stopped him.

“Dr. Waterlow, please let the boys in and continue as you had planned.  We shall be interested to see how you deal with punishments here in the Academy, for as you know, corporal punishment has been banned at Rigby for the past five years.  In fact, not to mince words, its absence is one of the main reasons why the school is in such a mess at present. So, please go ahead; it will be instructive for us to see your methods. I might add, Dr. Waterlow, that belonging to the  “Old School” as we three clearly do, we are all totally in favour of corporal punishment as one of the key components, indeed probably the absolute key method of keeping order and maintaining discipline in a school. So, please do not hold back on our account; deal with these boys as if we are not here.  We shall be interested observers,”

Two obviously first year boys entered the room looking very, very nervous: a typical reaction to a summons to the Assistant Master’s study.

“So, Jarvis and Mawdsley, you two are in Latimer House, I believe.”

A very timid, “Yes sir.”

“Do you know why I have summoned you here?”

“No sir, not really.”

“But you are aware that as new boys this term, you have broken two of the schools golden rules, are you not?”

Jarvis then spoke for both of them. “Well, sir, we did go down into town yesterday afternoon after classes, if that is what you mean.”

“That boys, is precisely what I mean. I saw the two of you myself, walking down the high street, looking into shop windows.  Why did you go down town, when you know that for new boys such as you are only allowed down town on Saturday afternoons and for a period of two hours only?”

“Well sir, we really did not realise that we were breaking the rules; we just wanted to see what the town was like; to look around the shops a bit; we truly did not do any harm.”

“And did your looking turn into purchasing?”

“Well sir, only a little bit: we each bought a boy’s magazine from the news agent’s.”

“I see. So you went into town, strictly against the school rules and made some purchases; but your disregard of the school rules goes much further, doesn’t it?”

The two boys looked totally bewildered, for they clearly had no idea of what other rule they had broken.

“No sir, we didn’t do anything else other than what we have just told you; honest to God we didn’t! We just went into town and each bought a magazine; that’s all, sir, nothing else.”

“And where were your caps?  I do not recollect seeing that you were wearing your school caps.  You surely know that whenever you are outside the school premises, the rules require that you wear your caps at all times and that you raise them to anyone you happen to meet whom you know.  Did you not know that?”

“Oh sir, we just forgot to take our caps with us.  It was just forgetfulness, that is all, we really were not intending to break the rules; it was just one of those things which happens.”

“So, boys, let us be quite clear; Knowing full well that you were breaking the rules, you went down town and additionally, also knowing that the wearing of caps was obligatory, you did not wear your caps.  Is that correct?”

The two boys were now clearly in a very nervous state, not knowing what was coming and wondering what they could do to escape from what had become, for them, a nerve-wracking experience.

“Yes sir, we did know, but it was just that we are new here and we just wanted to see what the town was like, sir and the caps, well we just forgot them. It was not intentional at all sir.   We’ll never do it again sir, will we Mawdsley?”

“Well boys, I have to tell you that the rules of this school are there to be obeyed; to be obeyed by all boys of all ages and the fact that you two are new boys this term is no excuse for your behaviour. You were both aware of the rules and you chose to break them and for that I am afraid you have to be punished.  If I allow you go without punishing you, then others will be inspired by your bad example and will be tempted to do the same; and that, let me tell you will lead to chaos: utter chaos. I am a great believer in the adage, “Give a boy an inch and he will take a mile”. Well you two, by your actions, have tempted fate and been caught and that inch, which you took by your by your actions yesterday, will not be allowed to turn into a mile; in fact, it will be completely erased, like a misspelled word.”

By this time the two lads were truly looking very frightened indeed and wondered what was going to happen to them.

“Are you going to put us in detention, sir?” asked Jarvis.

“Detention, Jarvis, in my experience, is rarely a deterrent. No I am not going to put you in detention; I am going to beat the pair of you.  Turn round, both of you and look over there by the door and tell me what you see there? Well let me spell it out for you: a selection of canes just waiting to correct errant youths such as you two.”

“Oh sir, please don’t cane us, sir.  I have never been caned before.” pleaded Mawdsley as he went on, “Does it hurt, Sir?”

“ Mawdsley, I should have thought that a boy of your intelligence would have realised that you have just asked a very silly question. Of course it will hurt boy! That is precisely the object of the exercise”

“Yes sir, I understand that it will hurt, but will it hurt a lot?”

“Mawdsley, stop asking stupid questions and give me a minute to select a suitable cane and then you will find out for yourself first hand.”

Dr. Waterlow went across to his cane repository and withdrew a long, thin cane of a dark mahogany colour, very shiny, very pliable and about half an inch thick. He sat down behind his desk with the two boys standing trembling in front of him, wondering what the next few minutes held for them, for they had no clear idea of how the cane was used at Cumbria College.  They found themselves in the position of countless other boys at public schools throughout the country, boys who stood before their headmaster waiting for the punishment and were unable to do anything to avoid what was about to happen.

But wait they did, as Dr. Waterlow had no intention of curtailing this little drama, for he had rightly sensed that the Colonel and the Board of Governors of Rigby, were looking not only for academic attributes in their new Headmaster, but also for a strict disciplinarian; a man who in the previous century would have been described as a martinet. And in Dr. Waterlow they had found their man; for like many a schoolmaster, he found considerable erotic pleasure in beating boys’ arses, a fact which he divulged to no one.

“This cane, boys, was given to me by my predecessor on his retirement.  He used it in this school for nearly twenty-five years and since his departure, I have used it regularly for the past five years.  It is a totally unique implement, as it has taken on with age, a patina and colour both of which are most unusual and it has retained its amazing flexibility for over thirty years.  It is my very favourite cane, to which I am attached in the same way as one is attached to very comfortable pair of old shoes. Each time I use it, I feel completely at ease as I know exactly how it will perform.  Just think boys, this cane has been used on over six hundred different boys over the thirty years of its life and it is still as good as new. So, boys, you are about to experience a moment in history and join the ranks of those who have felt the therapeutic effects of this very cane over the past thirty years. But enough talk as we now must get down to some action!”

The two boys were now in such nervous state, that the Colonel feared one or both of them might wet themselves.

“Do you cane both our hands or just one?” asked Mawdsley.

“Hands? Who said anything about hands?  Hands are caned in state schools; Cumbria Academy is a public school and public schools beat buttocks; hands are totally out of the question. So, you first Mawdsley, just step up to this low chair drop your shorts and underpants and bend across the back. Stick your buttocks high so that I can apply the cane correctly.”

“Oh sir, you are not going to beat our bums bare, are you sir? Please sir, I don’t think I can stand it.”

“Beating of bare bums, as you so graphically express it, is the standard method of punishment here at the Cumbria Academy. The cane is always applied directly to the naked buttocks of the miscreant; in this case yours.  So I suggest you hold your tongue now and prepare yourself for the pain which you are certainly going to experience. Keep perfectly still until I tell you to get up.  I am going to be lenient with both of you, very lenient, in fact, as you are both new boys.  But even though your misdemeanours are relatively minor, I cannot let them go unpunished.  Taken together your two infractions merit twenty-four strokes of the cane, but as I have decided to be lenient, I will give each of you just twelve cuts.”

“My god,” thought the Colonel to himself, “This man is exactly what we are looking for: he calls twelve strokes across the naked arse lenient; here is someone who is not frightened to lay it on and keep boys in order: Waterlow is a man after my own heart.”

Dr. Waterlow approached Mawdsley and surveyed the boy’s two hemispheres, which were totally unblemished virgin territory.  Gently tapping a few times across the boy’s buttocks he finally brought the cane down with a hard whack just below the bottom of the boy’s back. Then he systematically applied the next ten strokes with staggering precision, one parallel to the other, ending with the eleventh stroke at the top of the boy’s legs. The flexibility of the cane, so vigorously applied by a man who was clearly a master in the art, ensured that both cheeks were totally striped with the cuts. Finally, like a baker signing off on a loaf of bread, he applied the last cut diagonally across the others, joining them together.

Poor Mawdsley was in absolute agony from the first stroke on and howled loudly as stroke followed stroke.  By the time the master had finished with him, the poor boy was in a flood of tears and his arse was a mass of artistically applied red bruises.

“Up you get, Mawdsley and stop whining now; take your punishment like a man. (That time honoured exhortation, which brought no comfort whatsoever to the unlucky recipient of the beating). You next, Jarvis, come on lad, look lively. Let’s see your bare bum, as your friend calls it; come on, lad, get over the chair.”

How Jarvis felt, having witnessed the so-called “lenient” beating which his friend had just undergone, we shall never know. Suffice it to say that when he stood up from the chair a few minutes later, his arse too was a testimony to the precision and artistry of the caning ability of Dr. Waterlow.

“Now boys, get your clothes back on and cut along to your next class.  You two will be the heroes of your dorm. Tonight when your school mates see the magnificent picture I have painted on your bums: they are works of art in their own right: something you two lads can be proud to show off to your class mates!”

The two lads left, still in tears, massaging their buttocks, which surely felt as if they were on fire.  The lads had had a real roasting for their misdemeanour.

As they left his study, Dr. Waterlow added the encouraging remark: “You may find that your housemaster will want to see you on this same matter, as you have let down only the school but Latimer House as well.”

The colonel said: “Well, Dr, Waterlow, I have to say that we were all very impressed by the way you handled those two boys.  You were quite right, of course to give them a good beating, for even though their offences were not very serious, to have let them escape without punishment would have been a cardinal error: the beginning of the end. To have overlooked that inch those two lads took in breaking the rules and going into the town, would quickly have allowed it to turn into the proverbial mile; it would have been the thin end of the wedge. You did well indeed sir, to nip such infractions in the bud.  Now that the boys have seen what happens to rule breakers, I am sure that they will be much more careful in future. And may I say, sir, how much we all admired your mastery of the cane: such accuracy and such force.  That pair of miscreants went away well and truly chastened and I am sure that they will think hard and long before they break any more rules.”

“Well, Colonel, as a strict disciplinarian in charge of all discipline at this school I have had a lot of practice over the past five years.”  Smiled Dr. Waterlow..

“Now sir, my colleagues and I are very satisfied with your qualifications and capabilities and in spite of your young age, we have the pleasure to offer you the post of Headmaster of Rigby School which we hope you will accept.”

Dr. Waterlow was, of course, delighted that he had been offered the post, which he accepted.  He was also pleased to see that the Colonel and his colleagues had been duly impressed by his prowess with the cane and that they strongly endorsed the use of corporal punishment, as he intended to see that its use at Rigby became a regular feature of school life.  The fact of the matter was that Dr. Waterlow, like many others in his profession, enjoyed thrashing boys’ backsides. But he had another proclivity, which was not at first sight apparent; Dr. Waterlow was a homosexual.

CHAPTER 4

Dr .Waterlow left the Cumbria Academy at the end of the year.  His old colleagues at the Cumbria Academy wished him luck in his new post and congratulated him on his early accession to the post of Headmaster of a public school at the early age of twenty-eight.  He left Cumbria with only one possession: the faithful favourite cane which he had inherited from his predecessor.  The boys of Rigby would soon have the pleasure of learning of its efficacy as he had every intention of ruling Rigby with a rod of iron.

As Dr. Waterlow was leaving, the Headmaster of Cumbria Academy remarked to his new Assistant Master, the mand who was replacing Dr.Waterlow, that he hoped that Rigby knew what they were doing. 

His colleague replied: “Oh, Headmaster, never fear, Waterlow will sort them out; he is an excellent disciplinarian and a great organiser.  Believe me, sir, speaking as one of his admirers and now as his successor, I think he is a hard act to follow; the school is losing a good man.”

“I know, I know,” replied the Headmaster, “It’s not that that I am bothered about. It’s the other thing!”

“Oh, I see exactly what you mean, Headmaster.  But they have had lots of time to size him up;, so caveat emptor, I say: let the buyer beware. And Headmaster, if you would permit me to say so, Dr. Waterlow is always very discreet.”

At this remark, the Headmaster looked intently at his new Assistant Master, said nothing, but raised an internal eyebrow! Had he replaced like with like, he wondered.

So even though his colleagues had known of the sexual orientation of Dr. Waterlow, not a whisper had reached the Colonel and his Board of Governors.

Immediately prior to Dr. Waterlow’s arrival at Rigby, by the middle of December, the Board of Governors, felt sufficiently sure of itself to dismiss the present incumbent, Mr Baldwin.  A Board meeting was convened and Mr. Baldwin was summoned.  The Colonel did not beat about the bush as to the purpose of the meeting. He informed Mr. Baldwin in no uncertain terms, that the Board had decided after five years of his mismanagement, given the present parlous state of the school, that it was time to have a new person take charge.  The Board had, therefore, decided to give Mr. Baldwin the three months notice as per his letter of engagement, to vacate the post of Headmaster at the end of March.  Mr. Baldwin was, naturally indignant at the way he was being treated and attempted to defend his record. 

The Colonel cut him short: “Headmaster, just look at the state the school is in. There is no discipline, the academic results are abysmal and, sir, to cap it all, we have a serious fall in the demand for places for new boys.  You sir, with your modern methods and laissez-faire attitudes, have brought this institution to its knees.  Your time, sir, is over; you have to go. Now, if you wish, we are willing to allow you to resign: ill health, family problems: you know the form. So, sir, it’s up to you. Do you wish to resign, or do we give you written notice?  Decide!  Decide now!”

The Colonel delivered the above remarks in his most authoritative and intimidating manner and Mr. Baldwin decided to save face and resign.

“Mr Baldwin, the Board accepts your resignation, which you will put in writing by tomorrow morning and deliver into my hands. Now, as per your letter of engagement, your resignation is also subject to three months notice, which you are obliged to give to the Board,  However, if you wish, the Board will allow you to leave immediately and will, of course, pay you your salary for the next three months, until the contractual end of your employment with this school. In a word sir, you will be free to leave at the end of this month. The Board feels that it will be in the best interests of all concerned if you vacate the Headmaster’s quarters by December 31st.  So, Mr. Baldwin, I suggest you spend the rest of the month clearing out your things and vacate the premises by the end of the year.”

In convincing the Board to act in the way it had and more or less forcing Mr. Baldwin to go immediately, the Colonel had, in fact, played a master stroke: he had got rid of Mr. Baldwin, allowing the new Headmaster, Dr. Waterlow to take charge in January.  They had a long way to go, but at least they had installed the new broom earlier than anticipated. True, Dr. Waterlow, by virtue of his youth and as a newcomer charged to change the status quo, would face severe opposition from members of “the old guard”, but at least they were on the right road and Waterlow could start to stop the galloping rot, with which the school was infested, nine months earlier than expected.  The next major problem was the recruiting of the new housemasters and the dismissal of the old acolytes of Mr. Baldwin.  Until they were gone, the school could never be truly reformed and set on an even keel again. The Colonel wondered if the existing housemasters saw the writing on the wall: only time would tell.

CHAPTER 5  

Dr. Waterlow arrived at Rigby in early January. As a bachelor, he had, with the permission of his old Headmaster, left his furniture in his school lodgings at the Cumbria Academy until such time as they could be brought to Rigby and installed in the Headmaster’s quarters, which, by the way, in the tradition of the old English public schools, were very spacious; far more than he as a bachelor really needed.   So, with a few personal effects and his beloved cane, he installed himself in the local hotel for a few days until his furniture arrived from Cumbria.

The spring term started on January 6th, and the boys arrived from their Christmas holiday the day before.  No one, not even the existing masters, had been told of the change of leadership of the school and so, the Colonel decided that he would convoke all the masters to a Board Meeting and inform them of the change in leadership and introduce them to their new Headmaster.

“Gentlemen, thank you all for coming here today at such short notice.  The reason for this meeting is to tell you that the Board of Governors, after a detailed appraisal of the performance of the school over the past five years, decided that a change in leadership was necessary.  At the end of December the old Headmaster, Mr. Baldwin resigned and has left the school. It is with great pleasure that I would like to introduce to you the new Headmaster of Rigby School as of January 1st this year: Dr Andrew Waterlow. Dr. Waterlow is a classicist, educated at Eton College and Oxford, where he graduated with the highest honours. He subsequently obtained the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at Oxford, but then decided that teaching was his future and he has, for past five years, been the Assistant Master at another public school of which the name will be familiar to all of you, I am sure: the Cumbria Academy.”

“So gentlemen, I am sure that I can count on all of you to give your full support to Dr.Waterlow in his new post. Thank you for your attendance and good day to you all.”

Holding to the maxim “Discretion is the better part of valour”, the Colonel deemed it wiser not to mention the fact that the Board thought that the present teaching staff had done a terrible job and that the school was almost on its knees, thanks to the mismanagement by Mr. Baldwin. He also did not ask for  questions from the assembled staff.  He simply gave them the facts, thanked them for their attention and left. In a word, they had to take it or leave it; many of the present staff must have wondered if the writing was already on the wall for them too.

The assembled staff had listened to the Colonel’s somewhat brief announcement in stunned silence.  No one had ever heard of Dr. Andrew Waterlow, yet here he was, younger by far than even the youngest member of the present staff and in charge of everything and everybody, them included. A twenty-eight year old whippersnapper in charge of men twice his age; well that was a pill which was hard to swallow. But swallow it they had to!

Dr. Waterlow began: “Gentlemen, allow me to say that I appreciate that my sudden presence among you is a surprise and, I suspect, a shock to all of you.  Not to mince words, Rigby School is in a bad way, gentlemen.  Our academic standing had fallen so dramatically that we were longer able to fill all the first year entrance places we had on offer for the start of the present academic year; thus our first year classes are down in numbers. I am afraid that the demand is not there, for we appear to have become a sort of pariah among the smaller public schools.  Clearly we cannot go on like this and I look to all of you to help me put our house in order again.  I shall in the next few days have individual meetings with each of you.  Meanwhile, I shall see all of you on the platform on January 6th at the first full assembly of pupils of the spring term, when I shall have some important announcements to make concerning the changes to the running of this school which I propose to implement immediately. Change is often difficult to accept, but changes are necessary and will be introduced; I feel sure that I shall be able to count on your support. Thank you, gentlemen, for your attention.”

And following the Colonel’s example he then left.

Dr. Waterlow had done a great deal of work before the meeting described above.  He had carried out a complete review of the way the school, had been run for the past five years and had come to the conclusion that the problem was only partially due to the poor quality of the teaching. But the main problem was the fact that under the previous Headmaster, the boys had been allowed to do, more or less what they liked.  There were no longer any internal monthly tests to monitor the boys’ progress; boys were allowed to miss classes for the flimsiest of reasons. Boys were allowed a freedom of dress which took away the identity of the school; Rigby had an official dress for its pupils; but in the interest of allowing the boys “to find their own way in their own time”, Dr. Baldwin had allowed the boys to dress as they saw fit; ties were not tied or even not worn: short-sleeved shirts were worn with no jackets; caps were abandoned: shoes were not cleaned; socks were not pulled up; gym and games had become optional and competitive games among the  houses had been completely abandoned. All in all, the school and its pupils were a sloppy mess. 

At the teaching level, Dr. Waterlow was appalled to discover that all sense of decorum had, in fact, been thrown to the winds: few, if any, of the teaching staff wore gowns in front of their classes and some of the masters appeared in casual clothes before their pupils, often tieless and sometimes smoking in front of the boys they purported to be teaching.  But finally, and this seemed to Waterlow to be the crucial point; there were no sanctions of any kind which could be brought to bear on the boys. There were no detentions, no deprivation of liberties and privileges and corporal punishment had been totally banned by Mr Baldwin as a barbaric practice.  All this was now to be changed.

Dr. Waterlow, wearing cap and gown, walked on to the stage at the first school assembly of the spring term; all the teaching staff was already there, awaiting his arrival. As was then the custom in English public schools, the majority of which were essentially Protestant, the assembly was centred on a hymn, a prayer and a text for the day, taken from the Bible. The Headmaster then made any announcements for the day.

As Dr. Waterlow appeared, a buzz went through the assembled boys, who had only just heard that they had a new Headmaster.  Dr. Waterlow looked behind himself and noticed that only a few members of his staff were correctly dressed and only four teachers were wearing a gown.  He stepped to the lectern, put his mortar board on the desk and said, “Good morning boys. I am your new Headmaster. My name is Andrew Waterlow:  Doctor Andrew Waterlow. After prayers this morning I shall have many things to say to you, as a result of which the first class this morning for all boys is cancelled.”

The boys were all agog with the announcement of a new Headmaster and many of the senior boys, who were in the upper sixth form and were young men themselves, were astounded by the youth of their new mentor: Dr. Waterlow was an athletic-looking youthful man, who at first sight appeared hardly older than the final year pupils.

“Well, boys, I have to  tell you that the rule-free ambience under which this school had been run for the past five years has come to an end; and that end is today: right now!  I have never in my life seen such a badly turned out set of public school boys than I find myself looking at today.  Gentlemen, your appearances are a disgrace to this school, a disgrace to the town in which we are located and a disgrace to yourselves that you have allowed yourselves to adopt and accept such slovenly appearances. A public school education is a privilege granted to but few boys and is aimed at turning out young men who will be gentlemen in every sense of the word and a credit not only to their school, but to their king and country, into whose service many of them have traditionally entered.  Looking at you boys today, I am sorry to say that I see none of this in you.  However, it is my job to pull this school up from the depths into which it has sunk over the past five years, by its boot straps, which is precisely what I intend to do.  And so, starting today, things at Rigby are going to change: to change dramatically.” 

“Now, as a start you will all wear the approved school uniform every day from now on, You will all wear a clean shirt, clean socks and clean underwear every day and you will at all times wear a tie, correctly knotted. You will all shower every evening before retiring and every morning before dressing for the day. You will all clean your shoes every day and see that they shine brightly at assembly; I expect to be able to see my face in them.   At least once a month, you will each have your hair cut in a short style, by at the school barber’s shop which will be open every day. And you older boys in the upper sixth will start to shave, as I will not tolerate any facial hair on any boys of this school; and do not even think of trying to grow a moustache; so much for your appearances. You will all have one week as from today in which to make yourselves ship-shape and woe betide any boy who does not heed my warnings, for if you are found delinquent, you will be punished; that is not a threat boys, but a promise and a promise which will be kept. Do I make myself clear?”

The Headmaster paused for a moment and then said, “Your silence, boys, is deafening me! Do I make myself clear?”

There was a slight pause and then a ragged “Yes” with a vague “Sir”, which sounded like an afterthought.

“When I ask you if I have made myself clear, the correct response, from all of you is “Yes, Sir!” and I want to hear it loud and clear.  It is quite obvious that your manners are as slipshod as your appearances.  Therefore, please take note: when a master – any master – asks you a question and you answer, your answer always, and I repeat, always concludes with “Sir”.  So, once again let me ask you if I have made myself clear.”

This time the boys, having realised that they were now dealing with a different kettle of fish than previously, replied with a resounding  “Yes Sir!”

“As of this term, games and physical training will be compulsory.  I propose to institute inter-house rivalry on the sports field where rugger and cricket will be re-introduced.  For boys who have no aptitude for ball games, then cross-country running will provide the necessary exercise. There will be no slackers; all of you will be involved regularly in vigorous physical exercise.”

“This school is located within walking distance of the town centre and it is important that all of you, when in town, conduct yourself with a sense of decorum appropriate to your class and to boys attending a public school.  You will always wear the school uniform, even when the weather is hot and all of you will always wear your school cap, which you will raise to any adult you know and should happen to meet whilst in town. First and second form boys, will be allowed to go into town only on Saturday afternoons and for a maximum period of two hours.  Older boys may go into town in their free time, but no boy and I mean no boy, whatever his age, is allowed to enter a public house.  Smoking, both on and off the school premises is strictly forbidden. Any boy who breaks either of these rules will be severely punished.”

“Now, most of you have spent your days at Rigby with no sanctions of any kind imposed upon you; you have been allowed more or less to do as you wished. In fact, you are a classic mass case of boys who were given an inch and have taken the proverbial mile.  It will be clear from my earlier remarks that this idyllic situation has now come to an end.   And therefore, to enforce what is henceforth to be a life regulated by rules and discipline, I propose to introduce certain sanctions, which will be brought to bear on any boy who oversteps the mark. As of one week from today, the cane and the birch will be re-introduced into regular use at Rigby.  Now most of you will never have had the doubtful pleasure of being thrashed with either of these implements, but let me warn you here and now, that any boy, whatever his age, who oversteps the mark, is disobedient and is a miscreant, will be beaten. I particularly want to emphasise that all boys will qualify for corporal chastisement, as certain schools no longer cane or birch their sixth formers, considering them to be young gentlemen. I do not subscribe to this philosophy, so all of you have now been warned; the rod will not be spared on any boy who misbehaves.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir” rose loud and clear from the assembled boys.

“Now, none of your present masters has for the past five years had the opportunity to beat an errant boy, although I am sure that several of them would have liked to do so. Masters will issue punishment slips, which will be placed in a box outside my study. Each evening, boys who have been given a punishment slip will stand and await their fate outside my study, immediately after the last class.  In addition, each of the four Housemasters will be authorised to cane boys from their house.  Make no mistake, any boy who is  handed a punishment slip, will be caned: there will be no discussions or pleas or mitigating circumstances; you will enter my study and leave with a very painful posterior.  And woe betide any boy who does not appear promptly for punishment, for I shall have the pleasure of acquainting his posterior with the delights of the birch. ”

“Finally, let me announce that I have decided to set up a Court of Prefects: senior boys, who will act almost as junior teachers and will have the right beat their younger classmates. There will be sixteen prefects in all, four from each house, one of whom will be named House-Captain. Additionally, I will personally nominate a Head-Boy so that the full complement of prefects will be seventeen in all.  All boys will address any prefect by his surname and proceeded by the title, Mr. and will defer to him in all conversations using the word, sir.  Finally, let me be quite clear, the prefects will be the eyes and ears of the teaching staff when classes are finished for the day and they will have the absolute authority to maintain order among you.  And that, I think, gentlemen, is all I have to say for the moment. You may regain your classes for the second period of this morning.”

As the Headmaster stepped down from the dais, a wave of whispering rose from the assembled boys, above which a lone voice, tinged with sarcasm and incredulity, said, “Are you serious?” 

There was a sudden hush and the hall fell into deep silence: you could have heard that proverbial pin drop.  Dr. Waterlow stopped and turned and said, “Step forward the boy who just said that; quick about it now; I will know who spoke.”  Here was a long pause and finally a senior looking boy stepped forward.

“Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” asked Dr. Waterlow.

“Butterfield, Sir, upper sixth science.”

“Well, Butterfield, just run along and wait for me outside my study and I will give you the opportunity to test the seriousness of my remarks today.  I shall be there in five minutes so you will not have long to wait.”

CHAPTER 6

Dr. Waterlow threw open the door of his study and indicated to Butterworth that he should enter.  He, himself, went and sat behind his desk and left Butterworth standing in front of him, clearly very nervous.

“So, Butterworth, how old are you?”

“Eighteen, Sir.”

“And why did you make the remark you did after my presentation before the school? Did you think that I was just talking a lot of hot air and had no intention of making the changes I outlined?  Just look at yourself, boy; you are an utter disgrace; have you no pride in your appearance or self-respect?  Just ask yourself what people think when they look at you. Well I can tell you what they see: they see a dirty looking, ill dressed, ill-kempt youth, who looks more like a dow- and-out than a boy at what was once a prestigious public school.  You, sir, are a prime example of what this school has become. You are a living proof of why change is necessary if we are to survive in the coming years.”

“Sir, the previous Headmaster…”

“I do not want to hear about the previous Headmaster or what he said or thought or did.  His wreckage, which I see all around me as I look about the school, speaks volumes of the damage he did. Frankly, the only good thing about him, as far as I can tell, is that he is now “previous” rather than “present”.  I am the present Headmaster, boy, and things will now be done my way. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.  Sir,  I am very, very sorry for what I said; I really didn’t mean it: it just slipped out; and I have taken note that  a week from today, the new rules will come into play and I really will obey them; really I will, sir.  Sir, I really am sorry.”

“Butterworth, I think in your case, I can make an exception about the rules and bring the date of commencement of the new regime forward to today. I see no reason for you to have to wait to “enjoy” the pleasures of the new system, so I propose to give you access to it now: right now, in fact!  Look upon it as an early harvest of what you have just sown. You will be able to act as my ambassador, to your classmates, and tell them that indeed the new Headmaster is serious and you will be able to show them your arse to prove it.  Step over to that chair, there, boy and bend across the back.”

“Oh, please sir, you are not going to beat me, are you sir?”

“Indeed I am, Butterworth; indeed I am; so quick about it boy; over the chair and let me see your buttocks ready for punishment.”|

Butterworth went over to the chair and with some reluctance bent across the back.  His pants pulled tight across what was clearly a well formed muscular pair of buns.

“Stand up Butterworth. I just told you to show me your buttocks and what you have shown me is the seat of your trousers; drop your trousers and underpants and bend over the chair again boy.”

“Oh, please, sir, you are not going to cane my bum bare, are you sir? Please sir, not that; it will hurt too much.  And besides sir, I think it’s indecent that you want me to take off my trousers in front of you.”

“I will decide what is indecent, Butterworth. Let me tell you, boy, there is nothing at all indecent about having your buttocks thrashed naked.  I should have made it clear in my address, this morning, that, in this school, whenever the cane is used, it will always be administered to naked flesh.”

“Oh please, sir, couldn’t you make an exception just this once, sir. I really am sorry for what I said….”

“Butterworth, just stop bleating on and wasting your breath. I am going to beat  you and I am going to apply the cane to your naked arse, boy,  So just accept that that is what is about to happen and make the best of it; you are not the first boy, nor will you be the last to find himself facing a very painful interlude. As I said at the assembly this morning, these things are not negotiable.”

The Headmaster went across to his oriental pot where he kept all his canes and withdrew his favourite: the one he had been given by his predecessor at his old school.  He gave it a few swishes through the air and then turned his attention to Butterworth’s muscular arse, which was just crying out to be flogged. The Headmaster looked upon the virgin territory which he was just about to violate with his cane and thought to himself that Butterworth had one of the most attractively beatable pair of buttocks he had ever seen.  True, Butterworth merited a thrashing for his impudence, but Dr. Waterlow could, nevertheless, not suppress the inner, sadistic satisfaction that roasting the boy’s backside would give him.

“I should just tell you, Butterworth, that you are in what might well be described as a privileged position; you are the first boy to be caned by me as Headmaster of this school and you are about to have a taste of my very favourite cane, which has probably made contact with more than six hundred backsides of what I will call, “lucky” boys over its thirty year life.  So, you can be sure you are getting the absolute best that I can offer; you are not, in any way, being short changed out of what is your due!  Now, boy, count each stroke as I administer it.  I am giving you eighteen cuts in all as I want you to take a very clear message in the form of a very picturesque pair of buttocks back to your class mates.  I want you to be able to say to them with some conviction, that the new Headmaster, does, in fact, mean what he says and look here lads: here is the proof.”

And with that, Dr. Waterlow, who was a past master at the art of wielding the cane, gave poor Butterworth the hiding of his life.  Butterworth tried in vain to hold his tears, but the pain was just so searingly intense that he was howling after the third stroke and by the time the beating was over, tears were flowing like a river.

“So, Butterworth, there you are. As you have now experienced firsthand that, I am, in fact, quite serious, shake my hand and thank me for correcting you and go and bear the glad tidings to your classmates.  You have an excellent set of “battle scars” to flaunt before them. You will be the hero of the day, which may give you some small consolation for the caning you have just received!”

As the beating had progressed, Dr. Waterlow had become increasingly aware that he was getting harder and harder and that he would soon reach a sexual climax if he did not finish quickly and get rid of the boy. So, as soon as the door closed behind Butterworth, he turned the key in the lock, went into his bathroom and jerked himself into a quick orgasm; a climactic moment of sexual relief was accompanied by a huge quantity of thick, creamy cum.

Dr. Waterlow was certainly in peak sexual form, of that there was no doubt at all. This, his first beating in his new post, had suddenly brought home to him with a vengeance, the homoerotic nature of what he had just done. It is quite common for acts of punishment to be accompanied by sexual arousal; both the recipient and the giver frequently experience erections and emissions of sperm. But never had Dr. Waterlow had such an intense feeling as he had  had today, which made him acutely aware of the need to find himself a sex partner to satisfy his sexual needs; this was the number one priority in his private life, as the sex urge just does not go away.

Meanwhile, the unfortunate Butterworth, whose cock had also risen to the occasion during the beating and was now was also leaking a little pre-cum, limped back to his class and sat down at his desk with some difficulty. The teacher taking the class looked at him with certain sympathy and indicated that if he wished he could move to the back of the classroom and remain standing, for which gesture Butterworth was infinitely grateful, for the pain of the cane was still intense.  At the morning break, his classmates clamoured around him to find out what had happened.

“Listen guys;  just take a look at this.”  And he dropped his trousers and underpants to show his class mates his richly striped arse. “Guys, you had better believe that this Headmaster is for real; he means what he says and, boy, does he know how to lay it on with the cane; I’m still in bloody agony; my arse feels as though it’s on fire. My advice to you all; watch your step; otherwise you’ll get the same. And, guys, what he forgot to tell us this morning, was that all beatings are on the bare bum: eighteen strokes he gave me!  I get the impression too that the “classic six of the best” is for the birds; I reckon twelve is the minimum he’ll dish out and he really seems to enjoy his work; frankly, guys, I don’t think it can get much worse than this.  Talk about a cold bloody shower after the look-warm Baldwin era; this is fucking ice cold water into which this guy is throwing us. So, yes, things are changing and changing fast and we had all better learn and learn quickly, otherwise life is going to be very painful for all of us. I reckon that we are moving into a phase where the cane will reign supreme and there will be a hell of a lot of sore arses.”

So much for the “wisdom according to Butterworth,” And there was a great deal of sense in what the lad had just said. Of course, what he did not know was that things could get worse. The cane was going to “reign supreme” as Butterworth poetically put it; but what he and the others did not realise was that the dreaded birch was hovering on the horizon: the birch, one of the most painful of all forms of corporal punishment; and yes, Dr. Waterlow had every intention of using it.  The old adage, “Spare the rod and spoil the child” was to become the unwritten motto of Rigby School.

CHAPTER 7

The Court of Prefects was created and functioned as the main enforcer of out-of-class discipline in the school.  Dr. Waterlow, in his efforts to bring back a sense of dignity and hierarchy into the school, decided that the prefects should each wear a mortar board to set them apart from their fellow students. 

Four prefects were appointed from each of the four houses constituting the school and the senior prefect from each house was nominated House-Captain,

The Head-Boy, named Jonathan Lightfoot, who had been personally elevated to the post by the Headmaster, had the additional distinction of wearing a mortar board with a gold tassel.  As the Headmaster pointed out to the prefects, when they were in town, the cap rule applied equally to them. And so the prefects, when outside the school premises always wore their mortar boards, which they quickly saw as a mark of real distinction. The Headmaster warned them that in spite of their elevated status, the prefects were subject to the same rules as every other boy in the school: they too had to abide by the rules, which they were, in fact, also appointed to enforce: no one was above the law!

The Headmaster also reiterated his remarks from the first assembly; prefects would henceforth address each other by their surnames only and would be addressed by the other boys with the style Mr. preceding their surnames and deferentially as “sir”. Each prefect had his own study bedroom but the Head-Boy, in keeping with his superior status, was accorded a suite of two rooms: a study and a separate bedroom. In terms of the hierarchy established, the Head-Boy had almost the status of a master and the other prefects, whilst addressing each other with their surnames, had always to defer to him and address and refer to him as Mr. Lightfoot and use the deferential “sir” whenever appropriate.

Thus in the Court of Prefects, Dr. Waterlow had created strict hierarchical   structure, plain for all to see, in which the pecking order was clear. The Head-Boy was top dog: the House Captains came next and the other prefects were in third place.  Of course, the prefects revelled in their superior status, which allowed them to lord it over the other boys, including their own classmates.  They had been given the authority and they had every intention of using it to the full.  Like all boys in the English public school system, where beating was accepted as part of daily life, they took great pleasure in seizing upon every minor infraction to beat any miscreant. Dr. Waterlow, himself a great believer in the merits of corporal punishment and himself a regular arse beater, nevertheless tempered the enthusiasm of the prefects by limiting the number of strokes they could administer to a boy on any one occasion to six: the classic, “six of the best” which figured so graphically in the stories in the boys’ magazines of that period.

But, as might well be imagined, the prefects practised caning cushions and pillows until each of them had  “fine tuned” his technique to the peak of painful perfection.  It was amazing just how much pain they managed to pack into those six permitted strokes. And, in the first few months of under the new Headmaster, when the shock of the new regime was still being felt, there was a daily parade of six or so boys before the Court each Monday and Thursday evening after supper, where the cane descended mercilessly on the naked arses of the miscreants; many were the boys who went to bed nursing a glowingly painful arse.  Dr. Waterlow looked on in satisfaction as he saw that the prefects had managed to tame the worst habits of the hitherto undisciplined boys. His ideas were yielding fruit: things were improving.

But the pressing problem for the Headmaster was the replacement of the “old lags” as he saw them: the four housemasters who were still in charge of the four houses and who, in spite of paying lip-service to the new regime, still, dragged their feet and, in a passive sort of way, hindered progress.

In much the same way as fate had intervened for the Colonel in his search for a new Headmaster, so it was also for Dr. Waterlow.  He himself, a product of Eton and Oxford, was a member of the C&O gentlemen’s club in London’s Pall Mall, a club whose membership was exclusively reserved for graduates of those two prestigious universities. Cambridge and Oxford.  In London one day at the club, he met, by chance an old school friend of his from his Eton days and the two men sat down to lunch together, to reminisce over times past.   Waterlow told his friend the saga of Rigby School and what he was doing as Headmaster to pull it out of the mire into which it had sunk.

Jeremy Foster, for that was the friend’s name, told Waterlow that he was at a bit of a loose end; foot loose and fancy free, was the way he put it.  Like so many men of his background, in those now long gone days, he was what was known as a “gentleman of private means”; another way of saying that he had sufficient income so as not to have to work to earn a living. By those who knew anything about anything, it was commonly referred to as “coming from old money”, a much admired quality among a certain stratum of English society.  In fact, Dr.Waterlow himself was of the same ilk; he did not need to work as he too was independently wealthy; but he enjoyed the life he had chosen as a school teacher.  In fact he enjoyed the ability to indulge, in all legality, his penchant for administering corporal punishment on adolescent boys. And a public school, in spite of its misleading name was far from the public eye and was also a refuge for men of his sexual bent,

Well, it transpired that Jeremy had been acting as an unpaid service teacher at a number of public schools: a teacher who temporarily replaces a permanent teacher who for some reason is briefly unable to carry out his work. The upshot was that Jeremy, bored with his life, had found a certain fulfilment in this job and wondered whether he might not take up teaching as a fulltime profession.  So Waterlow told him of the saga of Rigby School and his search for four new housemasters. 

“Well, Andrew, I may well be able to help you. Listen; I get my temporary assignments through an agency which specializes in supply teachers for public schools: sort of the crème de la crème of temporary staff so to speak. Now, I know for a fact that a number of guys, all with educational backgrounds similar to ours, are looking for permanent jobs at the moment. It might well be that you could find the answer to your problem there.  And, the great advantage for you, that I can see, is that all of these fellows would be available more or less immediately, as they are not tied to any one job for long.  Now, while we are at it, I wonder if you might consider hiring me for one of the vacancies.  I’m as free as a bird a bit bored with life and tied to no one. I find that I have quite enjoyed my recent foray into teaching, and as I have nothing more pressing to do at the moment, it might be fun to become a permanent master at a decent school. Where is Rigby, by the way?”

“Oh it’s at a place called Market Ditchfeild in rural Lincolnshire about twenty miles from Lincoln.”

“What a coincidence; I used to know it well, Spent a lot of time there in my Eton days during the long vacations, as my family has some good friends there: the Mornington-Crosbys;  Andrew, you surely remember Charlie Mornington-Crosby; he was a year ahead of us at Eton and although he beat my arse something rotten, he and I hit it off together and became good friends, so much so that I was often houseguest at their pile near Ditchfeild: Mornington Hall; do you know it?  But when we left Eton, he went on to Cambridge and I, like you to Oxford, and we just lost touch.  Charming market town, Ditchfeild, as I remember it; peculiar spelling though, as I recollect:  “e” before “i” and all that business!”

“Jeremy, you may have put me onto a good idea. Let’s explore the potential availability of staff as soon as possible, for this is, at the moment, my most urgent problem; I absolutely must get rid of these four laggards as they are a drag on everything I am trying to do at Rigby at the moment. But there is a constraint, in that the four, who have to go, are still teaching, if you can call it that and so I need to replace them with men who can take over their subjects as well as step in as housemasters.  So, I need a mathematician, a historian, a chemist and a French teacher.  Let’s see what your agency has available.”

“Listen Andrew, as far as French is concerned, I am your man, as my degree is in French, language and literature;  and if I say so myself, I did quite well as I took first class honours in the finals at Oxford. Why not leave it with me for a few days and let me sound out the field?”

“Now, how long are you staying in town?  I thought we might catch up on a few things together. I seem to remember we had a rather good relationship together in our last year at Eton. Looking back on things now though, I wonder how we lost touch when we both went up to Oxford; different colleges and different subjects I guess.”

“What I remember vividly, Jeremy, of our last year at Eton, was our being caught “in flagrente delicto” in the showers by the games master. You had your cock up my arse and were deep into rogering me when old Commander Smithson caught us.  I remember vividly our standing there naked, being told to bend over, still dripping wet, in the shower room and his giving us a dozen or so whacks across our arses with that leather taws thing he kept to hand most of the time. Then he hauled us of, just in our gym strips, barely dry to the Headmaster, who lectured is on the sins of such lewd and unbecoming behaviour. My god, looking back on it now, how he went on, before he bent us over the birching block and treated our bare arses to a twenty stroke roasting.  My god, Jeremy, how could anyone ever forget that?  It was the worst beating, among many, I might add, that I ever took at Eton. That was the only time I ever felt the birch. I was caned countless times by both teachers and older boys, but that birching was something very special. I am intending to re-introduce the birch at Rigby, by the way, as a sort of, “Sword of Damocles”: the ultimate sanction, to hold over the boys.”

Jeremy laughed and said,” Well, we both seem to have survived and emerged at the end of the day intact; great days they were!  But let me ask you this, Andrew. Did that birching cure you of your sexual bent or not. Did it, as I am sure the Headmaster hoped, put you on the righteous path to becoming a good and “normal” male? You know the old fart was such a hypocrite, as he was well aware that several members of his teaching staff were fervent practitioners of anal sex. “Do as I say, not as I do,” was much the ethos of the school.”

“Oh, come on, Jeremy; stop talking tosh; you know as well as I do, that you cannot change a man’s sexuality by beating him; it’s something which is an integral part of his makeup. Most guys like women and want to fuck them but some guys, like you and me, prefer sex with another man. Under the benighted legalisation under which we live in this country, promulgated by a set of legislators in Westminster, many of whom themselves indulge in the very acts they are legislating against, guys like us live under the constant threat of imprisonment if caught in the act. So the three key words to our behaviour are discretion, discretion and more discretion; do not get caught it’s as simple as that!”

“Do I take it then that you would not be averse to a little “relaxation” with me before you catch your train back to Lincoln this evening?  Look, Andrew I’m  staying here tonight and have a room booked; we have three hours and  frankly nothing would give me greater pleasure than to renew, for old times’ sake,  my acquaintance with your hole and I guess, if I read you correctly, that my feelings might be reciprocated.”

“Fuck you, Jeremy! You do have a pompous way with words; why do we beat about the bush all the time? Why don’t we just say what we mean in simple English?  So come on, let’s go to your room and see if we still know how to fuck each other after so many years.  Lord knows, we had enough practice at school; and sex is much like swimming: once you can, you never forget!”

And that is exactly what these two old school friends did.  For Andrew it was a heavenly experience to lie in bed with an old friend and for each of them to be able uninhibitedly to indulge their sexual fantasies on each other.  It was a perfect end to what had been a very fruitful chance meeting and, as it turned out to a long term relationship.

CHAPTER 8 

On the train back to Lincoln, Andrew Waterlow reflected on the entirely unexpected results of his visit to London. His chance meeting with his old school friend, Jeremy Foster, had opened up a whole raft of new possibilities; he might, with a bit of luck, resolve at one stroke, so to speak, all his staffing problems and be quit of the last of the “old guard”. Also, if he appointed Jeremy as head of French, then he would have a like minded friend close to hand, with the prospect of a stable sexual relationship with a guy he truly liked and with whom, when still at school, he had spent many happy hours fucking butt. The time he and Jeremy had spent in bed together earlier that afternoon, dispelled any fears he may have had that they had been too long apart.  It was as if their school days relationship had ended just yesterday; it was a sublime reawakening of a forgotten relationship and as far as he could judge, Jeremy was just as enthusiastic about it as he was.  All in all it was a very alluring and tempting prospect.  He would await Jeremy’s enquiries with impatience; as he said to himself, “Tempus fugit! Time flies; I have to get on with things; I have to put the house in order.”

The next day he called in the school head grounds man, whom he had ordered to get the old cricket pitch in order for the coming summer months. The pitch had been left to its own devices for several years, as the previous Headmaster had killed all competitive sports stone dead and so it needed a great deal of regular work to bring it back into a playable condition. But he also decided to sound out the grounds man on the possibility of making a series of birches, for he really had no idea whom else to ask. Canes were easy, as they could be ordered from the supply house, but birches had to be made regularly and kept in water, for the fine twigs from which they were made soon dried out.

“Well sir,” said the grounds man, “I could help you out I suppose, although I have never actually made a birch in my life, but in the old days, the days before Mr Baldwin that is, it was always Mr. Gresham, the head gardener who was asked to make such things.  I think, sir, that perhaps in the  interests of staff  harmony, you might ask him about it first, sir  and then if he declines and does not fancy taking it on again, I’ll be happy to try my hand; can’t be too difficult can it?  Anyway , sir, all power to you for putting some order back into this place; it’s not, of course for me to say, sir,  but I reckon there’s nothing like a bit’o stick, is there sir, to keep the lads in order; and  well, sir, if you bring back the birch, well that’ll be sort of icing on the cake, sir.”

An inappropriate analogy thought the Headmaster as he said: “You say if I bring back the birch; do I gather that the birch was in use in this school prior to Mr Baldwin’s arrival?”

“Oh, certainly sir. The old Headmaster, Mr. Baldwin’s predecessor that is, dead and gone these past three years, was a great believer in it. It was just Mr. Baldwin with his new fangled ideas that banned it:  and the cane too, sir; and just look where that has got us!”

Andrew called in Mr. Gresham, the head gardener, who declared himself delighted to hear that the birch was to be brought back and said that nothing would please him more than to become again the purveyor of this splendid implement.

“I remember in the old days, before the arrival of Mr Baldwin, I used to make made three or four birches a month, as the old Headmaster set great store by them. He used to tell me that if you wanted to give a boy a truly memorable beating, then nothing at all equalled a well made and well soaked birch. But just remember sir, I know it’s called a birch, but I actually made it from hazel twigs, which are much more resilient and I gather that those who know about such things, believe the hazel twig version  to be  even more painful than the true birch. Anyway, sir, the old Headmaster used to call my birches the Rolls Royce of corporal punishment implements and he used them regularly.  He was a great believer, sir in the saying, “Spare the rod and spoil the boy”, as I suspect you too are, sir. But I must not chatter on, sir, as I have a lot of work still to do; but just one thing, sir, before I forget; will you want the birching stools brought back into the school? The old Headmaster had one in the little room of his study and the other in the birching room proper.”

“You mean that we have two birching stools in store somewhere? But certainly, let’s have them both brought back and put into use again.  Where are they, by the way?”

“Well sir, they are safe and sound in the garden barn, where I keep all my tools and fertilizers and what-not. They are still in perfect condition. The old Headmaster bought them from a professional manufacturer of such and they have restraining straps for both wrists and ankles and they are also adjustable to suit different heights of lads; they really are the best that money could buy. I’ll get them moved back later in the week, sir and I’ll put them in their old places unless you tell me otherwise, sir. You know, Mr Baldwin told me to throw them away, but I somehow thought that they might come in again sometime in the future, so there you are, sir, I was right, wasn’t I?  Oh, and I’ll put the special soaking pails back with the stools; I kept them as well, you see, sir.”

“You certainly have come up trumps, Mr. Gresham.  Now, can you make me two samples of your handiwork by this time next week?”

“I’ll try my best, sir. Just leave it to me.”

Dr. Waterlow sat back in his chair and felt utterly contented. All he needed now was good news from Jeremy and with that he could feel very satisfied with the results of his efforts since his arrival a few brief weeks earlier.

A week later, Jeremy was in contact with Andrew to tell him that there were at least six teachers potentially available for him including two chemists, two mathematicians and two historians.

“What I suggest, if you are agreeable, is that we get these fellows over to the club and you can interview them and see what you think.  They are all London based at the moment and they are all either Eton or Winchester and Oxford or Cambridge, so you are looking at applicants who are all out of the top drawer. And, Andrew my friend, I hope you will set me on as your French teacher, as I am rather keen on the idea.”

All went according to plan and Andrew was able to select three suitable candidates, one of whom was single, the other two of whom were married; and he did take on Jeremy as the French teacher and housemaster of the fourth house.  It must be said that the housemasters’ quarters at Rigby were almost as generous as those of the Headmaster, so there was no problem in accommodating married teachers and their families.  Each candidate came and spent a day at Rigby and met the Board of Governors, as Andrew needed their approval for any engagements; in the event, there were no problems and offers were made and accepted and letters of engagement were signed, sealed and delivered by all four candidates.

As Jeremy had said, the great advantage of engaging supply teachers was their more or less immediate availability. Andrew Waterlow met with the Colonel and the Board of Governors to decide how to tell the four present housemasters that their services were no longer required.  As ever, the Colonel did not beat about the bush.

“Gentlemen, as our four new staff members are available immediately I think that best approach is to get rid of these four hangovers from the Baldwin era immediately and get the new men installed forthwith, so that Dr, Waterlow can get on unimpeded with his resuscitation – I  think that is perhaps a good word for what he is attempting to do – programme.”

One of the Board asked, “Are the four existing housemasters aware that we are proposing to replace them or not?”

“I neither know no care whether they know or not,” replied the Colonel. “I have checked the terms of their contracts and we are obliged to give them three months’ notice of our intention to terminate their engagement.  Moreover, gentlemen, there is no obligation whatsoever, to terminate at the end of a term nor even to start the three month period at the beginning of a calendar month. So, gentlemen, subject to those conditions, we are free to tell them to go whenever we wish!”

Dr. Waterlow now intervened. “Gentlemen, I think it is in the best interests of the school if we terminate the contracts of these four teachers as soon as possible and that we allow them to leave at the end ot this term. No; let me rephrase that and say that we insist that they leave immediately to avoid having them around, dragging their feet for another three months.  So, as they are all resident in the school, I suggest that we give them one month from date of notice in order to allow them to find alternative accommodation: only one of the masters is married, so I see no great problems.”

“Well, then,” said the Colonel, “If we are all agreed, then I suggest that we get on with it.  I will take it upon myself to announce the glad tidings to the four men in question; I leave it to you, Waterlow, to liaise with our four new staff members about the exact dates of their arrivals.”

And so it was that the whole question of the purging of the last remnants of the Baldwin era was accomplished.  Dr. Andrew Waterlow sat back in his chair and felt very satisfied with what he had achieved in the two months since his arrival.

CHAPTER 9

With the new staff and the vigilance of the Court of Prefects and the exhortations of the new Headmaster, things began rapidly to improve at Rigby.  The setting up of  competitive sports team from the four houses  coupled with the introductions of close monitoring of the boys’ performances across all classes on a monthly basis had a rapid effect on the general standards and morals of the school; a little rivalry on the sports field works wonders with the boys.  Boys became proud of their appearances and most of them started to take to heart the Headmaster’s comments about their self-respect.

The use of the cane, especially by the Court of Prefects had been accepted as part and parcel of a public schoolboy’s life by most of the boys and those who were summoned for punishment accepted it with good grace. It has to be said the application of the cane to a boy’s naked buttocks for even the most minor of offences had had an enormous effect on the behaviour of most boys. But, as ever, there remained a small hard core of lads who regularly flouted the regulations and went out of their way to be disruptive. Dr. Waterlow considered what he should do to break the persistent recalcitrance of certain boys, who seemed to accumulate beatings on a monotonously regular basis.

The gardener, Mr. Gresham had, true to his word, reinstalled the two birching stools, one to the side room off the Headmaster’s study and the other to the Punishment Room.  He had also made several birches, which to date had never been used.  So, the Headmaster decided that the time was now ripe to add another string to the bow of punishment options which could be visited upon the boys.

It was the Monday morning assembly and after the usual formalities, Dr. Waterlow addressed the boys:  “As you all know, and as many of you have actually experienced, the cane, since its introduction by me at the beginning of term has proved invaluable in maintaining order and dignity in this school. What you may not know is that the school secretary makes a detailed record of the name and date a boy is beaten and by whom and for what offence. This is a somewhat onerous exercise as many different members of staff, including myself, your housemasters, the head boy and the prefects, all have regular recourse to the cane.  And so, I have an exact record each week of the names of the boys who have been thrashed, a record which I have been studying intently and which has thrown up some interesting facts.”

“Certain boys seem to have an uncanny ability of of attracting the attention of the cane to their buttocks: with these boys, the cane seems akin to a bee being attracted to a flower: such boys are what we might classify as “serial offenders”. It is evident that the boys in this category are intent on disrupting the smooth running of the school and that the odd taste of the cane does not deter them from their chosen path of petty anarchy. Therefore, as of now, any boy who is caned more than twice in any one week – and several boys regularly are – will  automatically qualify for a birching: a punishment which I shall administer personally.  But let me go further; in case this threat of an additional beating is not enough to set the errant offenders on the right path, any boy who receives two birchings in a month, will automatically qualify for a birching in front of the entire school, which I will personally administered at the assembly on the first Monday of the following month. And, one final thing; any boy caught breaking any school rule whilst he is in the town and seen by the general public, down town, will automatically be referred to me for an immediate birching. I will not allow the good name of the school to be ruined by the actions of a few errant boys.”

“Now, most you will never have experienced the birch, but let me tell you now, that it is easily the most painful of all forms of corporal punishment used in public schools: I speak from personal experience of my own school days at Eton, where the birch was, and I believe, still is, the ultimate instrument of correction. Believe me boys you do not want to know! So, all of you, you have been warned; if you wish to avoid having a very sore backside, watch your step; toe the line and hold fast to the rule!”

Dr. Waterlow then added sardonically: “I notice, Butterworth that you have on this occasion refrained from asking me “if I am serious”; a very wise decision young man: very wise indeed!”

So, there it was; the boys had been warned officially; the only question to be answered was who would be the first to sacrifice  his naked arse to the ministrations of the dreaded implement.  As it happens, the answer was soon forthcoming.

Dr. Waterlow was sitting alone in his study one Saturday afternoon when he received and irate telephone call from one of the shopkeepers in the town centre.  Mr Robertson kept an open fronted green grocery store and as such displayed a selection of his produce directly on the pavement. It transpired that four boys from the school had pilfered a few apples and run off laughing when chased by the shopkeeper, who had not managed to catch them.

“Really, Headmaster, I do think that as a public school you should keep your  boys in order.  This type of behaviour is not what one expects from upper -class boys at a public school, where I thought they were being taught to behave as young gentlemen.  In my opinion, what they need is a really good thrashing.” concluded Mr Robertson.

“And a really good thrashing is what they will get; you can be assured of that Mr. Robertson, once we determine who the miscreants are. Did you by any chance recognise any of them or did you notice what colour of school caps they were wearing?”

“Well, sir, to be honest, I only caught a view of the back of them as they were running off and as I do not recollect that they were wearing any caps.  I know they were from Rigby, though, as I recognised the school blazer;  but no, they were all bare headed: no caps at all.  The one thing I did notice was that one of them had flaming red hair: a real carrot colour it was: very distinctive as one seldom sees such a head of hair.”

“Thank you, Mr Robertson; you have told me all I need to know.  Rest assured that I shall identify all four boys and that they will all be severely punished; not only did they steal from your shop but they also, from what you tell me, broke a cardinal school rule, that all boys must wear a cap when down town, with the prefects wearing a mortar board in lieu of the normal cap.  I can tell you now, that the boy with the red hair is a young tearaway by the name of Fergus Campbell.  He has the distinction of being the only red headed boy in the school at present.  Leave the matter with me and I will come back to you once I have identified the other three lads.”

“Well, sir, I’m real glad that you are taking the matter so seriously.  I wondered about pressing charges against them with the police, but that’s a bit difficult when I don’t actually know their names.  Anyway, sir, I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands and look forward to your call.”

“Thank you very much again, Mr. Robertson; we certainly don’t want the police involved. As I said, leave the matter with me and I’ll be back to you shortly; don’t worry; the boys will not escape punishment and I can tell you that they will all rue the day they ever even saw your shop.  Goodbye, Mr Robertson!”

It was now late Saturday afternoon and the boys would all be assembled again for supper around seven o’clock that evening.  Dr. Waterlow and the housemasters normally ate with the boys on Saturday evenings: it was a more formal occasion than during the week and the masters all sat at high table on a slightly raised platform.  As the meal ended, Dr. Waterlow rose from his seat and said: “Fergus Campbell, please step to the front and stand before me at high table.”

Campbell, with his mop of flaming red hair, stepped forward and did as he had been bidden.  He was already looking very nervous.

“Campbell, I have it from a reliable source, that you and three other boys from this school were down town this afternoon and that you were seen not to be wearing your caps.  Moreover, I understand that the four of you stole some apples from a greengrocers shop owned by a Mr. Robertson  and that when called out to you you all ran away laughing.  Tell me boy and I shall know if you are lying, is what I have heard correct or not?”

By this time Campbell was looking very sheepish and could hardly face the Headmaster who fixed him with an unblinking stare.  There was a long silence.

“Speak up boy: yes or no; is what I have heard correct or not?  I am asking you a very simple question to which there is a very simple answer.  So which is it, boy? Yes or no?  Come on, boy, speak up.”

Campbell was now trembling like a leaf as he answered: “Yes, sir, it is true, but…”

“Campbell, I did not ask you for an explanation of your behaviour and I wish to hear no buts. Now, answer me the following; are the other three boys who took part in this disgraceful incident here in this hall?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then Campbell, I will not ask you to name your errant friends, but I want the three boys in question to step up here and stand beside Campbell in front of me.  Come on boys, look snappy; you are all in deep trouble and it will get even worse if any of you do not come forward right now.”

There was a moment’s silence and then slowly and with considerable reluctance three other boys joined Campbell in front of the Headmaster.

“So, I see we have here, Wilkinson, Paul and Gregson-Lewis.”  Andrew Waterlow had a remarkable memory and prided himself that he could name every single boy in the school on sight.

“So boys, do you all agree that what I heard about your behaviour in town earlier today is correct? Speak up now. Yes or no?”

There was a faint reply of “Yes, sir”

“You four boys have broken two cardinal rules of the school: you went without caps into town and then you stole from a shopkeeper.”

“But it was only a few apples, sir. It was nothing very important.” said Gregson-Lewis.

“Gregson-Lewis, it matters not what you stole; the fact is that you did steal from Mr.Robertson’s shop and by that act you all became thieves.  Now to the rest of you boys assembled here this evening, let me inform you all, that I view this misdemeanour very gravely and these four boys in front of  are going to be severely punished for their actions, which can and will in no way  be tolerated .  Their actions are not those befitting boys from this school. Do I make myself clear?  So any of you who have similar idea in your heads, I suggest you clear them out right now.”

“As for you four boys, I will see you all in my study, later this evening at 8-30. I expect you to be on time and wearing only your gym kit: shorts and vest and no underwear. You will learn then what is in store for you in the near future.   As for the rest of you boys, I suggest you reflect on the new disciplinary measures I announced at assembly recently, for they are about to be put into action. As our friend Butterworth once asked, “Are you serious?”  Well, as he found out to his cost, I was; and let me reaffirm to you all now, that I still am! You are all dismissed.”

“My God, Andrew,” said his friend Jeremy who had sat at high table that evening, “You really put the fear of god into those four lads.”

“My dear Jeremy, it was completely intentional: a piece of theatre. What this school needs is a tightening of the discipline and these four lads with their action are worth making an example of. They broke two cardinal rules and therefore they have to suffer the consequences, which I can tell you they are going to find very, very painful. But, look here, Jeremy, as all four boys are, by chance, from your own House, I think it would be appropriate if you were to assist me this evening in punishing them.”

“My dear Andrew, nothing would give me greater pleasure. I haven’t whacked a single arse since taking over as Housemaster and  I would be delighted to help you with whatever you have in mind; and if I know you, it will very probably be an interesting evening for both us and the boys; a rather painful one for them. I suspect.”

“Excellent! Be at my study by about eight, which will  give us time to  discuss just how we are going to deal with these boys; I’d like to make it a memorable occasion for them, one which they will not quickly forget, but one which  equally, they would rather never have experienced.”

CHAPTER 9 $$$

Jeremy arrived early at Andrew’s study that evening. “What have you in mind for these four lads?   I guess from your instructions as to their attire, that we are going to beat a lot of butt evening and I have to say, given what they have been up to, these lads thoroughly deserve it.”

“They certainly do and let me tell you they are going to leave here this evening with their arses on fire.  Let’s say that I believe in striking whilst the iron is hot; their misdemeanour is fresh in their minds so I think it most appropriate that they should have a souvenir of it imprinted on their backsides. You know, Jeremy, they have broken two cardinal rules of which the theft from Mr Robertson’s shop is by far the more serious.  And so I think they merit not one, but two really good beatings: once for going down town without their caps and once for the theft”. 

“So, what I have in mind is to give each of them a memorable caning, naked arse of course, this evening and then to tell them that they will be punished for the theft on Monday evening. But I intend to leave the sting in the tail; to let them stew in their own juice, so to speak, which will make them think twice about other larcenous escapades.   I shall tell them that they will be punished again on Monday evening for the theft from Mr. Robertson’s, but with no details as to what the punishment will be. Then, in front of the whole school at the Monday morning assembly, I will announce that these four boys, in view of the grave nature of their offence, will be birched that same evening. That way the whole school will realize that I was deadly serious in my remarks about the reintroduction of the birch and its use.”

“And so, Jeremy, you may accuse me of killing a fly by pulling its wings off, but I think that these four boys have provided the opportunity for me to show that I am truly serious about pulling this school out of the mess in which I found it.  Corporal punishment will be used and any infraction will lead to a caning.  But before the boys arrive, let’s just discuss what we a going to do to their arses here tonight.  I know that they deserve to be beaten, but there is no reason at all why we too, as upholder of the rules, should not get some personal satisfaction from what we are going to do.  I am not such a hypocrite as to deny that I do, myself, get a certain sadistic pleasure from dishing out punishment, and in particular, from beating adolescent boys’ naked arses.  When the cane descends on a nicely rounded rump, I can tell you that the crack it makes to my ears as agreeable as that of the cricket bat hitting the ball for a six.  Don’t get me wrong, Jeremy,  I never have and never will beat a boy for no reason, just to satisfy my own base desires, but if reason exists, as is at present the case, then why should we not try to enjoy it.  After all, with the added enthusiasm which the pleasure of a job well done brings with it, we can probably give the boys arses a better beating.”

“I have to say, Andrew, that I share your views totally.  Like you I get a certain personal satisfaction in inflicting pain on a deserving miscreant. So, Headmaster, it’s your call. What exactly have you in mind for this evening?”

“Well, I have a couple of ideas which I would like to bounce off you. Each lad is going to be given twelve strokes of the cane across his naked arse. I always cane naked, bare bum as the lads often call it, and twelve strokes is basically my standard tariff.  I have never subscribed to the traditional idea of “six of the best” as in my view six cuts are totally insufficient to leave the recipient with an arse which he feels is on fire.  So I habitually I give a minimum of twelve cuts, which, when evenly applied allow me to cover the entire rump with weals across both cheeks, from the bottom of the back to the top of the legs.  I might add, if a boy merits a beating, then he must feel real pain; I do not subscribe to a few light taps as some masters do; when a boy leaves my study after a beating, he knows than his arse has been roasted to perfection. In a word it’s got to be painful for him, otherwise we are wasting our time.”

“Now, as to this evening; we have four lads to correct, as the professionals put it, so I see two immediate options. One, we could put a pair of them over two chairs together and you could beat one, whilst I deal with the other, and  the other two lads look on. We could try to synchronise our strokes so that the two canes descend simultaneously on the target arses; it would be very dramatic, I think.  Or, I could give the first boy six strokes and then make him stand there and watch his classmates, as they receive, one by one the same treatment. Then when they are all standing there, wondering what is going to happen, you could take over and do the same, bringing the total strokes up to twelve per arse. What do you think?”

“Well, Andrew, you really do have a fertile mind. Who would guess that beneath your kindly exterior, beats a heart of solid stone!” added Jeremy, laughingly.  “Listen, my friend, I tend to opt for the second idea. Why? Well , dramatic though a caning in tandem might be, it would be over very quickly and I have to feel that in a case like this, where the boys have really gone overboard, there is a lot to  be said for dragging it out. So, here is what I think we should do.”

“Let’s get the lads in here and make them step out of their shorts. They won’t like it, as they will be extremely embarrassed to stand there with their mates, arse and cock naked.  We should make them stand with their hands on their heads, by the way, so that they have to leave their cocks waving in the breeze.  Now, to heighten what I shall call the “drama”, we will not tell them how many cuts they are to receive; let’s just leave it in the air; it will add to the tension of the occasion and make the lads even more nervous; after all, they are here to be punished and there’s no reason that they should not also suffer a little mental anguish; it’s good for the soul, I’m told.”

“Now for the actual beating; I think that the best idea is for you, as Headmaster, to beat one boy, followed by me beating the second and so on.   But, we each give each boy only six cuts. As each boy is beaten, he has to go back and stand, again with his hands on his head, beside his classmates: strictly no rubbing of sore arses allowed, by the way: they have to be in great discomfort.  Then to heighten the tension, we can have a pause, during which you address them a few well chosen words, before it dawns on them that they are going to have a repeat performance with six more cuts each, before they can finally leave and tend to their “wounds”.  And then, my friend, you can give them the added news, that on Monday evening they are going to be punished again, this time for their thieving from Mr. Robertson’s shop. But, as you said earlier, don’t give them any details; just let them stew in their own juice all day tomorrow, which, being Sunday, is a so called day of rest, which, if you and I wield the cane properly this evening, they will truly need.”

“My god, Jeremy, you really do have an inventive mind.  Your idea sounds great.  But, listen, I think the boys are now at the door; so the moment of truth has arrived for them.”

The four miscreant youths entered the Headmaster’s study with very worried looks on their faces, which indeed, in view of what was about to happen to them were well justified.

The Headmaster began: “You four boys, know exactly why you are here this evening.  You broke two cardinal rules soft the school this afternoon, of which one, when you stole apples from Mr. Robertson’s shop, was quite unforgivable. Step out of your shorts and stand in front of me in line with your hands on your heads.”

The boys removed their shorts and with great embarrassment did as they were told.

“Now, before I apply the cane to your backsides, do you have anything at all to say about your behaviour? Come on speak up. Let’s be hearing from you. Are you ashamed of what you did this afternoon?”

There was a long silence after which Fergus Campbell said: “Well, sir, we are all very sorry for what we did; truly we are, sir. It was just a prank, pilfering a few apples from Mr. Robertson’s shop, and as for our caps, well, sir, we just forgot them. So, please sir, we are all truly sorry, really we are, sir, and we hope that you will not be too hard on us, sir. We know that we deserve to be punished, but please sir, not too hard, if you please. We really are very, very sorry, sir, and we give you a solemn promise that we will never do anything like it again. So, please sir, if you could be a bit lenient with us. It’s the first time we broke the rules, sir, so perhaps you could consider giving us a second chance, sir.  Sir, we’ll never ever again do anything to damage the good name of the school.”

“Do any of you others have anything to add to what Campbell has just said?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, boys, let me just say that I am totally disgusted with your behaviour and, as Campbell has just said, you deserve to be punished. As for being lenient: well I am being lenient in letting you remain at school for after the episode with Mr. Robertson, I did consider expelling you and only consideration for the feelings of your parents prevented me from doing so. The simple fact of the matter is that Mr. Robertson saw you and in his eyes you are a disgrace to yourselves, to the school and to your parents. He has generously, very generously indeed, agreed not to pass the matter onto the police for prosecution, otherwise you four might have found  yourselves in front of a magistrate and you can imagine what that would have done for the reputation of the school. As it is, Mr. Robertson has agreed to leave the matter entirely in my hands, which is why you are all going to be punished and punished hard.”

“Now, as you can see, your housemaster, Mr. Foster, is present and he has kindly offered me his assistance in correcting you, as he feels you have let your house down. So, Campbell, you first; please go over to the chair there and bend across it so that I can apply the cane to your buttocks.  Bend well over, as I want your buttocks tight and well into the air, so that I can see what I am doing. Come on, boy, jump to it; the moment of retribution has arrived!”

While Campbell moved across to the chair and assumed the required position, he Headmaster went across to his repository of canes and withdrew his favourite mahogany brown stick.  “I forgot to mention to you Mr. Foster, that this is my very favourite cane of all. You may also use it if you wish when you deal with your two boys, but feel free to select any cane you choose: there is a good selection, so choose one you feel comfortable with, one with which you fell able to do justice to the buttocks awaiting your intervention.”

“Now, Campbell, I want you to stay quite still while I administer the cane to your backside.  It is going to hurt, to hurt a lot, I am afraid, but that, boy, is the purpose the exercise; you have to feel the pain of retribution and it is my duty to administer it to you.”

Dr. Waterlow tapped his cane a few times gently across Campbell’s bare arse and then without warning, brought it thrashing down to land with a hard crack across both of the boy’s buns, just below his back.  Campbell let out a howl  of pain. His on-looking classmates winced in horror and fear as they realized that Dr. Waterlow was not going to be gentle with them.  After seeing the first stroke they were all trembling, as they realized that in a few minutes they would be receiving the same treatment: it was a horrifying few minutes wait for them. Dr. Waterlow then pressed on and gave Campbell a further five resounding strokes by which time the boy was in tears and his arse lined with livid weals. He then indicated to Campbell that he should get up and rejoin his classmates with his hands on his head. He motioned to Gregson-Lewis to take Campbell’s place over the chair.

“Gregson-Lewis, Mr. Foster, your housemaster, is going to honour your backside with a taste of his cane. Did you find a rod to your liking, Mr. Foster, or would you prefer to use my trusty old cane?”

“Thank you, Headmaster, I think I am well served by your excellent collection of canes. I congratulate you on your expert choice.”

He then turned his attention to Gregson-Lewis’s arse, which presented a very inviting two buns, tightly stretched and just asking to be caned.

“Gregson-Lewis, I think that you should look upon what I am about to do to you now as a course of therapy: a procedure designed to make you a better and more upright person.”

Then, with no more ado, Mr.Foster proceeded to beat the hell out of the boy’s arse as six resounding cuts landed neatly across the two buns. The six weals coloured up immediately and Dr.Waterlow saw that his friend had a quite nifty and accurate hand with the cane, as the stripes were evenly spaced across the boy’s rump as he got up to resume his place in line.

The other two boys who had waited in fear were then given the same treatment. So the four boys, still half naked and with their hands on their heads stood in front of the Headmaster, who had sat down again behind his desk.

Waterlow had adopted this position as he was feeling the effects of the punishment on his own cock which was growing steadily harder.

“Well, boys, you have now had a taste of the cane and judging by your expressions it was a very telling for the four of you.  I hope as you come to terms with the pain, that you will realize that what has just happened to you is for your own good.”

Campbell said: “Yes, sir, we do sir, but sir, now that you have caned us, could we least put back on our shorts?”

“Put your shorts back on?  What on earth gave you that idea?  No, boy, you may not put your shorts back on.  We are all enjoying a short pause, prior to Mr.  Foster and I completing your punishment,  You do not seriously think do you Campbell, that you are going to escape with just six cuts of the cane, do you? Indeed not, boy!  The standard tariff is twelve cuts in all and so we are now at half time and we shall shortly resume our duties and each of you will receive another six strokes.”

“Oh, please sir, please don’t beat us any more sir. It’s just so horribly painful as it is. We really have had enough to teach us a lesson, we really have sir. Please sir, no more.”

But Campbell’s pleas fell on stony ground and the four lads had again to bend across the chair one after the other and take another six hard cuts across their already painful arses.

“You will appreciate boys, that each of you has now been caned by both Mr Foster and by me, which puts the four of you in a unique position to tell your classmates which of us is the harder caner. So you will all have learned something worthwhile to pass onto your classmates from your experience this evening, Now, boys, you before you get dressed and leave, just let me you about the other arrangements I have made for you”. 

“What you have just experienced now is the retribution for going without your caps in town. On Monday evening, after two days rest, your bottoms will once again become the object of my attention when you will you do penance for stealing from Mr Robertson. I thought that you would appreciate knowing this, so that you can reflect on your misdemeanours over the next two days and have something to look forward to. I hope that you will come to realise that you are reaping what you have sown, or more bluntly put; that crime does not pay. So, boys you have another polishing of your backsides to which you can look forward on Monday evening. You may dress now and leave. Good evening to you all!”

CHAPTER 10

“Well, Jeremy, I don’t know about you, but I’m really psyched up after that little episode; what I really need right now…”

And here he was interrupted by his friend who interjected: “Is a real good fuck!  Am I right Andrew? That is what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

“As ever, you read my mind, my friend; so, how about it?”  replied Andrew as he walked over to the door and turned the key in the lock. “Great minds think alike, as the old adage has it and there is nothing that I would enjoy more right now than an evening of vigorous sex to end what has been a perfect day. I really enjoyed beating the stuffing out of those lads’ arses you know; I know that they deserved what they got, but I do sometimes wonder if I should feel a little bit guilty with the vicarious pleasure that I get from such occasions.”

“I know exactly how you feel; we are being honest with ourselves when we admit a certain sadistic pleasure in inflicting pain on boys, but we don’t do it unless they deserve it. Let me tell you a lot of men take enormous pleasure in what the Germans call “Schadenfreude”, pleasure at the misfortune of others, but hide their feelings under a veneer of of sanctimonious propriety. A prime case is the present public attitude to homosexuality. I’ll bet you a pound to a penny, that a good number of our legislators at Westminster, who uphold publicly the benighted law on the subject, are practising homosexuals like you and me.  The world, my friend, is shrouded in the mist of hypocrisy: do as I say, not as I do is the motto in so many walks of life.”

Andrew said: “Anyway, I don’t feel guilty about having thrashed those lads or of the sexual arousal that it provoked or the fact that I intend to roast their arses again on Monday evening; they deserve it. But it is just a fact of life, which I have learned to accept; if I beat a boy, I get hard and want to fuck: it’s a simple as that; most of the time, that’s as far as it goes, as I would never fuck a boy against his will.  But I manage to control my desires unless I see that my potential partner shares them. So to answer your unasked question; yes, in my previous post, I did on occasions have sex with some final year boys, eighteen year olds, who frankly, practically begged me to shaft them.  However, Jeremy, this evening I don’t think I need to persuade anyone for, unless I have totally misread the tealeaves, I have a willing and eager partner!  So an end to this philosophising, shall we get down to it and fuck?  I do love that four letter supposedly Anglo-Saxon word, which I understand it is not; but it is quite the best evocation of the sex act: so direct and unequivocal! So, shall we?”

“My god, Andrew, you really do go on when you get started! So, what’s your pleasure to begin with this evening?”

“Well, don’t think me childish, but having looked at four sets of lovely muscular buttocks, naked over the chair, I’d quite like to be shafted in that position myself.”

And Andrew stripped off completely, showing what a good figure he had and how well equipped he was in the nether regions, as he bent over the chair, spreading his legs to give Jeremy access to his anal sphincter.  Jeremy too, shed his clothes, oiled up his cock and gave Andrew what he wanted.  And from then on, the two friends spent a couple of hours fucking and sucking each other. They were a well matched pair as both liked to fuck and to be fucked, which always makes for a harmonious relationship.

As they dressed, Andrew said: “You know Jeremy that was a marvellous end to a very interesting day; I enjoyed the whole lot: beating the hell out of those tearaway lads and then being able to ease the sexual tension that that brought on in a marvellous bout of fucking with you. I’m really glad you are around Jeremy. You’re a great guy and an asset to the school. And just think, all from a chance meeting: fate is such an important factor in our lives.”

At the next assembly on Monday morning, Dr. Waterlow called for attention and made his dramatic announcement: “As you are all aware, four boys from this school were seen in town on Saturday afternoon and were observed to be stealing apples from a local greengrocer’s shop. Moreover, not content with stealing, they had also left school premises without their caps, the wearing of which is mandatory for all boys the moment they leave the school precincts.” 

“Campbell, Paul, Wilkinson and Gregson-Lewis, will you please kindly step up onto the platform so that your schoolmates can see you.  Now, these four boys have already been punished for not wearing their caps on Saturday afternoon and have very sore backsides to show for their disobedience.Some of you, no doubt will already have surveyed the battle field, which should convince you that I am serious about what I say.  However, far more serious is the fact that they were seen by the shopkeeper, Mr. Robertson, pilfering apples from his shop, a misdemeanour which demands the application of the severest of sanctions.  And so, I have decided that these four delinquents will, this evening, after supper, go to the punishment room and will become the first four boys to be birched since I became headmaster earlier this year.”

“I warned the whole school that the birch would again be used for severe misdemeanours, of which this is a case in point.  I cannot believe that any boy from the good families from which you all come, would stoop so low as to steal. But the actions of your schoolmates have sullied the good name of the school and this evening they will all pay the very painful price to absolve themselves.  So, you four boys, I will expect you in your gym kit, at the punishment room this evening at eight o’clock sharp.  Mr Foster, your housemaster will, again assist me in administering the punishment and Mr, Robertson, to whom I promised that retribution would be exacted and who very graciously agreed not to take the matter to the police, will be present to observe your penance.   That is all boys: assembly dismissed.|”

The four boys, under what appeared to them akin to a sentence of death, spent a very unhappy and uncomfortable day in their classes: unhappy because they realised what was coming to them later in the day and uncomfortable because their arses were still sore from the caning they had received on the Saturday evening.  They discussed among themselves the Headmaster’s decision and felt themselves very badly done by.

“I wonder how many cuts he is going to give us.” said Campbell: “He never said,”

“Too bloody many.” said Paul.  “It’ll be at least ten and I bet more. You saw what the two of them did to our arses on Saturday evening. Well, I reckon that was just a prelude to what is going to happen tonight. The two of them are going to thrash our arses until w can hardly walk. That’s what we are in for: a polishing of a lifetime. And let me tell you, in case you do not already know, the birch is considered twice as painful as the cane;  so, boy, are we in for a beating: I can hardly bear to think about it: I’m so fucking scared.”

“Just think,” said Campbell, “All this for a few fucking apples; we must have been mad.”

To which Wilkinson added philosophically: “We’ll survive: it will be fucking agony, but we’ll survive. We don’t have any other option.  Welcome back to what are euphemistically referred to as the “good old days”. But we will survive as have many before us. It is supposed to be character building and to teach us how to behave in the face of adversity; stiff upper lip and all that.”

“Fuck that,” added Campbell, “Frankly I’d rather not bother!”

Supper was eaten and the four supplicants, in their gym strips, went along and stood outside the door of the punishment room.  Dr. Waterlow, Mr. Foster and Mr. Robertson arrived fifteen minutes, late, allowing the tensions and foreboding to build up yet further in the boys’ minds.  Dr. Waterlow, had also invited Lightfoot, the Head-Boy, not only to witness the first birching but also to participate in administering part of the punishment.  Lightfoot felt highly honoured to be invited to wield the birch himself, even if only in a minor way: it lent authority to his senior position in the school: a Head Boy not to be trifled with!

The four boys entered the punishment room, with trepidation and glanced nervously around them. The room had no furniture, other than a chair used for occasional canings, and the birching stool, one glance at which struck terror into the hearts of the boys, who were soon to be bent across it. Mr. Gresham, the gardener had pushed the boat out and had provided no less than four freshly made birches, one for each boy to be punished on this inaugural occasion, the first birching under the new Headmaster. The birches were standing in readiness in deep pails of water to ensure that they were in perfect condition, ready to apply to the arses of the errant four. 

When the Headmaster had looked with surprise on the number of birches that Gresham had made; the old gardener had said: “Well, sir, the way I look at it is this. It is not every day that the birch is reintroduced into a school and so I thought to myself, no point in doing things by half on this special occasion, so I made one for each of the four boys.  That way, sir, they will know that they have been given the best possible treatment, sir. I tell you, sir, in my view you are doing exactly the right thing.  A good taste of the birch will make them realise that rule are rules and are there made to be obeyed.”

“Quite, quite, Mr Gresham; how very thoughtful of you. Certainly Mr Foster and I appreciate your handiwork, although I doubt that the boys themselves will share our enthusiasm.”

Mr Gresham had laughed: “Well sir enthusiastic or not, I am sure that the lads deserve the thrashing you are going to give them, so why stint on the equipment, sir?”

The moment of truth had now arrived for the four boys who were made to strip naked in front of their masters, the Head Boy and Mr. Robertson,

The Headmaster began: “You will be punished on alphabetical order, so, Campbell, kindly step forward and bend across the birching stool. Mr. Lightfoot, would you kindly see that the leg and arm straps are firmly in place and then I think we shall be ready to begin.”

The Headmaster had, until now, not informed the boys of the number of strokes they are going to receive, but all now became clear.

“Mr. Lightfoot, as Head Boy, I would like you to commence each birching by delivering three sound strokes of the birch to each of the four boys in turn, to be followed, Mr Foster, by six strokes from you as the housemaster of these four boys. I will then complete their punishment of fifteen strokes by administering a further six strokes.  So, boys, as a penance for your misdeeds you are each to received fifteen strokes of the birch which you all richly deserve and which, I have to inform you, you are going to find very painful: indeed: the word excruciating comes to mind! Mr Lightfoot, if you please.”

The Head Boy picked up one of the four birches from its pail and shook off the excess water, advanced towards Campbell and surveyed the inviting muscularity of the buttocks which he was about to polish.  Then, having decided on his strategy, he raised the birch high above his head and brought it down, with a resounding crash, high on Campbell’s arse, close to the bottom of his back.  Campbell let out a gasp of breath at the power of the stroke.  Lightfoot waited a few seconds to allow Campbell fully to savour the first stroke and then applied with equal force the second cut directly across the middle of the boy’s arse.  Campbell let out a cry of pain, whilst the other four boys looked on with fear as they saw the full horror of what was in store for them. Lightfoot’s final stroke was perfectly placed low on Campbell’s arse, so that the top part of his legs was also covered.  Thus with three well placed strokes, the Head Boy had given Campbell’s arse a total coverage. The whole area was beginning to throb with pain.

The birch, by its very nature, made of several twigs, spreads out laterally as it impacts on the target arse, delivering pain across a wide area and it is precisely this characteristic which makes the birch so feared. Stroke after stroke lands more or less in the same place and the pain build inexorably up and until it becomes excruciating. It was just at this point that Campbell now found himself,  as Lightfoot, feeling well please with is effort, handed the birch to Mr Foster.

Mr. Foster was an enthusiastic beater and went on to deliver six stinging blows to Campbell’s arse, which by the time he had finished was flecked with livid red marks. By the time Mr. Foster had finished his part of the beating, Campbell was beginning to cry as the pain built up to levels of intensity which he could no longer accept in stoic silence;  and by the time the Headmaster had added is final six strokes, Campbell was reduced to a torrent of tears.

“Up you get, Campbell, and go and stand by your three classmates.”

“Could I please put my clothes back on now sir?” asked Campbell.

“Certainly not, boy. You will stand there naked until your three classmates have taken their punishment and then, and only then, will you be allowed to dress, Now, you’re next, Gresham- Lewis, jump to it boy: over the horse please.”

And so the whole frighteningly severe punishment session went on to the bitter end and every boy had received his just deserts. It may be, that viewed through modern eyes, what had been inflicted on the four boys would be considered excessively severe.  But in those pre-war days, punishments were much more frequent and applied by teachers who did not hesitate to do their duty as they then saw it. And it has to be said in their defence, that there was much better behaviour and law and order than there is today, when any form of corporal punishment is frowned upon.  Again, it may well be an articulate minority forcing its soft views view on an inarticulate majority, as is so often the case that has outlawed any form of corporal punishment, However, given a straight open vote, it is probable that the majority of people would vote for the re-introduction of the use of the cane into our schools to combat the ever increasing lawlessness of the youth of today.

And so, the four boys, feeling very sorry for themselves, had been thoroughly punished for their misdemeanours and the birch was again firmly in place at Rigby. 

“Headmaster,” said Mr, Robertson, “I have to congratulate you on your firm action. What you have just visited upon these four lads will certainly make them look before they leap in the future,   I am glad to see that common sense and justice still prevails in your school.”

CHAPTER 11

It was shortly after this incident, early one Saturday evening that the Head Boy and another prefect, James Waterhouse, came together to see the Headmaster.

Lightfoot, the Head Boy began: “Headmaster, Waterhouse and I have something very disturbing that we feel you should know about. We have discussed it between ourselves but we feel that we cannot handle the situation, which is very delicate, in that it goes well beyond anything the Court of Prefects can deal with.”

“Well, what is it that you need to talk to me about which is so urgent as to bring you here on a Saturday evening?”

“Well, sir, I think it best if Waterhouse tell you directly what he, by chance just saw down town.”

“I had been down town this afternoon shopping for a few things I needed and it was just after five o’clock and the shops had mostly closed for the day, when  I saw, going into a public house, which had just opened for business, one of my fellow prefects, Keith Curtis and two other boys from the school. The two boys were not wearing their caps and Curtis was not wearing his mortarboard.    Anyway, sir, I was quite surprised to see them enter a place off-limits to us boys and so I waited a few minutes to see if they would emerge again quickly; but they did not.  So, I went as far as the door and saw the three of them standing at the bar, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes; after that I came straight back to the school and told all this to Lightfoot as I did not know myself what I should do.”

Lightfoot continued: “Well sir, you can appreciate the position in which we found ourselves: we, the prefects are meant to keep order and to see that all the boys obey the rules and here was one of our number, flagrantly breaking the rules himself. Moreover he had two boys from his class, Milson and Rothery, with him. So, when Waterhouse came to me with this information, he and I had a long discussion as to what we should do, for if we did our duty as we promised to do when we were elevated to the Prefect’s Court, we would have to denounce one of our co-prefects: not only a co-prefect but also the  Captain of his house. As you can understand, sir, we found ourselves in a very invidious situation: either shut up and say nothing or report all three for their flagrant disobedience and breaking three of the schools cardinal rules.  Well, at the end of the day, we felt that Waterhouse had let us, that  is to say the Court of Prefects, down very badly and we felt we had to report him to you and let you decide what you wish to do.”

Dr. Waterlow replied: “You are quite right to have brought this matter to my attention and I do not want either of you to think that in doing so you have, in any way, brought your own integrity into question. If what you tell me is correct, Waterhouse, and I presume that it is, then this is a most serious matter to which I shall give my immediate attention: so immediate, in fact, that I would like you, Lightfoot, when you leave here, to find the three boys in question and inform them that I shall expect them here to see me at eight-thirty this evening, immediately after supper.  Thank you both for having had the courage to come to me with what is a rather tricky problem for both of you, and indeed for the other prefects also.  I presume that for the moment, no one else knows about this.”

“That is correct, sir,”

“Well, in that case let us keep it like that until I tell you otherwise.  Thank you, again, both of you, for coming to see me. It was a difficult decision under the circumstances and took a good deal of courage.  Thank you boys. That, I think will be all for the moment.”

After the boys had left him, Andrew Waterlow walked across to the house where his friend, Jeremy Foster was housemaster.

“Jeremy, my friend, you are not going to believe this, but listen to what I have just learned.” And Andrew recounted to his friend and colleague what he had just heard from Lightfoot and Waterhouse.

“What I find quite extraordinary, Jeremy, is that these three miscreants are again from your house. Just a few weeks ago we had the business with Campbell et al and now it is not only a group of sixth formers, all eighteen years of age, but again from your house, who are breaking the rules. And, to add insult to injury, the ringleader, if I may call him that, is not only a prefect, but also your House Captain to boot.”

“Well, Andrew, what do you propose to do about it?”

“Jeremy, my philosophy is and always has been to strike whilst the iron is hot.  I shall see the three of them in my study this evening at eight-thirty, straight after supper and as they are, all three of them, from your house, I would like you to be present; and my friend, if what I have been told turns out to be correct, which I suspect it is, then together we will roast their arses; as I said, strike whilst the iron is hot and I literally meant strike.” 

“As ever, Andrew, I’m your man! See you later.”

“Eight-thirty arrived and Andrew and Jeremy awaited the arrival of the three delinquents. As the three boys entered, they arranged their facial expressions in a puzzled sort of look.”

“The Head Boy told us that you wished to see us, sir, and to be here at eight-thirty. Wwhat as it you wished you wished to see us about, sir?”  began Curtis the House Captain in the most “butter would not melt in my mouth” tones.

“Curtis, it has come to my notice that you and your classmates here, were seen late this afternoon in a public house down town, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes at the bar and that you, Curtis, as a prefect, were without your mortar board and you two others were not wearing your caps. Now tell me, and I shall know if you are lying, is the information I have received correct or not?”

The faces of the three boys took on that inimitable look of guilt. There was a moments silence as they glanced at each other; then Curtis answered: “Yes, sir, we did go into a pub and we did have a glass of beer and we did smoke a cigarette. But sir, we are all eighteen years old which is the legal age both for consumption of alcoholic drinks and smoking. So, sir, we were not in any way breaking the law and  sir, it was the end of a Saturday afternoon.”

He would have gone on had not the Headmaster cut him short: “And you were not wearing your caps, or you your mortar board, Curtis, were you?  The fact that you are all three of legal age to do what you did is totally irrelevant. You three boys have been enrolled in this school and we, the masters are in loco parentis, which means that we are tantamount to your parents whilst you are under our care. And whilst you are at this school ,no matter how old you are, you will obey the rules which have been formulated to ensure the smooth and trouble free running of this establishment. Now, not only were all three of you cap-less in town, which is strictly forbidden,  but you also broke two much more serious rules, of which you are all fully aware: no smoking and no drinking.  Now it may well be that your behaviour is a hangover from the laissez-faire attitude adopted by my predecessor and which has led to the moral and academic decline of Rigby, a decline which I have been appointed to stop. Well, as you should by now be aware, when I say something I am serious and mean it.  You have broken the rules in a very serious manner and you are going to be punished for your delinquency; severely punished I might add.”

“So, you first Milson, kindly drop your trousers and underpants and bend across that chair there and present me your naked buttocks for beating. As the first part of your punishment, for this, boy is just a foretaste of what is still to come, your housemaster, Mr. Foster and I will administer fifteen cuts of the cane to your buttocks.”

All three boys blanched noticeably as they faced up to the reality of what was about to happen to them.

Curtis then said in a trembling voice: “But sir, you are not going to beat the House Captain and a prefect, are you, sir?  Surely not sir.”

“My dear Curtis, indeed I am not going to cane a House Captain and a prefect, although under certain circumstance both positions could attract a dose of the cane, for every boy in this school is subject to the rules, no matter what his position.  But, no, I am not going to cane a House Captain today, because you, sir, are no longer either House Captain or prefect.  You, sir, lost your status the moment you entered that public house. You, Curtis, are below contempt. You were appointed to a position of trust in this school: to the Court of Prefects and to the post of House Captain and  you have totally betrayed the trust which we misguidedly, as I now see, placed in you. You sir, to use and army expression, are reduced to the ranks. And so, boy, you will be caned along with your classmates, but you will receive three additional cuts in view off your deplorable behaviour.”

“So, Milson, if you are now ready, I think we can begin. I will give you the first eight strokes and Mr Foster will then complete your punishment. Curtis, you will kindly count the strokes to make sure we do not loose count of what we are doing.”

And the two masters applied that long, thin, stinging, thirty year old cane with vigour and Milson was rapidly reduced to tears. His arse was a magnificent picture of neatly laid on red weal’s when the two masters had finished with him. And the same treatment was handed out to Rothery.  When it came to the turn of Curtis, he was very reluctant to offer his arse to Dr. Waterlow for punishment,  as still felt that it was somehow wrong for a boy of his status  to be caned;  but caned he was and very thoroughly indeed, as Dr . Waterlow considered him the ringleader of the group. Curtis tried hard not to howl as the cane descended on his naked arse, but with eighteen cuts, he did not succeed; by the time he rose from his beating he was also in tears. When it was all over, all three boys stood there weeping, for the caning had been truly severe. But if ever three boys deserved their punishment it was these three.

The Headmaster now addressed them again: “Now, that was your immediate punishment for your totally inexcusable behaviour, but let me assure you all that retribution for your delinquency is by no means over. In view of the very serious nature of your disregard for the school rules, you will, all three of you be birched on Monday evening at a special assembly in front of  all your school mates.  I intend to make an example of you three boys to show to the others exactly what happens when rules are broken. And so you three lucky lads, will have the doubtful honour of being the first pupils to be birched before their peers.”

Monday evening arrived and the three boys were made to ascend the platform lower their pants in front of the entire school and submit their backsides to a thorough birching. There was dead silence from the assembled crowd as the birch rose and fell with a swish against the naked flesh.  No one had ever seen a boy birched before and the whole drama put the fear of god into the entire school. Everyone did now believe that Dr.Waterlow was serious and did mean what he said!

Andrew said later to his friend Jeremy, who as housemaster had helped him with the beating: “Well, Jeremy, I think we might now have the school on a good footing for the future. That little drama should have put the fear of god into the rest of the boys and even the most recalcitrant of them must think about revising their ways”.

CHAPTER 12

It was later in the week after the public birching of the three boys that Lightfoot knocked one evening, immediately after supper, on the door of the Headmaster’s study and entered.

“Ah, Lightfoot, I wanted to see you myself, but you first; what brings you to see me this evening?”

“Well, sir, it is a rather delicate matter which I want to see you about; it concerns Curtis and his deplorable behaviour as a senior member of the Court of Prefects.  We, the other prefects, have had a long discussion about Curtis’s behaviour and we agree with you entirely in the actions you have already taken to correct him and his two partners.  They all let the school down very badly, but he in particular, as a prefect and Captain of his house, very badly let down the Court of Prefects to which, at the time of his fall from grace he belonged and of which he was one of the most senior members.”

“Well, sir, it’s like this; we the prefects, and I am here this evening speaking not as Head Boy, but a president of the Court, on behalf of all the prefects, feel that Curtis let the Court down very badly. He showed disregard not only of his elevated status, as one of the five most senior boys in the school, but also as a member of the Court. I do not have to tell you sir that the duty of the Court is to maintain discipline among the boys once classes are over and that we take our duties very seriously, sir. As you are aware, we meet twice a week to deal with boys who have broken the rules and we regularly beat several boys, usually the younger ones, at each meeting. We see ourselves as almost being at the level of a master of this establishment, ensuring the smooth running of the place when the boys are out of the classroom. Not to put too fine a point on it sir, but out of class hours, without the vigilance of the prefects, the boys, especially the younger ones, would, as the saying goes “get away with murder”.

“We feel so strongly about what Curtis did and the way his actions reflect badly on the other members of the Court, the we have decided that Curtis must answer directly to us and we propose to beat him.  We appreciate, sir, that this will be a third beating in connection with one act of delinquency, but, nevertheless we all feel he deserves to be thrashed by his peers as he has so very seriously let the side down.”

“I am truly impressed by the obvious concern of the Court of Prefects in this matter. And you are, of course, quite right; Curtis has really let you down very badly.   But you do not need my permission to beat him; the Court of Prefects has the right to beat any boy in the school as do you yourself, Lightfoot, as Head Boy.  So, if that is what you feel you need to do, go ahead.  I have to say that I think that you are quite right to make Curtis face up to the full consequences of what he did and I agree with you that you are all quite right in your decision to beat him. The fact that it is for a third time, is of no importance: what is important is that Curtis realise just how offensive his actions have been.”

“Well, sir, we fully appreciate that we do not need your permission to beat Curtis as that sanction is in our terms of reference.  It is just, sir, that, as you know, we are limited to six strokes of the cane only, and frankly, sir, we feel that is far too few to bring home to Curtis the enormity of what he did. And so, sir, the Court wondered if you would, in this one case, make a special derogation and allow the Court to administer twelve cuts of the cane to Curtis.”

“I take your point, Lightfoot, I really do. Curtis’s actions have caused a lot of damage and you are right to wish to exact a stiff penalty from him.  In fact, I am really very pleased that you have taken this initiative, for it shows just how seriously you, the prefects, take your disciplinary job in this school. So, here is what I will do.  The Court of Prefects will have the right to give Curtis up to eighteen strokes of the cane, across his bare buttocks, of course, but I will also lend you my very favourite cane with which to apply the punishment.  If you turn round and look at that pot of canes near the door, you will see one a bit longer than the others, a slender rod, dark mahogany in colour.  Well, Lightfoot, that cane is more than thirty years old. It was given to me by my predecessor at the Cumbria Academy on his retirement. He himself used it for over twenty-five years and I have used it ever since. In fact I calculated that that rod had been used on over five hundred different boys over the years.  It is a unique implement: very flexible and capable of giving a truly stinging cut to the backside of the recipient. So, there you are Lightfoot; eighteen cuts maximum and the use of my very best cane. Will that satisfy you and Court of Prefects?”

“Oh, sir, I did not dream that you would be so very generous. Your offer greatly exceeds our wildest expectations but let me assure you, sir, that in our hands, your cane will be well applied and Curtis will, for a third time, rue the day that he went into a pub, drinking and smoking,  Thank you very much, sir. It is our intention to convoke him at our normal punishment session, next Wednesday evening and make him stand around with any boys who have been cited for caning that evening.  Believe me sir, we will do your rod proud, really proud” And with that, Lightfoot rose to leave.

“One moment Lightfoot, sit down again for a moment, as I told you that I had wanted to see you myself.”

“Yes, sir,” said Lightfoot attentively “What was it you wanted to see me about, sir?”

“Lightfoot, it pains me to have to have this conversation with you, but I was myself down town late this afternoon and I thought I saw you coming out of the chemist’s shop; was it you I saw, or am I mistaken?”

“Oh, no sir, you are not mistaken; it was me you saw; I had just popped briefly down town to buy some toothpaste.”

In fact, Lightfoot was not telling the truth here, as he had actually gone into the chemist’s to buy some contraceptives, some transparent latex condoms, although that word was not in general use then; but we shall come to that later. But Dr. Waterlow was not, in fact interested in the slightest what Lightfoot had purchased as his next question showed.

“Am I right in thinking that you were not wearing your mortarboard, Lightfoot, for I seem to recollect (he knew fell well, in fact) that you were bare-headed.”

Lightfoot suddenly realized where this conversation was heading and did not like what was clearly on Dr. Waterlow’s mind, but there was nothing he could do but answer, which he did: “You are quite right sir; I left the school in such haste to get into town before the shops closed that I completely forgot my mortarboard; it won’t happen again sir, I assure you.”

“My dear Lightfoot, I am sure that it will not happen again, but the simple fact of the matter is that it did happen today and as you know, the school rules are very specific about this: all boys will wear a cap at all times when off the school premises and that rule Lightfoot, also applies to the Head Boy.”

“Fucking hell” thought Lightfoot to himself, “Waterlow is going to beat me.”

“So, Lightfoot, I am very sorry to tell you that I am obliged to punish you for this infraction, which although unintentional, was, nevertheless, an infraction which is a beatable offence.”

Ever the perfect young gentleman, Lightfoot said: “I quite understand you, sir.  It is entirely my own fault and in your place I would adopt exactly the same attitude.”

“Well, Lightfoot, shall we get this regrettable business over and done with; if you would be so kind as to approach the chair over there, and adopt the customary position, I will try to expedited matters as quickly as possible.”

“Certainly  sir,” said Lightfoot, with a willing tone in his voice, which belied his true feelings.  He went across to the chair and bent across the back offering his arse to the Headmaster for beating.

The Headmaster paused a moment, coughed and said:  “I think you have forgotten something, Lightfoot; I have to remind you that in this school all punishment is administer to the naked buttocks.”

“Of course, sir; Sorry sir, I wasn’t thinking.”  And Lightfoot stood up dropped is pants and underwear and presented his naked buttocks to the gaze of the Headmaster.

The Headmaster found himself gazing at one of the most magnificent sets of muscular buttocks he had ever seen. Lightfoot was a tall athletic young man whose arse testified to the care he clearly took of the rest of his body.  The Headmaster found himself hardening just at the sight of these two magnificent mounds, which he was about to beat. Given his particular sexual bent, he knew immediately that he wanted to explore the depths of Lightfoot’s arse more intimately than the cane would ever allow.  True, as ever, there is always a certain pleasure in whacking a boy’s arse, but that fades into insignificance compared with the joys of a good hard fuck.

Dr. Waterlow picked up his favourite cane. The very one which he was about to lend to Lightfoot, and approached his target.

“Lightfoot, I fully appreciate that it was due to an oversight that you were cap-less in town and in view of that I shall be very lenient with you today. As you know the tariff for the offence you committed is twelve cuts, but I shall give you just four strokes of the cane today.”

Lightfoot thanked the Headmaster for his consideration and braced himself for the inevitable pain which he was about to suffer. And suffer he did, as the Headmaster used his favourite cane and as he had told Lightfoot, it was indeed a very painful instrument. Four cuts left Lightfoot with a very sore arse indeed and he asked himself with some grim satisfaction how Curtis would feel when he took eighteen cuts of the same cane.

When he had finished, the Headmaster said to Lightfoot: “Stay where you are for a moment, Lightfoot, and I will apply a little soothing salve to the cuts I have just given you, it will ease the pain I know you are feeling.”

Of course the salve did help a little, but the main motivation of the Headmaster was to have a chance to massage those two enticing globes of male flesh. The Headmaster fetched the salve and started massaging it into Lightfoot’s arse, enjoying every moment of the opportunity to fondle such a magnificence pair of globes. As he went on his fingers became ever more probing and insistent descending ever deeper into the magic divide.  Lightfoot found the Headmasters ministrations very pleasing, as he was quite accustomed to having his arse fondled by another man.

“Lightfoot, I was just wondering if ….” and the Headmaster’s voice tailed off as he could not bring himself to say what he wanted.

He began again: “Lightfoot, I was just wondering if you might enjoy a little…” and yet again he stopped, unable to articulated his desires. In a way, the Headmaster, himself a confirmed homosexual, was a victim of the attitude of the time, for even he found it difficult to put into words what he wanted.

Lightfoot, who was fully aware of what the Headmaster wanted, seeing the difficulty the Headmaster was having in coming to the point, suddenly stood up from the beating stool, and, sporting an enormous erection, walked across to the door of the study and turned the key in the lock.

“Perhaps that answers your unasked question Headmaster.” he said, smilingly to the Headmaster, whose trousers were now showing his hidden desire.

“Lightfoot, you really are a very observant young man and quick on the uptake. Am I to take it that you would like me to give you a little, how shall I put it, anal stimulation?”  Again when it was clear that Lightfoot was a willing party to what was about to happen, the Headmaster still could not say exactly what he meant.

Taking the bull by the horns, as he realized that he had the upper hand, Lightfoot said: “Headmaster, could we please stop beating about the bush and call a spade a spade?  You want to fuck my arse and I am just as willing to be fucked as you are to perform the task.  As you know, sir, I am eighteen years old and it is not the first time that I shall have sex with a man. So, sir, how do you want to do it?  Shall I resume my previous position over the chair, and let you enter from the rear, or do you have another position you prefer.” 

“Headmaster, in case you had not realised it, I am as complete a committed homosexual as I believe you yourself are, sir.  I regularly indulge in male-male sex, but very discreetly and only my partner and I know anything about it.  But, Headmaster, I am rather fastidious about the sex act, in that although I, along with all men, enjoy the euphoria of the climax, of that indescribable pleasure which orgasm brings with it, the act itself I find has rather messy features: in particular the moment of ejaculation.  So, sir, my partner and I both use a sheath when we have intercourse: it keeps things so much tidier, we think.” 

“Now, I told you a white lie about my visit to the chemist’s shop; I went there not for toothpaste, but to renew my supply of rubber sheaths, French letters as they are vulgarly called.  They are still in my jacket pocket there; so, I wonder if I could ask you, sir, to slip one on before you enter me and I too will use one,  as I normally have huge orgasm and emission at the moment of climax and the rubber is a convenient means of containing the emission.”

“My goodness,” said the Headmaster, “You really are most explicit; I have never heard anyone talk so frankly about sex before.”

“Sir, what is the point in not being direct with each other? We both know what we want; we are both willing partners in the act we are about to commit together. We both know that what we are about to do is illegal in this country and that if caught we could face imprisonment. So, why not be frank about things? After all, we are both adults and know what we are doing.  I appreciate that I am only eighteen, but I do consider myself an adult, sir, and I am fully aware of what we are about to do together. To be honest, sir, I absolutely love fucking and being fucked, so there you have it, sir! As I see it, we both enjoy what we are about to do, so shall we begin, sir?”

So, the Headmaster tried to master his embarrassment at the brutal frankness of Lightfoot, rolled on a rubber and set about pounding the young man’s arse.   Both he and his partner climaxed together and the Headmaster suddenly realised that Lightfoot’s fastidiousness was not a bad idea, for the place was not covered with emissions of sperm.  The word “cum” had not yet entered the everyday vocabulary.

“Sir, I have to tell you that you are a really great partner; you truly do know how to ream out your partner’s hole.  I truly enjoyed our first fuck and you gave me a huge orgasm and I can see that you enjoyed it too.  Now, sir, would you like me to give you a return bout. I’d be happy to exercise my shaft on you if you want and I’d like to think that I too know know how to deliver the goods, sir.”

“No, Lightfoot, I think we had better stop there for now. That was a very exhilarating and unexpected diversion for me; I never thought when I had decided to beat you that things would go so far.  So, for now, let’s call it a day, shall we? But let me just add that you do have a magnificent weapon, which I am sure that you know to use to perfection.”

“Of course, sir.  But I would just like to say, that if you want to go any further, then I am not unwilling; you can rely on my utter discretion, sir.  So do not worry about what we have just done together becoming general knowledge: it won’t; I give you my word, sir. And finally, sir, thank you yet again for your understanding of the position of the Court of Prefects in this unfortunate affair of Curtis.  My fellow prefects will be delighted that you agree with our thoughts on the matter and I can assure you, sir, that Curtis will feel the full wrath of the court on his backside.  And, sir, having had myself a taste just now of that cane of yours, I have to say, it is real stinger: something very special. Believe, me sir, when I say that it will be put to good use on Curtis’s arse.”

That evening, in bed with his lover, Jeremy, Andrew recounted the experience he had just had.  Jeremy laughed and pointed out to his friend that many of the boys were very worldly wise by their eighteenth year.  “Look, Andrew,” he said, “In every school there is a certain minority of boys who are homosexual, just like you and me, They cannot help it; is just the way some of us are built.  Now, as they are in an environment where they find themselves in contact with others of a like mind, they very quickly establish physical relationships such as the one of Lightfoot and his partner, whoever he may be. Don’t ask, by the way!  So such lads very quickly learn the ropes and become very professional and worldly wise in their activities.  Why shouldn’t they? They have nothing to lose as they are not going to marry and have children, so they strike whilst the iron hot.  This is quite different from the normal lads, who basically want to have sex with a girl; but as there aren’t any available in the English public school system of today, they cannot indulge their desires. So, we have, on one hand a group of lads who are very up to date with sex and a larger group who are still rather naïve due to the lack of opportunity.  So, Andrew, in the brutally direct language of Lightfoot, what do you want to do? Who is fucking whom tonight?”

CHAPTER 13

It was Thursday evening of the following week. The Court of Prefects was in session: five younger boys and Curtis were waiting to be called into the library where the Court convened and administered punishments.  The five younger boys all knew that their fate was sealed. They would be called into the library one by one, and given six stinging cuts of the cane across their bare arses. It is not surprising that they were all very nervous about the prospect of what was awaiting them, but it was part and parcel of life at Rigby School: you misbehaved: a prefect caught you: you got your arse whacked: no discussion. The five lads were quickly dealt with and came out form the library one by one, rubbing their arses in an attempt to ease the pain. Some of them managed to maintain a stiff upper lip but others were in tears.

The library door opened and Lightfoot said: “Come in, Curtis, we will deal with you now.”

“What the fuck have you got me here for, Lightfoot?” asked Curtis.

“First of all Curtis, you will no longer address me, or indeed any of your other ex-colleagues of the Court by our surnames only.  That is a privilege reserved for the prefects and the masters. As of now, you, sir, are no longer a prefect, nor are you any longer House Captain and you will henceforth show all prefects the respect their position demands and address them with the title “Mister”; so, Curtis, to make it clear, as of now you will address me as Mr. Lightfoot and you will add the word “Sir” where appropriate.  Is that clear?”

Sardonically, Curtis said: “So, Mr. Lightfoot, sir, why have you got me here this evening?”

“Curtis, I suggest you moderate your tone when you address me. Let us be quite clear.  I will not accept any lip from you.  Curtis, have you any idea, any idea at all, of how we, the Court of Prefects feel about your actions last week?  You, sir were not only a member of the Court, but also captain of your house. You, sir, as are we, were meant to uphold the rules and dignity of the school and what did you do, but go off down town with your friends and indulge in a drinking and smoking session. You let down the entire school and your house and frankly, you insulted the dignity and authority of the Court of Prefects of which you were a member, not only a member, but one of its five senior members. You, sir, are an utter disgrace and we have brought you here today, to exact some retribution from you.”

“So, Mr. Lightfoot, sir.” said Curtis , realising  now that his actions had truly enraged the Court, “What exactly do you propose to do to “exact some retribution” from me as you so pompously put it?”

“I think, Curtis, it is time that you took things seriously, because this is not a laughing matter for the members of this Court.  You were a member and participated in our regular Thursday sessions, of which this is one; so you know full well what happens to the boys who are summoned to attend.  But let me just remind you. Boys who have committed some misdemeanour come here to be thrashed. You saw the five young lads before you this evening; well all of them left here with painful arses. And that, Curtis, is exactly what we are going to do to you; we are going to give your arse a monumental thrashing, so that when you leave here tonight you will wish that you had never been born: it will be that painful.”

“Oh, come on Lightfoot, I mean Mr Lightfoot, you are not proposing to cane me like one of the junior boys are you?”|

“That, Curtis, is exactly what we are proposing to do.”

“Oh come on, you cannot be serious, Look I have already be caned and birched in public by the Headmaster and I think that should be enough.  I made a mistake and have paid the price for it. So, don’t tell me that you are going to start again.”

“Curtis, what the Headmaster, in his wisdom, chose to visit upon you and your friends by way of retribution is an affair between you him and the school.  It does not concern our meeting here tonight. You are here, sir, because you have seriously let down an organisation of which you were a prominent member and in so doing have exposed it to ridicule from the other boys. We cannot have a situation where the motto is “Do as I say, not as I do,” for that is what your actions implied. So, Curtis, pants down and let’s see your naked arse across that chair there.”

Curtis suddenly realised that the prefects were determined to extract blood and that he had better do as he was ordered.  So, he reluctantly dropped his clothes and bent over the chair and awaited his punishment.  Lightfoot inspected his arse, which still showing signs of the hard cuts made by the very cane which again was going to descend on his buttocks. But, no one had told Curtis that there was for this occasion a special dispensation and that the prefects were to be allowed to administer eighteen cuts in all.  Curtis, meanwhile ignorant of this fact thought as he offered his arse in sacrifice to the prefects that he would-be getting the normal maximum tariff of six cuts.

Lightfoot handed the cane to the first prefect, who applied a resounding stroke across Curtis’s naked arse, who let out a howl of pain as the cane landed. The cane then passed to the second prefect who administered his token blow with the maximum strength he could muster. After the sixth cut, Curtis stood up and looked around and said: “Well I guess that’s it; it was fucking painful, but I have survived and I hope that the lot of you are now satisfied with your handiwork.”

“Curtis, I do not think that I told you to get up from the chair; kindly put yourself across it again for we are far from finished with you yet.”

“Look here, Mr. Lightfoot, you know as well as I do that prefects’ beatings are limited strictly to six strokes, so what the fuck, man, do you mean when you say that you are not done with me yet?”

“Curtis, I suggest you moderate your language; I meant exactly what I said; your punishment is far from complete as the Headmaster has given us a special dispensation to administer eighteen strokes of the cane to your backside tonight and that is exactly what we are going to do. So get back over that chair and stay there until I tell you you may stand up. And, Curtis, let me add that the Headmaster approved very strongly when I explained to him that the prefects thought that you should answer to them for what you did, so much so that he not only sanctioned the additional strokes we had requested but also kindly lent us his favourite cane to administer the beating, which is the one you have just had the pleasure of feeling across your arse: very painful indeed, isn’t it?  I know from personal experience as I had a taste of it myself, quite recently in fact. So there you have it Curtis: no one is above the law in this school not even me!  So, Curtis, button your lip and get over that chair again and enjoy the rest of this unique occasion.”

Curtis turned pale at this news; fucking hell he had another twelve strokes of that dreadful cane to endure and his arse was already on fire.  He wondered how he would stand what was still to come.  But endure the growing pain he simply had to, as prefect after prefect exacted his pound of flesh, laying on his one single stroke as hard as he could.  Fifteen strokes had been administered and the cane was handed back to Lightfoot, who as Head Boy had the privilege of laying on the last three cuts.  Lightfoot surveyed the battle ground and took considerable satisfaction at the corrugated collection of weals which were visible across Curtis’s arse.  His fellow prefects had done really well; Curtis had been shown not the slightest mercy and the cane had landed with great accuracy and force.  Lightfoot thought to himself as he surveyed the scene, that he must acquit himself really well and so he raised the cane for his first blow, high above his head.  Crash: the cane descended with lightening speed and Curtis let out a howl of pain as the stroke landed across his already flaming arse.  But Lightfoot did not let up and gave him another two hard cuts of the rod to complete the eighteen strokes authorised by the Headmaster. Of course, the Headmaster, in authorising a maximum of eighteen strokes, had automatically condemned Curtis to that horrific number of cuts. Human nature dictated that the prefects would fully use the allocation: so Curtis took a tremendous beating.

Lightfoot surveyed Curtis’s buttocks which were a criss- cross of deep red welts already turning blue. As he had administered his three cuts, Lightfoot had felt himself hardening at the homoerotic nature of the act he was engaged in. He found himself looking at a bruised arse, a very bruised arse indeed, but he nevertheless was honest enough to admit his feelings to himself, that under different circumstance he would have been delighted to give that very arse a quite different treatment with a quite different type of rod. God, he found Curtis’s arse super-attractive.  Curtis, with all his faults, was in fact a well built muscular lad with a well muscled body, a big cock and a truly magnificent arse, the attraction of which was obvious to anyone who saw it naked. Lightfoot wondered if Curtis had ever allowed a foreign body penetrate his anus and felt a pang of jealously that someone other than himself might have had the pleasure of fucking Curtis’s hole. But now was neither the time nor the place and so he banished such delicious thoughts of what might have been from his mind.

“Curtis, I hope that the pain we have just given you will have taught you that we, the prefects, were totally disgusted with your behaviour. Go away and lick your wounds in private and reflect on what your misguided and disloyal acts have brought upon you.”

But the saga of Curtis was not yet over. It was a week or so later, on Saturday evening, that Curtis made his way to Lightfoot’s study.  You will remember that Lightfoot, as Head Boy was the only pupil to have his own private accommodation, among the boys; with his own study and and an adjacent bedroom with a wash basin, he practically enjoyed the status of a master.  He still had to use the toilets and bathrooms with the other boys, but he had his private domain, where he reigned slightly autocratically.  Lightfoot was a keen disciplinarian himself and in addition to the twice weekly punishment sessions at the Court of Prefects he had a regular stream of mainly first and second year boys, whom he had found committing some minor misdemeanour, visiting his study. No boy entering Lightfoot’s study ever left without a very sore arse, for he used the cane on any errant boy’s backside with great vigour. 

He had no special times when he corrected errant youths who would be told when to present themselves to the Head Boy for punishment. And he had no compunction whatsoever in giving them a thorough beating. Six cuts of the cane was the limit imposed by the Headmaster on all prefects, but with his expertise, six cuts were quite enough to enable Lightfoot to send a boy away howling with pain. Lightfoot was a living legend in school and boys went in dread of being summoned to his study, for no boy entering ever left other than with a very, very sore arse.  In a word, not to make a pun, Lightfoot was generally considered absolute crack with the cane, the equal if not better than the Headmaster himself.

As Curtis approached the Head Boy’s study, he saw one boy, clearly a first former emerge in tears, rubbing his backside and two other lads, who had been standing in the corridor, were ushered in to meet their fate.  Curtis listened intently at the closed door, and he heard the cane descend relentlessly on the backsides of these two unfortunate lads: crack followed crack as the cane bit into the naked buttocks, accompanied by howls of pain. A few minutes later, both boys emerged, both in tears and rubbing their backsides. Curtis waited few moments, knocked on the door and entered the Head Boy’s study.

“Curtis, I do not recall having requested you to come here today. To what do I owe the pleasure? I do hope that you have recovered from the punishment that the Court of Prefects felt obliged to visit upon you and that you appreciate now that you deserved every stroke of the cane we gave you.”

Remembering the correct form of address to the Head Boy, Curtis began: “Well, Mr Lightfoot, it does, in fact have vaguely to do with that unpleasant occasion. You see it’s like this; another boy from my year, whom who you personally punished here in your study, told me that after you had finished caning him you then went on to give him a certain amount of post trauma therapy; yes, that is exactly the way he put it.  I guess that you exercised your considerable powers and tried to comfort him to ease the pain you had just inflicted on him. He said you had a very good technique and he much appreciated your efforts; he also said he thought that you too had taken a certain amount of pleasure in comforting him.”

Of course in this longwinded circumlocutive discourse, in which Curtis had never actually got the crux of the matter, you all understand that what he was implying by innuendo, was that he understood that Lightfoot had beaten a senior boy, an eighteen year old like the two of them and and then gone on to fuck his arse, an act which, by all accounts, had been agreeable to both of them.

Understanding fully what Curtis was saying, and wondering where the conversation would lead, the Head Boy feigned ignorance and said: “Curtis, I am not sure that I follow you. What is it that you want?”

“Oh, I think you understand perfectly what I have been saying, Mr. Lightfoot, but to me more specific, I was wondering if what I had heard was correct, if you might be willing to give me the same same type of post trauma therapy, because, sir, (he slipped in that obsequious word  I really think I need it after the three awful beatings I have had recently.  I’m sure I would get a lot of benefit from it, sir,”

Lightfoot, looked at Curtis and realised that he had before him a very sexy looking young man, whose arse he had mentally drooled over as he was applying the cane to it the other day.  He thought to himself, this man is asking me to fuck his hole; the question is should I or shouldn’t I?  I can easily pretend that I do not know what the hell he is talking about and tell him to fuck off, but my cock is already getting hard at the thought of shafting that beautiful, albeit scarred, rump of his. So, what the hell have I to lose?  Curtis looks like a bloody good fuck, so I think I’ll go for it.  Thoughts like these flashed through Lightfoot’s mind as he sat there looking at Curtis, waiting for him to answer.  However, he thought to himself, that he would make Curtis utter the fatidic words him before agreeing to anything.

Lightfoot decided to hit the ball back to Curtis so he said: “Curtis, can we get one thing straight? Trying to interpret what you have just said in your rather high flown discourse, are you, in fact asking me to have sex with you? And if so, what exactly have you in mind for the role you which you see me playing in the comforting, palliative or whatever else you want to call it, exercise?” 

“Well, sir, getting down to brass tacks and calling a spade a spade, I understand that what you did to my friend to sooth him was to fuck his hole. So I guess that is what I would see you doing to me. My friend said that it was very pleasant and eased is his pain and that you too enjoyed it, sir.”

Too bloody true I enjoyed it thought Lightfoot to himself; nothing gives me greater pleasure. So he said: “So, Curtis it’s now clear; what you want me to do is to fuck your arse. Let me just ask you; has anyone else ever fucked your arse or would this the first time?”

“Well, sir, for my sins and for all my swagger, I am ashamed to admit that here I am aged eighteen and still a total virgin.  The only sex I have had is to wank: to jerk myself off.  I’ve never done anything with another boy, never, ever, or with a girl for that matter.”

This was a surprising revelation to make to Lightfoot, for most boys in their final year at school have had some sort of sexual experience. Looking at Curtis, who was an attractive young man, Lightfoot wondered now he had managed to avoid being buggered at some point during his school career, so he said:  “Listen, Curtis I feel a bit sorry for you and am inclined to get you started; it’s not comfort you need, but an initiation into the rudiments of sex and in coming to me you have chosen the right man. I’m as good at wielding my cock as I am at wielding the cane and you know from our own experience that I’m a fucking expert at that. So, go next door into my bedroom, strip off and I’ll be there just as soon as I have locked the door.”

When he entered the bedroom, he found Curtis totally naked and what a magnificent young man he was, in spite of his mangled arse. Just over six feet tall and with the well balanced muscular physique of a sportsman with a magnificent seven inch cock, he was a highly attractive sexy looking young stud. Lightfoot stood admiring his partner for the evening, for that is how

he now saw Curtis; he asked himself how such a luscious, sexy looking guy had managed to survive until his eighteenth year as a virgin; he had some catching up to do.

So he said: “Listen Curtis under the circumstances let’s drop the formality; I really dig you as a potential sex partner, and I hope that I can really get you on your way tonight. So, listen, the first thing I’m going to do is to fuck your butt and then we are going to reverse roles and you are going to do the same to me. So, you get the idea, you will have been fucked and had a chance to fuck butt yourself. If we can get that far, you will be well the right road to happy sex. So, basically what I’m going to do to you is to bugger you, as it’s commonly called.  But I have to tell you that I always use a rubber sheath when I fuck to catch my load when I climax and as your cock is already erect, put one on as well, in case you climax while I’m fucking you. It just makes for a tidier, less messy operation; sex is marvellous, but, boy, it can be very messy.  So, just kneel on my bed and spread your legs so that I can see your hole. I’ll put a little lubricant into it, so that I can slide my cock in and out more comfortably and then we are away.”

And, without going into greater details, which are so well known, Lightfoot gave Curtis’s arse a vigorous first fuck. He used maximum stroke length and force to give Curtis a great first-time experience. When Lightfoot himself climaxed into a huge orgasm, Curtis climaxed at the same time and shot his own load, so it was a perfect first time fuck for him.

“Jesus wept,” said Curtis, “that was bloody amazing; when I shot my load it was like a super version of my own wanking efforts. Why have I been waiting so long? And Lightfoot, I loved your work on my arse; and you know, it was comforting and exhilarating as well!”

“So, come on,” said Lightfoot, “Your turn now you fuck me. It’s dead easy; you’ll see it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

And it was and both young men felt very satisfied; Lightfoot because he always enjoyed fucking but with the satisfaction this time of having shown Curtis the light; and Curtis, because he had learned much more than he had ever anticipated when he entered Lightfoot’s study.

“Come on, Curtis, let’s get cleaned up and dressed otherwise we shall be late for supper.”

Any animosity which had existed between the two young men, was now gone. Curtis realised what an idiot he had been to break the rules and that Lightfoot had only been doing his duty as a prefect in caning him. And Lightfoot saw that beneath the surface, Curtis was not a bad character. So, he had blotted his copybook very badly, but time would erase that error; and he fervently hoped tonight’s episodes would be the first of many, as he found Curtis an excellent and willing partner.  So, at the end of the day, the “Curtis Affair” looked as though it was finally over.

CHAPTER 14

The first year at Rigby School was drawing to a close.  Dr. Waterlow looked back with a certain degree of satisfaction on what he had achieved since his arrival. He had pulled the school back from the brink of disaster, beaten a sense of responsibility into the boys and made them realise that they were privileged members of an elite school. But the crowning  glory was that the examination results were better and for the first time in several years, five boys from the sixth form obtained entrance to either Oxford or Cambridge, no less than ten were to sit the Civil Service entrance exams and another dozen were enrolling in the armed forces office training schemes. So, things were certainly looking up and, for the coming year, the application for places had also increased.

The Board of governors under the chairmanship of the Colonel called him to a special meeting to congratulate him on his achievements.  

The Colonel said: “Dr. Waterlow, on behalf of the Board of Governors, I would like to thank you for your efforts since your arrival here in getting the school onto an even keel again, which we feel you have done admirably and we hope he things will continue on the same upward track in the coming year. Rome was not built in a day, but you have certainly laid a firm foundation for the future.”

And that firm foundation was further built upon in Dr. Waterlow’s second year when examination results were even better and all available places for new boys were taken.

On a personnel level, the friendship and physical attraction between Andrew and Jeremy, his old school friend had blossomed into a true love affair.  The two masters were very discreet in their activities but were fast becoming an inseparable couple. Andrew did have the occasional dalliance with the Head Boy, Lightfoot, but that had ended at the end of the summer term when Lightfoot left to join the Navy as a trainee officer.  Andrew loved his job and Jeremy, who had no need to work to earn a living, had discovered the he had truly found his way in life, teaching French, which had become a vocation for him.  So, they were both set to start what would have been their third academic year together, when out of the blue a letter arrived for Andrew.

The letter was from the University of Oxford, where he had graduated with the highest honours some years previously and where he had written a brilliant thesis thus gaining his doctorate. The letter was from the appointment’s board of the university and informed Dr. Waterlow that they had an important subject that they would like to discuss with him in person and would he be agreeable to coming to Oxford for this purpose. No further details were given.  Andrew showed the letter to Jeremy asking him what he thought and they both wondered why this invitation had been issued.

“Well, Andrew, if I were you I would accept the invitation and go to find out what they want to see you about.  It sounds a bit mysterious; I know you turned down a research fellowship just before you decided to move into school teaching, so it cannot be that.”

So, Andrew accepted the invitation and to Oxford he went.  The Appointments Board was composed of a selection of full professors from various disciplines, chaired by the elderly professor of Latin, himself th senior member of the classics department.

“Dr. Waterlow, we have asked you here today, as we have a unique proposition to put to you.  One of the old students of the university, now a very successful and prominent businessman has made a very generous offer to the University and would like to endow a special professorial research chair in Greats (the study of Greek and Roman  literature, culture and philosophy), one of the longstanding courses provided by the University.  This benefactor graduated many years ago in Greats, and  although his subsequent career has been totally unrelated,  as he became one of the leading figures in the City, his interest in things Greek and Roman has never dimmed and for this reason he has made this totally unexpected offer.”

“Dr. Waterlow, we have asked you here today as it is the opinion of my colleagues and me, that you were easily the most outstanding student of the last twenty years to pass through our hands.  Your finals’ papers were outstanding: had we classified the firsts, your name would have been high above all others: the dissertation for your doctorate is still considered unequalled and is avidly read by all research students in Greats: it is the bench mark dissertation in the area.  I know at the time you finally left this University, that you had been offered a research fellowship by your college but the you decided you wished a career in school teaching, where we understand you have spent a brilliant six or seven years and that now, aged barely thirty, you are headmaster of one of our public schools: a remarkable achievement, if I may say so.”

“However, we have asked you here to today to tell you that with unanimity of voice, we would like to offer you this newly created professorship.  We have sounded out your old College, and they would be delighted to offer you a full professorial fellowship, with residential rights.  Dr. Waterlow, this has obviously come as a surprise to you and we do not expect you to give us an answer immediately.  But the post has to be filled as the endowment has been made, so if you would kindly give the matter some thought and let us know your decision by, shall we say, one month from today, we should be most grateful.  Dr. Waterlow,  I, or rather we, all of us here, urge you to take this amazing opportunity.  You will be a full professor of this University and have the distinction of being the youngest person ever appointed to such an elevated post. You will have complete freedom to pursue your own research subjects. Those of us who have read your dissertation know how deeply you feel about this period of the history of mankind and we all believe that given the environment of this University, you would go on to do some ground breaking research.”

Andrew went back to Rigby and told Jeremy the unexpected news as they lay together in bed. The question which he posed himself was: “What should I do?”  

Jeremy said: “Well, Andrew, if I were you I would think very seriously about accepting the offer. Just think, you would be a full professor with tenure and a college fellowship and you would be free to pursue your researches into Greek and Roman culture and life, which I know you still adore.”

“That’s all very true, but like you, I actually enjoy my work as a school teacher and these two years, pulling the school out of the mire into which it had slipped has given me great satisfaction, but I have to admit, the thought of a full professorship at Oxford is a very enticing offer.  But you know, Jeremy, there is another thing which not only I but you too need to consider. Let’s face facts and call a spade a spade, my friend.  Since we met by chance at the O&C club, not so very long ago, we have become ever closer, so much so that we are, I think, near to being a couple.  Just look at the pair of us now: we are in bed together discussing this as if we were a married couple. I don’t think, now that you and I have become so close, I could face moving to Oxford and losing my daily life with you around.  I know we have never actually spoken of it; we have just had sex together, but for me the sex act has turned into an act of love and I don’t think I would like to part from you and I fervently hope that you might feel the same about me.”

“Oh, fuck, Andrew! Take the professorship and I’ll come and live in Oxford, as I don’t want to lose you either.”

“But if we do that, what are you going to do?  You’re like me; you’ve grown to like your post teaching French here; what will you do without a job in Oxford, if I accept the professorship.”

“Look, Andrew, neither you nor I need to money; we’re both of independent means: gentlemen of leisure.  In Oxford, you would be doing something you really enjoy and, as for me, something will turn up to occupy my mind.  Before I met you I again, I had drifted into supply teaching, purely to allay the boredom of doing nothing and then I found I really enjoyed teaching French, albeit as a supply teacher in several different schools for relatively short periods, so something will turn up to keep me out of trouble.  So, Andrew, just take the job: it’s the opportunity of a lifetime for you: a chance not to be missed.  I’ll be all right,  believe me.”

“So, if I accept the offer, and we both move to Oxford together, where are we going to live? I shall have a set of rooms in college, which does not mean that I have to live there. So, shall we buy or rent a house together?  Remember  also, Jeremy, that the law does not look kindly on the likes of us so we need to be very discrete or we could both end up in gaol, saddled as we are with this benighted legislation about homosexual relationships.”

“We’re not going to change the law, Andrew, and the law is not going to change you or me.  There are thousands of men like you and me who live together, so to hell with the law. We are already breaking it: thousands of others do the same, including many of our revered legislators. Frankly, does it matter whether we break the law here at Rigby or in Oxford;? So, law be damned; let’s do it.”

And that is exactly what they did. The truly hard part was to inform the Board of Governors that they were both resigning their positions.   Whether the Board realised that the two resignations were connected we shall never know; probably they did, but the whole subject of homosexual behaviour was so taboo at that time in the early twenties, that nothing was said about it.  The Colonel expressed his deep regret that Dr. Waterlow was leaving their employ so soon, but congratulated him, as did the entire board, on his professorship.  

“Just imagine,” said the Colonel, “They came looking for you and poached you away from us; my goodness, what an honour: a full professor and barely thirty years old. We shall miss you, sir, as in two brief years you have worked wonders for the School and, frankly, you will be a hard act to follow. Luckily, your successor, whoever that might be, will at least be taking over a school on the up and up and not sinking ever further into irrelevance and that sir, we have to thank you for.”

So the break with Rigby was made agreeably.  Andrew and Jeremy moved to Oxford and did buy a house where they lived together. Fate intervened when a local preparatory school in the neighbourhood advertised for a French teacher and was delighted to find Jeremy, an old Etonian and an Oxford graduate to boot, on it doorstep.  And so, both Andrew and Jeremy were settled in jobs which they each regarded as their vocations and lived the Oxford life to the full.  Devoted as they were to each other, they both enjoyed adventures with other young men, usually together as Andrew’s position led him into regular contact with highly attractive young men, many of whom were only too willing to indulge their sexual desires with the professor and the school teacher.  Life was very agreeable for Andrew Waterlow and Jeremy Foster.

THE END