The Making of a Tyrannical Headmaster

CHAPTER 31

 What was extraordinary was that Rufus, having truly treated the four lads to what, by any normal standards, was an over-the-top thrashing, he emerged with his own standing enhanced. In not demoting them and urging them to deal in a strict manner with their housemates, he had gained their confidence. Rufus had already won that key, first step in getting his senior members behind him in the struggle to set York House to rights. He had inspired them to endeavour to take York House from its present position of tantamount to a laughingstock in the school and to restore its reputation in the eyes of the other houses.

What Rufus, for all his love of the cane and the pleasure he got from applying it, had understood, was that among the six houses which constituted Rigby School, there existed that inevitable friendly rivalry always present when groups of essentially equals complete against each other. He had, by his actions, inspired his four senior boys to attempt to restore York House to its former position where it could once again be considered a serious rival to the others and not, as it now was thought of, as an also-ran.

So, although Rufus had certainly, as was his wont, treated the four boys excessively severely, which had secretly given him personally great satisfaction and left them nursing excruciating painful arses arses, the four young men found that they left their new housemaster with no feelings of  animosity or resentment towards him for what was an over-the-top thrashing. In fact they went away filled with nothing but respect heavily tinged with admiration for their new housemaster for having had the courage to take matters in hand so quickly and firmly.

And the galvanising effect that Rufus’s actions had had on the four prefects manifested itself in the form of an immediate opportunity to exercise their authority, a characteristic which had hitherto been lamentably lacking.  As the four of them hobbled back to their respective studies where they would attempt to assuage the pain raging in their arses, like manna from heaven, a situation requiring immediate attention – their immediate attention – suddenly presented itself.

As they turned the corner from one corridor into the next, a boy who had been loitering there unseen until now, trying to determine what was happening to the four house-prefects in the the housemaster’s study,  suddenly saw that he had dallied too long and ran off down the corridor. Now, running anywhere inside the school at Rigby was a very serious offence as it was in most schools and any boy caught in the act usually finished up with a very well-deserved sore arse. Avery, recognising the boy who was trying to avoid being caught, shouted after him: “Milson minor, (Yes, that’s right! The selfsame boy whom Rufus had beaten at the Headmaster’s behest) stop running, boy, turn around and come back here. And Milson, when I say come back here, I mean walk back here.”

An apparently totally unconcerned Milson came back and stood in front of the four house-prefects. He then asked in a very imprudent and impudent manner, as he must have known he had been caught breaking one of the school’s cardinal rules: “You called me, Avery. Did you wish to say something to me?”  His remarks and rude manner had the same effect on Avery as has the waving of a red rag in front of an angry bull.

“Milson minor, are you aware that you were breaking one of the strictest rules of this school by running down the corridor just now? Why were you in such a hurry, Milson and where, exactly, were you going in such haste?”

Milson, really impudent as ever and apparently sensing no danger to himself in his behaviour, as he had no idea that things had, that very afternoon, already changed in York House, said:  “Well, Avery, if you really must know, I was running down the corridor to the common room as I did not want to miss tea. So now that you know, may I get on my way as I really do hate to miss tea?”

“Milson, your behaviour and manners when you addressing your house-caption and house-prefects are totally inexcusable. I am afraid that for today, tea is completely out of the question for you. What you may do, Milson, is to go and wait for us in the library whilst we have go and have tea ourselves. We will then join you there, by which time we will have decided how to deal with your disregard for the rules and your impudence.”

“Oh, come on, Avery.  Don’t pull rank on me. You lot break the rules as does everyone else in York House. We all know that running in the corridors has always been overlooked in this house, along with numerous other of the stupid, piddling, little rules we are supposed to obey but don’t.  So why don’t you forget what you just saw and I let me go and get my tea?”

“Milson, what is it that you do not understand?  I have just told you, quite clearly, that you will have to forgo tea today and that you will go to the library and wait for us there. Then, after we have had our tea, we shall come to the library and attend to your needs. Stretch your imagination, Milson, and try to think, in view of your bad behaviour, what your needs might be. Milson, I think had you listened and understood what our new housemaster said to us at this morning’s house assembly, you would have realised that things were no longer to be the same as in the past in York House.  The lack of discipline that has been has been the chief characteristics of life in this house for the past few years is, as of right now, no more. So, Milson, as you are already in deep trouble, I suggest you do as I have just said and go and wait for us in the library.”

“Oh, come on, Avery; you can’t really be serious. You’re not going to punish me on the first day of term for a piffling, supposed offence, which most boys have regularly committed in this house and which has always been accepted as unimportant.”

“You have hit the nail on the head, Milson. Yes you are going to be punished for what you choose to define as a piffling offence, which, allow me to assure you, running in the corridor is most certainly not. And as of now, I think you had better get into your head that what I am sure you think of as the good old days, are gone forever.  Milson, as you are shortly to find out, things in this house will, henceforth be done by the book. Now unless you wish to make matters worse for yourself – and they are already bad enough – just do as I have told you and go and wait in the library for us. Remember, Milson, the old adage; everything comes to him who waits.  Believe me, Milson, when I say that we shall do our best to see that your wait in the library has not been in vain.”

A by now very nervous Milson finally saw he had lost the battle of words and went off to await his fate in the library during which time he would, presumably, contemplate his naval. Meanwhile, the four prefects went and had a leisurely tea in the common room. It is amazing how the soothing effects of the tea – that sine-qua-non, that stalwart, cure-all of English life – coupled with the  pleasurable fact that they were about to beat the living daylights out of Milson’s arse, cheered them up no end.  It is not to say that their own backsides were not still aflame from the effects of Rufus’s ministrations, for his efforts with the cane always had a long residual effect. But the thought of whacking the odious Milson uplifted their spirits amazingly. And it was an exercise they felt was totally justified – which it was.  They had been the first – let us call them – beneficiaries of the new order, which they had then been exhorted to uphold. And in beating Milson as they shortly intended to do, they felt they were doing their solemn duty as house-prefects – which they were. And if they experienced a certain degree of pleasure from their efforts, then so be it. After all, they were four human beings, replete with all the usual faults.

Half an hour later, the four prefects entered the library to find a very nervous Milson talking to a group other boys. From the looks they received from the other boys, it was obvious that Milson had told them the whole sad story leading to his presence. Avery began: “Right, everyone except Milson will leave the library immediately; come on, you lot; out you all get and on the double.” He then turned to the door where the as-yet-unused, virgin library canes were hanging. After a brief glance, he, picked the senior cane of its hook and said to Milson: “You, Milson, are big for your age and as a serial offender, I think that on this occasion, in view of the seriousness of your present offence and the offensive argumentative nature you showed towards the house-prefects and me, a sharp taste of the senior cane will do you a world of good on this occasion.”

Milson made as if to object and then obviously thought better of it, as the menacingly angry look from Avery said it all:  “Take off your coat and drop your trousers and underpants, Milson, and then bend across the end of the library table over there. Stick your bare bottom, which, as you have, by now, probably divined, has an important role – no, let me be precise: the most important role – to to play in the proceedings in which we will all participate.  Then reach down the table as far as you can with your arms, grip the edge of the tabletop with your hands and keep perfectly still until I tell you otherwise.”

“Milson, for your sins today, you are to receive twelve cuts of the cane. Let me tell you that you are a very fortunate young man, Milson, as the experience you are about have, is one given to very few.  You, Milson, will have the extreme good fortune today to be able to compare and contrast the caning techniques of all four of your four house-prefects as the twelve strokes you are about to receive in retribution for your sins, will be given by the four of us sequentially, as we have decided to share the onerous task of beating your bottom equally among us.  So, Milson you will receive three strokes from each of us.”

“Oh, before I forget, just let me conclude in telling you that this cane which I am holding in my hand, is brand new. So you, Milson, will have the dual honour of not only being the first boy to be beaten on this, the first day of the new term, in the library, but also that of experiencing the maiden performance of the senior one of the two new library canes. This is a signal honour and I can but recommend you to savour what is a truly unique moment in the annals of York House.”

Whether Milson would savour the honour which had been so sarcastically outlined to him by his house-captain is doubtful. But at the mention of the word, twelve, Milson had blanched visibly, for he had clearly not anticipated such a severe beating. And the fact that the twelve cuts were to be delver by four different hands mad things even worse.  Milson had immediately seen that by dividing his punishment among the four prefects, the house-captain had introduced a very dangerous element of competition into the proceedings. So as Milson, who was not at all stupid, now for saw, each successive flagellator would wish to outdo his predecessor. Things certainly boded ill for poor Milsons arse.

And to misquote a biblical phrase:  And lo, it came to pass exactly as Milson had prophesied.  Avery first handed the cane to Conway, who, as had been agreed among the four prefects, began Milson’s punishment from the bottom of his back, by applying his three strokes, strictly parallel, with the suitable appreciation pause between each one of them, before handing the cane to Bentham.  And just as Milson had predicted to himself Bentham attempted to outdo Conway and the intensity of the strokes increased – if indeed, that was possible.  Naturally, Parry then went on and tried to outdo his two co-prefects.

So when nine strokes had been given and Milson was in utter agony and howling with pain, the final – let us call it coup-de grace – was delivered by Avery. As house-captain, Avery had reserved for himself, as a sort of droit de seigneur, the pleasure of giving Milson his final three cuts in the highly sensitive crease area. At that very moment, as that twelfth stroke landed with that resoundingly inimitable crack of a rattan-cane mating with a boy’s bare buttocks through the closed library door, Rufus himself walked along the corridor on his way out of the school for an evening of sexual pleasure with Tom Swires.

He saw he gaggle of lads around the door of the library and although it was as pain as a pikestaff what was happening within as he heard that final crack of the cane himself, he nevertheless paused for a moment and asked what he knew to be a rhetorical question: “So boys, what is going on in there right now, which is obviously so fascinating as to command your entire attention?”

The group of lads, turned to face their new housemaster with that nervous, guilty look, so common among schoolboys when they think they have been caught what is colloquially called at it: which means caught doing something they were not supposed to be doing. Of course, it was completely natural for the boys to hang around waiting in the corridor after they had been kicked out of the library when something exciting was about to happen. Who, under similar circumstances, would have done any different? But Rufus was amused and also encouraged, to see how nervous the boys had become by his unexpected appearance. Clearly something of what he had said at that morning’s assembly had got through to them.

There was a slight pause before one boy finally elected himself as spokesman for the group and said, very nervously indeed: “Sir, the house-captain and the three house-prefects just turned us out of the library where we were reading, sir. And now they are in there beating Milson minor having caught him running the corridor, sir.  But sir, Milson was only running to the common room to get his tea, sir and didn’t want to be late, sir; that’s really all he was doing sir. And now sir, just for that, sir, Milson has been given twelve strokes of the cane sir. That crack you heard just now, sir, was the twelfth stroke sir. Sir, twelve strokes do seem an awful lot just for running in the corridor, sir, especially when he was just going to get his tea sir.  And sir, last year, sir, no one was ever beaten for running in the corridor, sir.”

Rufus listened amused to this – let us call it, sir rich monologue – before saying: “Well boys, as I told you in assembly this morning, things have now changed in York House. So if the prefects caught Milson running in the corridor, which is, as you all must be aware, viewed as a very serious offence. It can lead to nasty accidents, which it has done in the past. So I think that the prefects have every right to hold Milson accountable for his actions. So if those are the fact, then Milson deserves to be beaten for his offence. Make no mistake boys; as of now, things have changed in York House and all misdeeds will be punished. So, if you value your hides, then I recommend all of you to hold fast to the rules.”

At that moment the door of the library opened and a sobbing Milson, vigorously massaging his buttocks, emerged followed by the house-captain and prefects.  Avery said to the boys: “Alright boys you may now go back and resume your reading in the library if you wish.” Then turning to Rufus he said: “Well sir, we have just had occasion to punish Milson for running in the corridor. We caught him just as we left your study, sir, and when we stopped him he became very rude to us. And so we all agreed he needed to be taught a very severe lesson. So we have just given him a very sound beating sir. I believe, sir, he will think again before breaking any rules as we have left him with the very painful souvenir: a very painful souvenir indeed, sir.”

“Well, gentlemen, I am very pleased to see that you are taking your responsibilities seriously after the earlier discussion we had together. It is gratifying to me to see that my senior boys are behind me in my mission to change things for the better in York House. So congratulations to you all for a job well done in dealing so rapidly with our friend Milson minor here. I am happy to say that you all have my fullest support and confidence in what might possibly prove to be a thankless task.”

“As for you, Milson, you already have the reputation of being a problem boy: a boy never out of trouble.  You will doubtless remember that I had occasion to beat you myself for the selfsame offence, running in the corridor, before I actually joined this school, as a teacher and, by chance, became your housemaster. Now, Milson, from what I have just heard, you do not seem to have learned anything at all from that first beating as you have now just suffered twelve strokes of the cane from your house-prefects for exactly the same offence. Well young man, let me make one thing quite clear to you here and now. If I hear of you committing any other offence, no matter how trivial, then I promise you that I shall take great pleasure in taking the skin off your backside. Believe me, Milson, when I tell you that what you have just experienced at the hands of the house-prefects, will feel like a summer breeze compared to what I shall visit upon you. Now get out of my sight, boy, and learn to behave yourself.”

Rufus then left the school premises and went to see Tom Swires, where the two of them devoted themselves to the pleasures of anal sex.  As a perpetual top to Tom’s bottom, Rufus was in a particularity horny mood, probably due to the unfulfilled erotic arousal he had experienced earlier that day as he shredded his prefects arses with his cane. Tom therefore had the pleasure of taking Rufus’s particularly hard cock in a non-stop session of exceptional vigour which went on well into the early hours of the following morning. When Rufus finally left his lover to return to York House, in spite of the considerable energy he had expended fucking Tom’s arse, he felt fully refreshed and, after a very few hours sleep, he arose fighting fit to meet the challenges of the new day; so much for the restorative powers of sex; the basic act without which few men, including Rufus Rothery, can live.

So there it was; proof positive that their new housemaster’s remarks at that morning’s assembly had to be taken seriously. The house grapevine quickly relayed the blood-chilling news that the Mr. Rothery meant what he had said. By suppertime, there was not one boy in the house unaware of the fact that their new house-master had already beaten the house-captain and all three house-prefects, who had then gone on and given Milson minor twelve cuts on the bare.  Things were already changing and life in York House would never be the same again.

CHAPTER 32

That first term, numerous members of York House from the new boys to those in their final year in the upper sixth, had their first painful encounter with the cane, either delivered by their new housemaster or by the three house-prefects under the leadership of Ronald Avery, the house-captain. But even after such practical demonstrations of their new housemaster’s serious intention, it nevertheless took quite some time before the fact, that things were no longer what they had been in the past was finally accepted across the entire house.

After their initial, rather painful encounter with their housemaster’s cane on the very first day of term, the four prefects saw immediately, that if they wanted to keep the privileged positions to which they had been named and to avoid any further beatings by their housemaster themselves, they had to do their duty.  And so, like most boys, who are authorised to chastise their schoolmates, the house-prefects became zealous – over-zealous some would have said – keepers of order in their house. Boys were regularly turned out of the library in the early evening as it became the place where the prefects corrected their schoolmates. And correct them they did, without fear or favour with the cane being applied generously, but always with vigour and always on the bare. 

The corridors outside the library echoed almost every evening of that first term to that unique crack of a rattan cane mating with the naked bottom of some deserving or even, dare one say it, undeserving boy? The crack of the cane was followed by that customary vocal expression of appreciation from the recipient for the services rendered.  Such regular executions attracted quite a gaggle of curious lads, who loitered around in the corridor, outside the library, listening with that prurient mixture of Schadenfreude  (pleasure at the misfortunes of others) and horror at what was happening within, coupled with the fervent, but oft vain, hope that they would never experience the same themselves.

But possibly the worst – or best, depending from what point of view you are looking at things – examples of caning, were those carried out by the house-prefects in the junior dormitories. In the first, second and third form dormitories, Rufus had already hung two canes behind each door, by way of a silent warning of things to come if rules were broken. There were two eight bed-dormitories for each year, for a total of some forty-eight boys in all. So to any house-prefect intent on exercising his authority, there was no shortage of young candidate arses to beat.

Dormitory canings, where the whole dormitory of boys in their pyjamas, were caned together, became a means of killing two birds with one stone. Well, not exactly, of course; but you see what I mean. By catching the eight occupants of a dormitory together at some nefarious act, it was possible to have a line up of eight naked arses to thrash in one place in record quick time.  The undoubted advantage of a full dormitory beating was that as the eight occupants were already wearing pyjamas, naked access could easily be had to that vital part to their lower anatomy which played an indispensible part on such occasions.

And the fact that each of the six junior dormitories  was now equipped with what their occupants thought of as  canes-in-waiting, hanging menacingly there behind the door, just asking to be taken down and exercised on some poor lads bare arse, encouraged the house prefects to increase their vigilance and to exercise their authority.  Not of course, that the house-prefects needed much encouragement to exercise their authority, for with the excessive zeal, which so often accompanies recent converts to any cause – and the house-captain and the three house prefects were certainly worthy of the term, zealots, when came to wielding the cane – by the end of the first term, the entire population of forty-eight boys in those six junior dormitories had been painfully initiated into the new regimen of York House.

Of course, with the bit between their teeth and the clear blessing of their housemaster, the house-prefects took every opportunity to exercise their authority over their housemates. And intent as they were in beating every available arse, the prefects now used even the slightest deviation from even the most piffling of the school rules to justify beatings. What normally happened was that the house-prefect on dormitory duty that evening made his rounds of the junior dormitories to ensure that lights were switched off on the dot of eight-thirty for the first and second or nine for the third formers.  The duty prefects checked that all the boys were in bed at the appointed hour and then switched off the lights and closed the door.  In theory, that was then that until next morning.

But even with the canes hanging in monitory waiting behind the door and in spite of the painful consequences which they knew could descend upon them if they deviated even by an inch from the straight and narrow path of obedience, boys being boys,  nevertheless frequently got up to mischief.  When I say mischief, it was not as if the lads did anything really naughty.  But any activity after lights-out was a justification for a beating and the house-prefects took their housemates to task even the most minor infraction.

So, knowing that when the cat’s away the mice will play, the prefects adopted the rather sneaky practice of revisiting the dormitories a little later the same evening, to see if they could catch any one at it. By at it was meant any deviation from even the most minor of rules. So, for instance, the fact that the dormitory lights had been switched on again after lights-out was used as a pretext by the prefects to thrash every occupant of the offending dormitory. By assiduous application of such practices, the prefects were able to congratulate themselves at the end of term in having broken the all-time record, by having managed to beat every single boy in the first, second and third form dormitories of York House at least once.

Not to over-dwell upon the dormitory beatings, which rapidly became commonplace in York House, it was the eight new boys in one of the two first-form dormitories, who at the end of their first week in York House, found themselves first to be offered an invitation they could not refuse, to present their bare backsides to their house-captain, Ronald Avery and house-prefect, Roger Conway for a beating. Avery and Conway had together gone on the prowl with the specific purpose of seeing if they could catch any forbidden, post-lights-out activity in any of the junior dormitories.

As luck – good for Avery and Conway, but disastrously bad for the boys of that first-form dormitory – had it, the prefects opened the door on a dormitory pillow fight.  All members of the dormitory were involved in bashing each other with their bed-pillows and having, what until the arrival of the two prefects, had been a jolly good time. Suddenly the boys became aware that the door had been opened and that retribution for their activities was nigh.  On seeing the two prefects the eight lads suddenly made an attempt to get back into their beds.

“No so fast, boys,” said the house-captain, “As you are all aware, you are all breaking one of the golden and most strictly enforced rules of the dormitories. Lights-out means what it says and in putting back on the lights you have broken that rule. Now breaking any rule at all in York House, leads to painful consequences for the offenders. And in switching back on the lights and having a pillow-fight, the eight of you will now find that your action has very painful consequences indeed.”

“So, boys, I am afraid that all of you are about to experience a very uncomfortable night when you finally get back into your beds. Each of you, pick up your pillow and place it at the foot of your bed. Then take off your pyjama trousers, lay them on the bed and kneel on the floor at the end of your bed.  Bend across the pillow, stretch your arms out full length along the mattress and stick your bare bottoms into the air. In case any of you have not understood by now what is now about to happen, let me spell it out for you. Conway and I are going to beat each and every one of on your bare backsides in retribution for your actions.”

The boys were stunned by the speed at which they had moved from the euphoria of the pillow-fight to a situation in which they were going to have their naked arses whacked.  Not surprisingly, they were slow to react to the house-captain’s order, as if, in some way, hoping that some divine intervention would intercede and save them from the inevitable. But, of course, the die was cast and they were all about to be beaten.

Avery now reinforced his order:  “Come on boys, move yourselves. Are you all deaf or have you not understood a simple order? If I do not see eight bare arses stretched across the bottom of your beds in double quick time, let me just tell you that the six mandatory cuts of the cane for which you have all qualified thanks to your stupidity, will be upped to nine.  Now, for the last time, get a move on, as we do not have all night.”

Whist the boys were preparing themselves for the inevitable, the house-captain unhooked the two canes from behind the door, handed one to Conway and said: “Well gentlemen, let what is about to happen to you be a lesson to you all that the school rules are to be obeyed at all times.  Conway and I will now engrave this message on your arses. It is quite surprising how effective a well-beaten arse is in making a boy remember things.  And as every opportunity for instruction should be taken and in the interests of equality of treatment, Conway and I will give each of you three strokes with the cane.”

It is worth noting that although swearing, as was use of bad language and vulgarities in general, was strictly forbidden and was punished by a severe beating if detected, the prefects, in common with the boys in general, even the prefects referred to that very important part of any public schoolboy’s anatomy, as his arse.

“Conway, if you would deal with four young miscreants on the left, I will do the same with the four on the right. Then after three strokes we will switch sides and complete the minimum, six-cut mandatory beating for all dormitory offences.  Now, boys, whilst you are being corrected you will keep your hands on the bed  and away from your bottoms until I tell you that you may get up and regain your beds.”

“As I say, Conway and I will do our very best to ensure that each of you goes back to bed tonight with a well-beaten arse as a souvenir of your folly. You will, as I am sure you have by now appreciated, each have the privilege of experiencing the different caning techniques of your house-captain and one of the three house-prefects.”

“Now boys, as this is your first experience of house discipline at Rigby, let me just tell you that you must remain perfectly still whilst the cane is being applied to your arses. Additionally, you will not clench your buttocks thereby causing the cane to bounce or that stroke will be discounted and repeated.  So, boys, relax your buttock muscles and try to accept as justice, your first, I regret to say, somewhat painful experience of life in York House. Make no mistake, boys, the school rules will be enforced to the letter in this house and we, the house prefects, will have no hesitation in dispensing retribution to those of you who choose to break them.”

For the next few minutes as Avery and Conway each wielded their canes on the naked arses of their youngest housemates, the silence was broken only by the inimitable crack of the canes mating with their naked targets and the cries of – let us call it – appreciation, from the recipients. Eighth very tearful boys finally, very gingerly pulled back on their pyjamas over the well-beaten arses of which they were all now the proud possessors. After what has been a very painful interlude which most of them vowed to themselves, a vow which was rarely kept, that they would never ever repeat the experience.

So with the aid of his four house-prefects, Rufus instigated what to the boys seemed like a reign of terror with a view to erasing for ever four or five years of the anything will do attitudes. But harsh but firm treatment of his four prefects at the start of term, paid dividends as they became dedicated believers in and enforcers of the rules.  But Rufus, given his own love of wielding the cane, did not slack in adding his efforts to those of the prefects.

And so, he instigated what came to be called by the boys his Friday Night Pyjama Party. Just as the Headmaster insisted that any boy sent to him for punishment should change into his gym-kit to facilitate access to his naked bottom, Rufus convoked boys of York House whom he had decided for some reason to punish, to wait outside his study wearing only their dressing gowns and their pyjamas. An invitation to attend a Pyjama Party was one which no boy could ever refuse.

So eight-thirty each Friday night saw a group of boys, dressed ready for bed, waiting to be called into their housemaster’s study for punishment.  Those lads lucky, or perhaps I should say, unfortunate enough to be invited to attend one of Rufus’s Friday evening Pyjama Parties were marshalled in order of ascending age by one of the house-prefects, delegated to be on duty for the express purpose of keeping the boys awaiting execution in order in the corridor

Rufus then called into his study, one after the other, what he himself like to think of as invitees, who, on the whole, considered themselves more as victims. Then, in a totally unhurried manner, he confronted them with their sins, invited them to divest themselves of their dressing gowns and pyjama trousers and with their bare bottoms well presented exposed and eminently positioned to the rigours of the rattan cane, he gave each boy in turn a text-book demonstration of how a master engraved his painful message on a lad’s naked arse.

But Rufus’s activities with the cane were not, by any means, limited to ministering the needs of members of his house. Among all the masters, he rarely issued the standard punishment note, leading to a Headmaster’s beating for the boy concerned. Given his love of using the cane himself, he much preferred to deal with the misdeeds of boys committed in the classroom, rather than issuing them with the more usual punishment notes, leading to a Headmaster’s beating. 

And so that first term, Rufus rapidly established himself as a frequent user of the gym, where he regularly beat boys who had stepped out of line in class. By the end of that first time, as housemaster of York House, and senior classics master, Rufus had established his reputation as one of the hardest and most frequent users of the cane in the annals of Rigby School. 

The Headmaster, Dr. Wilton-Smith, himself a strict disciplinarian and and enthusiastic and regular user of the cane himself, looked on with a sense of deep satisfaction as he saw Rufus Rothery rectifying the problems which had, for so many years, beset York House. By the end of his first year at Rigby, much to the astonishment and envy of his senior colleagues, Rufus was, at the instigation of Dr. Wilton-Smith, elevated to the official post of Deputy Headmaster by the Board of Governors.  And so it was for the next four years, Rufus, with the strong support of Wilton-Smith was able to exercise his tyrannical authority with the cane over the boys with what amounted to total immunity. 

CHAPTER 33

As what was to become a duo devoted to the act of flagellation, in those four final years of Wilton-Smith’s reign, he and Rufus Rothery  jointly consolidated the reputation of Rigby as a no-nonsense place where boys were taught – well taught, it goes without saying – in  the traditional way, how to behave like young gentlemen. Never was the old motto: Spare the rod and spoil the boy, taken so much to heart as at Rigby during those final years under the aegis of Dr. Wilton-Smith, seconded by Rufus Rothery as his deputy.

It was as if the appointment of Rufus Rothery had given his elderly senior colleague and mentor a new lease on life.  The crack of the cane mating sharply with a boy’s naked buttocks, accompanied often by howls of pain from the recipient, became part and parcel of the daily sounds of the school. And Rufus was Deputy Headmaster not only in name, for as time passed and Dr. Wilton-Smith approached his own retirement, Rufus more and more frequently deputised for him at the evening correction sessions at which the Headmaster had hitherto always wielded the cane himself. 

So Rufus found himself beating the boys who had received punishment notes and were on the Headmaster’s list for that day. And never was the cane applied by a firmer hand than that of the Destiny Headmaster as the boys quickly found out to their cost.  No boy ever left Rufus either in York House or from a daily Headmaster’s beating conducted by him, with less than a well-beaten arse.

However, as ever, all good things eventually come to an end, and this was no less true of Rufus’s career at Rigby.  The rot set in at the end of his fifth year as senior classics master and fourth as Deputy Headmaster of the school when Dr. Wilton-Smith, the Headmaster finally retired.  Rufus had hoped, as Deputy Headmaster that he might be named as Wilton-Smith’s successor. But it was not to be.

Rufus’s rapid rise to pre-eminence in the school had ruffled a lot of feathers and to say that he was popular among the other members of staff, would have been far from the truth.  The fact of the matter was that many of his colleagues thought that both he and the departing Headmaster were much too fond of the cane and much too severe in their application of it. Also, in spite of Rufus’s utter discretion of his affair with Tom Swires, rumours somehow got around as they always do, with not a shred of proof, that the senior classics master, if not exactly a pervert, had a regular male lover in town with whom he indulged in unnatural practices.

So it was not at all surprising when the new Headmaster arrived that the knives were out and by innuendo, he was discreetly made aware of the fact that Rufus Rothery was a potential problem for the school. At least that is how the persistent rumours about Rufus, his love of the cane and his covert homosexuality, painted things. Add to what amounted to a discreet campaign by his colleagues to discredit Rufus, the fact that the new Headmaster, a Mr. Conrad Williams by name, was also somewhat of a reformist, an eventual clash between the Headmaster and his Deputy was more or less on the books from day one.

Although Mr. Williams did not hesitate to use the cane himself, it was in a much more attenuated way than had hitherto been the case by his predecessor. So Rufus found himself second in command – he had still maintained his post as Deputy Headmaster – to a man whose views, if not diametrically opposed to his own as a traditionalist, were nevertheless those of a moderate reformist. Mr Williams certainly did not need to call on Rufus’s ability with the cane as had been the case in the past.

It was not so much a case of a new broom sweeping clean, as Mr. Williams did not interfere with the running of York House, where the cane remained in regular use.  But Rufus no longer found himself deputising for the Headmaster at his Friday night correction sessions. Of course, the new Headmaster never said anything himself directly to Rufus about his excessive use of the cane. Things were just allowed to work their way through by a process similar to osmosis in its flaccid subtle way. So Rufus gradually got the message by unspoken innuendo that the new Headmaster felt he might consider toning down his fondness for beating boys on their bare backsides. But, of course, he did no such thing and the cane continued to deliver its stinging message to the naked arses of the boys in York House.

The whole thing came to a climax – if climax it can be called – when, in his second term in the post, the Headmaster himself caught one of the upper sixth formers coming out of the public bar of the Crown Inn, a local pub. Now moderate in his use of the cane though Mr. Williams was, there were two offences which he took very seriously; one was smoking and the other drinking, both of which, in his eyes deserved the severest of punishments. So it was that the offender, Timothy Willis, a handsome and popular sixth former from York House, found himself standing later that same evening in front of his new Headmaster, who was clearly out for the lad’s blood.

Timothy Willis was what one might describe as a bit-of-a-lad. Now aged eighteen and in his final year and in all respects excellent academically, with a provisional offer for a place at a Cambridge college in his pocket, Timothy was nevertheless always in some sort of trouble. Having spent the last four years in York House under the Rufus Rothery as housemaster, and with his own propensity for larking about, his arse and the cane were regular communicants.  None of this was known to the Headmaster as he prepared to thrash Willis lad for drinking. In fact, as he was relatively new himself, the Headmaster was as yet unaware that the boy in front of him was a member of York House.

“Willis, would it be fair for me to say that you are aware that the school rules forbid drinking of any alcoholic beverages either on the school premises or in a pubic hostelry?”

“Yes, sir.  But if I might be permitted to say, sir, I am eighteen years of age and as such am entitled to enter into a public house and drink beer under the law of the land, sir.”

In saying this, Wills was using the perennial argument of public school boys of his age caught drinking. He knew that his justification would be shot down in flames before he had even uttered it, but he had to try, nevertheless, to save his arse from the inevitable. And the inevitable was horribly visible.  The beating horse was already in position in the centre of the room and a wicked looking senior cane was lying on the Headmaster’s desk waiting to deliver its painful message to his backside.

“Willis, surely you know that as a pupil at this school that the school rules are to be obeyed by every pupil and in the case of smoking and drinking it is they which take precedence over the law of the land.  During the vacations, Willis you are, of course free to do as you wish. However in term time you must and will obey school rules. And if, as you have just done you break one of them – one of the most serious – as you have just done this evening, you will be punished for your infraction. So I am afraid, Willis, that I find myself obliged to beat you – and to beat you quite severely – for your misdemeanour this evening.”

Willis knew quite well that there was no way in which he was going to escape a beating, but in a last ditch attempt to mitigate the inevitable he said: “Yes sir, I quite understand that I deserve to be beaten sir. But if I might just add, sir, I do not make a habit of frequenting public houses, In fact, sir,  this is the only time  have visited the Crown Inn.”

But the Headmaster ignored what Willis had just said and went on: “Willis, even though this is our first encounter and we do not know each other, I suspect that as an upper sixth former, your bottom is no stranger to the cane. So I am sure you know as well as I do what happens now.  Kindly take of your coat and go and stand behind the beating horse. Then drop your trousers and underpants and bend across the horse to present you bare bottom to me for my attention.  In view of the gravity of your offence, I am afraid you will have to bear a total of twelve strokes of the cane.”

As he heard the severity of his punishment, Willis showed his first sign of emotion by wincing. But like the young gentleman that he was, he conducted himself with utter decorum as he dropped his trousers and pants and presented his bare bottom to the Headmaster for punishment.

Mr. Williams, for his part, had picked up the cane from his desk and approached Willis. But now, as he observed the state of Willis’s bare buttocks for the first time, the Headmaster suddenly saw that the young man had obviously recently taken a very severe beating. The Headmaster was horrified to find himself presented with a muscular pair of buttocks which were already totally criss-crossed with deep, angry looking ridges, the product of what had been a very hard caning.  The lad’s entire arse was completed covered with blue-back bruises and in some cases blood had been drawn. The Headmaster looked at this terrible mess and knew that there was no way he could cane the boy at that moment.

What the Headmaster found very impressive. was the fact that here was a boy – a young man, in fact – who knew he had broken the rules and was prepared to accept punishment for his sins, but who, obviously till suffering from what, by any standards, was an excessive beating, had been willing to accept further punishment without even mentioning  the state of his backside. As he stood there looking at Willis’s buttocks, the Headmaster well understood why the lad might have wanted to drown his sorrows in a glass of beer. He found that he was full of admiration and compassion for Timothy Willis.

“Willis, kindly stand up and put back on your clothes.”

Willis, with obvious surprise did as he had been told: “But sir, I thought that you intended to beat me, but you have not done so. Why have you told me to get dressed again without doing what you said, sir? You said that in going into a public house I had broken one of the most sacred rules of the school sir, and that I deserved to be beaten. And, sir, although I don’t really want you to cane me, I agree with you that I do deserve to be punished for my disregard of the rules. So, why have you now changed your mind, sir? Why are you not beating me as promised, sir?”

Reading the above words spoken by Willis, it is impossible for the reader to grasp that from the intonation the lad managed to give to his short speech, it was almost as if he thought that the Headmaster was somehow cheating him out of his rights. It was as if he wanted to be beaten to expunge what he himself clearly saw as a sin.  Standing, fully dressed as he again was, in front of the Headmaster’s desk, behind which Mr. Williams had again installed himself, he had a look on his face which almost demanded an explanation for the Headmaster’s sudden change of heart.

“Willis, it is quite right that you should be punished for your venturing into a public house and as I had already told you, in view of the seriousness of what you did, I felt that a twelve stroke beating on the bare was fully justified.  However, I see, or rather I saw, just now, as you prepared yourself to accept what would, by any standards have been a very severe beating, that the present condition of your buttocks is such that I could not proceed.”

“Willis, I have to be frank with you. In my career as a schoolmaster, I have seen, and indeed have myself created, many examples of what is vulgarly referred to by the unfortunate recipients as a well-beaten arse. And let me  be quite clear, when I gave you instructions to present your bottom to me for punishment,  that is exactly what I intended to send you away with: a well beaten arse,  which, believe me, Willis,  you truly do deserve in retribution for your misdemeanour.”

“However, never in my career as a schoolmaster, had I seen until just now, a boy whose buttocks had been so severely beaten as yours clearly had. And once I had seen the present heavily bruised state of your buttocks, I saw immediately that there was no way in which I could even think of applying the cane at that moment, no matter how much you deserved to be beaten.  And so, Willis, here we are talking to one another and I have to decide what future action I will take. Make no mistake, Willis, I am not saying that you do not deserve sound beating, but I cannot, in all conscience, beat you at the moment due to the present state of your buttocks.”

“Perhaps, Willis, you might like to explain how it is that you come to have been so severely beaten.  It is not that I disapprove of the use of the cane to correct boys. Quite the contrary, as I fully intended to beat you myself. But there are limits to the force with which a master should apply the cane. The idea behind a beating is to correct an errant boy; to bring home to him the error of his ways in a traditionally painful way; but not to injure him by beating his backside until it is completely black and blue.”

“Willis, I ask myself if you ought not to allow a doctor to examine you.  In a word, young man, your backside is an absolute mess. Whoever beat you did not hold back at all and as I saw from the spots of dried blood, that the cane broke your skin in several places, which is not an acceptable situation.  Perhaps you might like to comment on how you came to be so badly treated Oh, just for the record, Willis, perhaps you would refresh my memory. To which house do you belong?”

Willis looked somewhat embarrassed at the request to explain how he his arse came to be in such a parlous state. The Headmaster saw immediately that like the young gentleman he evidently was, he was reluctant to discuss what had happened to him as he clearly did not want to create difficulties for the perpetrator, who was responsible for what he considered to be an outrage. So he pressed Willis until the lad finally told him the full story.  Of course Willis, by his own actions was the architect of his present misfortunes, for he himself had started the sequence of events which had led to the present wounded – there is no other word to describe it – state of his arse.

“Well, sir, I am a member of York House. And I don’t wish to complain about anyone at all sir.  But you see, sir, the reason why my bottom looks so badly bruised is that I was given two beatings within three days of each other. In fact, sir, it was my housemaster, Mr. Rothery, who beat me for the second time yesterday.  But it was the head-boy, who heard me swearing in the showers after a rugger match, who gave me the first beating three days ago. And then it was Mr. Rothery himself, who caught me smoking in my study. And so he immediately gave me another twelve cut beating, which explains the bruising, sir”

“Now, sir, I am not complaining  as I know that I had earned both beatings through my own stupidity,  just as I know you are quite justified to beat me for having gone into the Crown Inn, sir.  I know I deserve to be beaten for having broken one of the most sacred rules of the school, sir and I have no objection to your beating me at a later date in retribution for my offence sir.  And sir, I don’t think there is any need for me to see a doctor as the pain has already subsided sir. In fact, sir, right now the pain, although not yet gone, is quite bearable.  So, sir, as you have decided not to beat me again right now, please may I go, sir?”

The Headmaster was to say the least, very disturbed by the fact the Rufus Rothery had seen fit to beat a boy whose backside had just been striped by the head-boy three days previously; it struck him as the height of vicious irresponsibility. Seeing the parlous state that Willis backside was in, brought home in a very graphical way, the veracity of the rumours which had reached his ears concerning the housemaster of York House.  He had, for some time, harboured in his mind that Rufus Rothery’s activities with the cane had somehow got to be stopped and if not stopped, which might be very difficult to achieve, then at least attenuated; there could be no more cases like Willis.

But after seeing what he had done to Willis, the Headmaster’s mind was totally made up; sooner or later, preferably the former, Rufus Rothery had to go. Mr. Williams had decided that he could not, in all conscience, allow boys, ultimately in his care as Headmaster, to be subjected to what were no less than brutally vicious attacks with the cane.

Mr. Williams finally told Willis that he was free to go, Willis seemed anxious to settle his fate there and then and then and said: “Sir, as you have decided not to beat me right now, do you want to make another appointment, say in ten days time, to carry out my punishment sir?  I really would like to remove the uncertainty as to my immediate future, sir, I know I deserve to be beaten, so, please sir, could we fix an appointment now when you feel you can beat me sir?”

“Willis, listening to you, you are beginning to sound like a lemming rushing to jump off a cliff.  I think, in view of what you have just suffered, we might consider the punishment for your recent offence on permanent hold. However, if I catch you drinking again then be assured, Willis that your backside will suffer. Now, boy, you may go.”

“You mean that you are not going to beat me, sir?  Oh, thank you very much sir.”

“Willis, I suggest that you leave now, before I change my mind.”

CHAPTER 34

His mind having been made up as to the future of Rufus Rothery at Rigby, the question of how to get rid of him still posed itself. He   could not simply sack the man on the strength of one excessively severe beating, especially as Willis, the victim of that attack – and he thought of it as an attack – had not complained about the treatment he had received at the hands of his housemaster. And so as a first step he decided he must face the unenviable and unpleasant task of remonstrating with Rothery in an attempt to get him to modify his behaviour.  This was a meeting he did not relish and so like many good intentions it was put off and put off into the future so that it never, in fact, took place. And so the housemaster York House was left for an indeterminate period to plough his normal furrow.

The suddenly, out of the blue, like a gift from on high, Mr. Williams received a letter from the board of Governors of the prestigious Churton Academy for Boys near the city of Hereford.

Churton Academy was, like Rigby, a very traditional public school where discipline was strictly enforced.   The letter, although addressed to Mr Williams in person, was was obviously a round-robin which had been sent to other public school masters   It read as follows:

Churton Academy for Boys

Churton 

Hereford

                August 1st 19xx

Dear Sir,

Churton Academy for Boys, located in the village of Churton on the Welsh Border near Hereford, is universally recognised as one of the leading public schools in England. Its academic reputation is second to none.

The present Headmaster, Dr. Eustace Trimble, MA Cantab, who has been with the School for over thirty years, will retire in July next year. The Board of Governors of the School is therefore currently looking to appoint a new Headmaster to replace Dr. Trimble in September of the coming year.

The new Headmaster will be expected to take up his duties in August next year.  Suitable candidates for this prestigious post will have a class honours degree from Oxford or Cambridge as well as several years teaching experience in a senior potion in a public school similar to Churton. The academic discipline of the ideal candidate is unimportant as long as the above two criteria are met.

Churton is a very traditional English public school which prides itself on its academic excellence. However, Churton is also a school where discipline is taken very seriously and strictly enforced in the traditional English way with the cane and the birch. Therefore the ideal candidate will also have been, for several years, in charge of a house in his present school and as such, accustomed to delivering corporal punishment to boys of all ages.  The question of strictly enforced discipline is viewed by the Board of Governors as a key requirement of the successful candidate.

A generous salary is offered, coupled with spacious living accommodation in the school.

In writing to you it had occurred to us that you may have member of your present teaching staff who is looking for a career move.  If you feel you are able to put forward a suitable candidate for this post we shall be delighted to hear from you. Please address any reply to the undersigned.

Yours sincerely

Henry H. H. Gore-Hartley

Chairman of the Board of Governors.

The Headmaster, Mr. Williams could barely believe what he was reading. Here was a God-given opportunity to get rid of that potential thorn in his flesh, Rufus Rothery, in a genteel and pleasant manner.  Much as he was certain in his own mind that Rufus had to go because of his over vigorous and too often use of the cane, he did not want to ruin the young man’s career, based on only one piece of concrete evidence which he had seen with his own eyes, to wit, Willis’s shredded backside, reinforced only by whispered rumours and innuendos from Rufus’s colleagues.  And so, this letter from the Governors of Churton Academy, which he knew was as good a school as was Rigby, would provide a perfect place to which to shunt Rufus off, if only he could pull it off.

He had already decided that this was an opportunity too good to be missed.  The overriding motivation of Mr. Williams was to get rid of Rufus Rothery from Rigby. But in so doing, if he could help the young man move to a superior, higher post, then all the better. But the Headmaster quickly reflected on the fact that Rufus’s young age was not on his favour as he was still only thirty years old. However, he had for the past five years been head of classics at Rigby, a post in which even his most bitter detractors among his colleagues agreed he had done an excellent job.

But then, for the past four years, Rufus had been Deputy Headmaster of Rigby School and so it would be quite natural that a man with that experience under his belt might be looking for a higher post.  So, in spite of Rufus’s relative youth, the Headmaster decided that he should at least encourage him to apply for the post of Headmaster of Churton. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the saying had it. And so Rufus found himself invited to dine with his Headmaster one evening. He wondered what he had done to be accorded such an honour.

But then, after dinner, sitting sipping port in front of a blazing log fire in the Headmaster’s private quarters, Mr Williams began:  “Rothery, I invited you here this evening as it would be remiss of me not to bring to your attention a remarkable opportunity to advance your career, which has, quite unexpectedly, come my way. You have been deputy headmaster of this school for, let me see now, some four years, I think and I would not be at all surprised to hear that you felt you were ready to advance your career and take on still greater responsibilities than those you presently have. What I am saying, Rothery, is that although you have never alluded to it, I would find it quite normal for you to be thinking of becoming headmaster of a school yourself.”

“And it is precisely in this context, that I feel duty bound to show you the following letter, which I received completely out of the blue, the other day. Now much as I personally, as Headmaster of Rigby, would be sorry to lose you, (a bare-faced lie) I feel that it would be remiss of me not to draw your attention to what I consider a remarkable opportunity to advance your career. Anyway, please read the letter I have just handed to you.”

Rufus read the letter and saw immediately why the Headmaster had shown it to him.  The qualifications of the future Headmaster of Churton could have been written with precisely Rufus Rothery in mind as he fitted the requirements as envisage by the governors exactly. But Rufus saw immediately that aged only thirty as he was, that his age was probably against him. After all, Churton was a leading public school and he wondered whether he would even be considered in view of his age. 

He was not discontent with his post at Rigby. After all he was housemaster and had more or less a free hand to run York House as he pleased.  And additionally, with Tom Swires living in a cottage within easy walking distance from the school, his sex life was both very intense and very satisfactory. So why should he wish to change what as a very satisfactory and satisfying existence? In fact, he had never thought of applying for a post elsewhere. But reading that letter had already whetted his appetite for power.  After all, if he were Headmaster of Churton, he would truly be the ruler of all he surveyed. And he knew that if he were to be offered the post, Tom Swires would follow him, as the two of them were by then a truly solid item.

“Headmaster, to be quite honest (the absolute truth) I had not given any thought to leaving Rigby in the near future. To be quite frank, sir, I have never given the question of moving to another school or furthering my career, any thought whatsoever.  However, having read the letter from Churton, I can see why you showed it to me, as I have more or less the exact qualifications for the post. And if I were somehow to be appointed Headmaster of Churton, the Board of Governors would certainly be getting a strict disciplinarian. I think that I can claim that, under me, discipline in York House is enforced to the letter.”

 “You may be unaware of the fact, sir, but five years ago when I was first appointed as senior classics master in this school, other than my academic and teaching qualifications, the then Headmaster, Dr. Wilton-Smith, appointed me from among other candidates for the post, as he was looking for a strict disciplinarian to take in hand the boys of York House.   My predecessor there as housemaster, a Mr. Rawsthorne, a gentleman of advanced age, had allowed discipline and manners to slide seriously in the last three years of his tenure. A firm hand – in the event, mine – was needed to put matters right. Since my appointment, I have been the housemaster of York House, which I think I can say is now on an even keel.”

“So on paper, sir, I would appear to have all the qualifications required to apply for the post. However, I see one immediate problem, that being my age, sir. I am only thirty years old, sir, and I doubt that the Board of Governors of Churton would consider appointing a person so young to such an important and prestigious position.  It’s not that I doubt my own capabilities, sir, but I do see my age as being a severe obstacle.”

The Headmaster saw that the letter had raised a real interest in Rufus and was now intent on fanning what was at present just a spark into a full, roaring fire. He saw the potential move to Churton as a convenient and agreeable way of getting rid of a man, whom he had come to consider as a potential problem at Rigby.  So he had already decided in his own mind that he would do everything in his power to help his young housemaster to get the post.

“I would not be so negative about your age, Rothery, as you yourself appear to be. After all, Pitt the Younger first became Prime Minister of this Country, aged only twenty-four, a post he managed to hold from 1783 to 1801 and again from 1804 to 1806. So as you can see, youth is not necessarily a hindrance to obtaining high office. I urge you, Rothery, to put your doubts to one side and apply. After all you have nothing at all to lose.”

After some further discussion, on the motto, nothing ventured, nothing gained, Rufus was finally persuaded to apply for the post. The Headmaster, Mr.Williams, was, of course, delighted, and wrote to the Board of Governors of Churton in glowing terms about Rufus. It has to be said, apart for the age question, that Rufus was, on paper, the ideal candidate. And as far at the question of discipline was concerned, there was no doubt that Rufus would bring that in spades to the school.

The Headmaster, Mr. Williams, did feel slightly guilty, in not pointing out to the governors that there were disciplinarians and disciplinarians and that Rufus Rothery was A DISCIPLINARIAN writ large! However, as his overriding motivation was to get rid of Rufus Rothery as soon as possible and so he remained silent on the issue that Rufus might possibly over-egg the pudding, and did, on some occasions go too far in the sue of the cane.

The question of the young age of their preferred candidate, which Rufus Rothery had become, exercised the Board of Governors considerably.  Some of the older members of the Board made the very valid point that looking outside of the school for a new Headmaster, thereby bypassing all members of the present staff had already put a few noses pout of joint feathers and to appoint such a young Headmaster might totally upset the apple-cart. After all, the new Headmaster would be in charge of quite a number of teachers who were old enough to be his father.

At the end of the day it was the Chairman himself of the Board of Governors, Colonel (retired) Henry H. H. Gore-Hartley who forced the decision. Surprisingly for a retired military man, Colonel Gore-Hartley had a very progressive mind. He was also a man who liked to get his own way, which he usually did. And he had every intention of doing so now.

“Gentlemen, (the board was entirely made up of men) we have an outstanding applicant, Mr. Rufus Rothery for the post.  We have already discounted any member of the present staff as being suitable to take over as Headmaster of this School. In so doing we have already ruffled quite a few feathers. So I see no reason why we should not ruffle a few more by appointing Mr Rothery to the post Headmaster.”

“I am quite sure in my own mind that this young man is outstandingly the best candidate for the job. He is head and shoulders above any other applicant whom we have interviewed and to hold his age against him would, in my view be a major mistake. Therefore I propose that we offer the post to Mr. Rothery and if, in so doing, we upset some of the older members of staff, then so be it. The most important thing is that we get the best man available for the job. If, in so doing, we hurt the feelings of a group of older men who feel they have been been passed over which I regret to say, they have, then so be it!”

Rufus Rothery was offered the post of Headmaster of Churton Academy for Boys by a unanimous decision of the Board of Governors.

Delighted as Rufus Rothery was to hear his good news, his present Headmaster at Rigby, Mr Williams, was equally overjoyed that he had engineered the departure of his Head of Classics without having had to utter an unpleasant word.  However, on his last meeting with his Headmaster, before he left Rigby forever, Mr Williams had decided that Rufus should not escape from Rigby totally unaware of his tarnished reputation as master who had taken beatings in York House to an inacceptable level of severity. 

And was on that occasion that he said to Rufus: “As Headmaster of Churton, you will be lord of all you survey. You have attained at the young age of only thirty, a position of seniority in our profession equivalent to mine and I am twice your age.  See that you use your authority wisely and justly.”

Rufus Rothery understood fully the hidden meaning of the message that the Headmaster of Rigby had wished convey to him. Both he and his old superior knew that he was leaving Rigby under strained, but unspoken-of circumstances. Rufus guessed that Mr. Williams had pushed his candidature for the Headmastership of Churton as he wanted to be rid of him.  He knew in his own heart, that he was an inveterate hard caner, that he enjoyed beating boys’ bare arses and that his fondness for the cane had played no small part in his leaving Rigby.

But no words from Mr Williams, however well meant, were ever going to change Rufus’s character. Both Rufus himself and Mr. Williams knew that.  But what was important for both of them was that the over-the-top-beating, in which Rufus had literally shredded Timothy Willis’s arse, had led to a mutually satisfactory outcome for both parties.  Rufus had become Headmaster of a prestigious public school where he could exercise his tyrannical penchant for thrashing the naked arses of the boys to his heart’s content and Mr. Williams had got rid of the thorn in his flesh.

So Rufus’s move to Churton School as its Headmaster was really a win-win outcome both for him and Mr. Williams. However viewed from the point of view of Churton, the boys were to be the the permanent losers. In Rufus Rothery they had acquired a Headmaster who intended to exercise his almost sadistic love of the cane to the full on the naked backsides of generations of boys to come.

Mr. Williams, who was basically a strictly ethical man, felt a slight guilt at his efforts to ensure that Rufus’s candidature was successful. But he assuaged his own conscience in mentally invoking the Latin motto, caveat emptor (let the buyer beware). After all, Churton had wanted an experienced man who was good teacher and who knew how to manage boys and who was a strict disciplinarian. Well, he reasoned to himself that is exactly what they had got in Rufus Rothery.  And with that anodyne reasoning he banished Rufus Rothery from his mind forever.

Rufus conveyed his glad tidings to his lover, Tom Swires, which they then celebrated in an orgy of sex. Rufus and Tom had become an utterly devoted couple at a time in England when any homosexual activity, even when carried out in private, was punishable by law and could lead to imprisonment. The two of them had plenty of time to plan for their joint departure from Ditchfeild. And, again, on this his second move in the name of love, Tom had no difficulty in finding a new job with a local builder near Churton. Once again a suitable comfortable cottage was rented, where Tom lived with Rufus as a regular visitor.

Sexually the two men seemed made for each other, Tom wanted nothing more than to have his arse fucked on a regular basis and Rufus was more than willing to oblige him. As time had passed, Tom’s taste for the cane, administered by Rufus to his lover’s naked arse, which was a rather bizarre element in their relationship, intensified with time. So that arch flagellator, Rufus Rothery, was able to indulge himself in an act which most men of his persuasion can only dream of; beating a pair of naked buttocks and then going on to fuck their owner. So Rufus Rothery and Tom Swires settled down again in Churton and although they were not able to co-habit, were, nonetheless, very much an item.

CHAPTER 35

We now come back to that fatidic hour on the second Friday of the new term in early September as Rufus Rothery, the new Headmaster of the Churton Academy for Boys sat and waited, with eager anticipation, the arrival of the first group of boys who would have the honour to initiate what would become a regular Friday night ritual at Churton. A nervous group of five boys were standing in the corridor outside their Headmaster’s study, wearing only their gym-shorts and vests.  This group was composed of boys who had received punishment chits from various masters and as such the Headmaster was not himself responsible for its make-up. However, quite by chance it included a good cross section of age groups, from a first former, Christopher Fisher, to an upper-sixth- former, Noel Calvert

As Rufus reviewed the list of names in front of him and the offences for which they had found themselves assigned to what would be known as the Friday Night Whack, Rufus was pleased to see that the selection included a new boy from the first form and an older boy – a young man really – in the upper sixth. In his discussions with his new colleagues, Rufus had gathered that his predecessor had refrained from beating boys in both the lower and upper sixths. Well, the waiting boys, who were from across the entire school, were to find out, things under their new Headmaster were now to be radically different. The whole school was soon to learn that the cane, which had hitherto played a relatively minor role in their lives, was back with a vengeance.

Rufus first called into his study, the youngest member of the evening’s contingent, a first former, newly arrived at Churton that term:  “Come in Fisher and stand to attention in front of my desk.” Rufus settled himself in his chair and gazed at the young lad in front of him, who from the look on his face was already terrified to be confronted by his Headmaster so early in his school career. “Fisher, I have here in front of me, not only a punishment chit signed by your form-master but also a note which tells me that on two occasions since your recent arrival in this school you have not only been late for prep but have not completed your prep-work on no less than three occasions.  Where exactly do you think you are at the moment, Fisher, and why do you think you are here?  Well, boy, let me tell you. You are in school to which you have been sent by your parents, at considerable expense I might add, to obtain an education which befits a young man of your background.”

“However, Fisher, education is a two way process. We, your masters, can attempt to teach you a whole host of subjects, but you, Fisher, have also to play your part and absorb what you are being taught.  How do you think that you can make any progress in your studies here at Churton, if you do not complete your written prep? It is only by completing the exercises your various teachers give you each day and handing in your written work in on time that your teachers can follow your progress.”

“And so, Fisher, as you must by now have gathered, your work to date is generally considered by your teachers to be unsatisfactory. And it is for that reason your form-master has sent you to me this evening for correction.  I am sure you realise, Fisher, that if we allow things to continue as they are a present, you will make no progress and we shall have failed in our task, which is to provide provide you with a first-class education.  It is my duty as your Headmaster, to take corrective action immediately and to set you on the right track.  Things simply cannot be allowed to continue the way they clearly are with you at present, Fisher and you need to be taught a sharp lesson now, before things get completely out of hand.”

“Now here at Churton, if boys misbehave or break the rules or do not apply themselves to their work, as in your case, there is but one remedy: a thorough beating. And that, unfortunately, Fisher, on the recommendation of your form-master, is what I intend to give you right now. Take off your shorts, boy, whilst I select a suitable cane cane with which to embellish your buttocks.”

Until now, Christopher Fisher had remained completely silent, looking all the time ever more nervous as Rufus spelled out the lad’s sins.  But now, faced with removing his shorts he spoke for the first time: “But please, sir, I don’t have any underpants on under my shorts sir. So if I take them off my bum will be totally bare bare, sir.” and then after a slight hesitation he added: “And the other thing, sir, will also be bare, sir.”

“And that, Fisher is exactly the way I intend you to be when I cane you.”

“But please sir, you’re not going to cane me on my bare bum, sir. Please, sir, not on my bare bum, sir.”

“Yes Fisher, I am afraid that is exactly what I am intending to do. In this school all beatings are given on the bare. That is to say that the cane is applied directly to a boy’s bare bum as you so quaintly put it.”

“Oh, sir, please don’t make me take off my shorts sir. I have never been caned before sir, and I am really very afraid of what you are going to do to me, sir.  You see, sir, I just don’t think I will be able to stand the pain of a caning.  So, sir, I promise you now, sir, and cross my heart and hope to die, sir, that in future I will be punctual at prep and do my work properly, sir, and hand it in on time for correction, sir. So you see, sir, now that I have made you a promise, sir, and I promise you that I will keep my promise, sir, you don’t really need to cane me at all, sir. At least, sir, I don’t think you do, sir”

What was clearly to be a never ending plea for clemency was cut short by Rufus:  “Fisher, you have been given a punishment chit by your form-master, which, in this school, school means that you will automatically be beaten by me.  Now boy, get a grip on yourself and face up to what life at Churton will be like for you if you do not work hard and obey the rules and the instructions of your teachers. Unless you improve your ways, you, boy, will find yourself a regular attendee at these Friday evening gatherings in my study, and your bottom will be in a permanent state of pain.”

“Now Fisher, I appreciate that as you have never been beaten before and that it is a rather frightening experience. I have yet to meet any boy who wishes to be caned; but, one way or another, most public school boys find that sooner or later that they have to submit their bare bottoms to a master for punishment. In your case, Fisher, it is sooner rather than later that you are to make your first acquaintance with the cane.  And yes, Fisher, it is going to hurt you and the pain in your bottom will be with you for quite some time after the actual event itself.  As such, it will be a permanent reminder as to what happens to boys who break the rules or do not apply themselves to their work.”

“But think on the bright side of what is about to happen to you, Fisher. You are the first of the new boys to be beaten by the new Headmaster of this school, which is an honour in itself. And let me tell you that I have a very experienced hand with the cane, as I have, in my career, beaten literally hinders of boys over the years. So, Fisher, I can promise you that you will leave here in a few minutes with a bottom bearing six neatly applied stripes, which will make you the hero of the day when you show your bum to your dorm-mates in the showers later. So, Fisher, now that that is clear, remove your shorts and go and bend across the beating-horse over there, whilst I select a suitable cane with which to introduce your bare bum to the rather painful rigours of life at Churton.”

Rufus turned away to the umbrella stand behind his desk where a good selection of rattan canes was kept.  Having selected what he thought was a suitable cane to initiate Fisher’s virgin arse to the joys of a beating, he turned around round to find the boy had not moved an inch. 

Fisher stood there as if petrified, looking at his Headmaster and said:  “Sir, as it; to be my first time to be caned, sir, please could I at least keep on my shorts sir?” The lad’s request was the verbal equivalent of waving a red rag in front of an angry bull.

“Fisher, what is it you did not understand about my instructions to you?  I have told you twice to take of your shorts. Why have you still not done so? I also told you that here at Churton, all beatings are given on the bare. So why are you now still asking me if you can keep your shorts on?  The answer boy is no; take of your shorts immediately, boy, and go and bend across the beating-horse as I have already told you to do.”

“Come on, boy, move yourself.  You, Fisher, have a very disobedient streak in your character, which needs to be beaten out of you. So for your recalcitrance, I am going to give you three extra strokes of the cane; you will now receive nine cuts, rather than the six I had promised you earlier. You, Fisher, have to learn that disobedience always leads to painful retribution in this school. Now, boy, get your shorts off and bend over the beating-horse immediately before I really lose my temper and give you twelve cuts of the cane.”

By now, Fisher was in a blind panic as he saw that he had gone too far pressing his case with the Headmaster. Off came the shorts and in seconds, Rufus found himself surveying a trembling pair of plump, positively callipygian, virgin buttocks  which were just crying out for their first taste of the cane.  Rufus, of course, preferred to beat older boys as he himself became more erotically aroused when faced with an older, more muscular arse to thrash. But Christopher Fisher was the first of five boys whom he was to beat that evening. And anyway, there would be richer more satisfying picking a little later when he came to beat the sixth-former, Noel Calvert.

Rufus realised, however, that Fisher’s arse would forever be in his memory, as being the first boy he had beaten in his new post as Headmaster. And as it was also Fisher’s first beating, come what may, Rufus was determined to do the boy proud. Better put, Rufus was not so much doing Fisher proud as doing himself proud, as he intended to give the lad, whose argumentative nature had annoyed him, an excruciatingly painful introduction as possible to the painful power of the rattan cane.

Poor Fisher was already almost in tears, even before the first stroke of the cane had landed on his bum. Rufus, determining to make the experience as painful as possible, did not hold back even from the first stroke  As the cane mated, with the customary loud crack, with its plump target of bare flesh, Fisher let out a loud cry of pain. From then on it then on it was a baptism of fire for the lad, as the biting strokes followed one another at ten second intervals, each with its customary crack. Each successive stroke elicited ever more vociferous indications of appreciation from Fisher. By the time Rufus had delivered the ninth and final stroke, the lad’s arse was deeply ridged, from top to bottom, with nine deep parallel welts.

As an introduction to the painful horrors of the cane, albeit with just a junior cane, Fisher had really suffered what by any standards was an over-the-top beating.  The lad’s backside, in the dreadful, deeply- welted state it was, was to become the hallmark of Rufus Rothery’s Friday Night Whacks. By his first effort as Headmaster of Churton, Rufus had replaced the concept of the well-beaten arse, common to many public schools, by that of the excessively-over-beaten arse.  When it was over and Fisher was told by Rufus to get up, to put back on his shorts, he left the room limping, massaging his buns vigorously and weeping profusely.

The four other invitees had been listening intently through the closed door trying to hear what was happening within to the first of the evening’s victims. To a man, they were all horrified to see the parlous state in which the youngest member of that first evening’s group emerged from the Headmaster’s study. They had not been able to hear the long conversation that the Headmaster had had with Fisher, but when after a short silence, the crack of the cane resonated through the door and they heard quite clearly the howls of pain emitted by poor Fisher as the cane did its inexorable damage to the lad’s backside, it was obvious to all of them that the new Headmaster meant business.

After six strokes they all thought – wrongly as it turned out – that the cracks would end; but they did not. And so the four of them trembling visibly, feeling like flies stuck in a spider’s web from which there was no escape, waited nervously there in the corridor, each dreading that inevitable moment when he when he would be called to face the new Headmaster.

If Rufus had thought of the five of them as his ambassadors, announcing the new regime to the rest of the school, he was right.  But he had underestimated the effect of Fisher’s post-flagellation appearance on his four unfortunate companions. Just one look look at Fisher had been enough to put the fear of God into all four of them. Even Noel Calvert, of the upper-sixth, a young man whose own arse was no stranger to the cane, felt a sudden pang of fear and doom coursing through his veins as he looked at the abject Fisher; and this without any of them actually seeing the damage to Fisher’s arse.

Rufus Rothery never rushed matters when it came to punishing boys.  He took the view that his leisurely approach allowed his present victim fully to appreciate what he cynically thought of as the tender loving care which he lavished on the subject’s naked arse. But also, given the enjoyment and sexual arousal he himself derived from the act of flagellation, he saw no reason not to draw-out as long as possible what was – for himself at least – a very pleasurable experience.  Rufus saw nothing at all wrong in this attitude. After all, if a boy deserved a beating, then why should the act not simultaneously give pleasure to the beater?

So it was only some twenty minutes later, after he had dealt with all four younger boys and sent them on their sobbing way, massaging in vain their excruciatingly painful arses, that Noel Calvert was finally called in to face the Headmaster.  Noel Calvert, now aged eighteen, was a handsome and muscular young man, who was much admired – even worshipped, one might say– by the younger boys, as he was the brilliant captain of the school’s rugger team. Good academically, if not outstanding, across the whole spectrum of his studies, he was the typical product of an English public school education: a young man of whom the school could be truly proud. 

But Noel Calvert was also what is usually called a bit-of- a-lad. He was not averse to breaking the school rules when it suited his purpose and he had two failings which in the fifth and lower sixth forms had, several times, landed him with painful visits to his housemaster’s study. Like many boys of his age, Calvert liked the odd glass of beer and was also a secret smoker. But in spite of the painful sequels to which being found indulging in either vice inevitably led, he was not deterred from either pleasure. If he was caught in the act, as he had been several times in both fifth and lower-sixth forms, then he took the punishment in good part, like the young gentleman he truly was.

However having seen the state in which his four companions had emerged from the Headmaster’s study, he was, quite justifiably, somewhat nervous about his own fate. So it is not surprising that it was with a feeling of trepidation and foreboding that Rufus entered the Headmaster’s study on that fateful evening. And he had every reason to be so, as Rufus saw in the more mature figure of the upper sixth former, the cream-on-the-cake, the perfect ending to his inaugural evening of beatings.

“Calvert, I confess I was rather surprised (he actually meant, pleased) to see on this, my first Friday evening’s punishment list, the name of a member of the upper-sixth.  And so to satisfy my curiosity, I took out your personal file, which I have to say makes interesting reading.  I see that throughout your entire career in this school, you have been what one might call a habitual offender: a boy who has chosen regularly to break one rule after another. As such, I see that you have, over the years, been frequently been punished with the cane for your petty misdeeds. However, since you entered the lower sixth-form last year, you appear to have acquired the habit of breaking one of the most sacred rules of this school, as your housemaster has on three occasions beaten you for smoking in your study.”

“So, Calvert, having been beaten three times for smoking offices last year, here you are again in only the second week of term facing retribution for the self-same offence.  Now I see that your housemaster was forced, in view of your regular, unacceptable behaviour, to increase the severity of the punishment he handed down to you each time. Calvert, I see from your file, that you successively were the beneficiary of first six, then nine and finally twelve strokes of the cane for your serial smoking offences. So, Calvert, I think it is safe to say that your backside is not unfamiliar with the rigours of the cane.”

“However, Calvert, the corrective ministrations of your housemaster, always, of course, for your own good, unfortunately do not seem to have had the desired effect in leading you away from the pleasures of the fragrant weed. So Calvert, it falls to me as your new Headmaster, to attempt to save you from your worst habit, which I now intend to do by reacquainting your backside with the beneficial effects of a sound dose of the rattan cane. I should tell you, by the way, that as of now I shall personally be handling the correction of all sixth formers who stray from the straight and narrow path of obedience of the school rules. It is for that reason that your housemaster has referred you to me for correction today.”

Whilst Rufus had been preaching this rather sanctimonious sermon to Calvert, the young man had become increasingly nervous. He had looked around the Headmaster’s study, which he had never before entered and had seen the professional, leather-topped beating horse standing there in the middle of the floor, in its own way, reminiscent of the guillotine of the French Revolution awaiting its next victim. He also noticed that the padding on the top of the horse, over which the unfortunate lad was forced to bend, was provided with a reservation clearly intended to keep the genital package of its older clients away from the cane.  And as he listened the Headmaster, he saw lying there on the desk, directly in front of him, a vicious-looking, senior rattan cane, whose delights he was shortly to fell as it mated with his arse. 

Normally, Calvert had, like most boys who have gone through the rather brutal mill of an English public school education, developed, if not an indifference to the pain of the cane, at least an acceptance that its use was an integral part of a public schoolboy’s life. And so, even with the ever increasing severity of the beatings he had taken from his housemaster the previous year, he had not been deterred from smoking. If he was caught at it, like most of his schoolmates he just accepted the fact of a sore arse was a consequence. After all, as a regular smoker, he had been caught and suffered the rather painful consequences dispensed by his housemaster only three times during the year. So he counted himself lucky that he had been caught smoking and beaten for the offence only three times; it could have been much worse; much, much worse! But listening to the Headmaster as he droned on and having seen the parlous state of the four lads who had just benefitted from his corrective largesse, his nervousness, faced with the unknown, had increased to concert pitch.  

“So, Calvert, I think you will agree that faced, as I now am, with your persistent smoking, I have little option but to beat you yet again.  Now, Calvert, as the steadily increased number of cuts that your housemaster gave you last year  do not appear to have had the desired, deterrent effect for which they were clearly intended,  it falls to me to me, your new Headmaster, to take up the baton in yet another attempt to make you see the error of your ways.  In view of your continued intransigence, I think that an eighteen cut beating is entirely appropriate.”

“But if you think that what you are now about to receive is excessively severe, then think on this before you light up your next smoke, The school rules allow up to twenty-four cuts for any one offence.  So think hard and long, Calvert, before you continue on your present path, for if you come before me again in this your final year at this school for this same offence, make no mistake, young man,  I shall have no hesitation in visiting the maximum punishment on your backside.  I trust, Calvert that I make myself clear.”

By now, Calvert was almost pissing himself with the fear of what was to come. He now felt none of that nonchalance with which he regularly faced a potential caning from his housemaster. The sight of his four immediate predecessors in the Headmaster’s study, coupled with the blood-curdling words to which he had just heard, had rendered him on a state of near panic.  Add to this the fact that like many lads about to have their arses skinned, the Headmaster’s words had worked their erotic magic on him.  He was acutely conscious of the fact that his cock, with that mind of its own that the male appendage has, was thrusting against those flimsy shorts which could barely contain it.

What now, if the Headmaster told him to drop his shorts, for he knew instinctively, although it had never explicitly been spelled out to the members of that Friday night group that he was to be beaten on the bare. He shuddered inwardly with the embarrassment he would feel feel if the Headmaster told him, in his present aroused, erotic state, to drop his shorts. What on earth would he do, other than die of embarrassment in some futile attempt to hide with his hands his massive erection from the Headmaster? And he knew that massive was the right word to describe his exceptional endowment, which, if his shorts came down, would be pointing directly at the Headmaster like a loaded gun.

In fact, in appropriate circumstances, Calvert, like many older public schoolboys, was not averse to showing off his prize possession, or even sharing its capabilities with some his like-minded classmates. But there were horses for courses and this was not the occasion where he wanted to flaunt his undoubted sexual capabilities in front of his Headmaster, who was about to shred his arse with a cane.  But as he looked at the Headmaster, he saw that he too was at least as aroused as he himself was, for Rufus’s cock was also straining at the crotch of his trousers.

“Well, Calvert, unless you have anything else you wish to say, I think that your position today is quite clear. You have persistently broken one of the cardinal rules of the school and I am sure that you see that I have no alternative by to punish you – and punish you severely – for your repeated disobedience.”

Rufus rose from behind his desk where he had hitherto been seated and told Calvert to bends across the beating horse.  For a fleeting moment, Calvert thought that he was going to escape shedding his shorts. But his hopes were immediately dashed as he felt Rufus’s fingers under the rear waist-band pulling down the flimsy garment guarding his modesty. But as he was sporting a rock-hard cock, the shorts, which slipped down easily over his soon to be blistered buttocks, became stuck on what was the human equivalent of a clothes hook.

But Rufus was completely unperturbed by this apparent set-back, which he took in his stride. His right-hand descended down the front of Calvert’s shorts and disengaged them from the lad’s tumescent penis, the tip of which was by this time oozing the first drops of pre-cum, which Rufus somehow managed to touch. Finally the shorts were on the floor in a pool around the lad’s ankles and his well-muscled arse was bare. Then like an executioner positioning his victim for the guillotine, Rufus place his hand in the middle of Calvert’s back and gently pushed him forward to bend further across the horse.

Calvert was grateful for the small mercy of having managed to expose only his naked arse to his Headmaster. So with a willingness born out of his wish to hide his rampant cock from view, he assumed the correct position, sandwiching his considerable sexual endowment of erect cock and balls out of sight between his belly and the padded cut-out reservation designed exactly for that purpose in the padded top against which he was now bent. But the Headmaster was evidently not totally satisfied with the lad’s position and fiddled around with the height adjusting mechanism for what seemed to the waiting Calvert like an age, before finally expressing himself satisfied that Calvert’s arse was not only on the appropriate position to be beaten but was also well and truly stretched over the padded top of the horse. He returned to his desk picked up the cane and took up his position alongside the unfortunate Calvert, who by now was in mental agony with the waiting.  But he found that he had still wait for that first, maiden cut of the cane to mate with his naked arse as Rufus again lectured him on the errors of his ways.

“Now, Calvert, I think I have already told you that in view of your continued disobedience you are to receive eighteen strokes of the cane on this occasion.  However, I think you should know that I intend this beating to bring home to you the need for you to change your ways.  Therefore I regret to inform you that I shall administer the eighteen cuts, which I am sure you agree with me you richly deserve, in six bands each made up of three overlapping strokes rather than as eighteen, close individually placed parallel strokes as is more usually the case.”

Calvert, who had experienced the cane many times in his school career, had never before been beaten on the bare as he was now about to be. From the Headmaster’s remarks he now understood that he was about to receive a quite exceptional punishment, the effects of which would remain with him for a long time. Nor had he ever been beaten in the way that he was now about to be, He realised that the pain he would feel from the cane landing repeatedly on the same place would be an excruciating experience, but one which he had no way of avoiding and would simply have to bear.

But he was also honest enough to acknowledged to himself, as he lay there, bent across the horse waiting for that first cut to land on his naked arse, that he had only himself to blame for the situation in which he now found himself. And so, the young man, closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and steeled himself as he waited for that first, biting cut of the cane to land on his naked backside.  He had no illusion whatsoever that he was about to undergo what was to be the most painful experiences of his life and he just hoped that would be able to  maintain his dignity throughout the whole horrible process.

Rufus knew that he intended to give Calvert the beating of his young life, but he also knew that on this occasion, his decision was totally justified; Calvert had got to learn that he he could not continue breaking one of the school’s cardinal rules and expect to escape retribution for his repeated sins. So, in his own mind, Rufus felt totally at ease with the exemplary punishment he was about to inflict on the lad’s arse.  But, of course, knowing Rufus as we now do, it was obvious that he was about to take Calvert’s arse to, and potentially beyond, the limits of endurance of what any schoolboy, even an eighteen years old sixth former should be expected to stand.

Not to mince words, Rufus was looking forward to thrashing Calvert’s arse, which he viewed as a rare treat for himself; one allowing him to indulge his worst sadistic instincts on the hapless lad.  As he prepared himself to deliver the first stroke which would defile the magnificent pair of buttocks he saw before him, his mind flashed back to that day several years earlier, when, as a candidate for the position of Senior Classics Master at Rigby School, he had first thrashed a boy called Milson, which had led to his being seduced by the then head-boy of Rigby, Edward Matheson, not only into engraving his naked arse with the cane, but then to go on and copulate with the young man.

This had been the only time during his entire teaching career that he had ever had sex with a boy  and the young man in question, Edward Matheson had been a confirmed masochist, who had persuaded Rufus, first to thrash his arse for him and then to go on and fuck him. So Rufus had had a highly willing partner to the act. But today, looking at Calvert’s equally inviting buns, the situation was totally different. Calvert was anything but a willing collaborator in the act to which he had been forced to submit his naked arse and the thought of any post-flagellation sex was totally out of the question for Rufus.

But as he looked upon the magnificent globes of Calvert’s two buns, Rufus realised that he would have to exercise considerable personal restraint of his own libido to avoid shafting the lad’s arse after he had beaten it. He knew that he would have to put his own immediate lust for post-flagellation sex on hold until later that evening when he would see Tom Swires. Tom, after years of experience of his partner could read him like a book whenever they had sex together, which was several times a week in spite of their living apart. 

Tom was fully aware of his lover’s sadistic streak when it came to punishing boys he taught. But he accepted this side of Rufus’s character as he himself benefitted enormously from the high level of erotic arousal into which Rufus worked himself by beating a boy immediately prior to any sexual tryst with him. Rufus was never less than vigorous when he and Tom copulated. But whenever Rufus fucked him after he came from beating a boy, Tom always knew instantly, from the moment Rufus shafted him that Rufus was already into a high state of sexual anticipation. 

He absolutely adored the rough sex which always ensued on such occasions, as Rufus used his cock on his lover as brutally as he had applied the cane to the naked arse of the lad he had just beaten.

Rufus tapped the mid-point of Calvert’s trembling arse, before bringing down the cane with an almighty crack to land exactly where he had been tapping. Calvert, who had been caned on his clothed backside on three previous occasions for the selfsame offence of smoking, had never before felt anything remotely as painful at that first stroke on the bare, delivered by his new Headmaster. The young man, unable to control his feelings as the excruciating pain of that first stroke of the well seasoned rattan cane bit viciously into his the flesh of his bare arse, let out what was destined to be the first of  series of of howls of pain.

But unbearable though that maiden stroke had been, things got swiftly worse, as the Headmaster, with vicious pleasure which characterised his approach to corporal punishment, landed his next two cuts on exactly the same place as that first cut. And cut really is an appropriate word to describe what was happening to Calvert’s arse, as the cane cut deeply into his bare buttocks three times on exactly the same spot.

And then, as the fourth stroke ploughed a new furrow, to be in turn reinforced by two further strokes, it suddenly dawned on Calvert that he was receiving a beating which would leave his arse with what appeared superficially to be a classic six-of-the-best appearance, but with the important difference that each of the six, unbelievably painful welts was the result of three overlapping strokes of the cane.

Short of taking a whip to the lad’s arse, it is hard to imagine a more awful beating. 

Calvert wept copiously throughout his entire, eighteen-stroke penance.  The word, retribution, was barely adequate to describe the agony which Calvert suffered for his sins. When he was finally was told to get up, he could barely bend down to retrieve his shorts from around his ankles, such was his agony.  No one would dispute the fact that Calvert deserved an exemplary punishment for his persistent breaking of the same golden rule. But anyone could have seen that Rufus, as he tended to, had really gone too far.

So Rufus Rothery had chosen to begin his rule as Headmaster of Churton, with what was almost a reign of terror with exactly the same over-the- top act, which had cost him his two previous posts – first at St Olaf’s and then at Rigby. But this time there was an important difference he was Headmaster. His word at Churton was now law in the school. So he was more or less sheltered from the whispered innuendos of his colleagues’ which had twice, in the past led to his downfall.

EPILOGUE

That evening, Rufus exceeded Tom Swires’ sexual expectations by a large margin.  When, after the second climactic orgasm to which Rufus brought his lover, Tom said: “Well, Rufus, you appear to have had a very satisfactory day at school today.”

Rufus replied: “Indeed I have, Tom. I think can safely say that I have established the guiding principles under which the school will, henceforth, be run.”

“So, Rufus, just how many lucky lads’ arses did you shred before coming here tonight? Judging by your performance so far, you must have done something major to get yourself so aroused.”

“Tom, why don’t you just shut up and lie back and let me fuck you again.  But to satisfy your curiosity, I gave myself the pleasure of initiating five lads into the new regime. And I think I can safely say that they are already spreading the message throughout the school”

“Well all I can say, if that turns you on as it obviously has done, keep up the good work.”

THE END