The Making of a Tyrannical Headmaster

CHAPTER 11

For a moment silence reigned as Rufus moved silently towards the closed door of his study, across which he thought he had discerned a slight sound. Arriving at the door, he silently turned the knob before suddenly flinging the door open. Two first formers, who had evidently had their ears close to the door eavesdropping, fell, more or less, into the room.

He then noticed another first-former standing sheepishly against the opposite wall of the corridor  and as he glance down the corridor, saw the back-end of a fourth boy, running away from what was to become the crime scene!

“Well, well, well, what have we here? You two, who have more or less fallen into my study whilst you were eavesdropping, what are your names and what is the name of your third classmate who is standing at the other side of the corridor. Curiosity, it is said, killed the cat. Well your joint curiosity to find out what was happening to your classmate, Patterson, if not exactly killing you, is going to have some very, very painful consequences, which you may well find worse than death.” 

“But I see I said the three of you, when I should probably have said four. As I opened the door, I saw a fourth boy legging it off down the corridor, presumably to avoid being caught with the three of you.  There were four of you in your little eavesdropping venture, weren’t there? Well the three of you had better come in. You will then satisfy your curiosity to the full and indeed, will have the opportunity to participate fully in the extension, which I shall be happy to prepare for you, of the little drama which is currently being enacted around Patterson’s arse.”

“Boys, you are all new to the school, but I recognised all of you as sitting at the table with Patterson this lunch time. So first give me your names.”

Having ascertained that he was talking to John Gregson, John Cromarty and Colin Hansen, Rufus went on to find out the identity of the fourth boy, who had run away, abandoning his classmates to their fate.

“What is the name of the fourth boy, the one who ran off down the corridor as I opened the door? Come on boys; I want to know his name as he is guilty of eavesdropping as the three of you.  So come clean boys and give me his name.”

As might have been expected, the three lads looked sheepish and gave no answer. So Rufus, not to be deflected from his purpose said: “Well then, one of you had better go and find your friend and tell him to present himself to the head-boy in his study within the next five minutes. You do not need to tell me his name; just transmit the message to him and tell him to present himself here as ordered. Tell him that it is an order and not a request and that it will be worse for him if he does not re-join your ill-conceived espionage group.”

“So which of you three is going to be the messenger? Gregson you will do. Go to it young man; and then come straight back here and let the fourth, absconded member of your ill fated venture come back here by himself.  That way you cannot be accused of ratting on him. Make it clear to him that if he does not come here of his own free will, I shall find him anyway and he will suffer a worse fate than that which you three lads have pre-ordained for yourselves by your lamentable eavesdropping.”

Gregson went off on his errand to find the absentee member of the ill- fated group. Once in Rufus’s study, the other two lads suddenly realised that they were looking at a site which few are privileged to behold: the bare arse of their classmate, Patterson, still stretched over the back of the armchair waiting for the first stroke of the six he had been promised.

“Well, the two of you, you see the position you are required to adopt when you are to be punished. Your classmate, Patterson, is showing you exactly what is required of a boy when he is to have his arse beaten.  And as that,  boys, is that is exactly what is shortly going to happen to all three of you, I suggest that you two prepare yourselves. Take of your blazers and shoes and then take off your trousers and underpants and stand in a line with your hands on your heads, whilst I continue with Patterson’s punishment, which you scamps have so rudely interrupted.”

The two young lads looked bewildered at what they had just been ordered to do.

Cromarty said: “You don’t mean that want is to stand there naked with our heads on our heads whilst you beat Patterson, do you Rothery?”

“That, Cromarty, is exactly what I mean; you have understood me to perfection; so I suggest that the pair of you jump to it. Come on; blazers and shoes off and step out of your trousers and underpants,  get your hands on your head and let me see your bare arses, whilst I attend to Patterson’s needs, which thanks to the delay you have caused are becoming pressing.”

Relucantly, Cromarty and Hansen started stripping off their lower clothes.  Rufus picked up the cane again and turned his attention to the long-suffering Patterson, still uncomfortably stretched across the armchair with his bare arse in the air waiting for that first stroke of the cane.

“Patterson, I really do apologise for the delay, caused entirely by the untimely and unwarranted activities of your classmates. I will now attempt to put matters right and we will take up where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted.  However, by way of compensation for you, I will allow you to remain and witness your classmates being punished. In that way you will see that you are in no way being victimised for your own errors and that I am even handed in dealing with all boys who break the rules.”

Rufus laid the cane for the second time across the long-suffering Patterson’s naked arse and was about to award him his first stroke when Gregson knocked at the study door and entered. The lad’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw a recumbent, naked Patterson, his arse stretched across the back of the chair, about to be beaten and his two partners-in-crime, standing there with their hand s on their heads and in a position, which is vulgarly – but succinctly – referred to as bollock-naked!

“Welcome back, Gregson; I hope you had a fruitful journey.”

“Yes thank you, Rothery.  Darke is on his way here now, Rothery.”

“That is certainly good news, Gregson.  I am sure we all would have hated for fourth member of of your misguided group of merry men, to miss out on the – how shall I put it – the fruits of your enterprise? Well Gregson time is, as ever, of the essence, so I suggest you divest yourself of the necessary clothing and go and align yourself with your two friends over there. Go on boy, get your pants off and go and stand with your hands on your head with Cromarty and Hansen over there.   I will attend to the burning need of all three of you as soon as I have finished dealing with Patterson.”

Turning again with his cane towards Patterson and his expectant naked arse, Rufus was again interrupted by another knock on the door, this time announcing the arrival of one, Geoffrey Darke, the fourth of the ill fated group of young miscreants.

“Ah, Mr. Darke, no doubt; how nice of you to join us young man.  I am not sure what your three friends over there think of your running off and leaving them to carry the can for you. But better late than never, I suppose. So Darke, as you can see from your three friends, what the drill is, I suggest you make yourself ready in the same way as they already have done and go and join them in line.”

“Oh, Rothery, I am sorry I ran off like that, but was just so scared of what would happen to us if we were caught.  And could I just tell you that my name has an E at the end?”

“Darke, if I were you, I would worry less about the spelling of my name and more about what is about to happen to my backside.  In running off, you deserted your friends and left them in the lurch, which is a very un-gentlemanly and cowardly thing to have done. But in so doing, you compounded your problems. You, young man, broke one of the most strictly enforced rules of the school when you ran off down the corridor.”

“Running, anywhere inside the school buildings, is strictly forbidden and if caught, as you have been, is automatically punished by six strokes of the cane delivered on the bare. And so, Darke, just reflect on that fact whilst you await your beating. Make no mistake, Darke, I am going to beat all four of you. However, not only will you receive six strokes for your eavesdropping along with your classmates, but you will take an additional six for running in the corridor.  And believe me, Darke, when I tell you that I do know how to deliver the goods when I beat a boy”

And with that, leaving Darke to contemplate his immediate future fate, Rufus was finally able to address Patterson’s long-awaiting arse with his cane. Patterson’s bare buttocks trembled with fear as Rufus again laid the cane across them and prepared his first stroke. As the cane descend for the first time and landed with the crack of a pistol  shot on poor Patterson’s posterior, the lad was silent for a moment but then as he felt the full horror of the searing pain which a well-seasoned and well-applied rattan cane always delivers, he let out his first howl of anguish.

All of the four observers were simultaneously fascinated and horrified to see Patterson suffering,  especially so as they all realized that within the next few minutes it was their own arses which would be on the line  and they would be receiving the same.  It was all just too awful to contemplate.

As the beating progressed, Patterson’s appreciation of what was happening to him became ever more evident, judging by the increased volume of his cries of pain. By the time the third stroke landed on Patterson’s naked arse, the lad could not hold back his tears, which were the first of many to add themselves that day to that stain on the cushion that he had been forced, due to the numerous interruptions, to gaze upon for so long. The lad pleaded with Rufus to stop. But it was to no avail and when he finally was told to get up from the chair he was weeping profusely.

Ruthless Rufus, true to his nickname, then made Patterson stand with his hands on his head alongside the other four lads who were awaiting their punishment.  He even forbade the lad to massage his buns in the normal, post-beating, usually futile attempt to lessen the pain. Poor Patterson, who really been grossly over-punished for a minor lapse in minor laps in manners at the lunch table, was even forbidden to try to palliate the pain he was enduring. Such was the unforgiving nature of the head-boy.

With some considerable trepidation, Cromarty, Gregson and Hansen were made successively to present their nakedness to Rufus for correction. Rufus spared the three lads not one bit as he brought the cane crashing down six times on each of the three naked arses in turn. Again, no quarter was given, and at the the end of the session, four tearful lads stood, hand on their heads, displaying their richly striped and very painful bottoms to Darke, who was, by this time, almost pissing himself with the fear of what was now to come.

It has to be said that the eavesdropping contingent warranted much less sympathy than poor Patterson, the inadvertent originator of this afternoon’s blood-bath. It was quite reasonable for Rufus to beat the three of them for eavesdropping, a very ungentlemanly act for which they truly merited the stripes which they were now sporting. But when it came to Darke, well the offences moved to a totally different level which truly justified a very severe beating for the lad.

“Darke, kindly step forward, boy and approach the armchair.  Darke, I do not know if you realize the contempt that I, and I imagine also your three partners in crime over there, view your actions this afternoon. You, boy, were associated with what was, by any standards, a despicable act. But then when you thought that you might be caught, you fled the scene leaving your three classmates to carry the can for you.  But then, in your haste to disappear, broke a key rule of the school in running off down the corridor, in the hope of escaping escaping detection.”

“Well, young man, you have seen what happened to your three classmates for their part in this sad affair. Well just let me tell you what you deserve and are now to receive is much worse.  You will take six strokes for eavesdropping and a further six for running in the corridor. And moreover, to bring home to you how deplorable I view your cowardly behaviour, I shall cane you six-on-six to ensure that you really do learn your lesson.”

“That is to say I shall give you six parallel strokes and then apply the next six directly in the stripes left by the first six. When I have finished with you, in a few minutes time, you, Darke, will be unable able to sit down comfortably for three or four days. Believe me, Darke, you will regret ever having become involved in this disgraceful business.”

By this time, Darke, for whom, in view his actions, one can have but little sympathy, if any at all, had gone quite pale and was already beginning to cry. But then, under the same circumstances, who would not have felt afraid, His immediate future had just been spelled for him in the greatest of horrific detail and he was justifiably trembling as he bent across the chair and offered his naked arse to Rufus for correction.

Rufus, as ever applied the cane as hard as he could. And as stroke followed parallel stroke, with four being applied low down towards the crease to ensure that the lad felt the most pain possible, Darke wept profusely and cried out loudly with pain at each stroke. 

Then, when the first six strokes had been applied, Rufus paused for a minute, allowing the lad to appreciate what he had just received, before going on and applying the next six cuts, neatly doubling the existing stripes on Darke’s buns. As stroke followed painful stroke, he howled ever more loudly.

His three classmates, who were seeing their head-boy in action, were, of course, in a way delighted to see that their erstwhile partner was receiving his comeuppance. But as the second six strokes followed in the tracks of the first, they winced at the savage way Rufus used his cane.

Darke finally arose tearful from over the back of the chair, and as indicated by Rufus, hobbled across to his four classmates, all of who were still standing there half naked with their hands on their heads.

“Well boys let that be a lesson to you all. In this school as you now see, any and every misdemeanour, however small will be corrected with the cane. And believe me it is my job to make sure that you all toe the line. So make no mistake. If any of you step out of line, then I shall have no hesitation in beating any – and, if needs be, all of you – again. Now you may all get dressed and go to the first of your afternoon classes which starts in about twenty minutes.”

Rufus was jubilant in himself that he had managed to beat no less than five boys over the lunch hour of the first day of his term as head-boy. If that did not show devotion to duty, then what on earth did? It was an excellent star to his career in his capacity as head-boy. 

But he too had now twenty minutes before his first class of the afternoon for although he was head-boy and in power, almost the equal of a master, he was still a pupil in the sixth form with exams to pass before going on to university at the end of the school year. He suddenly realised that he had become so sexually arouse by what he had just done that is cock needed immediate attention. He could already feel a quite copious emission of pre-cum wetting his underpants as he locked the door of his study and went into his private bathroom. He extracted his rock-hard cock out of his underpants and looked with amazement at the veins pulsing with blood along its upper surface. Five beatings, one after the other, had been a very erotically arousing experience, even for him and his cock was crying out for attention.

He dropped his trousers and underpants to the floor, thereby freeing his pulsating member from their encumbrance.  And then, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he acceded to the pressing needs of his cock and watched himself jerking off. In view of his tremendous state of arousal, orgasm came quickly, bringing with it that brief moment of exquisite delight as his body ejaculated great spurts of his rich, creamy cum, most of which finished up in great gobbets, dripping from the surface of the mirror.

Now somewhat sexually relieved, he quickly cleaned up the bathroom, wiped himself off. He was relieved to see that his sizeable endowment of uncontrollable flesh had decided to behave itself and was calming down to its docile, normal self: a size capable of being contained in his underpants, whilst at the same time showing a very attractive and desirable bulge in his crotch.  He pulled on fresh underpants as the previous pair were saturated with his own pre-cum brought on by the beatings, dressed himself himself correctly before, cool, calm and collected, leaving his study to go to class.

But as he walked along the corridor to the sixth form room, he knew that he had to find a sex partner to replace Nigel Kingston, the previous head-boy with whom he had had an intense anal affair the previous year. But Nigel, a year older than him, had gone off to Oxford and had to be replaced. Rufus knew that he could not live without regular sex. And on that note he entered the classroom where, that afternoon, he would dazzle classmates and teacher alike, as he construed, at sight, passages from the original Greek of the Odyssey.

CHAPTER 12

Throughout his entire career, things always seemed to have an extraordinary way of arranging themselves for the best for Rufus.  His most pressing need at present was to find a sex partner among his classmates: someone who could replace the now departed Nigel Kingston, with whom he had, last year as a junior prefect, developed an enjoyed an incredibly active sex life. It was also Nigel who had been as devoted to the cane as Rufus now was, who had encouraged the lad who had become his lover, not to stint on it use on their schoolmates.

But blessed as he always seemed to be, by good luck, Rufus quickly found from among his classmates, a new partner, who replaced Nigel in the all important field of matters sexual.  And, as ever, it all happened by chance as has that chance meeting in the library last year with Nigel which had blossomed into an intimate sexual relationship between the two young men.

It was late in the afternoon on the first Saturday of the new term that Rufus happened to be passing by the shower-room attached to the school’s gym. He heard water running and as it was late in the day, he quietly entered the shower-room, to find Oliver Crawford, one of his classmates in the sixth form, jerking himself off under the running hot-water of the shower. Engrossed as he was in attending to the needs of his cock, which what was obviously a very pleasant interlude for him, Oliver was totally unaware that he was bring observed until Rufus suddenly barked at him and asked him what he was playing at, masturbating as he was, in what was a public room.

Rufus and Oliver were not by any means close friends, but rather classmates. However, Rufus had always admired Oliver, for his beautifully proportioned, muscular physique and – well let’s not be mealy mouthed about it – the size of his sexual endowment. In public schools in England, nothing is hidden for long, least of all the physical aspects of a boy’s body.

Although Rufus had seen Oliver in the showers on a more or less daily basis for many years, he had never, until now, seen the young stud – and Oliver was really worthy of the epithet, stud – with his enviable cock in all its powerful glory; and not only erect, but like a cannon in the field, loaded and primed and ready to fire.  And that is exactly what happened at the moment Rufus spoke. Oliver reached his climax and could not stop himself ejaculating his huge load of cum all over the shower cubicle.

Rufus could hardly contain himself. Looking at this magnificent and sexy young man, naked as he was, he wanted nothing more than to strip of himself and sink his own meat, which he felt rising at the sight of Oliver jerking himself off, deep into Oliver’s anus.  At that very instant, Rufus’s only thought was of how much he wanted to fuck the young man standing before him. But protocol did not allow such a direct approach to occur. Here was a senior boy, jerking himself off publicly, in the most lewd manner, for which he not only deserved, but had to be, punished for this lamentable lapse in his behaviour. 

Rufus was head-boy and he knew, as did Oliver, that come what may, Oliver would have to be corrected for his lack of common sense. Oliver had publicly committed an act so gross that as head-boy, Rufus could not simply ignore it. It had to be dealt with; dealt with immediately; dealt with thoroughly. Oliver had to suffer the painful consequences of his actions. And as we already know, Rufus really did know how to deliver pain.

But at the same time as he steeled himself to take to take a stern, official stance with Oliver, Rufus was already turning over in his mind where a private meeting between the two of them might lead.  Oliver already knew, although he would try – and fail – to talk his way out of it, that his arse was toast.

“Crawford, I don’t know what you were thinking of wanking in the showers. Clean off the mess you have just made with your emission from the wall tiles where you have managed to project it. Then yourself off, get dressed and get out of here. I think you had better come to see me in my study, after supper this evening. And so that you make no mistake in what is going to happen to you, I suggest you present yourself wearing just your gym strip with no underpants beneath your shorts. That will facilitate matters when we meet.”

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Rothery, pulling rank on me for doing something we all do – you included. The whole lot of us wank, as well you know. So if you think that you are going to see me in your study tonight and shred my arse with your bloody cane, you can think again.  I am just not going to kow-tow to you Rothery, just because you are head-boy. You are a total hypocrite, as you are as big a wanker yourself as any of us.”

“Crawford, the question is not whether you or I, or for that matter, any or all of us in the sixth-form wank. It goes without saying we all do it, me included. I am not pulling rank on you, as you choose to call it, but I have pulled you up because you cannot be allowed to go on doing, in a public place, what I caught you doing just now. Crawford, I have not asked you to come to my study this evening to punish you for wanking, but for being foolish enough to commit, in public, what is, by any standards of decency, a lewd and offensive act.  And for that you do deserve to be punished.”

“So to cut to the chase, you have what the mathematically minded would call a binary choice. You can do as I have suggested and come to see me at eight in my study, when I shall have the unfortunate task of giving you six cuts with a senior cane on the bare.  And please do not question my authority in the matter. I am the head-boy of this school and I have the authorization and indeed, the blessing, of the   Headmaster to beat any boy whom I catch misbehaving, from the first form right through and including the upper sixth.”

“In view of the grossness of the act you have just committed, I think that even you must agree that you qualify admirably to be beaten. You have, after all committed a serious offence and you are in the upper sixth.  Not to mince words, your visit to my study will be painful for you. But compared with the alternative; taking six with the senior cane across your bare arse from me will seem like a gentle kiss. And there may be compensation later.”

“As I say, you are faced with a binary choice. If you decide not to accept my invitation for this evening to purge your sins in the privacy of my study, then I shall have no alternative but to report your behaviour to our revered Headmaster, with all that implies.  And you should have no illusions on what will happen if you decide to plead your case in front of the Headmaster.  As a minimum you will be given twelve cuts of the birch in front of the entire sixth form and you may well find yourself being expelled from the school.”

“Don’t think I am joking, Crawford, when I say that you might be chucked out. Two years ago the Headmaster publicly birched and expelled a boy from the lower sixth for smoking and drinking. So that could happen to you too. You are, as the saying has it, between a rock and a hard place. But choose wisely for the hard place is occupied by the Headmaster and may prove to be very hard indeed.”

Crawford, having listened to the head-boy and knowing full well that his actions, which he knew had been stupid, presaged a very sore arse for him, come what may, made, nevertheless, one last ditch attempt to to extricate himself from a situation which was entirely of his own own making.

And so, now in a much less aggressive tone of voice he said:  “Rothery, don’t you think that you are really are making a mountain out of a molehill. Come on, Rothery, we are classmates, so couldn’t you just turn a blind eye.  I agree I was stupid. But you know as well as I do, that sometimes the needs of one’s cock become so imperative, that one is forced to obey and that is exactly what happened just now. I just could not stop myself jerking off. Surely you see that.  So please, Rothery, just let the whole thing drop and forget it ever happened.”

“Crawford, if I do as you suggest, I would be betraying the trust which the Headmaster put in me when he made me head-boy. But over and above that, I should risk losing whatever authority I have in my present position. Word would get around – as it always does – that the new head-boy is a soft touch: a guy whose bark is much worse than his bite. Now that would never do, as I am sure you can see.”

“So I am afraid, Crawford, there is no way in which you can escape doing penance for your sins.  Crawford your choice is simple, but I am afraid, inevitably, painful for you. Either you come wearing your gym strip to my study at eight this evening and take six on the bare from me. Or you go to see the Headmaster, in which case you will most certainly be birched in front of your classmates and, additionally, face the possibility of expulsion.  The decision, Crawford, is yours, and yours alone to make.”

And with that, Rufus left Crawford to stew in his own juice. Of course, Rufus, with his penchant for beating arse, had had no intention at all of referring Crawford to the Headmaster. Why on earth should he hand over a sixth-former to the Headmaster when he could give himself the pleasure of roasting the arse of a bird that was a rare catch? 

Beating a classmate of his own age was a really erotic act, not to be compared with the banal canings visited on the naked arses of younger boys., who, to coin a phrase, were more or less available ten a penny. But the opportunity to beat the muscular arse of a sixth- former was a rare chance not to be sneezed at.

CHAPTER 13

That evening, after supper, Rufus sat waiting behind his desk in his study. In preparation for what he fully expected to be Crawford’s arrival, he had already selected the senior cane with which he intended to skin Crawford’s arse and pulled the armchair, in readiness, into the middle of the room.  And so he sat at his desk and waited until the appointed hour for Crawford to arrive. 

He was practically certain  that Crawford would opt for a beating from him rather than being referred to the Headmaster, as the ramifications of a meeting with him were just to awful to contemplate.  But whatever Crawford decided, one thing was certain; he was heading inexorably towards a well-beaten arse, that universal hallmark of English public school punishments.

As he had foreseen, Crawford had decided on what was clearly the less painful option open to him and entered Rufus’s study dead on eight. He was wearing only in the gym strip as requested and stood awkwardly in front of the head-boy.  He made one last ditch attempt to save what he knew full-well to be his doomed arse from the rigours of the three-foot-long, senior rattan-cane lying in full view in front of him on Rufus’s desk.

“Look here, Rothery, you’re not really intending to go through with this are you?  Come on, Rothery; be reasonable, it’s not normal for a prefect to beat one of his direct classmates. So why don’t we just call the whole thing off, shake hands and part as friends. After all, I have apologised for my behaviour, which I admit, was a bit over the top. But come on, Rothery; I really am very sorry for what I did and it will never ever happen again. So what do you say, Rothery? Can’t we just forget the the whole incident ever took place?”

Crawford must have known that he was wasting his breath, but he felt he had to have one last try to save his arse from what he knew was a lost cause.

“Crawford, as I have already explained to you, I am duty bound in the position of trust I occupy as head-boy, that I cannot allow your stupid action to pass unpunished. It I let you off the hook, then that would mean throwing away my authority.  So, Crawford, I am sorry, but we cannot just forget the incident and shake hands. But before we get down to the business at hand, just let me say that there is nothing at all personal in what I am about to do to you and there is no reason whatsoever why, after you have taken your beating, we should not shake hands and part as friends.”

“And just let me add, that I am already being very lenient in giving   you only six with the cane. Your offence merits at least twelve cuts and although you may be unaware of the fact, as head-boy, I am authorised to give up to eighteen cuts for any one offence. So be thankful for my leniency.  Now, I think, Crawford, as this is surely not the first time you have had your arse whacked in this school, that enough has been said. So if you would kindly adopt the time honoured position over the back of the armchair over there, with which you are certainly conversant, I will do my very best to correct you and instil into you the difference between what is and what is not acceptable behaviour for a sixth former at St. Olaf’s.”

Whilst the two of them had been engaged in what amounted to a final battle of words, which Rufus, by virtue of his position, was inevitably destined to win, Rufus had felt his cock hardening in his pants at the thought of what he was about to visit on Crawford’s arse.  Rufus was absolutely delighted that he had caught a sixth former doing something for which he could genuinely justify a beating.  For Rufus, there was something very satisfying in being able to exercise his power over a boy of his own age and, moreover, one with whom he sat together in the very same class. 

Even although he was authorised to beat any boy in the entire school if necessary, it was not easy to take that first step and exercise his authority over a boy of his own age – witness Crawford’s initial, explosive reaction. But thanks to Crawford’s stupidity, he had provided Rufus with a benchmark in his career as head-boy, a career which was not yet one week old.

Everyone would soon know that the head-boy had beaten Crawford, his direct classmate, no less, and had, therefore, to be taken seriously by everyone.  If he could beat Crawford, then he could beat anyone and everyone. So thanks to Crawford’s action, Rufus’s authority and standing as a strict-non-nonsense-disciplinarian was established by the end of that first week.

As Rufus stood up and picked up the cane from his desk, he could feel his cock, now fully aroused and moist, thrusting hard against the crotch of his trousers. He was aware as he stood there, flexing the cane, that Crawford’s eyes were fixed on his bulging crotch. But equally he saw that Crawford’s thin gym-shorts were also tented towards him by what he already knew was Crawford’s generous endowment. So what I suppose we might call the verbal foreplay to Crawford’s imminent beating had sexually aroused Rufus, the beater, and the soon-to-be-beaten Crawford.

“Well, Rothery, as you seem to intent on taking your pound of flesh, let’s get on with it and get this fucking thing over and done with.”

Having said this, Crawford went slowly across to the armchair, his cock thrusting firmly against his gym-shorts.  Then, by accident or design – probably the latter – he bent over the back of the chair without dropping his shorts. Crawford knew as well as any other boy at the school that all beatings were given on the bare and so he knew full well that his shorts would, one way or another, come down before the cane mated with his arse.

Rufus – correctly as it turned out – seeing this as an unspoken invitation to explore Crawford’s nether region more closely, went across to him, touched his arse lightly with the cane and said: “I think Crawford,  that we can dispense with the shorts, don’t you.  I always think that they detract from the the effect of what is about to take place. Stay as you are and let me help you to get rid of them before we start.”

And then Rufus made Crawford ease himself up slightly from over the chair and helped him to extricate his shorts from his burgeoning cock on which they were, more or less impaled. Without any embarrassment, Rufus put his hand down the front of Crawford’s shorts, took a firm grip of his rock-hard member and with his other hand pulled the elastic waistband over the Crawford’s erection.  Released from the stick-like encumbrance of his cock, Rufus then had no difficulty in pulling down the shorts, thereby giving himself his first close-up view of Crawford’s magnificent pair of hairless, muscular mounds, which he was about to shred with his cane.

This little drama took place without a word being said by either participant. But Rufus instinctively knew as also did Crawford, that his silence and wordless acquiescence to this first act of body contact between the two of them presaged more to come later.  After all, it is not every day that one man finds himself with his erect penis in the hands of another man. And the fact that the hand was proffered in what was a superficially helpful context, spoke volumes.

The fatidic moment had finally arrived. Rufus position himself to Crawford’s right. This in itself was an unusual position to adopt, for most school beatings are performed with the beater standing to the the left of the target arse with the being applied forehand. But Rufus, under the tutelage of the previous head-boy, Nigel Kingston, had learned of the superiority of the backhand stroke. As Nigel had convincingly explained to him, the habitual forehand approach meant that the beater raised the cane above his right shoulder and then brought it down across his own body to mate with the arse of the poor unfortunate being beaten.

In his view, which has considerable merit, this approach was much less satisfactory, than applying the strokes backhand. Here, the beater raises the cane across his chest and over his left shoulder, from which position a downward stroke can be made in one fluid movement from top left to bottom right avoiding the beater’s arm crossing his body. Add to this that if the beater’s right hand, which is holding the cane, is bent more or less at a right-angle to the arm, on contact with the target, the wrist can be flicked straight, adding an additional bite to the blow. As Rufus was an attentive pupil to Kingston, this finer point in the art of flagellation had not escaped his attention.

So in the previous year, as a junior prefect, under the watchful eye and expert tutelage of the Nigel Kingston, Rufus Rothery had persevered to perfect the technique of beating arse backhand. And by the end of that first term, after regular and diligent practice on the naked backsides of countless of his schoolmates, under the ever watchful eye, corrective comments of, and practical demonstrations by, Nigel Kingston, he had achieved his objective. Rufus was quite capable of giving any boy’s arse hell as he placed each stroke with military precision.

And it was a just such a practical application of Rufus’s by now, perfect technique, which the unfortunate Oliver Crawford was about to experience on his naked arse.

Now it has to be said that in the not-so-gentle-art of schoolboy, arse flagellation, the backhand technique requires considerable practice to ensure that each stroke lands in exactly the right place on the recipient’s arse. Exact placing of each stroke is the key to leaving a boy with a well-beaten arse, which should be not only a visual, welted masterpiece of precisely placed welts, but one which is also so painful for the unfortunate owner that, at that moment, he heartily wishes his lacerated buttocks belonged to someone else.

It was to this, the state of technically flawless, flagellative perfection, Rufus had aspired as a junior prefect. When Rufus had finished with a boy, his arse was not a muddled mess of criss-crossed welts, as is so often the case, but an admirably ordered series of deep parallel cuts. But let us be quite clear it was precision which was not achieved at the expense of force. When Rufus Rothery had finished beating a boy, the unfortunate recipient of his painful ministrations usually thought twice before allowing himself to fall ever again into the hands of such a severe martinet. 

Not for nothing had Rufus Rothery acquired the nickname, Ruthless Rufus, by the end of his first term as a junior prefect. Among the younger boys, on whose arses, it has to be said, he concentrated his efforts, he was the most feared and hated of all the prefects. And this is the man who as head-boy is now about to address Oliver Crawford’s naked arse with a senior cane. Little wonder that with such a stellar reputation, Crawford was dreading what was in store for him. But the moment was still not ripe for Rufus to put Crawford out of his misery as he could not resist giving Crawford  a few homilies before getting down to the job at hand.

“Crawford, the purpose in beating a boy is to correct him for an offence, which, at his school, is still done by addressing the offender’s arse with the traditional rattan cane. As you are in the sixth form, I am going to use a senior cane on you today, and as you are now about to find out, I am an expert in its use. Brace yourself, Crawford, as this is intended to be, and indeed will be, a very painful experience for you.”

Crawford, wanting by now to get the thing over and done with, just wished that Rufus would cut the cackle and get on with it. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and waited for the first stroke of the promised six to land on his naked and totally vulnerable arse. When that first stroke finally came, even he, a senior boy, who in his career at the school, like so many others, Rufus included, had suffered many beatings at the hands of a variety of prefects, several different head-boys, his housemaster and, on one memorably awful occasion, by the Headmaster himself, had never ever experienced anything which remotely compared with the red-hot pain that Rufus delivered: Rufus was in a class of his own.

If Crawford had yelped loudly with the searing pain of that first stroke, by the third, Rufus had reduced him to tears. As Rufus had promised him only six cuts in all, he had placed the first cut more-or-less in the middle of Crawford’s buns. The second was a little higher towards the bottom of his back, before, with what can but be described as malice aforethought, he gave Crawford four stingers much lower down in the crease, the most sensitive area of any lad’s arse.  By the time he had finished, Crawford was weeping profusely and sporting what by any standards was a superbly well-beaten arse: an example of what can be achieved with the TLC of a senior cane applied by an expert hand.

If ever a lad had harvested what he had sown, at that very moment, it was Crawford. He had merited a severe beating, but after he had experienced the severity with which Rufus had attacked his nakedness, he found himself wondering if a legendary Headmaster’s birching, always talked of, but seldom ever experienced by any of the boys, as the nec-plus-ultra of corporal punishment, could have been any worse.

And it is true that the two implements, the birch and the rattan cane, both of which are capable of imparting agonising pain to the unfortunate recipient, are totally different. Whereas the birch gradually builds up the pain to indescribable levels, its multiple thin twigs leaving dozens of small welts across the entire surface of the victim’s arse, the cane, with its precision, immediately produces discrete stripes of instant agony and, in wrong hands, can do a lot more damage to a lad’s arse than can the birch.

But Rufus’s did not have the wrong-hands. Even though he regularly delivered the most stinging of canings and never held back, he never ever broke the skin of the boy he was beating; there was never any blood when Rufus had finished addressing a boy’s arse with the rattan cane. However, the unfortunate recipient never got up from a beating but Rufus with less than a well-beaten arse which felt as if it had been branded by a red-hot poker.

And this was the case with Crawford. Even though Rufus had ulterior, post-flagellation designs on Crawford’s arse, he had still not been able to resist giving him a truly severe beating. As Crawford rose from the chair, he stepped out of his shorts which had pooled around his ankles and made the classic, essentially futile attempt, to assuage his roasted buns with a pummelling massage. Any embarrassment he might have felt on account the huge erection which he was pointing, like a loaded pistol, at Rufus, was, for the moment forgotten in his attempts to calm the agonising pain he was experiencing.

CHAPTER 14

Rufus looked lasciviously at Crawford’s magnificent sexual endowment, which was clearly crying out for immediate attention. Couple this with the fact that Rufus’s own hard cock was practically bursting out from the fly of his trousers, it was obvious that both young men were in urgent need of some sexual relief. 

Rufus took the bull by the horns and said:  “Look here, Crawford, I know I have been a bit hard on you, but I am sure that you realise that you deserved it. But now that is all over, if you wish, you can go into my private bathroom and sit on the lavatory pan and attempt to lessen the pain by bathing your arse in cold water.  And after that, Oliver, if you bend over the chair again, I will massage a little soothing aloe vera ointment into your stripes, which will help reduce the pain.”

It did not pass unnoticed by Crawford that Rufus had now addressed him, for the first time, by his Christian name.  As he availed himself of the cold water in Rufus’s bathroom, he wondered to himself where this was now all leading. Obviously Rufus had something else in mind, but what?   A few minutes later, with the immediate pain subsiding, Oliver Crawford again bent across the dreaded armchair but this time to have his flaming arse anointed with a soothing Aloe Vera ointment rather than thrashed.  It had not escaped him that Rufus , to judge from the extreme tenting of his trousers, was as sexually aroused by the act of beating him as he himself had been in being beaten; and for that matter, they both still were!

As Rufus applied the Aloe Vera cream to sooth the searing pain of Oliver’s arse, he reflected on his next move.  The previous year he had had a very active and satisfactory sex life with his mentor-turned-best-friend, Nigel Kingston.  Nigel was the only person with whom Rufus had, until today, had sex. But although he had had only one partner to date,  that partner had proved to be an expert in sexual instruction and Rufus felt very comfortable with his own sexual capabilities when it came, as he hoped it would today, to fucking another man.

We are now at the end of the first week of term when Rufus has just become head-boy.  He has not had anal sex with anyone since the end of the previous summer term when he and his former partner, Nigel Kingston, both left St. Olaf’s. So as he stands there, applying the ointment to Oliver’s arse, Rufus reflects on the fact that he has not had sex for about nine weeks.  And for a young man, who has become accustomed to anal sex two or three times a week, it is not surprising that he is suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms. Sexual intercourse is just so very addictive!

It is equally understandable, presented with Oliver Crawford’s muscularly attractive buns, albeit striped by the cane, that Rufus can hardly contain the urge he feels to fuck the young man in front of him. There is no doubt that both of them, to judge from the rampant state of their cocks, are ready for some sort of sexual relief as both of them are both sexually aroused and tense by what has just taken place. But, as ever, one of them has to make the first move, otherwise the moment will be lost and the two of them will part.

Oliver will go off and jerk himself off in his own leaving Rufus to do the same by behind his own locked door.  It was the classic situation which has existed since the beginning of time in the English public school system. Both the beater, be it master or prefect, and the boy being beaten, if he has reached puberty, need to release their sexual tension by jerking off, immediately after the event. If ever there was a situation where three maxims dictate the actions now needed, these are they:

He who hesitates is lost – Strike whilst the iron is hot – Speed is of the essence. 

Taken together and acted upon, these three, well-known aphorisms seem to indicate the actions needed to avoid Oliver and Rufus going their separate ways and avoid forming a potentially agreeable sexual friendship.

Rufus thought back to what Nigel Kingston had said to him in a similar situation when he was the seduced, rather than as now, the seducer. As it had been the prelude to Rufus’s first time, he remembered exactly how Nigel had gone about seducing him into his bed after they had jointly just beaten two first formers. Nigel had said “Don’t you feel the need to get physical with yourself to relieve the erotic tension which has built up?”

So for starters Rufus said to Crawford, again using his Christian name: “Oliver, don’t you feel straight after a beating the need to get physical with yourself to relieve the erotic tension which has built up? Look here, Oliver, we’re both of the age where we need some form of sexual relief. I caught you jerking off in public and I fully understand why you felt the need to have a wank at that very moment.”

“It’s just a pity that you chose to do it in a public place and an even greater pity that I caught you at it, which has led to the present situation and a very sore arse for you. But just look at yourself right now. You’re all psyched up with the beating and your cock is demanding immediate attention, as is also mine. So instead of our each going off alone and jerking off in private, for that is that is what we are both going to do, I wondered if you might fancy – how shall I put it – a little joint effort at sexual fulfilment?”

“I’m not sure, Rothery, that I quite understand what you are getting at. Are you proposing that we have a communal wanking session or something else?”

“Look, Oliver, – and why don’t you call me Rufus now that the unpleasantness is over and done with – I sort of thought – actually hoped would be a better word – that we might develop a really close relationship as a result of this unfortunate incident which has thrown us together. Look Oliver, there is nothing personal at all in what I have just done to you. I was just fulfilling my duties as head-boy and I could not, in all conscience, let your actions go unpunished.  And if you thought I laid on the cane too hard, all I can say is that it’s the same for everyone.”

“I am a hard caner and I know I have a horrible reputation as being a right bastard, as I well might be. But you have to understand that as a prefect, one cannot run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Even though we, the prefects, sit with the others in class, we are no longer quite the same.”

“Oliver, and I kid you not, you are a very attractive, sexy guy. And from what I have seen of you so far (Rufus fixed his gaze on Oliver’s huge erection as he spoke) I really would like to see the rest of you. So I guess that what I am asking, is if you would like to consider getting into a sexual relationship with me.  Look, Oliver, cards on the table. I’m what is known, in polite terms, as a man’s man. I have known this since I was fourteen; but I have been active sexually only since I became eighteen last year.  To call a spade a spade, I would really like to get physical with you right now. So I guess the question is: are you interested or not in developing a physical relationship with me?”

“Rufus, – Oliver called head-boy by his Christian name for the first time, which Rufus took as an encouraging sign – if I understand you correctly, what you are suggestion is the you and I get physical with each other. But look, Rufus, the thing is, how physical is physical? Hitherto, I have never done anything much beyond jerking myself off in private. OK. I admit, I have occasionally wanked alongside another guy, but that is as far as I have gone.  Now, as you have levelled with me, I’ll do the same for you. Rufus, you do have a terrible reputation, and you are generally considered the worst of any of the prefects: an absolute bastard with the cane, in fact.”

“But that having been said, you are also a very attractive looking guy and I have to admit that right now, in spite of what you have just done to me – Oliver pulled a face as he said that – I admit that I am attracted towards you. In fact, Rufus, I may well be like you: a man who is drawn more towards other men than towards members of the opposite sex; not that we have much chance, cloistered away in a place like this, of meeting, let alone engaging with, members of the of the opposite sex. So what do you have in mind when you say that we might get physical with each other?  Rufus, you have to understand, that although you caught me wanking in public, that more or less sums up my total knowledge about sex: that is strictly as far as it goes at present.”

Rufus, listening to this confession of sexual ignorance from Oliver, said:  “Oliver, why don’t I just lock the door of my study so that we shall not be disturbed and take our potential relationship from there?”

Having received no objection from Oliver as to what he proposed, Rufus  turned the key in the lock of the of the door and then turned back to Oliver, whose lower reaches were still devoid of clothing and were still crowned by a magnificent boner. He saw that Oliver was trembling slightly at the thought of the unknown, but as he had posed no objections, he now pulled off the lad’s gym vest over his head, rendering him completely naked. For a few moments he gazed with lustful pleasure at the well-ripped body of his partner to be, for that is how he now viewed Oliver

He then dropped to his knees and took the head of Oliver’s mouth-wateringly attractive cock, already dripping with pre-cum, into his mouth. If Oliver was surprised, he certainly did not show it as Rufus systematically began to suck off the young man. Oliver showed his appreciation of what was happening to him by emitting gentle moans of pleasure as Rufus steadily massaged his partner’s cock with his mouth towards climax. But before he allowed Oliver to reach orgasm, Rufus suddenly withdrew his mouth leaving him in a state, bordering on but no quite reaching, the heights of nirvana. He took Oliver by the hand and led him gently to his bedroom. He pulled back the top sheet, spread a large bath towel on the lower sheet and very gently pushed Oliver face down onto the bed.

A compliant Oliver docilely obeyed Rufus’s instructions and spread his legs to give access to his anus, which Rufus proceeded to lubricate carefully with a good dose of baby-oil. As Rufus performed the task he had done many times in preparing his first partner, Nigel Kingston for sex and which he himself had undergone times without number, he, nevertheless, shuddered at the intensity of the six stripes he had given Oliver. But the slight feeling of guilt he felt was quickly forgotten by the thrill to be preparing to fuck an arse which he had just beaten and which was still in its virgin, untouched state.

Oliver was to be only the second partner to feel the power of Rufus’s cock, with which, in its own way, he was as powerful when he fucked butt as he was with the cane. However, this would be the first time that Rufus would use his cock to initiate a guy who was still a virgin, into the joys of anal sex. And exactly as he had not held back when he was beating Oliver, he now intended to use his very best efforts to take his partner to a climactic orgasm for his first time. In much the same way as a year ago when Nigel Kingston had taken him under his sexual wing and introduce him the the pleasures of anal sex, he was hoping against hope that he could now do the same for Oliver.

In was a pity that their first meeting had had to involve such severe disciplinary action. But in spite of having thrashed Oliver’s arse and endowing him with the six, hideously painful, livid welts at which he was now looking, Rufus felt inexplicably drawn towards Oliver Crawford. Somehow he sensed that there was a great affinity between the two them.  Oliver had already acquiesced without complaint to Rufus’s first steps towards his ultimate goal to fuck him and the fact that he was now being allowed to anoint his potential partner’s virgin arse with lubricant without any resistance, did seem to indicate a certain mutuality of mind between the two of them. Certainly, Oliver was not objecting to Rufus’s ministrations on his arse.

Rufus had suddenly taken a great liking to Oliver  whom he foresaw as his future sex partner for the rest to the school year. Oliver certainly had all the physical attributes which any gay man could wish for in a sex partner. Rufus could hardly wait to finish what he was doing as at that very moment, there was nothing he wanted more in the world, than to sink his own man-meat into Oliver’s anus and introduce him to the pleasures of anal sex. Add to this the fact that his  cock, due to lack of a suitable partner, having been denied sexual access to a partner throughout the summer, was gasping for some action, the chances were that Oliver’s surrendering of his anal virginity would be a very significant act for both participants.

What Rufus did not know, however, was that Oliver, lying there allowing his future lover to prepare him for his initiation into the world of anal sex, was also looking forward to what was about to happen to him.  Slightly apprehensive, as is any young man in the run-up to his first time, Oliver was nevertheless pleased that things were turning out the way they appeared to be at the moment. A dedicated, lone wanker himself, for more the last eighteen months he had long wished that something would happen to take things further.

Unbeknown to Rufus, Oliver was exactly in the state Rufus had been a year ago: a man’s man in waiting. Like Rufus, Oliver he had long known that he had eyes only for other men rather than for members of the opposite sex. And like Rufus he had done nothing to turn his timid desires into action. And so, exactly as Rufus had been taken in hand by Nigel Kingston, Rufus was now about to take him in hand.  Of course, Rufus was unaware that he had, by chance, stumbled across a very willing, if totally uninitiated, potential partner.

Oliver knew nothing about the relationship between Rufus and Nigel. But he did see that he had, by chance, become involved with an experienced sex operator, who was about to initiate him into the joys of anal sex.  And so as Rufus massaged the lubricating oil into his anus, Oliver felt a glow of satisfaction pulse through body, in anticipation of what was about to happen to him.

And then, it all happened as Oliver had imagined. The lubrication phase was over and Rufus knelt behind him on the bed and pushed the head of his cock, which he had also doused with oil, against the anal entry port to Oliver’s private parts.  As an anal virgin, Oliver had a very tight anus, protected by what was clearly a strong sphincter. But with his considerable experience, Rufus did not hesitate to thrust his hard meat firmly against the resistant muscle, which quickly capitulated and allowed his well-lubricated cock to slide fully inside Oliver.

Like most young men, in the throes of having being penetrated for the first time, thereby surrendering their anal innocence forever, Oliver let out a cry of pain, as the invading tool brushed past his prostate. But once that momentary pain had passed, he relaxed and waited for the next stage in his initiation into the joys of anal sex.  And just as Oliver was eager to get himself fucked, so also was Rufus, deprived of sex over the long summer vacation, eager to fuck him. However, Rufus had never considered that his first fuck of the term as head-boy would be, metaphorically, equivalent to deflowering his partner.

But as it transpired, Rufus, the confirmed fucker, and Oliver, the prospective fuckee, were in perfect mental harmony for what was now about to happen.  This was an act to which Oliver had, by his acquiescence to the advances made by Rufus, unspokenly accepted. But it was also an act of which Oliver was unclear about the outcome.  Other than what he hoped would be the pleasure of feeling Rufus batter his arse and fuck-hole with his cock, what else could come out of the act they were engaged in?

Immediately after penetrating Oliver, Rufus has paused for a moment before beginning the forceful thrusting with which he would ultimately bring himself, and hopefully Oliver too, to his climax.  Rufus was as vigorous with his own rod as he gave Oliver his first fuck as had earlier been with the cane. With his long smooth strokes, he soon had Oliver moaning with pleasure.  Oliver suddenly climaxed, taking Rufus by complete surprise, as his partner suddenly reached his first orgasm and ejaculated an enormous quantify of his thick, creamy sperm all over the towel on which he was lying.  Rufus, who never fucked butt without taking himself to orgasm, continued pounding Oliver’s arse until, just a few moments later he himself exploded, and pumped his own generous load deep into his partner.

Rufus withdrew himself from Oliver and lay beside him flat on his back, resting for a few moments to recover from the effort he had just made. He then he whispered to Oliver that he should turn over onto his back, which Oliver did without any question.  Rufus immediately rolled over onto his knees, lifted Oliver’s legs over his own shoulders and proceeded to fuck him for a second time in the mission position.

This time, Rufus was able to control things better and he achieved his aim of bringing them both to a simultaneous orgasm as he withdrew his cock from Oliver’s anus, before thrusting his full length back with tremendous force. Once again the two of them, totally intoxicated by the sheer pleasure of the sex act, produced huge quantity of sperm.  Oliver pumped his own cream all over himself and onto Rufus’ chest, before Rufus, exhausted by his efforts fell across Oliver where the two of them became tantamount to being glued together in the copious quantities of spunk.

So that was how the two of them became what might best be described as an item of necessity for the three terms of their final year at St. Olaf’s. The only thing which drew them together was that Rufus want a regular partner to fuck and Oliver, once he had tasted the forbidden fruit of anal copulation, wanted to be fucked. And therein and lies the secret of their harmony.  Oliver, by chance, wanted only to be fucked and not to exercise his cock on his partner Rufus.  He was quite content to allow Rufus to take him to climax and experience the undoubted pleasure of an orgasm which was produced by his partner, without ever wishing to do the same to Rufus.

When the two young men left St. Olaf’s for ever at end of the year, Oliver had never exercised his own cock on Rufus’s arse. He had never even suggested that he might like to try fucking Rufus, which suited Rufus down to the ground. The role of prime-mover imbued him with feeling of dominance. So when they they finally parted ways at the end of that final school year, Oliver’s cock remained in the virgin state of being Penis intactus. Oliver was, in modern day idiom, a natural, died-in-the wool bottom, a state with which he seemed to be totally satisfied sexually. 

Rufus, who in his earlier relationship with his teacher and mentor in matters sexual, Nigel Kingston, had been accustomed to a give and take relationship, was more than happy to play the dominant role with Oliver. In fact, in his sex life after he had left school, that tyrannical streak in his makeup, was to exert itself and in all his future sexual relationships, he was a dedicated top: he fucked others but was never fucked back. There was nothing reciprocal about his sex life, into which neither love nor mutuality entered.

CHAPTER 15

Subsequent to Oliver’s first time, he and Rufus were regular sexual communicants, and managed to have sex at least twice a week for the rest of the school year.  Rufus thrashed his way through a large number of his schoolmates and, as already indicated, by the time he left St. Olaf’s was generally considered be the greatest bastard in  living memory by those who had experienced his largesse with the cane.

But when Oliver and Rufus left St. Olaf’s at the end of the year, it was as if their liaison had never existed.  There were none of the finer feelings of friendship between them which might have developed from their regular sexual intimacy. Each of them had used the other as a foil to satisfy his own sexual needs: Rufus to fuck and Oliver to be fucked. So, when they left the school that was that.  They each went their separate ways; Oliver to Cambridge to read mathematics and Rufus to Oxford. They never ever met again!

That autumn, Rufus went up to Oxford to read what is called Greats: essentially the study of Greek and Roman civilisations, philosophy and languages. As a member of the esteemed Gresham College, Rufus quickly attracted the attention of his tutor, due to his extraordinary ability with the languages of ancient Greece and Rome, both of which he spoke, read and wrote as if they were his mother tongue. But probably the most gratifying aspect of his life at Oxford was that he met up again with his original sex partner from St. Olaf’s, Nigel Kingston.

After Kingston, a year older than Rufus, had left St. Olaf’s the previous year the two young men had since had no contact. In that year, Rufus’s carnal needs had been satisfied by the liaison he had developed with Oliver Crawford, who himself had now gone on to read mathematics at Cambridge.

Both Nigel and Rufus were delighted to be able to renew the relationship which they had enjoyed together at St. Olaf’s. Somehow the two young men had seemed destined for each other at school and the year’s rupture in their relationship was forgotten on their first meeting in Oxford. Throwing caution to the winds, they both finished up in Nigel’s bed, where they fucked each other with a vigour which testified to their mutual desire.

But Nigel, the erstwhile mentor, quickly realised, as Rufus vigorously attacked – yes that is the right the word – his hole with his rock-hard cock that his student had become a truly professional and dedicated practitioner of the art of anal sex. Nigel saw immediately that he had nothing more to teach Rufus, who, as is often the case, was now the equal of his former mentor. 

Nigel, in his first year at Oxford, had not let the grass go under the feet of his sex life and by the time that Rufus arrived the following year, he already had a number of like-minded young men with whom he was having sex on a regular basis. But Nigel came very quickly to appreciate that when it came to sex, Rufus was head and shoulders above any of his other sex partners in Oxford. 

Nigel also saw that Rufus had clearly become a man who wanted to dominate his partner. And so it was that their relationship quickly turned from one of mutuality, in which they both fucked each other, to one in which Rufus dominated as the sole active partner.  But so intoxicated with Rufus’s proficiency in using his cock and the utterly exquisite orgasms which the young man was capable of giving him, Nigel quickly accepted that their relationship had now become one in which he was the subordinate partner.

Like many young homosexual men, Rufus made hay whilst the sun was shining and, thanks to Nigel, who introduced him to most of his like-mined friends, he quickly developed a very active and satisfying sex life as a new undergraduate. His prowess with his cock quickly earned him the reputation as being one of the best tops around and, as such, he was in great demand at many of the group sex parties which were a regular feature of the life practised by the milieu at Oxford in which he moved.

In spite of his dedication to the pleasures of gay sex, he was nevertheless a very diligent student and his tutors quickly realised that they had a star on their hands. But although sexually and academically Rufus’s life at Oxford was very satisfactory, one thing was sadly missing from his daily existence: the lack of boys to beat. 

Rufus’s final two years at St. Olaf’s, first as a junior prefect and then as head-boy, had brought out and allowed him to indulge in that tyrannical streak in his nature. In a word, in his final two years at school, he had already become what can best be described as a strict disciplinarian. Even as a junior prefect he had already acquired a notorious reputation for his devotion to the cane. But as head-boy, in a position of loco magistri, beating of boys naked arses had become a practice bordering on an obsession.

But now, as an undergraduate at Oxford, with no conveniently youthful buttocks around to beat, he felt completely deprived of an act which had, at St. Olaf’s had become, almost like the air he breathed,  part of his daily life. However, an extraordinary life-line came shortly before Christmas, in the form of a letter from Mr. Bernard B. Hamilton, his former Headmaster at St. Olaf’s, who wrote:

Dear Rothery,

I trust you are adapting to your new life at Oxford. Your teachers here at St. Olaf’s always spoke very highly of your abilities at the classics, which I believe is the course you are now reading at Oxford.

As you are no doubt aware, having, I believe, been subjected to it yourself, St. Olaf’s operates a system whereby boys, whose parents cannot, for some reason or another, accommodate them during the  school vacations, are cared for by the school in loco parentis.

In this context, we are looking, for the first time, to appoint a Vacation Tutor to supervise these boys over the Christmas, Easter and summer vacations.  It occurred that me that you would be ideal for this temporary post whilst you are still at university.

Left to their own devices during the vacations, the boys have a remarkable tendency to display an alarming degree of disregard both of the rules (which are still enforced out of term) and of people in general. It is, therefore, my earnest belief that the boys still require the supervision of a strict disciplinarian such as you showed yourself to be during your final two years at St. Olaf’s, first as a junior prefect and latterly as head-boy. So even though these boys are not attending classes, a short, sharp shock with the cane, if they misbehave, will not come amiss.

Your prowess with the cane is still spoken of in hushed tones by those who knew you as head-boy and is generally considered to be a bench-mark by which your immediate successor is, no doubt, being judged.

The post is, of course, temporary but is generously remunerated and you will be provided with suitable accommodation. In in fact, the head-boy’s study, with which you are familiar, will be at your disposal. All meals and laundry services will be provided and travel costs to and from Oxford will, of course, be reimbursed.

Perhaps you would be good enough to let me know whether or not this offer interests you.  I think that you will find that St. Olaf’s vacation dates fit in well with those of Oxford, and you will of course be able to devote your free time to your university course work.

With kindest personal regards,

Yours sincerely

B. B. Hamilton

Headmaster

Rufus could barely contain his excitement on reading this letter. Of course, he wrote promptly back to the Headmaster to tell him that he would be delighted to accept his offer. That evening he could not wait to share the good news with Nigel Kingston, who, in his own way had been as keen a disciplinarian as Rufus had become had taught Rufus what might be termed the tricks of the trade when it came to wielding the cane.  And when, a little later, they lay in bed together, Rufus gave Nigel’s arse a truly monumental pounding in celebration of his good-luck.

So for the next three years, Rufus spent term time at Oxford, where he exercised his undoubted sexual abilities on Nigel Kingston and, after Nigel’s departure on graduation, on several other like-minded young men, all of whom were delighted to count Rufus as one of their sex partners.  But his vacations were now spent at St. Olaf’s, when he took every opportunity which presented itself to thrash the naked arses of his charges. This provided a lifeline to his perpetual but secret devotion to the cane, which by now was fast turning into an obsession.