Frobisher's New Job

CHAPTER 1

Jerome (how he detested his first and only Christian name) Frobisher sat waiting in the School Secretary’s office, waiting to be called in to see the Headmaster.  It was early in January in the year 1900 and Jerome Frobisher MA Cantab, now aged twenty six, had just been appointed to the post of Junior Housemaster of Grenville House, one of the six houses of a small and rather unique public school. The school, Grantley Academy, or to give it its full name, The Grantley Academy for Boys of British Commissioned Officers, was named after its founder, one William Grantley, a mid-nineteenth century Admiral of the Royal Navy. Admiral Grantley had realised that regular serving naval and army officers, often on assignment overseas in the then many outposts of the British Empire, needed a school which could, when required, offer year round care of their male offspring. 

There were many excellent public schools in the country, but very few of them them took charge of their pupils out of term time. This fact made life difficult for the parents of many of the boys; terms of duty abroad did not necessarily coincide with school calendars and deciding what to do with their sons whilst they themselves were out of the country was a problem faced by many serving officers. And so the idea of Admiral Grantley had been warmly welcomed and the school had had no difficulty in attracting considerable endowments.

But Grantley Academy, or simply Grantley, as it was normally called, went one step further. The English public school system is usually made up of two distinct parts: the public school itself, where boys usually enter in their thirteenth year and leave after six years to continue their education elsewhere. Prior to the public school there is a preparatory school, which takes boys from the age of eight and educates them until the age of thirteen when they move to a public school proper. The prep school is frequently not located in the same place as the upper school and it is here that the Grantley Academy was unique in that both the prep school and the senior school were all in one place.

Thus, for commissioned members of the British Armed Forces, Grantley offered an ideal solution.  They could send their sons aged eight to the junior school and see them progress through their entire school career in one establishment. And there was the added advantage that, when needed, the school would also look after their offspring out of term time.  Grantley thus offered a “one stop” solution which was irresistible and its yearly intake of some sixty boys aged eight years was always fully subscribed. So Grantley was a school of some 600 boys aged eight to eighteen – pushing nineteen in many cases – in the upper sixth form.

But the entry was not confined simply to boys whose fathers were serving abroad, for lots of army and navy officers found it useful to have their sons educated in a school, which true to navy traditions, echoed, wholeheartedly by the army, was a place where the pupils were subject to rigid discipline, a fact which appealed greatly to their military parents.  It was not that Grantley was a particularly vicious place, but rather one where the rules were strictly enforced. Woe betide any boy who overstepped the mark in any way; he quickly found himself, buttocks naked, across a chair having his backside whacked hard with a cane and sometimes with the birch. And it was just this liberal use of corporal punishment, which appealed to so many officers of the British Army and Navy, themselves then both frequent and vigorous users of the cane.

While Grantley was unique as a “one stop” establishment, the school was in two quite distinct parts: the junior preparatory school and the senior public school.  But the two parts were drawn together by the British system of what are called “houses”. Whilst all boys were taught in the same classes, by the same teachers, they lived in one of six separate house communities, where they had what has to be called their “home life”.  In other words, once classes were over, the boys tended to gravitate to the house where they lived: where they took their meals and slept and led their social lives.

The house system, common to all public schools, had been developed to give a certain competitive structure to the school and to inculcate a sense of loyalty into the boys. It also served to provide competing teams for all the different sports practised by such establishments and the houses were extremely competitive with each other. Over and above the house teams the school also fielded an inter-school team for some sports, of which rugby was the prime example, to compete against teams from other schools. Such teams, made up of the best athletes across all the houses, were totally loyal to the school and to get one’s “cap” for any of the school’s teams was the ultimate accolade.

Each house was presided over by a Senior Housemaster, who was also a teacher of some subject at the school and the discipline was in the hands of a number of prefects: boys in their final year, presided over by a senior prefect with the title of House-Captain.  Beneath the Housemaster and nominally responsible for the care of the younger boys, aged eight to twelve, was a Junior Housemaster.  Together these two worthies had the care of some one hundred boys in their hands.  In all six houses, both the Housemasters and the prefects were liberal users of the cane and school rules were strictly enforced. It is safe to say that boys being boys and living in a community, there were regular infractions of some rule or other plenty of misdemeanours so that the cane was often in use in all six houses at Grantley and boys of all ages, including the first formers, often went to bed nursing very sore arses.

To conclude this thumb-nail sketch of Grantley, the entire complex was presided over by the Headmaster, Dr. William Greatorix-Smyth, a doctor of divinity, who in his day had taught Latin and Greek. And it was Dr. Greatorix-Smyth himself who was now interviewing Frobisher. The teachers were not attributed to the preparatory or the senior school, but taught their special subject across the entire school; so the youngest boys and the eldest rapidly became familiar with the foibles of the entire teaching staff. The ultimate sanction inflicted on a boy was to be sent  to the Headmaster, Dr. William Greatorix-Smyth, himself, who was generally considered to be a great expert with both the cane and the birch; an expertise which he still enjoyed exercising whenever the need arose; which it frequently did!

And then, of course, there was the Head-Boy of the school, who was chosen from among the sixth formers across all the houses. Although nominally still attached to the house in which had had spent his school career to date, he was treated quite differently and had a small suite rooms comprised of a study, a bedroom and a bathroom located in the main school building. The Head-Boy was all powerful among the prefects; for a boy to be appear before him was a fate worse than death, for he too was an expert with the cane, which he used very liberally on boys of all ages.  And it was not unknown for the Head-Boy to thrash another prefect if the need arose and the boy in question deserved it; which, given what some of the prefects got up to, many did!  In terms of power and position, the Head-Boy was situated practically at the level of a Housemaster. The difference was, of course, that he himself still attended, rather than taught classes. But let us be quite clear, if he broke the rules he too was subject to the bite of the cane; in his case always administered by the Headmaster.

And let us not forget the Prefects, who were appointed to this august position only in their final year at Grantley. There were three prefects per house, eighteen in all across the six houses, one of whom had the position of House-Captain.  The prefects, as was common in all English public schools, were also allowed to thrash their schoolmates from both the senior and lower schools. As you might well imagine, the prefects exercised their power regularly and with considerable vigour. So all in all, some six hundred boys, aged eight to eighteen, were subject to discipline from a large number of authorised of cane wielders:  the Headmaster, six junior Housemasters, six senior Housemasters, the Head-Boy, six House-Captains and twelve Prefects, all of whom had no hesitation, if the need arose, which it so very often did, to put an errant boy, arse naked, across a chair and thrash him soundly.  Grantley did not allow younger boys to act as fags, unpaid and often abused servants, for their older brethren; but in all other respects, Grantley was a typical English Public School.

And if in terms of discipline in the form of beatings Grantley was in the top league, were boys unhappy and frightened by the harsh climate which surrounded them? Certainly not! Most lads enjoyed life at Grantley and as you will have appreciated it became a second home for many of them. So although danger of being caned lurked at every corner, life went happily on and if a boy found himself going to bed with a very sore arse, as many frequently did,  well, that was all part of life at Grantley and was totally accepted without any rancour.  Even the dreaded prefects, who were particularly active with the cane, were accepted with equanimity; boys in the process of being beaten dreamed of the day when they themselves might be a prefect and would be on the delivery rather than the receiving end of the cane: a sort of pay-back period.

Boys entering Grantley aged eight, as most did, were immediately placed in a given house, and remained members of that same house throughout their entire school career.  Grantley was a school of strong tradition and boys entering were assigned to the same house as had been their fathers and even their grandfathers before them. The house system also created hero worship among the younger boys, who admired certain of their older brethren and hoped desperately that they too would one day be the same. Thus they developed complete loyalty to their house at a very early age. But the sense of belonging and family was taken even further, for in each house, the ten boys of the yearly intake were assigned to a single dormitory. Then as they passed through the school, they remained together as a group until the lower sixth form of the upper school. In their final year in the upper sixth, each boy had his own study bedroom and slept alone for the first time since entering.

So tradition was strongly maintained at Grantley, as was discipline and it has to be said that had there existed what one might call an interschool “beating index”, Grantley would certainly have been  among the top contenders. At Grantley, no boy however young or old, was spared the cane or the birch if he deserved it; and many were deemed to deserve it. It has to be said that a boy did not have to do much to find himself, arse naked across a chair with either his Housemaster or a prefect, or in the worst case, the Headmaster himself, about to thrash him. It was this attention to discipline and a general willingness to apply the cane to a boy’s naked arse that many of the military parents found so very appealing; the Headmaster’s files were full of letters from parents urging the use of the cane on their offspring.

Remarks along the lines of: “And if my son needs to be punished, then don’t hesitate for a moment before using the cane or the birch on him. A good thrashing never did any boy any harm.” Or as one parent wrote:  “Both my sons have always been very disobedient and mischievous boys. So Headmaster, do not hesitate to thrash their backsides if they need it. Take no nonsense from them; they will try to wheedle their way out of any situation; but take no heed; get their pants down (I assume you still cane bare: the only effective way to my mind!) and give their bottoms a good taste of the cane or the birch. They will howl blue murder but take no heed; just thrash them.”

CHAPTER 2

The school secretary (why do all school secretaries seem to be frosty looking, dried up, frustrated spinsters of indeterminate age?) ushered Frobisher into the presence of the Headmaster, Dr. Greatorix-Smyth, who, after shaking his hand, motioned to him to sit down on an uncomfortable looking chair facing his huge desk, the surface of which was devoid of any other artefact beyond the obligatory blotter and inkstand. This was Frobisher’s first encounter with the Headmaster, whom he saw to be a elderly, tall and thin, severe looking man, wearing metal rim round spectacles. Dr. Greatorix-Smyth was wearing a back academic gown as was then the custom; a custom which continued well beyond the middle of the twentieth century in English schools.

Frobisher noticed, behind the Headmaster’s desk, a large oriental pot of the type so often used as a walking stick or umbrella stand; it was bristling with sticks of a type which were certainly not destined for walking. Frobisher’s heart leapt with joy as he divined that he was joining a school where the cane was evidently in regular use. He was himself a firm believer in the old maxim “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” and so he found it encouraging to see that the Headmaster had such a splendid collection of canes clearly destined for caressing boys’ bottoms.

Frobisher was himself a product of a rigorous public school education; he was an old boy of the famous Rigby School, located in the Lincolnshire town of Ditchfeild (pronounced DitchfEEld in spite of the quirky spelling). Like many boys who had been at Rigby, he had endured numerous beatings and birchings, always applied to his bare arse, usually delivered by the prefects and occasionally by either the Headmaster or his Housemaster.  In his penultimate year at Rigby he had been made a prefect and then, in his final year Head-Boy; and in this capacity he had enjoyed beating the arse of any boy whom he thought deserved it; of which there were many. Like almost all prefects he seized upon the slightest misdeed, real or imagined, to thrash a boy. Prefects were allowed to give up to six strokes of the cane across a boy’s naked buttocks, but of course the concept of “up to” was rapidly forgotten and six cuts were the norm.  Only the Head-Boy was allowed to give “up to twelve cuts”; of course, here too, twelve rapidly had become the standard; so any boy sent for a beating to the Head-Boy knew he was in for a twelve cut thrashing. By his final year at Rigby, Frobisher, in his capacity of Head-Boy, had acquired the reputation of being quite the hardest caner among all the prefects.

It was, in fact, Frobisher’s attachment to the cane as an instrument of correction, which had led him to the present interview. I say “interview” as if Frobisher was a candidate among others for the post of Junior Housemaster. This was not the case, for Frobisher had already a signed agreement for the post at the school which he had never actually visited until today. Here is how it came about that he was about to join a school which he knew only by reputation.

Frobisher was both a great athlete and also an academically brilliant young man. He had taken first class honours at Cambridge in Latin and Greek, both still very much in vogue at the turn of the nineteenth century. At Cambridge he had rapidly fallen in with a group of like minded young men, with whom he had indulged himself sexually to the limit, for Jerome Frobisher was a confirmed homosexual. He had had his first sexual experience at Rigby, in his final year, when aged eighteen he had lost his anal virginity to a classmate in the showers one evening; and since then he had never looked back. If Frobisher had been not only the greatest caner of his final year, he was also perhaps its greatest bugger. In his final year at Rigby, when he and his companions were all eighteen years old, he had taken every opportunity to sample the arse of any of his classmates who made himself available.  So when he arrived at Cambridge, it was as a confirmed operator, who knew the ropes; as such he quickly found his feet among like minded young men both in his own college and elsewhere.

Like many young men of his background, money was not a great consideration as he had inherited a largish sum from his grandparents and so the need to earn a living was not urgent. So by way of an adventure, when he graduated from Cambridge, he had taken a post as private tutor to two boys in their early teens in Cape Town in South Africa. His stay in Cape Gown had not been a happy one as he did not get on with the parents of the boys he had been engaged tutor. He treated both lads, who were a somewhat rambunctious pair, as he would have done had they been in an English public school and applied the cane liberally to their naked arses; so liberally and vigorously in fact that on one occasion, furious at the misdeed he was punishing, he lost his self control and thrashed one of the boys so hard that he raised a series of bloody welts across the poor lad’s arse. He was then fired on the spot, given a month’s salary in lieu of notice and told to pack his bags and leave.

Footloose and fancy free but in no need of financial support, Frobisher stayed on for several months in Cape Town, which he found an agreeable place and where he had made a number of like minded young male friends of similar inclination to himself.  His sex life flourished and he was, in many ways quite happy; but whilst fucking other men’s arses and in return being fucked by them, gave him great pleasure, he wanted to do something beyond that to while away his time.  In an English newspaper he saw the advertisement for the post of Junior Housemaster at Grantley and after some three months negotiation was offered the job. One has to remember that in 1910 communications were much slower than they are today and the final agreement was made by telegraph.  And so Jerome Frobisher finally found himself at Grantley Academy seated in front of the Headmaster, Dr. William Greatorix-Smith.

It was already halfway through the month of January and the winter term was already well underway. In fact Frobisher had arrived at the school two weeks later than planned as there had been a problem in obtaining a passage from Cape Town.  All the passenger liners were fully booked and in the end, desperate to return to England, he had settled for an uncomfortable berth on a merchant vessel, which took half a dozen passengers in addition to carrying freight. However, Frobisher had found several of the young sailors, sequestered as they were from any contact with the opposite sex, quickly adapted themselves to life among other males with all that that entailed; and so Frobisher was not short of sexual activity for the entire trip.

The Headmaster began: “Well Frobisher, allow me to welcome you to Grantley Academy. Better late than never, I suppose; but I really would have preferred you to have been here at the start of the winter term two weeks ago. But I quite understand your delay, what with all the difficulty of obtaining a passage with all the liners being fully booked. Before we start, let me just explain to you the rather unusual date of your appointment: the start of the winter term rather than the start of the school year in September.  The post you now hold had been occupied for the past two years and indeed into the beginning of this school year last September, by your predecessor, a Mr. Hesketh, also a classicist like you.  I am telling you all this as I do not want you to learn of the circumstances of Hesketh’s departure through whispered innuendos. Well, to put the matter simply, your predecessor, Mr. Hesketh, was dismissed by the school governors for what is usually referred to as gross moral turpitude. In a word, he had to go; and to go immediately.

“You surely don’t mean sir, that Mr. Hesketh indulged in ….”

Here he was cut short by the Headmaster who said: “ certainly do, Frobisher; but I don’t think it is necessary that we actually spell out the act he was caught engaged in. You will appreciate that he officially resigned for “serious health reasons”and there the matter rests. So the post of Junior Housemaster of Grenville House fell unexpectedly vacant as did the post of Form Master which Hesketh had also filled. And so, Frobisher, I have myself been filling both positions, temporarily holding the the fort, so to speak, pending the arrival of a replacement. I have also had to dust off my teaching knowledge of Greek and Latin, both of which were taught by Hesketh. So as you can see your qualifications fit exactly the profile for which we were looking; and of course, you were available immediately.”

At that moment there came a knock on the door of the Headmaster’s study. Dr. Greatorix-Smyth, by way of an explanation said: “Frobisher, I am afraid I had quite forgotten, but there is an errant first former waiting at the door. I had told him to report to me right now as his teacher had found that he had put blotting paper into one of his classmate’s inkwell. It will be instructive for you to see how we deal with even the first formers here at Grantley. As you will rapidly become aware, this is a school that enforces the rules with military precision and punishes any miscreants, however young; boys are allowed to get away with nothing in this establishment; either they learn to obey the rules and toe the line, otherwise they find themselves with very sore bottoms, the creation of one you are now about to witness.”  With that he rose from his desk, opened the door and ushered in a boy some eight or nine years old. The lad was already trembling with fear at what might be about to happen to him.

“Come in Gormley minimus; the Headmaster almost winced as he said the boy’s name. Allow me to introduce you to this gentleman who is called Mr. Frobisher; he is your new Form Master; and as you by chance are a member of Grenville House, he is also your new Housemaster; so it is most appropriate that he is here on this unfortunate occasion.  I presume that you know why I have sent for you.  I understand that you put pellets of blotting paper into another boy’s inkwell thereby making it impossible for him to use it. Your action caused disruption in the class as a clean inkwell had to be found to enable the boy to use his pen again,  Now, Gormley,  did you in fact do what I have just outlined or not?”

Poor Gormley, who was rather big for his age, hung his head in shame and finally said very weakly: “Yes sir.”

“So Gormley, you do appreciate that your actions caused considerable trouble in the classroom and disrupted he lesson whilst a new ink well was found; and for that, young man, I am afraid that you have to be punished.  Do you know, boy, how we punish young miscreants like you in this school?” 

“No sir, not really.”

The Headmaster went across to the pot containing his canes, rummaged around and selected a slender junior rattan cane about three feet long. He held this in front of Gormley and flexed it several times before his face: “Do you know what this is, boy? Well in case you do not, let me enlighten you. This is called a cane. And what is a cane used for? Well Gormley, in case you have not guessed it is for beating the bottoms of naughty boys like you. So Gormley, do you think that you deserve to have your bottom beaten with this cane, because I do?  Naughty boys have to be taught a painful lesson for their foolish pranks; you have been a very naughty boy and I am therefore going to beat your bottom to teach you not to do the same thing again.”

By this time, under the somewhat theatrical harangue delivered by the Headmaster, the poor lad was ready to burst into tears. He promised the Headmaster that he would never ever do anything like that again and he did not want to be whacked (his word); he had never been whacked before and he did not think it was fair that he should be whacked for such a minor offence.  And so it went on and on. But the boy was pleading in vain to save his skin; it finally sank in that he was wasting his breath and that he was going to be beaten. 

“Gormley you see that low backed chair over there against the wall; kindly place it in the centre of the room and then stand facing the back of the chair”  When this was done and the lad was standing there shivering with fright and almost in tears at the thought of what was about to happen to him, the Headmaster said to him: “Now boy, drop your trousers and underpants and bend across the back of the chair and put both your hands firmly on the seat of the chair and do not move again until I tell you to do so. Stick your bottom well out so that I can see what I am doing, for that is where I am going to apply this cane.”

This was of course a horrible shock for the boy, as he had had no idea that he was going to have his naked arse caned. So he pleaded with the Headmaster: “Oh please sir, don’t whack my bare bum; please sir, not on my bare bum: it will just hurt so dreadfully sir; please, please sir, not on my bare bum.” 

“Gormley, there is something you have to learn which is this. In this school, as in other reputable public schools in this country, the cane and also the birch, if the offence merits it, are always applied, to the offender’s naked buttocks: to the bare bum as you so graphically put it. And this, young man goes for all boys from entry into the prep school right through to the sixth forms. No boy is above having his naked buttocks thrashed, whatever is age or rank. And so, Gormley if a prefect merits a beating for some offence, he like you will be made to drop his pants, bend across a chair and have his naked buttocks beaten. Believe me Gormley, it is a very salutary experience; one which most boys would prefer not repeat; but alas, in spite of their good intentions, many often do.   But enough of the talk and down to action; pants down and across the chair boy; you will receive six strokes of the cane. Relax completely and do not clench your buttocks. This is going to be a painful few moments for you but it will teach you a well deserved lesson.”

Gormley finally realised that he had to obey the Headmaster and arse naked he bent across the chair and awaited his fate.  The Headmaster had truly succeeded in putting the fear of god into the boy, whose buttocks were now twitching as he waited for the first stroke to land on his naked flesh. True to the traditional approach, the Headmaster first teased the boy by tapping his backside with the cane as if trying to decide where to being. Then suddenly that slender junior cane rose and descended rapidly with a sharp crack as it mated with Gormley’s bare flesh.  The boy already in tears with the thought of what had been about to happen to him, let out a howl of pain as he experienced the very doubtful pleasure of feeling the bite of the cane for the first time.

The Headmaster delivered the remaining five cuts evenly to his target so that when he had finished, Gormley was left sporting an arse nicely striped with six parallel cuts, which were already a livid red. There was no doubt about it; the boy’s bum would later be the admiration of his classmates, all of whom would be clamouring to inspect the damage. Frobisher noticed that in spite of the dramatic build-up to Gormley’s first thrashing, the Headmaster was not excessively vigorous with the cane, but applied just a series of perfectly judged strokes to teach the young boy a lesson.  Frobisher realised that he was watching a man of great experience with the cane and wondered what it would be like if an older boy were to be punished for something much more serious than Gormley’s trivial peccadillo. He glanced again at the Headmaster’s selection of canes and saw that there was a rod for every occasion. Clearly if the occasion arose, boys would leave the Headmaster’s study with unbelievably painful arses. 

“You may get up from the chair now and put back on your clothes, Gormley.  It’s all over and done with now; it was not so bad was it? Now as this was your first encounter with the cane, I have to tell you that when I or any other master or prefect beats your bottom, when it is over, it is a matter of courtesy for you to shake his hand and thank him for correcting you. If you forget this little politeness, you may find yourself across the chair again, taking extra strokes for discourtesy to the very person who was trying to help you.”

Whether this somewhat specious argument carried much weight or not, a still tearful Gormley shook the Headmaster’s hand and said: “Thank you sir for correcting me.  But it did hurt a lot sir; and I don’t think that it was fair.”

“What exactly was unfair about your punishment boy? You committed a misdeed and have been beaten for it. So where is the lack of fairness?”

This remark elicited no further comment from Gormley who continue to snivel and massage his buttocks with his hands whilst assiduously avoiding the eyes of both masters.  Frobisher, however, had sensed that there was possibly more to this little incident than at first met the eye; so he took the initiative and said: “Gormley, what is the name the boy whose inkwell you sabotaged?”  Having learned that the other boy was called Rossiter, Frobisher went on: “And where does he sit in relation to you?”  From this he learned that Rossiter sat in the desk directly in front of Gormley. “Headmaster, I wonder if it might be useful to have a conversation with young Rossiter. Frankly Headmaster, I sense that there is something not quite right about this business; I fear, to quote the immortal bard, there may be something rotten in the state of Denmark.”

Gormley, who had heard these remarks, began to look very uncomfortable, at the idea that Rossiter might be brought before the Headmaster, which reinforced Frobisher’s suspicions even further.

“Headmaster, if I might make a suggestion.  Gormley is now returning to his next lesson so might I suggest you give him a note to hand to the master asking him to send Rossiter immediately to your study.  I feel something is wrong here, Headmaster, and it behoves us to get to the bottom of it.”

CHAPTER 3

As requested by Frobisher, the Headmaster wrote the note which Gormley dutifully delivered and a few minutes later a knock at the door announced Rossiter’s arrival. The boy entered the study, clearly very nervous; but then, what boy is not nervous when suddenly summoned to visit his Headmaster without really knowing the reason?  

“Come in Rossiter; just stand there in front of my desk. This gentleman is Mr. Frobisher, the new Housemaster of Grenville and he is also your Form Master.  He has a number of questions which he wishes to ask you. As you might have guessed, it is about the blotting paper which your classmate, Gormley, inadvisably put into your inkwell and for which rather disruptive prank he has just been punished. Frobisher; I will hand the matter over to you; so please continue.”

At the mention of the blotting paper incident, Rossiter’s face immediately reddened and he looked alarmed.  One look at Rossiter and Frobisher knew that there was, as he had divined earlier, more to the story than the simple sabotage of Rossiter’s inkwell. Frobisher had a very subtle technique of teasing the true facts out of boys by letting them explain how a situation, about which he really had precious little concrete information himself, arose.

“Rossiter, we understand that your classmate, Gormley put pellets of blotting paper into your inkwell. Now why, I wonder, did he feel it necessary to do that? What possessed him to do such a stupid thing and stop you being able to use your pen until a new inkwell was found? Why don’t you tell us your side of the story, for as you surely know there are always two sides to every story?”

Of course what the Rossiter did not know was that Frobisher and the Headmaster did not know the “other side of the story” as it had never been told.  Gormley had merely said that it was not fair that he had been caned. But what was unfair about the punishment? All was about to be revealed.

“Well sir, you see it was like this; I had been cleaning the nib of my pen and a few spots splashed on Gormley’s exercise book and made a bit of a mess of it and it made him cross and then later, at break I think sir, when I was not at my desk, he stuffed my inkwell with blotting paper. And sir, when the master asked who had done it, he owned up straight away sir, and was sent to you to be punished.”

“Rossiter, could you perhaps explain to me how you, sitting in the desk directly in front of Gormley, with your back to him, managed to splash ink onto his book?  Come on boy, just explain how it happened; it all sounds very unlikely to me. Had he been sitting in the desk at the side of you, to the right or left, then I might have believed your tale; but frankly boy, I think you are telling us a load of nonsense.  To put it in its clearest terms, you are telling us a lie and I have to tell you Rossiter, that at this school we do not like boys who tell lies and we punish them very severely for it.  Now Rossiter, would you like to begin again and tell us precisely what happened to make Gormley sabotage your inkwell?”

Rossiter’s face was now red with embarrassment as he realised that the tale he had just told did not hold water. So he began again: “I’m very sorry, sir, but you see Gormley and I had had a disagreement about a fruit cake he had received in the post from his grandmother and he had promised me a piece and then he didn’t give it to me and that made me mad sir and so sir when the master was writing on the black board I turned around and shook my pen over his exercise book splashing it with ink spots and that then made him mad at me and so later when I was not there he put the paper in my inkwell and that is really how it all happened sir truly it is sir  and I don’t care what Gormley told you sir  because what I have  just told you is just what happened sir cross my heart and hope to die!”

The two men listened, slightly amused at this unpunctuated outpouring of verbal diarrhoea from Rossiter, who had clearly now told the truth about the incident. The Headmaster looked at Frobisher and smiled; it was a smile of approval at the astute way in which his new recruit had first divined that there was more to the incident than appeared at first sight but had then gone on and very cleverly got very quickly to the bottom of the matter.

Frobisher looked at a trembling Rossiter and said: “Rossiter, I am now quite sure that you have been truthful. In this school the truth will always come out; and for the record, Rossiter, truth and honesty are always the best policies, a fact I suggest you remember for future occasions.  In fact, Rossiter, Gormley did not tell us anything about the reason for his stupid action.  He did not split on you at all. He merely said, after the Headmaster had beaten his bottom, that it was not fair. However, you Rossiter, and you alone, are responsible for starting the incident; moreover, boy, you kept silent about the part you had played when you saw your classmate sent off to the Headmaster for punishment.  A true gentleman would have owned up to his share of the blame there and then and not allowed his classmate to shoulder the entire responsibility for the incident.  And therefore I am now going to punish you Rossiter, firstly for being silly enough to splash ink around which makes such a mess and secondly for keeping quiet about your part in the affair, for which your classmate has just been beaten.”

“So, Rossiter, you too are now going to have your bottom beaten. You will receive six strokes of the cane for splashing ink around and a further three for being so deceitful.  Step over to that chair in the middle of the room, boy, and lower your trousers and underpants. Then bend across the back of the chair, stick your bottom out so that I can clearly see what I am going to beat and and put your hands firmly on the seat. Then do not move again until I give you permission.”

The fact that he now faced a beating produced another unpunctuated torrent of words from Rossiter in the hope of staving off a painful beating: “Oh please sir don’t beat me I truly never thought that Gormley would be beaten for what he had done really I didn’t sir and had I known then I would have admitted that I started it all honestly would sir and that’s the truth sir it really is I would not have let him take all the blame sir, really I wouldn’t  I’m not like that at all sir really I’m not and anyway sir the fact that I splashed ink on Gormley’s book does not mean that he should have stuffed blotting paper into my inkwell he should not have done it sir he really should not sir.”

Frobisher cut the deluge of words: “Rossiter, I advise you to get into the position over the back of the chair right now and stop talking or you will only make things worse for yourself.  Now boy, unless you want extra strokes, I suggest that you bend across the chair and then keep silent, whilst I select a suitable cane to apply to your bottom.”

Frobisher looked enquiringly at the Headmaster who nodded his approval in the direction of the large oriental pot bristling with rods of correction behind his desk. With a simple wave of his hand, the Headmaster indicated his permission for Frobisher to select a suitable cane.  Frobisher spent a full minute looking over the Headmaster’s splendid selection of canes before selecting a junior cane, slightly longer and more knobbed than the one which had just been used on Gormley’s arse. The Headmaster gave Frobisher a smile of approval at his choice.

Meanwhile, the unfortunate Rossiter had finally obeyed the order and was bent over the chair in that inimitable position which thousands of boys before him had adopted for the self same reason. He was trembling with fear, awaiting the first horrible stroke of that painful rod across his naked bum.  One has to say that it was hard to sympathise at all with Rossiter, as it was only due to Frobisher’s intuition  that he was now about to pay the price for his part in what, let’s face it, was a piffling offence. But piffling or not, it was important that boys knew that they would be punished for breaking even the smallest rules. It was totally in accord with the general ethos of an English public school education, aimed at turning out well educated and ethical, young gentlemen.

Frobisher surveyed the young backside he was about to thrash. In fact Rossiter was a heavily built boy for his age and already had a fine pair of buns, just perfect for caning.  Frobisher had already decided in his mind that he would ensure that Rossiter got a real good thrashing as he strongly disapproved of the way the lad had allowed Gormley to take all the blame.  He was quite sure that had he not conducted an inquest into the matter, Rossiter would have remained silent and escaped scot-free. And so he played around with the cane, tapping gently at various parts of the boys arse before bringing it down with a resounding crack across the equator of the two globes. Rossiter let out a shrill of cry of pain and begged Frobisher to stop, but his pleas went unanswered as Frobisher pressed on applying stroke after stinging stroke, first going upwards to the bottom of the boy’s back and then downwards to where the buttocks meet the legs, that highly sensitive sit-spot, where the cane stings the most and the pain persist longest. When had finished, Rossiter had an arse which was truly worthy of the epithet “well beaten” for there were nine neatly spaced welts, from top to bottom of the boy’s backside.  The young lad was clearly in agony, but Frobisher felt very satisfied that justice had been done and he saw that the Headmaster was nodding his head in approval of the beating.

After Rossiter had been dismissed and allowed to make a chastened and tearful return to his class, the Headmaster said:  “Well Frobisher, that was quite a performance you just gave.  I have to say that I envy you your perceptiveness to have realised that the facts went deeper than first met the eye; and frankly, the way you extracted the truth out of the wretched Rossiter was truly amazing, He got exactly what he deserved.  Normally I don’t give more than six cuts and always with the lightest of canes to boys of his age in the first form; but I quite agree with you that nine strokes were well and truly justified in this case. Rossiter was the root cause of the incident and should be heartily ashamed of himself for allowing Gormley take the full consequences. I am a great believer myself in starting as I mean to go on; and with the lighter cane one can introduce the younger boys to the dubious delights which await them if they break the rules later in their school careers, which I might add, most of them do. And moreover, with a light cane, well applied, a technique I was pleased to say with which you were clearly familiar, the boy goes away with a sore bottom, feeling very sorry for himself but no great damage has been done. And I can tell you, Frobisher that the parents approve of our approach.”

“Anyway Frobisher, I am delighted to see that you do not hesitate to use the cane when it is needed: and even more so that you had the conviction to use on a younger boy. Many masters feel somewhat nervous about thrashing such young lads, you know; but in all my years of experience, I have never ever seen a beating which did a boy any harm: a short sharp shock, rather painful,  but salutary in the lesson it teaches and of no lasting consequences.  I have beaten hundred of backsides in my time as a school teacher and never ever regretted my action. But I have to say Frobisher that you have a very professional hand with the cane. I saw how you judged the severity of each blow to give the lad the maximum pain without actually skinning his arse and that takes some experience”

“I was also very pleased too to see that you did not hesitate to beat the lad bare; all beating at this school is on the bare as there is no other way of being absolutely sure of what you are doing; and as I have pointed out to many boys who objected when told told to drop their trousers and pants, it is the boy and not the trousers that is to be punished. Additionally, at a personal level, I find it very satisfying to give a boy’s bottom a really good beating and to leave him with a series of evenly spaced welts; there is a sense of artistic achievement in it. And from the boy’s point of view, he has a very admirable backside to show off to his roommates in the showers. Boys have a prurient interest in the misfortunes of their classmates and a well striped bottom is something they all, in a certain malicious way, greatly admire; it gives them a frisson of fear to think that they too might one day look the same. It’s exactly the same thing as when they have the chance to see one of their classmates beaten.  They shudder to think that it might happen to them, but at the same time take a certain vicarious pleasure in watching one of their friends suffer; only, of course, to sympathise with him afterwards as they admire his stripes. But that is, I suppose, what human nature is like!”  

“But now you have met Gormley minimus, let me tell you that you have what I believe is a unique situation in Grenville. In fact the epithet  “minimus” may already have given  you a clue as to what I am about to tell you. You will find that you have no less than four Gormley brothers in your care in Grenville; and so we have qualified them as maximus, major, minor and minimus.  Colonel Gormely, in his wisdom, married a French lady.”  The Headmaster managed to intone the words,  “French lady” to make it sound like some terminal disease, his tone of voice making quite clear what he thought of France and the French.  “Having espoused the said lady, the pair of them appear to have applied themselves, assiduously and successfully as it turned out, to the creation of a family with a degree of military precision which boggles the mind; they produced in four successive years, four sons. But the precision, if by design it was, was carried to the limit, for the Colonel and his wife managed to produce all four of their offspring at more or less precise yearly intervals. Indeed one has to ask oneself how they achieved what they did; each boy was born in successive years during the first fortnight of January.  And one does not have to be a mathematician to deduce that as they were each born in early January, they are each among the oldest boys in their respective classes.”

“But kindly bear with me a little longer, Frobisher.  Mrs Gormley seemed hardly to have made even the slightest genuflection in the direction of integrating herself into English society.  She styled herself as Madame Gormley and insisted that people address her as Madame; but this whole French business goes still further.” Frobisher could see that he Headmaster, as he continued his discourse, found it well nigh impossible to conceal his dislike of things French. “Madame Gormley apparently insisted on giving all of her sons French Christian names and her husband, in what I suppose  was a weak moment, agreed to let her have her way.  And so we have four essentially English boys called, Jean-Claude, Jean-François, Jean-Pierre and finally Jean-Sebastian; maximus to minimus by the way.”

“But to add insult to injury, Madame Gormley evidently decided that she liked neither England nor being a military wife; so she then dumped her husband and went back to live in France. So we have the ludicrous situation where the four boys hardly know their French mother, whom they never see; and to cap it all, they do not even speak French. So we have four young lads, all essentially English, but lumbered with these ridiculous French names.  Well, Frobisher, as I say, you have the distinction of having all four of them under your wing and I wish you luck with them.  Oh and before I forget, as their father is often overseas, they tend to be part of the group of lads who stay here over the vacations; so Grantley and Grenville are more or less their home. Just let me read you an extract from the last letter I received from Colonel Gormley; he wrote this in the autumn of last year on the occasion of sending his fourth son to Grantley.”

The Colonel wrote:  “So, Headmaster, with the entry of my youngest son, Jean-Sebastian into the prep school level at Grantley, you have now all four of my boys in the lower school. And they are all in the same house, Grenville, traditionally the House of my family; both I and my father before me were educated at Grantley and were both members of Grenville. But I have no illusions about my offspring, Headmaster, for they are at the best an unruly and rambunctious bunch and can, on occasions, be very trying and they are perpetually mischievous.”

“They have been sent to Grantley to receive a good education and to learn to behave like young gentlemen. So if you have any problems at all with their behaviour, do not hesitate to give their backsides a thorough beating. I trust that you still hold true to the old tradition of beating on the bare; to me it is the only way. I am a firm believer in the beneficial effect of corporal punishment, which we use quite regularly in my regiment on all the younger recruits and cadets. A soundly beaten bottom never did a boy, or for that matter a young man, any harm; so do not hesitate to use it on any or all of my boys if the occasion demands it. I cannot count the number of times in my career at Grantley that I went to bed with an excruciatingly painful backside. But I survived and was all the better for it.  So don’t hold back with the cane or even the birch on my boys if they deserve it. Remember Headmaster, that the Gormleys are a military family and have been for at the last three generations, so I fully expect some of my boys to seek a commission in the army.  So it is vital that they learn to obey the rules in their youth and to accept the painful consequences if they do not. And knowing them as I do, I am sure that there will be many painful sequels to their actions.”

“Well Frobisher, there you have it: carte blanche (forgive my French) to whack the living daylights out of these four lads if needs must; which I suspect may well prove the case. But on the subject of corporal punishment, the cane and, to a lesser extent, the birch, are in regular use throughout the entire school, so I was very pleased to see the way you handled Rossiter and you are clearly a man of some considerable experience when it comes to what we might call the “tender loving care” of boys’ backsides.  Just how did you become such an expert with the cane, as you have not had a school appointment until now? But I have to say Frobisher, having seen you in action, I am delighted to see that you wield the rod like a seasoned professional, which is exactly the approach we need in this school. Where did you pick up such a technique?”

“Well sir, I am myself a product of another public school, Rigby in Lincolnshire; I can tell you sir that the cane and the birch were in regular use during my entire time there.  In fact, I was a normal boy and got into the sort of scrapes that lads do and I forget now how many times I had my bare backside beaten over the course of the years: by the Headmaster; by my Housemaster; and by the prefects, who were possibly the hardest beaters of all. Well, I entered the lower sixth, aged seventeen and was made a junior prefect with the right to beat the younger boys with the light type of cane I just applied to Rossister’s rump. And I am not ashamed to tell you that I exercised that right to the full as did my co-prefects; we never ever missed an opportunity to thrash a boy even for the most piffling of misdemeanours.”

“Then in the upper sixth, in my eighteenth year, I was, to my utter surprise, made Head-Boy. Now the Head-Boy at Rigby has a very special status. He has a small suite of two rooms and a private bathroom and is more or less treated as a master. The Head-Boy was always traditionally the chief beater in the school. He could give twelve cuts with a senior cane and also birch boys whom he thought deserved it. And as far as I can remember, his decisions in handing out punishment were never, to my knowledge, questioned. And so the Head-Boy was always one of the most feared people in the school. And that was the post which I held in my final year. As I saw no reason to hold back, I regularly wielded that cane, and a few times the birch, on the naked backsides of miscreants of all ages. So, Headmaster, to answer your question; I served my two year apprenticeship to the wielding of the rod first as a prefect and then as Head-Boy at Rigby. And I think I can say, that I maintained the tradition held by the Head-Boy of being the hardest caner in the school in my final year.”

The Headmaster had listened to all this without making a remark and then said: “You know, Frobisher, I had completely forgotten that you were at Rigby; I have, of course, your Curriculum Vitae, but it was your Cambridge qualifications which attracted me to your application: top honours in Greek and Latin; exactly what we need right now.  But you will doubtless find yourself completely at home as Junior Housemaster of Grenville House, as the Senior Housemaster, Mr. Jonathan Swinburne, is also an old Rygbian; a little older than you, but like yourself a bachelor. He read mathematics at Oxford and took a first class degree.  Do you know him?”

CHAPTER 4

Of course, Frobisher knew Swinburne: Jonathan Swinburne:  the Swine as he had generally been called by the younger boys at Rigby, whose arses he beat relentlessly. Swinburne had been one of the all-time great caners among the prefects at Rigby. Frobisher knew him and his dexterity with the cane very well indeed as he had, more times than he now cared to remember, been invited to present his naked arse to the ministrations of the dreaded Swine. Frobisher had first become acquainted with Swinburne’s dexterity with the cane when he was in the fifth form and Swinburne himself was already in his final year at Rigby in the upper sixth. Like many of the prefects, Swinburne took great pleasure in beating older boys and the fifth form was his happy hunting ground for mature backsides to thrash.  Any misdemeanour, no matter how slight, which came to his attention, led to a thorough beating.  Swinburne never gave less than twelve cuts, no matter what the reason and lads regularly left his study with bruised backsides so painful that they could not sit down in comfort for several days.

But Frobisher knew more about Swinburne’s activities over and above his undoubted ability with the cane, for he had been one of the most sexually active boys of the upper sixth in his year.  Swinburne had taken every opportunity he could to have anal sex with any of his classmates who were willing; and many were.  Such sexual practices, which the school rules strictly forbade, were nevertheless quietly tolerated as being a passing phase in an eighteen year old’s life and would disappear when he left school and had access to the opposite sex; or  so the theory went. Well in some cases, of which both Swinburne and Frobisher were prime examples, the theory turned out to be wrong and the practice did not end when they left school, as by that time they had realised that they were homosexual: gay in today’s parlance; whatever the law might say on the matter, they both knew that their sexual future was with other men and certainly not with members of the female sex. 

So, known or unbeknown to the Headmaster, Grenville House was about to become headed by two confirmed gays. Frobisher knew already that Hesketh, his predecessor had been forced to resign because of his sexual inclinations; but he also guessed that Hesketh had made advances on some of the boys: always a dangerous move.  Frobisher’s view was that however attractive he might find some of his pupils, especially the sixth formers, they fell into the category of strictly forbidden fruit; his own sexual appetite, which was quite considerable, had to be satisfied elsewhere.  And in spite of the fact that Swinburne had thrashed the stuffing out of him on several occasions at Rigby, like most boys who were beaten at school, he felt no special animosity towards the man, who as a prefect at Rigby, had caned him as a younger boy.  In fact he was already wondering how they would get on together. Swinburne, in spite of his frequent use of the cane and his sexual athleticism with his classmates, was a highly attractive and well set up young man and Frobisher was not at all averse to the idea that an intimate relationship might develop between the two of them, especially in view of the fact that they were to be close colleagues.  None of these thoughts and facts did he deem necessary to communicate to the Headmaster.

And so in answer to the Headmaster’s question Frobisher said: “Yes Headmaster, I remember Swinburne quite well.  He was in the upper sixth when I was in the fifth and I can tell you that I felt his cane across my backside more than once.  He was a great disciplinarian as a prefect at Rigby and was greatly respected by most of the younger boys. (A bit of a misnomer in fact;  his frequent use of the cane and the vigour with which he applied it inculcated fear rather than respect).  I look forward to making his acquaintance again. What a surprise and coincidence that we are to be colleagues in charge of the same house.”

“Well Frobisher, I think that you will find that you two get on well together, for Swinburne is still a very strict disciplinarian, as I perceive are you; so it may well be a marriage made in heaven, so to speak, with both Housemasters pulling in the same direction and wielding the rod of correction with equal vigour, Grenville should run with military precision.” 

The Headmaster continued: “But now to a few more mundane matters; the school is run on a daily basis in much the same way as most boarding schools. Boys have their breakfast in their house and then assemble in their classroom at 8:30, when their Form Master calls the register to make sure that everyone is present. This is then followed by the traditional daily assembly presided over by me, where we go through the usual ritual: a hymn, a prayer, the day’s announcements and so forth, after which the boys then disperse to their first class of the day.  Each boy has a timetable of his classes and as we believe in small classes of a maximum of twenty boys there are three parallel forms throughout the school designated as A. B and C, which are not an indication of ability but merely of identification; you yourself will be the Form Master of class 1A. This is the class where I have been standing in as Form Master since Hesketh’s spmewhat precipitate departure. Nevertheless, you will, of course, teach Latin and Greek throughout the entire school, so you should rapidly become familiar with most of our boys. Additionally, in your role of Junior Housemaster of Grenville, which is a non-teaching but nevertheless important task,  you will be responsible for the discipline of the entire lower school group of some seventy or so Grenville boys. I think that that gives you a good idea of your duties, but I am sure that you are already familiar of how a public boarding school operates, having gone through the mill yourself at Rigby.”

“Now I think it is time for me to show you to your quarters, which I think you will find very adequate and to introduce you to your immediate colleague, Swinburne, with whom you will share the arduous job of running Grenville House.  Each house, by the way, occupies a separate building and accommodates both the junior and senior boys under the same roof; all the boys take their meals together.  However, there are separate junior and senior common rooms and the junior and senior dormitories are separated. But essentially a boy spends his entire school career in the same house to which he usually becomes fiercely loyal.”

The Headmaster now took Frobisher to show him his quarters, which as he had said were more than adequate. And then they went to meet Swinburne. Although the two men had not seen one another since they both left Rigby, mutual recognition was more or less instantaneous.  “Well Frobisher,” said the Headmaster, “Now that I have had the pleasure of reintroducing you to our old schoolmate I will leave you in his care and let you two get to know each other again and discuss the general running of Grenville House, in which you will now play an important role.”

CHAPTER 5

Swinburne began:  “Frobisher, old man; welcome to Grantley and to Grenville House. This is quite a surprise, I suppose for both of us that having been at Rigby together, we should now find ourselves as colleagues teaching in another school, and moreover as joint Housemasters of the same house.  Anyway, I am delighted to have you working here with me in Grenville. Since your predecessor, Hesketh, left, I have been holding the fort, as it were, in both the upper and lower halves of Grenville and I can tell you that I am truly glad to have you on board, for the load has been a bit too much for one man alone.  By the way, what did the old man tell you about your predecessor Hesketh?”

“Well he just said that Hesketh had been dismissed for gross moral turpitude, which I guess means that he was caught red handed having sex with one of the boys and he had to go.  He said that publicly it had been announced that Hesketh had resigned for health reasons, but he did not go into any more detail than that.”

“Look here Frobisher, I’m a very direct sort of person and as we are to be colleagues working closely together, I think it best that I tell you the whole story of your predecessor’s demise, as you will surely hear it in a mangled version by innuendo over the course of time. Everyone thinks he knows about Hesketh; but I think I should tell you the facts as I am probably the only member of staff, other than the Headmaster to know the whole story.”

“It may come as a surprise to you to know that Hesketh and I were close friends; as close as two men can ever get. In a nutshell and not to beat about the bush, he and I were lovers and had been for a couple of years.  I do hope that this does not shock you to learn that your new colleague is a practising homosexual, as also was Hesketh.  The Headmaster was aware of our relationship which as you must be aware under the present benighted laws of his country is strictly illegal and punishable by imprisonment. In spite of his rather dried up and somewhat frosty appearance, Dr. Greatorix-Smyth is, in fact, a very astute and understanding man. Having spent his entire life in the English public school system, largely at Grantley, he has the good sense to realise that public schools are a haven of comparative security for homosexuals such as me and that there are here, as in most public schools in this country, several teachers who are practising homosexuals just like me.  Additionally, the Headmaster realises that in a school such as ours, with the sixth-form boys to all intents and purposes being practically young men, with all the sexual urges of their age, a certain amount of what is usually referred to as “gross unnatural behaviour” is practically inevitable. Crudely put, as well you know, having been at Rigby, senior lads bugger have  a nast tendency to bugger each other as they have no female company on which to assuage their sexual desires.”

“Greatorix-Smyth is well aware of all this and was aware, as were many of the staff members of the relationship between Hesketh and me, which is why I am telling you all this myself rather than let you find in dribs and drabs from our other colleagues. The Headmaster and Governors are, of course, publicly obliged to forbid sexual relationships between boys or, even worse, between masters and boys; however, the Headmaster wisely turns a blind eye on both adult relationships between staff members and buggery among the boys in the sixth forms.  Clearly if two lads are caught publicly in the act of fornication, then the Headmaster has to take action and what usually happens is that the two participants are given a very sound thrashing; and I do mean sound; Greatorix-Smyth is no slouch with the cane and the birch and can reduce even the toughest members of the upper sixth form to a snivelling wreck when he sets his mind to it. Believe, me, Frobisher, I have seen the old boy in action on two Grenville lads from the upper sixth whom our rather self important sports-master caught in the act of copulation in the showers; let me tell you that by the time Greatorix-Smyth  had finished with them they could not sit down for nearly a week. I know this for a fact as I was invited as their Housemaster to witness their punishment; the old boy really does know how to lay it on when the need arises.”

“But when it comes to sex between a master and a boy, then the only solution is that the master has to go.  And that is exactly what happened to Hesketh.  Hesketh is a nice man and was a good and well-liked teacher here. But he was a complete idiot; he took a liking to a muscular well equipped lad in the upper sixth form from Wellington House.  He knew full well that the boy in question was known to be sexually very active among his classmates and was rumoured to be a real young stud for his age; you know the type: one who flaunts his sexuality in front of his classmates. Hesketh could not resist this lusciously fuckable hunk of young manhood and seduced him; by all accounts with not much difficulty, for the lad himself was more than willing. In fact, rumour has it that the boy in question had boasted to his classmates that he would get Hesketh to fuck him. Whether or not that it true, it is a fact that they did start a sexual relationship and then, by the best of bad luck, who should walk in on them in the act, totally unannounced, but the Headmaster himself. So all hell was let loose and that bloody idiot, Hesketh, had to go; and go he did; the very next day in fact. And do you know what?  In spite of our close relationship, I have never heard from him since that day; he simply disappeared. As for the boy, well, the Headmaster gave him the thrashing of his life and told him that if ever it happened again or even if he was caught in a sexual situation with one of his classmates, he would be expelled.”

Now I myself have frequently been attracted to some of the sixth formers many of whom, in the first flush of young manhood are sexually very attractive to the likes of me. But as anyone in my position must, I have always resisted picking the fruit of that forbidden tree, no matter how tempting; one false step could ruin any man’s career, as it did with Hesketh, who, I understand, did not even receive a reference on his precipitate departure.  Anyway, there you have, in all its gory detail; the reason why Hesketh was kicked out and you were brought in.  Are you now totally shocked to learn the sort of place you have joined, or did your Rigby experience prepare you in advance?”

Frobisher had listened to the above revelation in complete silence.  From his time at Rigby he knew that Swinburne in addition to having had a nifty hand with the cane had been one of the most sexually active members of the upper sixth. He was delighted to hear that Swinburne, as he was himself, was an out-and-out homosexual: gay in the modern day idiom. Moreover, he found Swinburne now, as he had at Rigby, a highly attractive looking man, only some three years older than he himself. And the icing on the cake, the cream in the bun, the gravy on the plate, call it what you will, was that Hesketh, Swinburne’s previous lover, was no longer on the scene.  The question was how he, Frobisher, could now impart to Swinburne that in his new colleague he had the good fortune to have someone sexually of like mind and inclination to hand. But of course he had to determine whether Swinburne would view him as an attractive partner. Attraction is a two way street and the fact the he found Swinburne sexually attractive did not mean the Swinburne would feel the same about him. But the most amazing thing about this spontaneous revelation by Swinburne about the misfortunes of his erstwhile lover, Hesketh, was that he had told Frobisher all this when they had barely met. It was as if Swinburne had wanted to unburden himself to someone and that someone had been Frobisher.

Frobisher said: “Well Swinburne that was some story you just told me and I am truly sorry that you lost your partner, Hesketh in such a sudden and unfortunate way.  But am I surprised by the fact that you tell me that you are a practising homosexual when we have hardly got much beyond shaking hands?  The answer to your question is no; I am neither surprised nor shocked and let me tell you why.  Do not forget that we were both at Rigby together; you were a prefect in the upper sixth and I was in the fifth form, three years your junior.  You had the reputation of being the hardest and most enthusiastic caner of your year and I can tell, you that having had the very doubtful  pleasure on no less than three separate occasion of having my naked backside tanned by you, I can testify first hand to your prowess with the cane.  But you also had the reputation of being the biggest bugger –  excuse my directness – of  your year, which I only know of by rumour. But where there is smoke there is normally fire and so I guess it was true. And so, my dear Swinburne, I am not at all surprised or shocked by anything you have just told me.”

“What you do not know, is that I went on after you had, of course, left Rigby and was made a junior prefect on entering the lower sixth and progressed in my final year to being Head-Boy. And like most of my co-prefects, I viewed those two years, possibly wrongly, as a period of pay-back; a period when I could administer the cane to any boy’s backside on the flimsiest of pretexts, in much the same was as I had myself been caned in my younger years. And in my own way, I, like you, as Head-Boy, earned the reputation of being the hardest and most frequent caner among the prefects. I am not boasting when I tell you that I know for a fact that many of the lads preferred to offer their naked arses to the Headmaster for correction rather than to me: such was my reputation.  My taste for firm and frequent use of the cane has not diminished since I became a teacher and it may surprise you to know that I have already today, in the presence of the Headmaster and with his complete approval had the pleasure of beating a first former called Rossiter.”

Frobisher paused before moving on to the less firm ground of imparting to Swinburne that he too was a homosexual. As Swinburne had laid all his cards on the table, now seemed as good a time as any to enter into what is always a rather delicate subject; so Frobisher continued: “Like you, and I suppose like half my school mates in our final year at Rigby, I indulged myself in what I suppose one might describe as sexual experimentation. More directly put in rather brutal language, I indulged, like so many boys in their final year at school do, in buggery with those of my classmates who were willing and found that I really enjoyed it. And to be honest, I still enjoy today fucking another man’s arse and being fucked by him in return.  In fact it was my sexual activities as a sixth former at Rigby that brought home to me that I was not the same as most other men; I realised that I had no taste at all for the opposite sex and I rapidly acknowledged to myself that I preferred sexual relations with men to women. I say that I preferred men to women, but precisely how I came to that conclusion I do not really know as I had never had sex with a women; nor have I to this day. So Swinburne, if you can forgive the rather crude language I have used, you will see that you and I are not so very different. In fact to call a spade a spade, we are both homosexuals – or more crudely put in layman’s language: perverts!”

There Frobisher stopped and tried to judge Swinburne’s reaction to what he had just heard. It was almost as if the two men had decided to compare the scars of their battle wounds. In a few brief minutes they had each revealed their true sexual orientation the one to the other. So Swinburne now knew that his new colleague was of similar inclination to himself.

“My dear Frobisher; I have say that I had not expected to hear from you what I have just heard.  The reason I told you about my situation and my relationship with Hesketh, as I made clear to you, was because I wanted you to know the true facts and not hear some fanciful version of the story on the proverbial  grape-vine, which you surely will do sooner or later.  I thought that you should have no illusions about your closest colleague, especially as almost the entire staff knew about Hesketh and me. I am amazed to learn that you yourself are of the same persuasion as me. But I should add that I am also agreeably surprised by your revelations.  Look here Frobisher, we have both got quite a lot to digest and think about and you need to get your things unpacked and settle in to your new quarters; so here is the plan for this evening. I have arranged a little private supper for the two of us to be served in my quarters at half past seven so I do hope that you will join me then and we can discuss further how we are going to work together to run Grenville House.” 

To this Frobisher of course agreed.

CHAPTER 6

Frobisher then went along to his quarters, which in keeping with the times were large and well furnished.  He had a large study, another room where he could entertain guests and give private dinner parties, a large bedroom and an adjacent bathroom; in a word it was a splendid place for a bachelor school-master.  There were no cooking facilities, but Grantley was run on military lines as befitted its background and trained male staff in profusion was to hand to deal with all household tasks and could be summoned at any time to provide refreshments etc. and bring coal for the fires.

The centre piece of his main study room, where all business with other staff and the boys would be conducted, was a large mahogany desk on which stood an ornate cast brass inkwell and pen holder and a large and expensive blotter, all located directly in front of where he would sit at the desk.  This was the very room where, in the near future any delinquent boys of Grenville would be made to drop their trousers and underpants and bend across a chair to receive the ministrations of Frobisher’s cane.  Today there was another item on the desk: a long, shallow cardboard box some three feet long to which was attached a note which said:  “A tradesman cannot function without the tools of his trade.  Please accept this box, which contains what I consider to be the indispensable tools of your trade, as a welcoming gift on your appointment as Housemaster and Teacher at Grantley Academy. May its contents serve you well in the execution of your duties at this school. Use them well, use them wisely, but above all, do use them!” It was signed simply William Greatorix-Smyth, Headmaster.

Frobisher opened the box and found that it contained a brand new set of six rattan canes of the highest quality. The canes were of varying increasing diameters ranging from the lightest canes destined for use on younger boys through to the two senior canes with which a competent wielder would be able to bring tears to the eyes of any eighteen or nineteen year-old young man.  Unlike the run-of-the-mill rattan canes with the classic crooked handle, the typical cane used throughout the country both in public and state schools, this set was indeed special.  The canes were all dead straight and each was fitted with a cylindrical wooden handle to allow it to be gripped firmly during use. The tip of the free end had been carefully bound to avoid splitting, a common fault with all canes after a certain period of use. All in all, this was a splendid set of canes with which to discipline boys of any age; as the Headmaster had said, “The tools of your trade.” Frobisher was pleased that he had joined a school where the cane clearly reigned supreme. He was a great believer in the beneficial use of corporal punishment to control unruly boys and miscreants and was delighted that the Headmaster clearly thought the same.

Frobisher picked up and read a short pamphlet written by the maker of the box of canes to learn something he had not before known. Rattan it seems is not a bamboo as most people think: it was, in fact a species of a large genus of palms, with thin climbing flexible stems. Unlike bamboo which is less flexible and hollow, the rattan canes are solid but, nevertheless, extremely flexible. Thus the great advantage of the rattan cane is that a rod of a given diameter is heavier than its bamboo counterpart, more flexible and less prone to split when in use.  Size for size the rattan cane is an implement which is much more painful for the recipient than its bamboo equivalent. The maker then went on to say that the present box of canes should meet the requirements of the most demanding user and could be used on both clothed and bare buttocks.  It was, however, strongly recommended for the best results to apply the rods to the bare buttocks of the boy being corrected.  However, the maker went on to say that the present set of canes was not suitable for using on a boy’s hands.  A special range of rigid canes, made of true bamboo, was recommended for that purpose; but then as the main users of the rattan cane were the public schools, hands were rarely caned. The main target for punishment was a boy’s buttocks, which being well away from any organs and breakable bones, somehow seemed to have been God-given as the appropriate target for corrective beating. At least that was the view of the supplier of the canes.

Frobisher picked up a cane from the box and flexed it; it was incredibly supple and could be bent almost into a full circle without difficulty; yet at the same time, it was not floppy in the way a whip is.  He then examined each cane in turn. He saw that the senior canes which were some half inch in diameter were as flexible as the two slender junior canes, which seemed ideal for the first and second formers in the eight to nine year old age group. He could see that he would be able to place a stroke on a boy’s naked backside very accurately and that with the appropriate flick of the wrist at the end of the stroke, the tip of this implement would wrap itself round the far side of a boy’s buttocks.  He then thought that by applying the strokes alternately from the left and and right sides of the unlucky supplicant he could effectively ensure that not only the crown of the buttocks but also the flanks enjoyed the full force of the cane. And so he began to understand exactly what the maker was getting at when he extolled the virtues of the rattan cane. Just feeling the canes in his hands, he had already become hard and was in what must be described as a precum state; he felt his sticky exudate on his underwear. Who would have thought that just handling the canes could arouse such an erotic feeling? 

So how would he feel when he actually came to apply a cane to some poor boy’s naked arse? He thought of the sudden intake of breath of the recipient as the first stroke landed on his naked flesh to be followed by a howl of pain from the unfortunate lad.  He could barely wait to put the “tools of his trade” to proper use.  As a prefect at Rigby he had thrashed many naked bottoms, but he had never felt quite like this. Why was it? Was it because of the canes he had received or was it due to the fact that he was now a school master whose word was law to his pupils and who, for the slightest misdeed either real or imagined, could dispose of a naked bum to beat any time he wished? The burning question was when would the first opportunity arise to try out his newly acquired armoury? He was simply dying to roast some lad’s arse as soon as possible; after all, the new canes needed breaking in as it were; and the sooner the better.  But after all he had only just arrived at Grantley and he had had the great good fortune to deliver a sound thrashing to that deceitful young lad, Rossiter, a completely unexpected event, but one which he had greatly enjoyed; and moreover, his action had been approved of by the Headmaster: an approval worth its weight in gold.  However, fate, that totally unpredictable factor, was to intervene and unbeknown to him at present, his chance would come much sooner than he ever imagined.

All the above thoughts churned around in Frobisher’s head as he changed into his evening clothes to go to supper with Swinburne.  Today it would seem pretentious and unnecessary to change for dinner; but in 1910 such things were done and in a traditional establishment such as Grantley, even when it was a simple occasion of two colleagues dining together it was still “de rigueur” tochange for dinner.  Swinburne had arranged an excellent meal which was served by one of the school servants. The Headmaster himself had a butler whereas the Housemasters were served in their quarters by one of the other male servants. 

Not unnaturally, Frobisher recounted to his colleague the finding of the surprise gift of the canes. Swinburne smiled and said: “The old boy always gives every new recruit a set of canes; it’s his way of saying that he expects discipline to be practised in the traditional way, which is, of course by beating boys’ backsides; in case you had not realised, it’s a practice of which he entirely approves and encourages.  So, my friend, you do not have to hold back; if you think a boy needs it; then thrash him; the Headmaster will certainly approve. You know I received the same box of canes when I joined the school some three years ago, as did your predecessor, Hesketh. And if you rummage around in the cupboards in your quarters, I am pretty sure you will find his set, as I doubt that he took it with him when he left; so in all probability you will find yourself with a dozen useful “tools of your trade” as the Headmaster likes to refer to them.  So Frobisher you will be well equipped to take the skin off the the backside of any errant boy under your care.” Swinburne concluded his remarks with a laugh.

“But I can see, Frobisher that you are already biting at the bit; wishing to get down to business and try out your newly acquired implements.  Well I have a pleasant surprise for you.  After supper this evening I have the unfortunate task of correcting two boys from the upper sixth, whom I personally caught the other day smoking in one of their studies. Swinburne was being very sarcastic when he used the word “unfortunate” as he along with many others, Frobisher included, truly enjoyed beating a boy’s arse: a fact that neither man would ever have acknowledged publicly.  As you probably have guessed, smoking and drinking are strictly forbidden by the school rules and any infringement carries the most severe penalty.  The Headmaster has decreed that any boy caught in the act will receive twelve cuts of the senior cane and any recidivist who persists in breaking the rule after his first beating, will then be given no less than eighteen cuts;  and if he still persists after that, he will be birched; all this of course on the bare.  So as you can see, the Headmaster is very strict in these matters and it falls to me today, this very evening in fact, to carry out the mandatory punishments. So I thought that as joint Housemaster of Grenville, you might like to assist me in my arduous task it may provide you with an insight into how seriously we take discipline in this school.”

Frobisher could not believe his luck. Here he was on barely his first day and his colleague was inviting him to beat the naked arse of a senior boy: a sixth former: practically a young man. Caning any boy was always an erotic experience for Frobisher; but the most satisfying of all was to thrash a well developed and muscular backside of a sixth former.   It was in such cases that Frobisher felt he could give of his all and not hold back; such had been the case when he was a prefect at Rigby on the odd occasion when he had thrashed one of his contemporaries in the upper sixth; always a difficult task due to the protestations of his unfortunate classmate, but one which was infinitely satisfying. On the rare occasions when he had caned a sixth former, he always felt that he would have liked to go on and fuck the arse he had just finished roasting; but he never did. 

It was not that Frobisher was shy in matters sexual; quite the contrary in fact; Frobisher, who was sexually very well equipped, had been one of the most active members of the upper sixth at Rigby; at least half the class at the time had had the pleasure of taking his rock-hard cock up their backsides.  But even as a prefect, when it came to having sex with a boy whom he had just beaten, although often very tempted, he always managed to restrain himself and reserve his undoubted sexual prowess for other partners.  In fact, however, it was at this period in his life, as he had become sexually very active in the sixth form at Rigby, that he suddenly realised that his interest was centred only on other men and that he was, in fact, homosexual.

Swinburne went on:  “Anyway Frobisher, not only do we have two well developed and muscular lads to thrash this evening,, but one of them is an arrogant young stud called David McAllister,  whose father is a General, which  he somehow seems to believe sets him over and above is fellow classmates. In fact, he is the very lad with whom Hesketh met his downfall.  Once you see McAllister, you will appreciate how Hesketh was seduced by this young man, who was such a willing party to their liaison. McAllister is a handsome, muscular young man whom girls must adore and who is equally also very attractive to members of the male sex. He is probably the greatest stud of his year and my guess is that he has most likely fucked half his classmates by now. That’s the sort of person he is and the aura he projects; and that is how Hesketh fell for him.”

“Well to be quite specific; this is the second time McAllister has been caught smoking this year which condemns him automatically to eighteen cuts: that’s the Headmaster’s decree, by the way and is definitely non-negotiable.  His partner in crime, if I might describe him as such, is called Robert Conway.  He is altogether a much nicer type of person than McAllister; but he was caught smoking along with McAllister, and therefore will get the mandatory punishment of twelve with a senior cane cross his bare arse. I suspect, knowing McAllister that he and Conway are probably sexually involved, but let’s allow that sleeping dog to lie.”

“So look here Frobisher; what I thought we might do is to thrash the two lads together; that is to say, simultaneously in the way the Prefects Court used to do at Rigby. You must surely remember, two or more lads who were to be punished were made to bend across a series of chairs together and their backsides were then beaten at the same time by two or more prefects.  It is quite a dramatic way to administer the punishment;  and although I should not say this, is quite an enjoyable interlude for the persons wielding the canes.  I thought we could get the two of them across two chairs and then synchronise our strokes so that each lad took each cut at the same time across his naked arse.  We could swap “targets” halfway through if you wish so that each lad had a sample of two different beating techniques as I am sure we each have our own little touch when we wield the cane.”

“Of course, McAllister does not know it yet, but he will have to take a further six cuts over and above the first dozen, as eighteen cuts is, as I mentioned,  the mandatory punishment decreed by the Headmaster for a second smoking offence.  So Frobisher, if you agree to my suggestion and as you are dying to try out your new canes, you have just time, I think, to go back to your quarters and fetch them before the boys arrive.  I have told them to be here promptly at eight thirty, attired only in their gym shorts and singlets; so they are well aware that a beating awaits them.  You will remember that was the way we did things at Rigby; well that is also the way things are done here: gym shorts, gym vest, bare feet, bedroom slippers and a dressing gown!”

Frobisher collected his newly acquired box of canes and returned with them to Swinburne’s study. Swinburne looked at them and said: “You know it’s exactly the same type of boxed set which the Headmaster gave me.  Now, if you look at the two senior canes you will see that one is smooth with few knots and the second has a series of tightly spaced knots.  That one, my friend, is the most painful of the lot and what I normally do is to give half the strokes with the smooth cane and then finish off with the knobbly one.  I can tell you that any boy who takes a dozen from me leaves here very chastened and with a very, very painful backside; moreover no matter what his age, he usually leaves in tears. I like to think that I can reduce even the most recalcitrant lad from the upper sixth to tears by the fourth or fifth stroke; and I can tell you that few lads ever make it much beyond the sixth cut before they are begging me to stop; they are, of course, wasting their breath.”

“Now, what I suggest is that we get these two young miscreants across the backs of two chairs and that we each give six cuts with the smooth senior cane. Then we change both places and canes and we then give a further six cuts with the knobbly cane. By that time I can tell you they will both be reduced to tears and howling with pain.  Then we have to deal with the extra six strokes for McAllister, which I suggest we give to him alternately from opposite sides.  Frankly, I am quite looking forward to our first joint effort.”

As he finished talking a knock came at the door announcing the arrival of the two boys. Swinburne shouted for them to enter and the two lads came into the study.  It was immediately evident which one was McAllister, for he was, as Swinburne had described him: a handsome and muscular lad with longish blond hair and a truculent look on his arrogantly handsome face; all in all he was an eminently fuckable young man, but strictly off limits to the two masters.  In contrast, Conway was an altogether shyer boy who was clearly very nervous about what was going to happen to him.  He was wearing the required gym strip, the “de rigueur” outfit for any boy summoned to be beaten by his Housemaster; McAllister however, was in his normal school clothes and had an insolent look on his face which said: “I don’t give a fuck; you don’t own me; do your worst.”

“McAllister; I told you to present yourself here this evening wearing the customary attire for a boy about to be beaten: that is to say in your gym-shorts and singlet.  Your classmate here clearly understood the instruction; so why are you not similarly attired?  Just to be quite clear, you are aware, are you not, that you have been summoned here to be punished for smoking, which as you know is strictly forbidden by the school rules? So kindly explain to me why you too are not suitably dressed for the occasion.”

McAllister was one of those people who did not have to say anything to convey his contempt and disdain for the person who was addressing him. He said: “Frankly, sir, (a very reluctant “sir”) I don’t see why we in the upper sixth cannot smoke; we are eighteen years of age and it is within the law; and I was already smoking at home just before I was eighteen and my father did not object, so why should you?”  One cannot in writing convey the utter insolent way in which all this was said, but it was quite clear that McAllister considered himself a special case, over and above the rules of the school.  He had, however, on this occasion, badly misjudged the reaction that his insolence would invoke in his Housemaster.

Black as thunder, Swinburne, who himself was a tall and muscular man, drew himself up to his full height and glowered menacingly at McAllister: “I care not one jot, boy, for what you do at home out of term time. However, whilst you are at this school, which you still are and will so remain until the end of the school year in summer when you will be free to take your appalling manners elsewhere and do as you wish, you will obey the rules and instructions given to you by any master.  Do I make myself clear? We, the masters, are in loco parentis when you are here during term time and are totally responsible for your well-being. I will not have my instructions flouted by any boy, least of all by some lout with the sort of manners you have and one who has moreover broken the no-smoking rule for the second time this year. Now, you miserable specimen of humanity, get back to your room and change into your gym strip as ordered. Then get back here on the double so that Mr Frobisher and I can tend to the pressing needs of your backside.  I trust that is clear. Now get out of here, boy, and get back in five minutes; I said on the double and I meant it; and if you are not back here within five minutes, I shall give myself the great pleasure of taking the birch rather than the cane to your richly deserving backside. You are from a military family so I assume that you know what on the double means.”

McAllister had clearly not expected such a thunderous response from his Housemaster and the braggadocio attitude which he had displayed when he arrived just a few minutes earlier was fast melting away.  He made as if to speak, but one look from Swinburne consolidated the message that he had better toe the line or face dire consequences. He slunk away completely cowed, to reappear some five minutes later attired as requested. He too was now trembling with fear of what was about to happen to him. Swinburne and in the meantime placed two chairs in the centre of the room, the seats facing each other. It suddenly dawned on the two lads that they were about to be beaten together, one across each chair, facing each other.

“Well gentlemen, now that you are both correctly dressed for the occasion, allow me to introduce Mr. Frobisher to you. He has joined us this very day as Housemaster of the junior section of Grenville and has kindly agreed to assist me in the somewhat unpleasant task which now faces us.  Now you are both aware that smoking is strictly forbidden by the school rules; accordingly as you were both caught smoking you have to bear the consequences of your actions: twelve strokes of the senior cane applied to your naked buttocks. This is a non-negotiable, mandatory punishment laid down by the Headmaster. So gentlemen if you would now step out your shorts and each bend across one of the two chairs I have prepared for you; then we can begin.”

“ I shall give you, McAllister, six cuts and Mr. Frobisher will do the same for Conway.  We shall then change places and the final six cuts will be given. Thus, gentlemen, you will have the unique opportunity to judge the efficacy of the relative caning prowess of your two Housemasters and will be competent to report accordingly to your classmates, who I am sure will be interested, as ever, to see your stripes; and let us be clear; you are each going to leave here with a well beaten bottom of which the stripes will be the hallmark of a high quality caning. So the pair of your can rest assured that you will each have a very high quality, artistically beaten arse, which will satisfy the prurient and malicious instincts of even the most demanding of your classmates.”

Now it is a fact that although public schoolboys see each other naked in the showers on a daily basis and will happily strip naked to go swimming in a lake or river together, they are totally embarrassed to expose their manhood to other boys on such occasion as the present. Frobisher looked at McAllister, whose muscular physique and sexual attributes were already clearly visible under the skimpy clothes he was wearing.  There was a brief moment of hesitation before either boy obeyed the command; but finally they both pulled down their shorts and stepped out of them. Frobisher saw that both of the young men, for eighteen year-old young men they truly were, were very well equipped where it mattered most.  McAllister had a magnificent cock some seven or even more inches long, which was already slightly hard, presumably due to the unusual circumstances in which he found himself.

He understood immediately how Hesketh had allowed himself to become involved with this superb specimen of young manhood; in spite of his disdainful and dismissive manner McAllister truly was a young Adonis whom many would find hard to resist. Frobisher had to admit to himself that given half a chance he would simply love to fuck the young man. In fact the “nec pus ultra” experience would be to thrash the lad’s arse red-raw and then go on and fuck him. But that was all in Frobisher’s imagination; sex between a master and a pupil was not on the menu that night; or any other time, for that matter.

With both McAllister and Conway suitably bent across their respective chairs, the two magnificent pairs of buttocks which were about to be thrashed became apparent.  For men like Frobisher or Swinburne, both of whom were experienced professionals with the cane, beating any boy’s naked backside was always a pleasurable experience; but nothing compared with the pleasure to be derived from beating a well rounded and muscular pair of buttocks such as both these young men possessed.  McAllister’s arse still showed faint traces of a previous beating, which Frobisher guessed were a souvenir of the thrashing he had received for his part in the Hesketh affair. But Conway’s butt offered what appeared to be a virgin playing field. What was clear was the both lads offered backsides which would be an utter joy to thrash: pairs of good meaty globes into which the cane would bite splendidly. Frobisher could feel himself hardening at the thought of the part he was to play.

The backsides were in position and twitching with fear and anticipation of what was to come. Each of the two masters positioned himself to the left of his chosen target. Swinburne commenced with McAllister, whilst Frobisher occupied himself with Conway. They had decided beforehand that the first six strokes would be administered with the smooth cane, starting at the equator of each boy’s buns and then progressing upwards to give six tightly placed stripes finishing at the lower back. At a signal from Swinburne, each man raised his cane and brought it down with tremendous force in the dead centre of the buttocks. The synchronisation of the two strokes was very accurate and the two canes met simultaneously with the naked flesh with a resounding crack: music to the ears of the two beaters but agony for the two supplicant lads each of whom took an audible intake of breath.

For anyone who has no firsthand experience of being caned, it is difficult to describe the pain which a slim rod can produce; and at the end of the day, even the senior cane is still a slim and flexible rod. A well placed and correctly applied stroke can be agonizingly painful, which is exactly how things were in the hands of the two experienced wielders of the canes. As stroke followed inexorable stroke at intervals of ten seconds, the noise and cries of pain emitted by the two supplicant lads became even louder; and as Swinburne had predicted, by the fourth or fifth stroke both young men were in tears.

The first six strokes accomplished, the two masters each took up a knobbly cane, changed targets and continued with the punishment.  This time the strokes descended from the middle of each lad’s buttocks downwards towards the region where the buttocks join the legs, generally considered to be the most sensitive part of a boy’s backside and where the greatest pain can be inflicted.  When they had finished each lad had a backside lined with twelve evenly spaced stripes, none of which overlapped and all of which were a livid red, but rapidly turning blue. It was clear that both lads were in absolute agony for the beating, as promised, had been very severe.

“Up you get lads,”said Swinburne, “And stand over by the wall with our hands your heads. I want no massaging of your backsides for the moment, for you need to appreciate and reflect on the full effect of the beating you have just taken.  Now Conway, let what you have just undergone be a lesson to you never to smoke again whilst at school; if you do, then you will suffer an even more severe beating as your friend, McAllister here, is now about to find out. As for you, McAllister; well we are far from being done with you yet.  You must know that the Headmaster has decreed that any boy caught smoking a second time, into which category you unfortunately fallcMcAllister,  will automatically receive eighteen cuts of the cane. And so boy, you still have a further six cuts to suffer.  But let me go further than that and tell you that in view of your recalcitrant behaviour, and your utter disobedience and arrogant manner towards me today, I have decided to add a further six strokes to your punishment. You, young man, will have the doubtful pleasure of having taken a full twenty-four stroke beating: the maximum which is allowed under the school rules.  I have to tell you, McAllister; only rarely is any boy subjected to the maximum punishment, but frankly, young man, if anyone ever deserved it, you most certainly do today.”

Both lads looked horrified as they heard what Swinburne had just said.  McAllister, all fire now gone from him, begged Swinburne to spare him from a further beating; but it was in vain for Swinburne had every intention of taming this young man once and for all. “McAllister, kindly resume your position across the chair and I will complete your punishment.  You, Conway, will have the very doubtful pleasure of looking on whilst your friend reaps the additional pain which he so richly deserves. It will affirm what I have just told you: any further smoking, then you too will suffer the same fate.  I trust that this is clear.”

Swinburne now took up a slightly thinner, even more flexible cane and administered the twelve additional cut himself.  A boy’s arse already decorated with twelve parallel cuts is already a fully beaten target as it were.  Further parallel strokes aimed at untouched flesh are virtually impossible, as inevitably additional strokes land very painfully in the furrows of the previous cuts.   Swinburne gave McAllister six further cuts, all of which landed on areas which inevitably had already taken the cane.  McAllister howled loudly at each cut as the pain was now excruciating, but the lad had no option but to bear it.  Swinburne then applied the final six cuts diagonally across McAllister’s flaming red arse: three in one direction and three in the other.  When he had finished, McAllister, had had what was truly a monumental beating; the entire area of his buttocks had truly undergone a very thorough and painful roasting.  The young man was in such absolute agony that he could barely get up from the chair when told to do so.  If ever a boy had been handed a well beaten arse, then this had to be the definitive version. Frankly it I hard to imagine the pain which McAllister was now suffering; it must have been well nigh unbearable; but bear it he had to!

Conway had watched in utter horror at the severity of the punishment his friend had just endured.  It was a horribly painful lesson for both lads. They finally pulled back on their shorts and limped away to lick their wounds.  McAllister took the greatest care in raising his shorts, for he could not bear the slightest touch to his red-raw backside.  In the showers that evening, their classmates, as ever curious to inspect the war wounds of their brethren, shuddered at what they saw.  It has to be said that both Swinburne and Frobisher were experts with the cane; both of them knew exactly how far to go to inflict the maximum of pain without actually breaking a boy’s skin.  So the two young men went away with superbly well-beaten arses, but there was no blood.  The Headmaster would have totally approved of the performance of his two Housemasters.

CHAPTER 7

When the boys had left, Frobisher looked at Swinburne and said: “Well that a job well done I think. You know, I know I should not say this, but I actually enjoyed teaching those two lads a very painful lesson; I have to say that McAllister really deserved all he got. And I was amazed at the way you gave him those additional twelve cuts. You managed to make his arse look as though it had been birched. I hate to think what it felt like for McAllister. If what we did to him today does not keep him from smoking then the Lord alone knows what will.” 

Frobisher now found his gaze focussed on Swinburne’s crotch, where he perceived that his colleague had clearly become totally aroused by what they had just done together. He himself was also already rock hard and could feel that his cock was oozing drops of sticky precum engendered by the erotic effect that the beating of a young man’s naked arse always aroused in him. Frobisher never felt that way when he punished younger boys; but even as a prefect at Rigby when he had beaten a sixth former, he had always become sexually aroused by the act.  Looking at the naked arse of a young man always brought on the desire to fuck as he enjoyed anal sex enormously; but neither at school nor since had he ever allowed his desire to go beyond the act of administering the punishment; sex with him had always been kept separate. But one thing he knew right now was that he desperately wanted to have sex with his new colleague, who had openly confessed to him that he was a homosexual. But although Frobisher had also told Swinburne that he was of like mind about sex, there was still that awkward little barrier to overcome before the two could take that fatidic step and have sex together for the first time.  Looking at Swinburne he felt sure that he wanted to have sex with him just as much as he himself did with Swinburne. But who was going to make the first move? Who was going to break the ice?  It turned out to be much easier than he thought.

“You know, Swinburne I don’t know about you, but when I beat older boys, such as the two we have just thrashed,  the act really turns me on; gets me aroused and you know what I need right now…?” 

Here Swinburne interrupted him and said: “Let me read your mind, for I think I know exactly what you were going to say.  You wanted to tell me that you could do with a really good hard fuck. Am I right or wrong?” One look at Frobisher’s face told Swinburne all he needed to know.  “I am right; I know I am; I can tell from your expression that I am. Well Frobisher, I can tell you that I feel exactly the same as you. Whenever I beat a young man’s naked arse, which is pretty frequently, by the way, I would always then like to go on and have sex with the lad. In short I would really enjoy buggering him; but I restrain myself.  It was exactly a lack of that restraint which led Hesketh to his downfall. So look here, Frobisher, we are both confessed homosexuals; so if you are up for it right now, why don’t we just lock the door of my quarters and retire to my bedroom and see how we get on together. It’s my guess that you are feeling sex-starved since your return from South Africa and I have had no sex since Hesketh left; so I feel much the same. I freely admit that for me, a sex-free life is not a happy one; so if you are willing, why don’t we try to remedy our present situations. So, what do you say?”

Frobisher could not have been happier and he was delighted that Swinburne had taken the lead and broken the ice. So the two men retired to Swinburne’s bedroom.  Again there was a slightly embarrassing pause whilst the two men looked at each other. Then Swinburne again took the lead and said: “Well here we are, so let’s get on with it.  Look here Frobisher, if you would let me, I would really like you to take first shot and begin by shafting me as I really do desperately need to have my hole reamed.  So if you agree can we get stripped and get down to it. And by the way, on the bathroom shelf there is a tube of lubricating cream which will make your job more comfortable for us both.”

So they both stripped off and looked for a few moments at each other. Both men were already sporting rock hard tools and Frobisher was delighted to see that his cock seemed a little larger than his partner’s.  But he also observed that Swinburne had been circumcised, as had he himself.  Now this is not a very common sight in England today, where most men are uncut, but in the late 1900’s and the first decade of the twentieth century, Victorian sanctimonious values of propriety were very pronounced; so there had been a vogue for upper-class families to have their sons cut at birth to avoid them indulging later in excessive masturbation, which was considered sinful not to mention dangerous to a boy’s health.

Clearly both Swinburne and Frobisher belonged to this elite group. Frobisher had always thought anyway that a cut cock looked altogether more attractive than an intact one and also believed that anal intercourse was more satisfactory as the naked head of a man’s cock, unencumbered by a shroud of foreskin, penetrated a partner’s anal sphincter more easily; it avoided too the nasty tendency of the foreskin to roll itself up into an uncomfortable ring around the base of a guy’s cockhead, a bit like a fresh, unrolled condom, due to vigorous and repeated pounding  that the anal sex act required.

Swinburne was clearly anxious to get started and predetermined things by kneeling on the bed in the doggy position and spreading his legs to allow Frobisher to enter him. Frobisher noticed that the bed had been pre-prepared for what was about to happen, as it was covered in what was clearly an additional padded sheet. He then realised that Swinburne had foreseen what was likely to happen after the two of them had finished beating the boys and had made the necessary preparations beforehand. Frobisher was delighted to see that he clearly had a very willing new partner. He applied a liberal amount of the lubricating cream to his own cock and then to Swinburne’s anus before gently pushing the head of his cock against his partner’s anal pucker. 

Swinburne was clearly desperate to feel another man’s dick inside him and urged his partner not to hesitate and to use his maximum strength. “Go on Frobisher, give it to me as hard as you can; don’t hold back; just fuck me with the longest strokes and maximum force you can. I really want you to hurt me. I cannot begin to tell you what a relief it is right now to have a decent sized cock inside me fucking me really hard.  I have so much missed having Hesketh around that I am just desperate for a truly long hard fuck. So just do your best; don’t be shy; do it as hard as you can.”

Frobisher needed no encouragement; and as Swinburne was now finding out, his new partner was an expert cocks-man and had the equipment to deliver exactly what he needed. So once his cock had explored for the first time the full depth of Swinburne’s rectum, Frobisher gave his new partner a long, solid and powerful virgin fuck: virgin only in the sense that it was their first sexual act together   Frobisher was a past expert at anal intercourse and had that enviable ability to withdraw his shaft completely, pause for a second and then, with unerring accuracy, thrust himself back with force into his expectant partner.  Swinburne moaned, grunted and cried out partly in pain and partly in joy as Frobisher vented his sexual spleen on his partner’s arse. “Go on, go on; don’t stop; don’t hold back; this is wonderful”cried Swinburne, as Frobisher obliged him with ever increasing amplitude of stroke and vigour until he climaxed with an unbelievably orgasm and an emission of his thick creamy sperm into Swinburne’s arse.

Swinburne let out a long cry of joy and satisfaction as Frobisher had succeeded, in this his very first fuck of his colleague, in bringing him to an unbelievably delicious, orgasmic climax. At that marvellous moment of no-return, Swinburne’s body shook with one uncontrollable spasm after another as he shot his own load all over the specially protected bed.  Frobisher then collapsed onto his partner, both of them covered in sweat and exhausted by the effort necessary to arrive at that brief but magic moment; that unique moment which gives a man what is probably his greatest pleasure in life. For Swinburne it had been an unforgettable experience; for Frobisher the relief that he had finally been able to release his pent-up desire for sex, which had been building up in him since leaving Cape Town. There was little doubt that their first coupling had been a great success and momentarily quenched the sexual thirst of both of them; but it was only momentary, for neither young man had exhausted his immediate sexual desire.

After a few minutes in each other’s arms. Swinburne suddenly rolled Frobisher over onto his back, knelt in front of him, lifted his legs over his own shoulders and then without uttering a word proceeded to fuck his newly found partner with the greatest of vigour.   Frobisher had hammered Swinburne hard as requested, but Swinburne proved his equal and gave his partner an equally invigorating return match.  Swinburne’s cock went in and out of Frobisher’s anus at tremendous speed and with great force; his technique was akin to the motion of a connecting rod of a steam locomotive.  He pounded Frobisher’s arse as if there was to be no tomorrow, such was the passion of his attack.  And when he finally climaxed, he too took Frobisher with him to the pinnacle of orgasmic pleasure so that both of them shot their wads at the same time and again experienced the most intense of orgasms imaginable. For both young men it had been a first coupling made in heaven; it could not have been better had it been ordained by God. As they lay side by side covered in creamy sperm, both of them realised that they had had an extraordinary experience together and that they had possibly found the match of their lives.

“You know, Frobisher, I cannot think of any occasion, and believe me there have been very many in my life to date, where I have ever experienced sex such as we have just now had together.  I am not a great one for superlatives but the word fabulous comes to mind. In just two fucks in which I played both parts, first bottom and then top, I have never in all my life experienced  an orgasm or shot so much spunk as I did with you tonight. I don’t know how you feel, Frobisher, but tonight has been very special for me.”

“Swinburne, my friend, I never expected that we would have sex together tonight, but I have to say that, like you, it has been a marvellous experience for me too. Frankly we just seem to have been made for each other; we fitted together like fingers in a glove. Don’t laugh when I tell you that when you were in the sixth at Rigby and I was in the fifth and you thrashed my arse several times, for reasons I now no longer remember, you had a dual reputation.  Did you know that? You were generally thought by those of us who experienced your “generosity” with the cane, to be one of the hardest, if not the hardest caner of your year; and believe me there were lots of other “purveyors of pain” to judge you against; all the senior prefects were pretty nifty with the cane and exercised their right to thrash anyone and everyone as often as they possibly could. But you also had the reputation of being the greatest butt-fucker of your year. Crudely put, you were reputed to be the top bugger of the year. Whether that is true or not, you certainly know how to use your endowment with skill and vigour; frankly, I have never enjoyed having my hole reamed by anyone as much as I have by you tonight.  You, my friend, are just one hell of a stud and I sincerely hope that tonight is not just a one-night stand. I thoroughly enjoy fucking butt and having my own butt fucked too, as I think do you and I hope that our initial coupling tonight is the first of many. What more can I add?”

“Frobisher; what’s your first name by the way? I’m Jonathan Anthony; but my few close friends call me Tony. So I thought that as we are sort of “consorting” together – marvellous word that – we  might in our private lives use our Christian names. So what’s yours?”

Frobisher winced at having to tell his partner his Christian name. “Well, if you absolutely must know, I have only one Christian name and I just hate it. I am actually called Jerome Frobisher and I cannot recollect that anyone other than my late parents ever used it. So I have always gone under the name Frobisher to all and sundry. However, if you would like to use it, you may and I will try very hard not to wince each time I hear it.”

It is worth noting that in the early twentieth century in England when these events are taking place, considerable formality was observed by everyone; and not only of the servant to his master, but also between people of all classes.  Most people addressed one another as Mister or Missus and first names were strictly reserved for close friends.  This custom continued until well after the Second World War. Neighbours, who had known one another practically all their lives, rarely if ever used each other’s Christian names.  So Swinburne’s proposal that the two of them think of each other as Tony and Jerome, indicates the intensity of feeling which Swinburne had already, after a few brief hours,  developed for his partner.

“Well Jerome, what I was about to say before I interrupted myself, was that I have a feeling that we were intended for each other. Fate has brought us together and we are now colleagues each in charge of running one half of the same house. But it seems clear to me that we are going to be much more than that. What I really want to say is that in the same way that you helped me thrash those two senior lads this evening, I think we should go on in that way.  Your title is Junior Housemaster; but to me, the prefix “junior” refers to the boys and not to your status.  I consider that you and I are equals; I am Master of the senior boys and you are Master of junior boys; in other word you are not my junior colleague or I your senior.” And it was on that auspicious note that what was to become an enduring friendship between Tony and Jerome was sealed.

CHAPTER 8

Monday morning dawned and it was the first day Frobisher stood in front of the twenty boys who made up the first year class of which he was their Form Master. The procedure at Grantley was much the same as that at other schools.  After breakfast in their home House boys then went immediately to their form room where the Form-Master called the register to make sure that all his charges were present.  Following this, all the boys went to the Assembly Hall where the traditional morning assembly, presided over by the Headmaster was held every day except Sunday when attendance at Chapel in the morning was obligatory. Following this, the boys then returned to their form room or to one of the specialised rooms where their first class of the day was held.  Every boy had a copy of his time-table indicating the time and place of every class he had to attend and was expected to be strictly on time for every class. As some subjects, such a science, were taught in specialised rooms, changeover between classes could be very hectic with boys scurrying to get to their next class on time. Being late for class was the same thing as being late for roll call; late comers got their backsides beaten.

Frobisher stood for the first time in front of the boys of his form. He began by introducing himself to his class as their new Form-Master and teacher of Greek and Latin, neither of which subjects inspired many of the boys. He recognised Gormley minimus and Rossiter as the two boys who had been beaten in the Headmaster’s study on his first day at Grantley.  As he called the register and ticked off the name of each boy who in turn replied:  “Present sir,” there was a sudden silence when he called out the name of Moore who was evidently not in the room. He continued with the register when a boy, presumably Moore, slunk quietly into the room and went to his seat. “I presume young man, that you are Moore; you are late for roll call; let it not happen again.”  On Tuesday Moore was again late; this time he made profuse apologies, promising that it would not happen again; but the unfortunate lad did not keep his word and on Friday he was late yet again.

“Moore, you seem to make a habit of arriving late for roll-call. Unless I am sadly mistaken this is the third time this week that you have been late.  I think it is time that I gave you a private lesson in how to be on time.  I think you will find that what I have in mind will prove very useful to you as an “aide mémoire” for the the future. Moore, I will see you in the punishment room at five minutes past noon, immediately before lunch, when I will attempt cure you of your unfortunate habit.” 

A hush fell over the class as all the boys knew full well that Moore was destined for what the boys called “The Whack”. The punishment room was located in the main school building and was the place where masters could summon errant boys for chastisement. It was frequently used during the daytime when masters felt that a boy would benefit from an immediate whacking. It was equipped with a birching frame and selection of chairs with backs of varying heights to ensure that boys of age could be placed with their backsides in the ideal position for beating. And it was to this very room that shortly after noon a frightened and trembling Moore betook himself.

The boy arrived dead on time at five past twelve to find the door slightly ajar. Before knocking to announce his presence, he glimpsed through the slight opening that there was already a boy: an older boy, bent across a chair, arse naked and in the process of being caned.  As he waited, he heard the thwack of the cane as it descended and mated with the bare flesh of its target, whose owner let out a shrill cry of pain.  Moore waited and heard two more cracks of the rod and then there was a pause; but no one emerged from the room.  He heard some talk and then in a couple of minutes he saw that another boy had been put across the chair and was about to have his naked bum stimulated with the cane. Moore was by now completely terrified as he stood stock still and silent in the corridor as he listened to that vicious cane land no less than twelve times on the naked buttocks of the unfortunate boy. Then there was a pause and some talking before the door opened and two final year boys, thirteen year olds from the junior school emerged, snuffling back their tears and massaging their aching bums in the forlorn hope of palliating the pain of the beating they had just undergone. One of the lads told Moore that he should now go into the room:  “He says that you should go in now; he’s really on form today.” He said, referring to Frobisher. “Your arse is really going to burn by the time he’s finished with you.” And with these encouraging words echoing around his head, Moore gently tapped on the door end entered the dreaded room to meet is fate.

“Ah Moore; I see that you are on time today for this important appointment.  Moore, you know why I have summoned you here today, don’t you? You were late for roll call this week no less than three times. Now I generously overlooked your first two delinquencies; but in spite your promise to mend your ways, you still persisted in your ways and were late a third time this morning. Now, young man, that third time was the final straw which broke the proverbial camel’s back;  and for that reason Moore, I am now going to swish you; it is patently obvious that you boy, need to be taught a lesson about punctuality.”

Moore began the usual pleading to be excused and promised that he would never ever again be late; but his entreaties were like the proverbial water running off a duck’s back; Frobisher was totally unmoved. “But sir, I’ve never ever been swished sir: and I am just so scared; will it hurt a lot sir?”

“So Moore, this is the first time you are to be beaten. Well boy, it does hurt; but there has to be a first time for every boy and yours is right now.  Now go and stand behind that low chair over there, drop your trouser and pants and then bend across the back of the chair and put your hands on its seat; then do not move until I tell you to do so.  Also, do not clinch your buttocks at all; I want them totally relaxed whilst I cane you. If I see you clinching them, then I will start again from zero; I hope that that is clear, boy.”

“Oh please sir, you aren’t going to whack my bare bum are you sir? Please sir, not on my bare bum; I don’t think I could stand it; it will just hurt too much.  So please sir, not on my bare…”

“Moore, let us get a few things straight. You broke the rules no less than three times this week and for that reason I am going to cane you.  The purpose behind this caning is to teach you a lesson and that lesson is going to be painful: very painful indeed; it has to be painful otherwise you would learn nothing. And as far as your bare bum, as you call it, is concerned, in this school, all canings are administered on the bare.  So, yes, Moore, I am going to beat your bare bum and it is going to hurt and I hope that with this painful lesson you will realise that you cannot break the rules with impunity. If you persist, then you will quickly find yourself, as many lads do, bent across that chair again, having your naked bum thrashed yet again.  Make no mistake, Moore, if you merit a thrashing then I and any other master or prefect will be delighted to oblige you. There is no limit at all to the number of times that a boy can be thrashed in this establishment. That is the way this school works; you break a rule and you will find yourself with a sore bottom. So I can but recommend that you obey the rules. The sooner you accept that, the more agreeable will be your life and the less painful will be your backside.  Now boy; do as I have just told you; go and stand behind that chair, drop your trousers and pants and bend over so that I can see what I am dealing with.  Believe me boy, you are not going to find the next few minutes very unpleasant; but you are just reaping what you have sown.”

By this time Moore was almost in tears; but he finally saw that he had no option but to obey his Form Master and so he reluctantly bent across the chair. Whilst he was doing his, Frobisher selected a suitable cane from the large selection available in the punishment room.  He finally settled for a very slender whippy junior cane which he swished through that air in the time honoured fashion.  He approached the trembling boy, lifted up the tails of his shirt and tucked them in under the back of the shirt to keep them out of the way of the cane. What he now saw were the two plump, well rounded buns of Moore’s deliciously unblemished, virgin arse. He was delighted to see that the boy had a good meaty backside, which frankly was just asking to be thrashed.  Even though this did not compare to the pleasure which beating a senior boy gave him, Moore’s backside was going to provide a delightful pre-lunch diversion: a sort of mental aperitif so to speak. And there was always a certain additional pleasure in knowing that this was a boy’s his first beating.

As Frobisher tapped the cane gently across midpoint of the Moore’s arse, his conscience suddenly pricked him with a pang of remorse as he acknowledged inwardly to himself that he was about to enjoy caning the boy.  He knew that it was morally wrong to feel like this, but could not lie to himself and pretend otherwise. Frobisher, like many public school masters, really enjoyed thrashing boys’ backsides. He assuaged his conscience, telling himself that he never ever beat a boy unless there was a true reason. He had never, even as a prefect at Rigby, where he had been one the most severe and ardent caners in his final year, beaten a boy on some trumped up charge; this was unlike some of his fellow prefects, who used any excuse, imaginary or real, to thrash a boy’s naked arse. So today Frobisher’s conscience was clear; Moore had been late for roll-call three times in one week and he deserved his punishment.

But whenever he beat a boy, Frobisher was a great believer in the utmost severity. He felt that if a boy deserved to be caned, then he should experience the maximum pain for his sin. So he was not at all inclined in the present case, which was both a first time offence and a first time beating, to be lenient.  Moore had broken the rules and Frobisher had every intention of applying the light cane he had chosen with the maximum severity so that the boy understood that he had been properly punished and would not be keen to return for another dose of the same.

“Now Moore, keep perfectly still and relax your buttocks as I told you. I am going to be lenient with you as it is your first beating ever and a first offence. So you will receive only six cuts of the cane.  Now brace yourself boy.”

Moore was now trembling with fear and apprehension, as he waited for the tapping to stop and the first cut to be delivered.  Suddenly the cane descended at lightning speed and landed in the middle of his backside. The poor lad drew in a sharp audible breath and then let out a cry of pain. His bottom felt as though someone had run a red-not poker across it. The lad was already in tears; and as stroke followed stroke, his cries of anguish increased in volume. Frobisher,  intent on teaching the lad a lesson and making his first beating a memorable  occasion, placed the second stroke just above the first; he then delivered the final four cuts low on the boys buttocks on the highly sensitive sit-spot. Frobisher was fully aware that he was concentrating the maximum of pain on the most sensitive part of the boy’s anatomy; but that was intended; he wanted Moore to experience a truly painful beating for his first encounter with the cane.

By the time he had finished and told Moore to stand up, the lad was in agony and crying profusely with the pain he had suffered.  It was a salutary experience for him and one which he would not wish to repeat; but like so many boys, unable to keep out of mischief, he was beaten many more times before he finally moved, several years later into the upper school.

“You should run along now and get your lunch.” said Frobisher.

“Sir; I don’t think I will be able to sit down to lunch; my bottom is just so sore sir.”

“Well then, you will, have to eat standing up, like many boys before you. Now run along now and let this be an end to your disobedience.  Remember what I have just told you. There is no limit, none at all, to the frequency and number of time you may qualify for a beating. So as of now, Moore, be on your very best behaviour unless you wish to walk around with sore bottom all the time. Just remember that the cane is always here and waiting for delinquent little boys and I shall not hesitate to use it.”

This beating of Moore during his first week at Grantley set the tenure of Frobisher”s style.  He was, in fact, an excellent teacher of his two subjects Greek and Latin, which, if badly taught, as they so frequently were, could be as dry as dust. But Frobisher had the knack of making them come life so that even the most bored of his pupils took an interest. And so in spite of his dedication to the cane, he soon became one of the most popular and well liked of masters. He stood no nonsense from any of the boys and taught classes from the entry level to the final year in the sixth form.  Any boy deemed out of line during one of his classes found himself either before lunch or immediately after the last class in the afternoon waiting outside the punishment room to have his bare arse beaten. Frobisher soon acquired the reputation (fully justified!) of being the hardest and most enthusiastic caner among all the masters. But did the boys resent this? Not at all, for he was always scrupulously fair with the boys who were only made to present their naked arses to his ministrations if they had done something to deserve it.

As Housemaster of Grenville, he was equally strict with his charges and any unwarranted behaviour led quickly to a beating for the culprits. From his experiences at Rigby, immediately after his appointment he took to inspecting the boys’ dormitories without warning; once the boys were in bed, these places were hotbeds for all kinds of mischief.  His vigilance rapidly paid off and after one memorable bloodbath the boys realised that they had better toe the line after lights were out or face some very painful consequences.  

What happened was that Frobisher, one evening in the second week of his tenure, went quietly around the dormitories listening for signs of any untoward activity.  Approaching the twelve-bed dormitory where the oldest boys of the lower school slept, he heard a scuffle, some shouting and ripples of laughter. He walked back to his study and selected a suitable cane; he then quietly opened the door and stood watching the boys engage in a pillow fight.  For a few seconds he stood observing the boys, who were so engrossed in their battle that they did not immediately see that their Housemaster was present. Suddenly one boy saw Frobisher holding the cane and within seconds silence reigned.

“Gentlemen, kindly put your pillows back on your beds and then each of you stand at the end of your bed facing it.  Then lift your night shirts (the customary night attire at that time) and bend across your bed so that I can see your naked bottoms.  You will now each keep quite still whilst I treat each of you in turn to twelve cuts of the cane.  I want to ensure that all of you go back to bed with a backside guaranteed to keep you warm all night. You will find that it is something akin to a hot water bottle when I have finished with you.” Then, starting at one end of the double row of beds, Frobisher systematically thrashed each boy in turn. There were howls of pain, anguish and tears as the cane flashed relentlessly down on the row of naked buttocks. All in all Frobisher gave 144 strokes of the cane in a very short period and the twelve lads climbed sobbing back into their beds each nursing an extremely painful arse.  That incident put an end to any frolics in any of the dorms after lights out and established Frobisher’s authority as Housemaster.

CHAPTER 9

It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-term. There were no classes and most boys were engaged in some form of sporting activity. Frobisher had gone into town to do a little shopping when he saw, going into a sweet shop, Gormley minimus, the youngest of the four Gormley brothers.  Now no boys from the lower school were allowed down town without an exeat from their Housemaster and Frobisher knew full well that Jean-Sebastian Gormley did not have one. Approaching the shop he saw to his surprise through the window that all four Gormley brothers were in the process of buying sweets. He also noticed that not one of them was wearing his school cap with his house colours, a mandatory piece of attire for all boys when outside the school premises. Frobisher waited outside the shop until the four lads emerged and more or less walked straight into him.  It was a shock for all of them, for they all knew full well that they were breaking one of the key rules of the school by being down town, not to mention their lack of headgear.

“Good afternoon boys; would you kindly tell me what the four of you are doing down town his afternoon without an exeat.” The four lads were tongue-tied as they had no excuse whatsoever.  “And I see also that you do not appear to be wearing your school caps. Are you aware that you are required to wear your caps any time you are outside the school grounds? So boys it seems to me that you have broken two cardinal rules and you all have a lot of explaining to do.”  Of course the lads had no explanation other than that they had decided to slip off on the quiet into town and had risked not being caught in the act. But that is exactly what had happened: they had been caught red-handed. Like so many plans, it had just gone wrong and they had been caught.

“Well boys, it is now nearly five o’clock so I suggest you all run off back to school right now.  I want to see all four of you in my study, wearing just your gym shorts and singlets and your dressing gowns, after supper at eight-thirty sharp this evening.  Is that clear boys?” The boys, looking totally crestfallen, nodded their understanding; gym shorts and singlets meant only one thing: the whack! Jean-Sebastian, the youngest, who had been beaten by the Headmaster earlier in the term for putting blotting paper into a classmate’s inkwell, piped up: “Please sir, are we all going to get the whack.  I hope you won’t whack me. I absolutely hate it.  It just hurts so much.”

“I am very sorry to say that that is precisely what is going to happen to you, Gormley minimus. In fact that is what is going to happen to all of you. You have all broken two of the key rules of the school and for that there is only one punishment: a beating, which I shall have the pleasure of giving each of you after supper this evening. So boys, you will each be assured of going to bed with a very well-whacked, warm bottom tonight.  In case you did not know, I am extremely good at warming the bottoms of naughty boys, especially those who have broken not one, but two rules. Yes I think that I can promise you all the warmest bottoms you have ever had; indeed you will probably feel that they are on fire. Kindly do not be late and do not forget to come correctly attired in your gym strips.” And with these final “encouraging” words he motioned to the boys to get on their way.

As the boys walked glumly away, contemplating their fate, Jean-Sebastian said to his oldest brother, Jean-Claude. “You told us that it would be OK J-C and that we would not get caught and now look what you have got us into. We are all of us going to get the whack, thanks to you; I shall never ever listen to you again.”  As he heard this, Frobisher smiled. It was so typical of school-boy recriminations. He had to admit to himself that he felt somewhat sorry for the youngest of the brothers, as he had been egged on by bad advice from his oldest brother. At the end of the day, neither offence was very serious; but the boys had got to learn to hold to the rules; there was no way that they could escape the very sound thrashing that was coming their way that evening.

It was eight-thirty and Frobisher had already laid out the canes he intended to use on the four lads.  He had selected what he thought was an appropriate cane for each boy: four quite different canes to reflect their differences in age.  A knock came at the door and the four brothers trooped in; they all looked very frightened; even the eldest brother, Jean-Claude was trembling with apprehension; and well he might; for it is not every day that a Housemaster canes four brothers together for the same offence: this was truly a very special occasion.

“Before we start boys, let me get one thing clear as I would hate to inflict a miscarriage of justice on you all. Were all of you aware when you set off on your downtown escapade without exeats and not wearing your school caps that you were breaking two of the school’s fundamental rules; now answer me truthfully and I shall know if you are lying?”  The boys looked at each other and then in unison confirmed that they knew full well that they were breaking the rules. “And did you, Gormley maximus, the eldest, tell your younger brothers that you would not be caught?”  Jean-Claude hung his head and admitted that he had persuaded his three brothers to go along with his illicit scheme. “Well then boys, you know the consequences of your actions. I am going to beat the four of you: a punishment you all richly deserve. Now boys, take off your dressing gowns, step out of your gym shorts and stand in line against the wall there with your hands on your heads.”  The boys looked startled at what they had been told to do as like all lads, even at their age, they were embarrassed to be half naked in front of others under such circumstances: even as brothers and although they saw their classmates naked in the showers every day they were clearly unhappy about having to stand their half naked in front of a master; but they obeyed and stood there, their bottoms naked and their little pre-pubescent cocks in plain view.

“You first, Gormley minimus,” pointing at Jean-Sebastian the youngest of the brothers, “Pull that low chair across into the middle of the room, lad, and bend across it and let me see your bum.”  With obvious reluctance the young lad did as he was told and Frobisher saw that he was presented with a very beatable pair of fleshy, young globes, which still bore slight traces of the beating the lad had taken from the Headmaster the day Frobisher had arrived at Grantley; evidently the boy had not had another encounter with the cane in the interim so his backside was in prime condition for a really good whacking, as the young lad called it. And Frobisher was intent on doing just that; for as we all now know, when Frobisher wielded the cane, it was always with vigorous severity.

Frobisher picked up the lightest of the junior canes which he had chosen to mate with the youngest lad’s arse.”Now Gormley minimus, as you were persuaded inadvisably by your eldest brother to join this ill-fated adventure, I am going to be lenient with you; you will receive only six cuts.  Now lad, brace yourself and relax your buttocks.”  Frobisher then proceeded to give the lad six resounding cuts placed neatly from top to bottom of his backside.  When he told the boy to get up he did so in a flood of tears and with six neat red stripes across is backside.  His brothers had watched in horror as their youngest sibling was thrashed.  Light cane or no, by the time Frobisher had done with the boy he was in utter agony.  “Go stand alongside your brothers and put your hands on your head; I want to see no massaging of your bottom until I tell you that you may do so.”  Poor Jean-Sebastian did as he was told and stood there crying bitterly with the pain he clearly felt.

He motioned to Jean-Pierre, the second youngest and said: “You next lad; jump to it and get across the chair.”  He then picked up the second junior cane, a slightly heavier version and gave the boy also six strokes. “I am being lenient with you too Gormley minor, as I believe that you two younger boys were led astray by your oldest brother. But you did know the rules and you did break them and therefore I cannot let you off scot-free.”

Motioning next to Jean-François, Gormley Major, who was over ten years old to bring forward a slightly higher chair and assume the appropriate position, he then proceeded to give the boy no less than nine swingeing cuts with a slightly heavier cane. The lad howled incessantly as the blows fell and when he resumed his position against the wall, hands on head, there was little doubt at all but that he was excruciating pain.

Jean-Claude, Gormley maximus, had watched his younger brothers being beating with ever increasing fear as he now realised that his Housemaster had something special in view for him.  He was a big lad for his age, eleven pushing twelve and he advanced to the chair and bent across it with evident fear and trepidation. “Gormley maximus,” said Frobisher, “It is my judgement that you and you alone are the architect of this unsuccessful escapade. It was you who persuaded your three younger brothers to go down town when you knew full well that you were breaking the rules and that there was every chance that you would get caught.  Well, young man, you were caught and you are now to pay a very painful price for your disobedience and leading your younger brothers astray.  I would normally have given you nine cuts, but in view of your behaviour, I am going to give you a beating you will not forget in a hurry; you young man will receive the nine cuts as did your brother, but you will also get an additional six cuts bringing your total punishment up to fifteen strokes of the cane. It is my intention boy, to leave you with the backside more painful than you could ever have imagined.”

Frobisher surveyed yet another eminently beatable pair of buns. The lad was big for his age and his backside was well developed and fairly muscular. Frobisher was inwardly licked his lips at the thought of applying fifteen stinging cuts to this, as yet, unblemished arse.  With fifteen cuts in view, he knew that he would take the boy to hell and back with the pain he was about to deliver; but not even such an expert with the cane, as Frobisher certainly was, could align all fifteen strokes parallel across the target area, without the cane landing directly on one of the previous cuts. So starting at the top of the boy’s backside, he first worked his way steadily downwards, applying stroke after stinging stroke, one after the other, all strictly parallel.  He ended this excruciating painful salvo with the ninth stroke placed practically at the top of the boy’s legs, thereby ensuring that the lad benefited from several cuts on that most sensitive area: the sit-spot.  By this time the lad was reduced to a blubbering mess. He had maintained his calm until the fourth stroke, after which with each additional cut he let out an ever increasing howl of pain and was now in a flood of tears.  With still six more strokes to go, Frobisher then abandoned the parallel field of welts that he had so lovingly created and then applied three diagonal strokes in one direction and then three in the other. As he had told the young man, this was to be a beating he would  never forget; and had Gormley been asked to voice  his opinion, he would have no doubt have agreed.

Frobisher made him get up and stand again alongside his horrified brothers with his hands on his head, whilst he lectured the four boys yet again on the error of their ways.  The four lads were all still weeping profusely when he finally told them to get dressed and prepared to show them the door.  As he opened the door to let the four lads out, he found himself confronted by a totally unexpected sight.  His colleague, Swinburne, was standing there, holding two thirteen year-olds by their ears, one each side of him.  Swinburne said: “Oh Frobisher, I see looking at this merry band of men, that you clearly have been improving your batting average. I had no idea that you were thus engaged and was just coming along to ask you if you would care to take a postprandial glass of port with me when I saw these two young lads standing, with their ears close to your door eavesdropping, trying to hear what was happening inside. Well, Frobisher, now that you have finished with the Gormley quartet, I suggest that we invite this pair of eavesdroppers into your study and show them exactly what was happening by giving them a practical demonstration. It’s by way of being a cold night and I think in view of the circumstances that we have every reason to send these two lads off very warm backsides to comfort them in their beds.”

Listening to this, the two lads, Prosser and Knight, both aged twelve and about to move next year into the upper school, started to look very frightened as they now saw that their backsides were threatened. So, like schoolboys the world over, they tried to talk themselves out of a situation entirely of their own making.  Prosser ventured: “Sir, we really weren’t eavesdropping sir, really we weren’t; we were just walking along the corridor; really we were sir, and we were truly not at all listening to what was going  on inside Mr. Frobisher’s study; really we weren’t sir.”  But as we all know in such situations, the die was cast and poor Prosser was wasting his breath.

“I think twelve strokes each, Frobisher, if you agree; and with a senior cane, as these lads a big enough to take it and it will be an excellent foretaste for them of the way things are done in the senior school.  And if I might suggest, let’s put them together across two chairs at the same time and then you can wield one cane and I the other and we can thrash the two of them together.”

By this time the two lads were almost in tears, as they now saw what their curiosity had brought them. “Now boys; down with your trousers and pants and let’s see two well-presented pairs of bare buttocks across those two chairs there.  Now Frobisher, I see you have found the old set of canes left by Mr. Hesketh your predecessor so that we are spoiled for choice of which implement to choose. However to be fair to the boys, I think each should be treated to the same cane, so if I might suggest, let’s each take the smooth senior cane, one from your set and one from Hesketh’s.”

And that is exactly what the two Housemasters did. They agreed to give each boy nine parallel and three diagonal strokes.  Swinburne initiated the proceedings by bringing his cane down with a loud thwack across Prosser’s arse, to be followed a second or so later by Frobisher, who gave Knight his first stroke. And then stroke after painful stroke fell on the naked backsides of the two eavesdroppers, both of whom were soon reduced to tears and howling with pain.  When it was all over, the two boys were told to get dressed and leave, which they did, tearfully massaging their fiery backsides.

“Well Jerome,” said Swinburne, “How about that glass of port now and then perhaps a little light “relaxation” together to ease out the tension of the day.”

I’m glad you said that,” replied Frobisher as the two men walked towards the Senior Housemaster’s quarters.  It was nearly two in the morning by the time Frobisher left his colleague and friend after several glasses of port followed by several hours of; well you all know what they did together; so I don’t need o spell it out.

CHAPTER 10

It was the last period one Monday morning as Frobisher collected the exercise books from the third form Latin class to correct. Some twenty books held in his arm he headed towards the masters’ common room to deposit the books which he intend to correct there during a free period that afternoon. As he rounded the corner into the main corridor, he was suddenly practically knocked of his feet by a boy who had come running down the corridor and collided with him.  Frobisher was momentarily winded by the force of the impact and the books went flying everywhere.

The boy, a biggish lad, who was clearly in his final year in the junior school, began apologising profusely. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to bump into you like that; it was just an accident sir; I was not looking where I was going sir.”

“What boy is your name and to which House do you belong ?”

Now totally nervous, the lad answered:  “Pym sir; with just one “m”; and I belong to Marlborough House sir.”

“Well Pym with just one “m” you must be feeling quite deprived not to have another “m” to your name; whatever happened to it I wonder?  Pick up the books and come follow me boy and I will endeavour to set you straight on the correct deportment for boys inside the school buildings.”

Pym picked up the books and was now looking quite nervous as it was clear that the matter was by no means over and that a simple apology was not going to be enough to satisfy Mr. Frobisher.  Followed by Pym, Frobisher led the way straight to the punishment room, opened the door and waved the boy inside. “Pym are you aware that running in the corridors is strictly forbidden, as it is anywhere inside the school buildings?  You bumped into me with such force that had I been one of the older masters, you would certainly have knocked him down with potentially grave consequences. Do you realise how reckless you are, running down the corridor like that?”

Pym had by now realised that his goose was cooked, but he tried his best to talk his way out of what was clearly going to be a beating; but as ever it was like talking to a stone; the die was cast and Pym’s arse was about to have a very unpleasant encounter with the cane which Frobisher was in the process of selecting from the large inventory of such implements to hand in the punishment room.  He selected a very flexible and well used junior cane, which he bent double and swished through that air in front of Pym’s face.  The lad blanched as he realised that all was lost and that in a few moments he would be nursing a very painful backside.

“Pym, I am going to beat you for the offence which you have just committed. There is no excuse whatsoever for your behaviour and you have to be taught a sound lesson.  Pants and underpants down boy and bend across the chair there; the middle one will just be about the right height for you so that your bottom is well presented for punishment.”

There were three special chairs with wider than usual top rails which  were covered in soft leather. The backs were of increasing heights to accommodate the growing size of the boys as they progressed through the school.  These chairs, designed and supplied by the school supply house, were specially designed for beating boys’ backsides and ensured that every boy no matter how tall or small could present his posterior in the perfect position to be beaten.  Pym looked with horror at the chair indicated and then with great reluctance finally dropped his pants, bent across the back of the chair and presented a well proportioned and rounded pair of cheeks to Frobisher for inspection.  Frobisher saw that the boy was no stranger to the cane as there were quite clear traces of a previous beating probably of a week or ten days ago; but the boy’s arse was certainly in perfect condition for another onslaught with the dreaded rattan rod; so no reason at all to hold back.

“Keep perfectly still and relax your buttocks; I do not want them clenched whilst I beat you; is that clear?  As you came at such great speed down the corridor with no consideration for anyone, you will receive twelve cuts. Now brace yourself, for this is going to hurt.”  And with that piece of advice, Frobisher proceeded with his usual thoroughness to apply twelve stinging cuts to the boy’s naked arse.  On this occasion, he started at the top just below the lad’s back and descended with neat parallel cuts none of which overlapped until on the eighth stroke he had arrived at the crease, the point where the buttocks meet the legs.  Frobisher was a hard caner and he did not let up on Pym, who by this time was howling with pain as stroke followed stroke, with its agonising consequence.  After six cuts Pym was begging in vain for Frobisher to stop, Frobisher then laid the final four cuts diagonally, two in one direction and two in the other to complete his handiwork. In as much as a beaten arse can be considered a work of art, Pym’s backside certainly qualified for that distinction: eight neat parallel cuts already turning blue, complemented by four diagonal cuts.  The lad’s arse presented a masterpiece of the caner’s art, of that there was no doubt.  Of course the satisfaction at a job well done was entirely Frobisher’s as Pym was in such excruciating pain that he just wanted to escape and massage his sore bum to ease the pain.

“You can get up and pull up your pants now,” said Frobisher, “And you had better get a move on or you will miss your lunch.”

“I don’t think that I will be able to sit down for lunch sir. My bum is just too painful to touch.”

“In that case Pym, you will have to eat standing up. You will not be the first boy to eat in that manner.” And with that final remark, the incident was closed as far as Frobisher was concerned. But as we shall now see, that was not the end of the matter.

Later that same afternoon, Frobisher went to that masters’ common room; he had a free period and wanted to correct the twenty exercise books that Pym had knocked from his arms. By chance his homologue, the Junior Housemaster from Marlborough House, a Mr. Pearson, who taught German, happened to be in the room. So Frobisher remarked to Pearson that he had thrashed one of his lads that lunchtime. Pearson naturally asked what the lad was called, to learn that it was Pym and that he had had the dubious pleasure of taking no less than twelve cuts of the junior cane on the bare.

“Oh so you have met with the infamous Pym; Pym with one “m” as I am sure he told you.  You are probably totally unaware of it, but you have just had the distinction of thrashing Andrew Edward Tudor Pym, fifteenth Earl of Bromfleet.  Yes, that young man is the present holder of the title as his father died when Andrew, his only child, was five years old. He is presently in the guardianship of his mother and General Sir Stanley Crawford, his late father’s closest friend, until he reaches his majority and becomes more mature in outlook; however, knowing the lad as I do, that seems a very unlikely eventuality.  It is thanks to the General that he is enrolled at this school for all his forbears had always been educated at Eton. So it is quite a distinction for Grantley to have a real A1, blue-blooded aristocrat as one of its pupils. However if the powers that be had to deal with this troublesome lad, they might think twice about it.  Not to mince words, the lad’s a bloody, mischievous nuisance: bright as they come and a great sportsman; but a bloody nuisance nonetheless.  So what was his crime to merit twelve?  No don’t answer that; let me guess. You caught him running down a corridor; am I right or am I wrong?”

Frobisher laughed at his colleague’s comments, which in a few brief words had provided a thumbnail sketch of what young Pym was like: “Well Pearson, the answer to your question is right and wrong.  He was running at great speed, lord only knows why, in the main corridor; but it was he who caught me; in fact he bumped into me with such force that he sent these very same exercise books flying all over the place and completely winded me. So as running is totally forbidden, and quite rightly so in the school buildings, and as he had taken me with such force, I hauled him straight off to the punishment room and gave him twelve on the bare. So, my friend you will have a boy with a very, very sore bottom on your hands this evening.”

“Well, well, that all sounds so horribly familiar.  If I had been in your place I think I would have given him more or even birched him.  But listen, come across to Marlborough after supper this evening and take a glass of wine with me. You and I will have discussion with Master Pym and you will see what we are up against. I am very sorry to say that in my opinion, twelve is not enough by a long chalk for the likes of Pym and I think that we might well treat the lad to a complement this evening.”

Frobisher accepted the invitation and said: “You know the boy better than I do, but frankly I didn’t stint at all on the twelve I gave him and he was in agony when I let him go; so I don’t think that one can consider taking the cane to his posterior again for quite a few days; but of course, as his Housemaster it is for you to decide.”

That evening on his arrival at Marlborough House, Pearson offered his colleague a choice between Port and Madeira. He obviously was quite a connoisseur as the fifty year old Madeira Frobisher chose was excellent. A knock came at the door and Pym entered looking frightfully nervous; his face turned white when he saw that Frobisher was present, as the boy realised that this meeting had to be in connection with his encounter earlier the same day; first with Frobisher himself and then with Frobisher’s cane.

 “Ah come in Pym. I think that you already know Mr. Frobisher; but let me introduce you formally. This Frobisher, is Lord Andrew Edward Tudor Pym, fifteenth Earl of Bromfleet; now in his final year in the lower school at Grantley.  And this, Pym, is Mr. Frobisher, Housemaster of Grenville House, whose acquaintance I understand you made earlier today under rather unfortunate and painful circumstances, I have to say, Pym, that when I saw you standing at table this lunchtime I wondered what had happened; but now I know the full story and understand that Mr. Frobisher found it necessary to correct you quite severely for you actions. Now I am sure you are wondering why I have called you here this evening so let us get down to business immediately. I suggest that you begin, Pym, by telling Mr. Frobisher now many times you have been beaten since the beginning of the school year last September.”

Pym flushed and looked extremely embarrassed: “Well sir, in the autumn  term I was beaten by you sir, five times here in Marlborough, and twice by other masters; so that made seven times in all before Christmas sir. And then this term, I have been beaten five times including by Mr. Frobisher today sir; so that makes twelve times in all sir, since the start of the school year sir.”

“Well Pym, as cricketers talk of their batting average, you presumably talk in terms of your beating average, which I have to say is quite remarkable. I don’t know how you stand it; your posterior must be fast becoming like tanned leather; but I suppose that there is no accounting for taste. But let us now go a little further. Just tell us how many times you have been caned for running in the corridors.”

Pym now went bright scarlet and said: “Well sir, you caned me twice before Christmas and this term I have been caned, including today, three times for running; so that makes five times in all, sir.”

“Five times for the same offence!  I think that classifies you as a serial offender, Pym, don’t you? Now, as I recollect that last time I personally addressed your backside with the cane after I had caught you running inside the school buildings, you made me a promise, Do you recollect what that promise was, Pym?”

The boy was now almost wetting himself with his embarrassment. His head hanging in shame he finally said that he had promised never to run again inside the school buildings.

“Exactly Pym; never to run again inside the school buildings; that is what you promised me.  And has that promise been kept? Well Pym, as we now all know, the answer to that question is a resounding “no”.  Let me also remind you what I told you on that occasion just in case it has slipped your mind. I told you very clearly that if I ever again caught you running inside the school that I would birch you. Well Pym. I personally did not catch you on your latest recidivist run, but Mr. Frobisher did and he gave your backside a well deserved beating.  But let me tell you boy, I do not consider that the twelve cuts Mr. Frobisher generously lavished on your anatomy, in any way sufficient and so Pym, I now intend to give your backside what one might term a top-up treatment in order to bring home to you once and for all that your running escapades must stop.  Pull that chair forward, boy and drop your trousers and underpants; then assume the correct position, with which you are now so very familiar, so that I can inspect your backside to determine what additional punishment it needs.”

By this time Pym was in a terrible state as he saw that his aching arse was likely to take yet more punishment. But he realised that had gone back on his word and that there was little he could do to mitigate whatever his Housemaster had in store for him; but he tried nevertheless: “Please sir, please don’t cane me again. My bottom is still so very, very sore and I don’t think I could stand either the cane or the birch.”

“What you think you can stand is totally irrelevant, my boy; I and I alone decide on what you can stand or otherwise. Now do as I say before I lose my temper with you; let me see your bare bum across that chair immediately.”  Pym reluctantly did as he was told and Pearson saw for the first time a fine example of Frobisher’s handiwork. The cuts were now all turning a purplish blue but were well defined and Pearson realised that he was looking at a masterpiece of the caner’s art; what met his eye was, by any standards, a superbly well-beaten arse. “Frobisher, I have to say that you did this boy proud this lunchtime. I have never seen such a superbly executed set of cuts; all evenly spaced with no overlapping; and the force judged to perfection for maximum effect but no broken skin. You truly do justify your reputation as a hard caner, which I presume you know that you have acquired in your brief time with us.”

“But you can see Frobisher what we are up against with this boy.  He just goes on and on repeating the same offence, which is why I had promised him a birching; and had I caught him myself he would have been birched, I assure you; I do not make idle threats. So you can see now why I consider your excellent intervention not really adequate in the present case. I have no intention of letting this lad escape with twelve cuts however a painful they have been so here is what I now propose.”

Poor Pym was left bent over the chair listening to all this, wondering fearfully what on earth was going to happen to him; he was soon to find out.  Pearson opened the top door of his desk and produced what looked like a bath-brush.  In fact it had been a bath-brush with that long handle, but the bristles had been removed.  He then went across to the unfortunate Pym and proceeded to give him six mighty swats across his still ragingly painful backside with the brush: three on each buttock. Now a normal hair brush with a shorter handle is a painful and much used implement of punishment, especially on younger boys; but the longer handle of the bath-brush ensures that added force is achieved so that the result of the blow is very, very painful. The advantage of the brush, when applied to a backside which is already suffering from a severe caning, is that no skin is broken; but the pain is intense and is spread over a wide area.  Look upon it, if you wish, as the icing on the cake; it is a final touch which turns painful into downright excruciating! As if to confirm this, Pym let out a loud scream as each stroke of the brush landed on his already roasted arse.

When it was over, Pym was told to get up and pull his trousers back up, which he did with some difficulty. He was completely deflated and in excruciating pain from the brush strokes. As the boy was about to leave, Pearson said to him: “I will say this just once Pym; If you commit any other offence this term and I do mean any offence whatsoever, I shall birch you. Do not test me on this, for I mean what I say; and just let me tell you, young man, that a thorough birching is not a punishment to be taken lightly. You may feel sorry for yourself now, but believe me, boy, if I birch you, you will wish you had never been born.”

A very chastened Andrew Edward Tudor Pym, Fifteenth Earl of Bromfleet, crept away from his Housemaster’s study to lick his wounds in private and no doubt to wonder why his name had but one “m” at the end.

CHAPTER 11

The end of the winter term approached and the highlight of the school’s activities was the end season rugger match against a rival public school. This year Grantley hosted the game and the rivals came to play on the Grantley pitch. It was a particularly gratifying for Frobisher and Swinburne as the school rugby fifteen made up of the best possible players across all six houses, included no less than five members of Grenville House.  Just imagine it; one House: their House, had supplied a third of the players!  Grenville boys were ecstatic about their “superior” contribution and, quite naturally, became totally insufferable in their behaviour towards boys from the other houses. In fact their constant bragging led to several fist fights, which in turn led to more than a dozen beating across the entire school. Again Grenville led the field as Swinburne and Frobisher between them thrashed seven boys caught fighting during the last month of term in the run up to the match. Luckily the remaining players were distributed two to each of the five remaining houses so that no house faced the ignominy of not having a member playing for the school in the match of the year.

The opposing team from St. Swithen’s Academy for Boys arrived on the Friday evening by train and were accommodated spread across all six houses for that night.  The match was played on the Saturday afternoon and was followed by a magnificent tea, which was hosted by Grenville House. The opposing team left on the late afternoon train. This year alas for them they were beaten into the ground by the Grantley side by nine tries to two. Grenville men made seven of the nine which that rendered the boys of the Grenville House house even more insufferable (is that were possible) in their boasting of superiority to boys from other houses.

Supper that evening was at seven and the five sixth formers from Grenville including the House-Captain and two other prefects who had been on the team sat together at table in a sort of conclave. Exceptionally, in view of the occasion, both Swinburne and Frobisher dined with them that evening and Frobisher, who as we know was a very perceptive man, somehow sensed that something was in the air and the five of them were hatching something.  As the lads trooped out from the dining room, he heard one younger boy say something about  “downtown” and then the name “Jolly Miller” was mentioned. Frobisher said to his colleague that he wondered if the rugby five were planning sneaking off downtown later that evening to celebrate their victory at the pub called the Jolly Miller. Now all the members of the team were over eighteen and legally free to smoke and drink, but both of these deliciously tempting activities were strictly forbidden at Grantley as they were throughout the entire Public Schools’ system. And although the school was celebrating its victory over St. Swithen’s there was no way that the school would ever allow any of its pupils to frequent a pub. That rule truly was engraved in tablets of stone!

Frobisher’s antennae had been aroused by what he thought he had overheard so he decided to stroll down town himself around nine that evening and take a look in the Jolly Miller to see whether the five lads from Grenville had tempted fate and gone there to celebrate. He stepped quietly into the main bar of that establishment, to find to his astonishment the entire rugby fifteen there, smoking and drinking and generally making merry. Unaccustomed to alcohol as they were, half of the lads were already slightly tipsy and were acting very stupidly, to the annoyance of the other customers.  Frobisher stood for fully a minute at the door of the bar before one member of the team suddenly saw him and then, like a flash of lightening, the hubbub of the lads stopped dead in its tracks. Caught “in flagrante” as it were, all of them knew that on the morrow they were in for the high-jump.

“Gentlemen,” said Frobisher, “Kindly get your things together and get back to the school on the double.  And tomorrow afternoon I will see all fifteen of you at three precisely in the school gymnasium and as you have probably guessed you will arrive attired only in your gym shorts, singlets and bedroom slippers to facilitate the proceedings which will follow. And make no mistake, gentlemen, in spite of your attire, you will not be participating in any gymnastic activities. Strictly no other clothing will be worn. Is that clear, gentlemen?”

The entire team, of which five lads were members of Grenville House of which the Junior Housemaster had just caught them in the act, knew that their fate was sealed and that victors though they were of the rugby match, there would be no allowance made for that in what was to happen in the gym tomorrow afternoon.  They all knew that they were in for a severe beating; but just how severe, no one, Frobisher himself included, knew.  In the event the morrow was to be quite  a bloodbath of painful retribution, accounts of which would be passed on for several years from one generation of boys to the next.

Frobisher told Swinburne that his suspicion had been correct and that he had found the entire rugby team half drunk in the pub.  Swinburne was of the opinion that, given the gravity of the infraction, and the number of boys involved, the Headmaster had to be informed. And so towards ten that evening, the two Housemasters went along to the Headmaster’s lodgings to find the old man still up, quite alone and enjoying a drink in front of his sitting room fire.

Dr. Greatorix-Smith listened silently to the story told by Frobisher and then said: “You were quite right to bring this infraction to my attention, for it is really a very major disregard of two of the school’s most important rules. Additionally this outrage (his very word!) was committed by a group of the most senior boys, including two House-Captains and four prefects. The fact that the School’s rugby team had thrashed their opponents does not in any way excuse their scandalous behaviour.  And once gain it is thanks to your vigilance and intuition, Frobisher, that the present delinquency was discovered.  I want you two Housemasters to deal very severely with all fifteen lads tomorrow afternoon, and I wish the two of you personally to administer the beatings which each culprit will receive. Of course, given that on this occasion we are dealing with a cross-house matter and that the punishments will be carried out in the school gymnasium rather than in the punishment room, the other five Housemasters will be invited, as a matter of courtesy, to observe their members being punished; but in terms of wielding the rods of chastisement (again his very words!) I leave that uniquely to the two of you from Grenville House.  Now here is what I wish to be done; it may sound severe, but I am not prepared to allow this outrageous behaviour to pass and this must be an occasion, a very painful one indeed that the perpetrators of this outrage will never ever forget; I intend to make an example of the entire team for rest of the school.”

The Headmaster then went on to explain to the two Housemasters, exactly what he wanted them to do.  They were amazed at the extreme severity of Greatorix-Smith’s orders; but as both men were ardent devotees of beating boys’ naked arses, they secretly rejoiced in what they had been ordered to do; it was the command of the Headmaster and they would just be executing his orders; so any resentment on the part of the boys would be directed at him and not at them.  But both men were truly looking forward to their role to be exercised the following afternoon; the Headmaster could not have put the proceedings in more willing or accomplished hands.

Sunday morning dawned and after chapel, Jonathan Davies, the captain of the rugger team, the House-Captain and prefect of Wellington House, (Grenville had contributed the largest number of players, but the captaincy of the team was in the hands of a member of Wellington House) came up to Frobisher, metaphorical cap in hand, and asked him if he could speak to him. Frobisher told the lad to come at two to his study in Grenville, to which Davies agreed.

The meeting took place one hour before the scheduled “mass execution”, which was scheduled for three. “Sir, I have been delegated by the other members, as captain of the team to come and offer you our profound apologies for what happened last night.  We all realise now that our actions were in complete and utter disregard of two of the School’s most sacred rules and we are all deeply sorry for our actions.  This having been said, sir, we would like you to take into account the fact that we were all in a euphorically boisterous mood, having thrashed the St. Swithen’s team, which allowed our enthusiasm to override good sense and decent behaviour. Also sir, please note that although we broke the School rules, we are all aged over eighteen and as such are legally allowed to smoke and drink, so when you found us in the pub, sir, we were not doing anything illegal.  I am not saying sir that this fact excuses our behaviour, which it certainly does not; but I would ask you please sir, to take it into account. So sir, we all appreciate that we are about to be punished and as young gentlemen, which we all aspire to be, we are ready to accept whatever punishment has been decreed.”

Frobisher listened to this apology and for its hint that there were circumstances mitigating in favour of some leniency.  But what Davies did not know and Frobisher did not tell him was that their fate was had been decreed by the Headmaster, who would inform them at three in the gymnasium of the drama they were about to experience.  And, reflecting on what the Headmaster had in mind, Frobisher realised that the members of the unfortunate rugby team were in for the hiding of their lives; the Headmaster was clearly not inclined to soft-pedal on what he considered a major outrage; which let’s face it, it was!  Frobisher was brief: “Thank you for your apology, Davies, on behalf of the team, I shall, in due course transmit your sentiments to the Headmaster.  But for the moment, time is passing quickly, and the fatidic hour of three is approaching; so I suggest that we end this discussion here and that you go off and don the appropriate attire for this afternoon’s occasion.  The Headmaster will address all of you in the gym at three, when all will be made clear”

As you might well imagine, Davies left to don his gym kit, with feelings of great apprehension.  Had his apology and the mention of their all being older than the minimum legal age to smoke and drink done any good?  He still had no idea of what was was to be inflicted on him and his team. And although at three the team would learn of the punishment they were to receive, even then, the Headmaster, with a sense of drama which his age belied, did not intend to reveal his full hand immediately.

The rugby fifteen filed into the gym at precisely three o|’clock to find themselves confronted with a double row of seven chairs, well spaced back to seat with a fifteenth chair set separately at the head of the two rows in what was clearly a key position.  The Headmaster and all the Housemasters were already present awaiting the arrival of the team.  Dressed as they were in only their gym shorts and singlets, with no stockings, the lads presented a magnificent spectacle of muscular young manhood. Frobisher hoped that he would get through what he had to do, which was a considerable task, and not disgrace himself by showing off a huge erection, the genesis of which he could already feel in his trousers.  He had taken the precaution of wearing two tight pairs of underpants in order to try to hide the fact that he would almost certainly be rock-hard by the time he had finished his task that afternoon.

The Headmaster began: “Gentlemen; Mr Frobisher has made me aware of the apology offered by your Team Captain for your outrageous behaviour yesterday evening, when you, the flower of our athletes, broke two of the most sacred rules of the school in the name of celebrating your victory on the rugby field yesterday.  Well gentlemen, let me tell you that your behaviour was such that no such apology can mitigate what you did. By going into the Jolly Miller public house, you lowered the prestige and elite standing which this school enjoys in the eyes of the townspeople; your actions, gentlemen are quite unforgivable; and for this you will now be punished. I have given a great deal of thought to the nature of your punishment, which I have decided must be exemplary as it must stand as a warning to the entire school as to what to expect for such acts of disobedience.”

“Therefore gentlemen, you will all now receive twelve cuts of the birch rod. As you all know, the birch is used but occasionally in this establishment, but today is exactly one of those occasions where only it will suffice.  You will be birched sequentially by Mr. Frobisher and Mr. Swinburne, each of whom will attend to the needs of the posteriors of seven of you. I personally will give myself the somewhat doubtful pleasure of dealing with the Team Captain. So kindly step out of your gym shorts and each select a chair over which you will bend in the traditional position and present your bare bottoms for chastisement.  Select any chair you wish, other than the fifteenth chair at the head of the line, where I would like the Team Captain to offer up his posterior for punishment.”

The whole rugger team were shocked to learn of their fate; yes, they had expected to be caned, but no one had ever thought of the birch. What was now now to be visited on their naked arses was just too awful to contemplate.  But there was nothing that the lads could do but grin and bear it; they were now about to reap what they had sown and a truly awful harvest it promised to be.  None of them had ever experienced the birch, but its reputation was legendary and stories of the agony it imparted were legion; it was clear that today they were about to be given the beating of their lives.  Nevertheless the boys obeyed the Headmaster, and the observers were treated to a magnificent display of muscular, well-rounded, meaty, naked flesh awaiting the onslaught with the birch. But where were the birches?  Nothing was in evidence in the gym. The Headmaster went across to the door and motioned to four of the school servants who had been waiting outside, each of whom now entered carrying a deep bucket of water in which were immersed a number of the dreaded implements, all freshly made that day for the occasion.

“Gentlemen, I think we are now ready to begin. Mr. Frobisher, Mr Swinburne, if you would care to select a suitable implement and perhaps you would also be so good as to hand one to me. I think we can start.  Gentlemen; here is how this afternoon’s punishment session will be conducted.  I shall apply the first of the twelve strokes to the posterior of your Team Captain. Mr. Frobisher with then apply the first stroke to the first boy in the left row and Mr Swinburne will follow with the first stroke to the first boy in the right row.  Then these two gentlemen will then progress along their respective rows, giving a first stroke to each successive culprit.  I shall then give the second stroke to your Team Captain and the two Housemasters will repeat the procedure.  Thus gentlemen you will all have ample time to appreciate, I refrain from using the word enjoy, each and every one of the twelve strokes of your punishment. And so we shall proceed until twelve strokes have been given to every boy.’

Frobisher had never before used the birch on a boy, but on his first stroke he raised the rod well above his head and brought it down with a resounding whack on the lad’s naked arse.  Unlike the cane, the birch with its multiple flexible twigs spreads across the target arse and after a few strokes the whole of the target area is peppered with small, painful marks. The pain builds up and up unit until after a few strokes it becomes unbearable; by the time all twelve strokes had been delivered, the entire team were howling with pain and in spite of their age, they were all in tears. If ever fifteen lads had had a salutary experience, his was it. Frobisher, a hard caner, proved equally adept at the birch and secretly enjoyed thrashing such a sequence of arses: big, meaty muscular arses: a perfect delight to beat.

This whole drama took several minutes to complete, but when he last stroke had been delivered the Headmaster told the boys to get up and stand against the wall with their hands of their heads. And now came the horrible sting in the tale of this afternoon of retribution, of which only the Headmaster, Frobisher and Swinburne were aware. 

The Headmaster stood looking at the fifteen young men. “Gentlemen you have now each been given a very severe beating, which each and every one of you deserved.  However, I have to tell you that all is not yet over; two House-Captains and four prefects were members of your team; will you six gentlemen now kindly step forward.”  The Headmaster paused as the six lads, hands still on their heads but now visibly trembling as they faced the unknown, stepped forward. He then continued: “You six boys hold privileged positions in this school; you are all prefects and two of you are captains of your respective houses.  As such you are charged with keeping order among your school mates. I would have expected you of all people, to have stopped your team mates from embarking on the folly of yesterday evening. Instead you joined them. I have therefore decided to make a special example of you. I have decided that a simple birching is by no means adequate punishment for your behaviour. You six gentlemen will now resume your positions across the chairs and Mr. Frobisher and Mr Swinburne will give each of you an additional twelve strokes with the senior cane. You six lads will go to bed this evening wondering if your bottoms will ever be the same again.”

A deathly silence fell across the entire company as all sobbing of the beaten lads suddenly stopped whilst they took in the import of what had just been said. With a look of terror on their faces the six prefects stepped over to the chairs and resumed their positions.  No one could believe that the Headmaster meant what he had just said.  All the boys had been thoroughly birched; all were in agony and now he was condemning six of them to another sever dose of punishment. Could this be true? But yes it was true as the two Housemasters, cane in hand, advanced on the boys. 

“If you are ready, then I suggest we begin,” intoned the Headmaster. “This time, however, the Housemasters will administer each stroke together to the first of the unfortunate supplicants and all twelve strokes will follow sequentially.  The next two will then receive the same treatment and so on until all six prefects have received the additional twelve cuts of the cane. Only then will the six boys be allowed to stand up.”

Frobisher looked at the pattern of fine twig marks on the first backside he was about to beat and tried to envisage how it would look in a few minutes time when he had placed a dozen neat cuts of the cane across the already inflamed surface. He tried to imagine just how the boy, whom he was just about to subject to another horrible beating, would feel as twelve more stinging cuts landed on his poor sore arse.  But Frobisher was not at all squeamish and went on and gave the boy the additional twelve cuts with tremendous vigour: no one could ever accuse him of shirking his duty!  In his mind was the maxim that if a boy had to be beaten, then he should be beaten well and it should hurt, which it truly did. When he had finished, ten neatly parallel stripes adorned the already red raw field of the lad’s backside, finished off neatly by two cross-strokes applied diagonally.  Frobisher felt pleased with the artistic appearance of what he had achieved.  He then went on and gave the other two trembling lads the same treatment. Swinburne was also very assiduous as he applied the additional cuts to each of his three supplicants and achieved much the same results as his colleague.

Thus ended what had been the greatest session of retribution ever in the annals of the Grantley Academy.  The members of the rugger team withdrew from the gym, licking their wounds and regretting their disastrous adventure the previous night. Never had anyone seen such a blood bath. Although it was only late afternoon, all fifteen, members retired to their beds, where they lay stock still, face down nursing their wounds, their naked arses just too painful to stand even the touch of the lightest of bed linen. Not one of them appeared that evening for supper.

The mass beating of the rugger fifteen was the event which brought the winter term to a close just a few days later.   Frobisher, who had joined the school only that term, felt well established and happy.  He had found a job which he liked: he enjoyed being able to beat boys, a fact he would have strenuously denied if asked. (Nobody ever did)  And in spite of the fact that he had already earned the reputation of being the school’s hardest caner, a distinction he actually relished; he was nonetheless very popular with the boys. He was a good teacher and the Headmaster was pleased with the results he obviously was getting from the classes he taught. And finally, but most importantly of all, he had found a partner in Tony Swinburne, with whom he had a vigorously active sex life.  For Jerome Frobisher, things had never been better and he looked looked forward with considerable pleasure to the start of the next term.

THE END