The Portrait of a Strict Disciplinarian

New readers should start reading this novel at Chapter 1.  The chapters do not stand alone, but are sequential components of an erotic novel in which there are 36 chapters in all, which are intended to be read in numerical order. 

Any doubt that the inmates of Moulton Midmarsh might still have harboured about the commitment of their new Chief Disciplinarian to his role, were fully dispelled in the two days leading up to New Year’s Eve. Brad’s first contact ever with a class of boys had been on December 28th. But at Moulton Midmarsh, in addition to the sort of on-the-spot beatings in class, the likes of which Brad had dispensed to the Collins brothers in his first hour as form-master, the almost daily punishment parades at which Brad would henceforth officiate, were an inexorable and unrelenting fact of life for the inmates. On Brad’s first day, it just so happened that there was no punishment parade as not a single inmate had been invited by any member of the teaching staff to present his arse for roasting that evening.

However, the next day, Miss Forsyth presented Brad with a list of three names accompanied by their respective punishment notes. All three had been slated for punishment by the same master, an older man, who taught English. Apparently, he had broken up a fistfight among the three of them in the corridor after lunch and had decided to allow Brad, in his role of Chief Disciplinarian, to deal with them.  Brad looked at the three names of his – let us call them maiden clients – to his first ever punishment parade.  Two of the names meant nothing to him; but he saw with considerable personal satisfaction, that the odious Roger Straker, whose form-master he himself was, was the third name on the list.

Brad knew that the punishment parade had been originally seen as a means of division of power between the person demanding that an inmate be punished and the actual performance of the physical act of flagellation. The thinking was that this division of powers, would ensure that the punishment was carried out dispassionately by a third party, which would eliminate any degree of personal, vindictive vengeance by the master ordering a lad to be beaten, from the physical administration of the beating itself. Thus, any boy being committed to the punishment parade, itself an unpleasantly painful experience for the lad in question, would be beaten by someone, who was simply performing his duty and had no personal involvement in the offence for which the lad was being caned.  

The idea was fine in principle, but in practice was flawed.  Based on the normal separation of penal powers in the United Kingdom by the police, the judge and jury  and – let us call him – the executioner,  it had reduced the system to only two participants: the master issuing the punishment note and the master carrying out the beating itself. Any master issuing a dreaded punishment note, was more or less free to demand any punishment for the assignee, provided it respected the norms dictated by the school rules, which, to say the least, were pretty draconian at Moulton Midmarsh. Add to this the discretion given to the performer of the act – in this case Brad – to modify the punishment requested, the lad being punished was totally at the mercy of the Chief Disciplinarian. The only thing which could be said in favour of the system was that the person wielding the cane was not the same as the person demanding it. But any boy unfortunate enough to be assigned to the punishment parade – for whatever reason – knew that he faced a fate, apocryphally referred to as being worse than death.

Looking at the list of three names comprising his maiden punishment parade contingent at Moulton Midmarsh, Brad knew instinctively that he would have to steel himself not to be vindictive to Roger Straker, in view of his personal, instant dislike of the lad: a dislike born purely out of his disgust at the lascivious way and the obvious relish and pleasure he had shown as his classmate was being beaten. But Brad also knew that his dislike for Straker had, for no reason at all attributable to the lad himself, been heightened by the fact that he had found himself obliged to beat Alan Collins, Robert’s brother for refusing to take any part in his brother’s chastisement. He had wished, as he was thrashing Alan Collins that it had been Straker whose naked arse was on the line. He knew he could not allow – or better, should not allow – his personal animosity towards Straker to influence what he would be visiting on the boy’s naked arse that evening. But at the end of the day he knew that he too was human and subject to all the failings which go with it. Alas, poor Straker was in for a hard ride.

Reading again the three punishment notes, Brad saw that Straker had evidently been identified by his colleague as the instigator of the fracas As such Straker’s punishment note had recommended 15 cuts of the cane  whereas his two co-defendants, Cummings and Blaire by name, neither of whom Brad knew, had escaped with just the school’s standard tariff of 12. The classic six of the best had long been discarded as being totally inadequate as a means of delivering a well-beaten-arse. But, just the standard tariff of 12 was in itself a frighteningly daunting prospect for any boy, whether delivered in class or in the Punishment Room.  But when coupled in the Punishment Room with the potential prospect of six resounding pre-conditioning swats with the Headmaster’s patent paddle to his buttocks before the application of the cane, it was quite easy to see why any boy quailed at the thought of being on Punishment Parade. 

So, with his conscience clear, as Straker had been awarded his punishment by a colleague for a very sound reason and not the old airy-fairy excuse:  you have the wrong attitude, which needs to be corrected, that completely fictive reason, regularly used by earlier generations of public school prefects, when they felt in need of self-gratification and were looking for an excuse to justify shredding the arse of one of their younger schoolmates, who had done absolutely nothing to deserve a beating. However, given the circumstances, which had fortuitously delivered the unfortunate Straker into his hands, Brad convinced himself that he was absolved from any of his own prejudices; so in going to town on Straker’s arse, as he had every intention of doing, he would merely be carrying out his duty as Chief Disciplinarian. But Brad knew that even with the self-absolution he had awarded himself, when push came to shove and he was presented with Straker’s naked arse to correct – another mealy-mouthed euphemism – he would administer six swats with of the Headmaster’s paddle followed by 15 cuts with the cane, with the maximum force he could.  Straker would benefit from a beating administered with all that love and attention which the boy who had become his bête-noire deserved.  Brad found his cock stiffening just thinking about the pleasure that roasting Straker’s arse would give him.

The fatidic hour when Brad would, for the very first time, exercise his authority as Chief Disciplinarian of Moulton Midmarsh School, was upon him. For him it was an event comparable to the launching of an ocean-going liner; it was the first concrete step in exercising the main function of his future career. He fancifully thought that the first, preconditioning swat applied to the arse of his first victim, would be equivalent to the traditional bottle of champagne, broken over the bow of a new ship to christen it as it was launched down the slipway. The harsh reality was that Bradley Caine was embarking on the career of a professional arse-beater, a task which few men would relish on a regular basis. As he prepared himself for his inaugural performance, one which only he himself and the guards would share with the unfortunate recipients of his efforts, Brad reflected back to that chance invitation to a Brotherhood meeting in Oxford, which had ultimately led to his present position. 

That first evening at the Brotherhood meeting, had been the key first step instrumental in turning him into a reluctant administrant of the cane. But then, as time passed, he had found his distaste in beating other men, who craved a beating prior to sex, had gradually turned into enjoyment: a pleasure, which was now enhanced by the fact that the recipients of his efforts at Moulton Midmarsh, were no longer voluntary, but were young miscreants who truly deserved to suffer painful retribution for their misdeeds.  So it was at that precise moment, as he entered the Punishment Room that he acknowledged to himself, for the very first time, that he too was as prone to the sin of Schadenfreude as had been the boys in his class yesterday, when he had beaten the two Collins brothers. Somewhat shamefully he admitted to himself that he was he was going to enjoy immensely beating these three young miscreants, of whom he knew only Roger Straker personally. He tried to convince himself that, despite his animosity toward the obsequious, sycophantic Straker, he would punish him as dispassionately as he would the other two. However, Brad was as human as the rest of us and deep in his heart, he knew that he would make the lad suffer as much as he possibly could.

Brad had arrived early at the Punishment Room and the guards, under the direction of the chief warder, Mr. Turner, had not yet arrived with the condemned men.  Brad entered the room where, on the occasion of his interview for the very post he now occupied, he had already assisted the Headmaster in beating three young men whom he had not known. But now it was quite different. This time, he and he alone was in charge and he knew that this three-man inaugural beating would announce to the entire school that the punishment system was alive and well, totally fit for purpose and in full working order. It was, therefore, important that there were no hitches and that the three candidates leave bearing the physical signs of their ordeal to show to their mates that what they had just undergone at the hands of the new bloke, was no joking matter.

He looked at the three beating horses, standing side by side, as if patiently waiting to be mounted by their riders for the evening. He took down, one by one, several canes from the selection hanging there, flexed them all and after a moment’s reflection, selected the one he would use that evening.  Choosing a cane was a very personal matter: his own preference was for a lighter, more whippy, length of rattan, which, when correctly applied with a firm hand behind it, could be made to bite more deeply into the naked buttocks of the recipient, inflicting unbelievably excruciating pain, which would remain with the unfortunate recipient for quite some time.  Brad had not lost sight of the fact that when it came to administering corporal punishment, pain was the name of the game and he fully intended to send away his first three clients with a very painful, long-lived souvenir of their misdeeds.

Brad had already decided that, this, his maiden performance as Chief Disciplinarian, should be as dramatic as possible. And so, as had been the case when he assisted the Headmaster, he decided that he would have the three miscreants strapped down simultaneously, with their arses correctly positioned for beating. That way, each of them could share in the agonies which their schoolmates were undergoing. It was Brad’s express intention to extract the maximum grape-vine-publicity from his first act as Chief Disciplinarian, to establish in the minds of the entire school that the new man was a force both to be reckoned with and feared.

But even without Brad’s intention to imbue his maiden performance with as much drama as possible, the standard procedure for any boy unfortunate enough to find himself on punishment parade was, to say the very least, frighteningly disconcerting well before the cane actually mated with the lad’s buttocks and delivered its powerfully painful message. The punishment parade had been conceived by the Headmaster as a ritual of retribution for inmates of Moulton Midmarsh, but also as a painfully practical introduction to all new arrivals. Those new boys, who arrived, as many of them did, with a court order for an immediate birching or caning on arrival, were all beaten immediately. Other new arrivals were not, however, allowed to escape the painful scourge of the Moulton Midmarsh and were, immediately after arrival, given the School’s, generously welcoming tariff of 12 cuts with the cane as part of their induction process.

Even before the boys arrived at the Punishment Room, the overture to the drama which was to be enacted was frightening.  The Headmaster had decreed that all boys being punished, whether existing inmates or new arrivals, must be scrupulously clean before submitting their bare arses to purifying sting of the cane or birch.  So before they entered the Punishment Room, they were all made to take a shower, after which, wearing only a pair of  skimpy shorts to preserve what was left of their dignity, they were marched and made to await their fate in the corridor, under the watchful eye of the guards. And there they were doomed to wait, in a state of fearful anticipation of what was to come, combined with the sexual arousal which so often accompanies the administering of corporal punishment for all concerned, even for the unfortunate  recipients.

The three visibly nervous 16-year-old young men were finally delivered, exactly on time, by Chief Warder Turner and three, muscular, young guards. “All, present and correct and awaiting your attention, Sir.”

“Turner, I have decided that as these three young miscreants were fighting together, I shall punish them together and let the three of them see for themselves what their bad behaviour has brought upon them.  So please prepare all three of them for immediate punishment and see that they are all well restrained across the beating-horses with their arses up high. And I would like Straker over the horse on the extreme right.”

The head-warder then said:  “As you wish, sir.” And then, turning to the three lads, who were now visibly trembling as their horrible moment approached, when their backsides would be shredded by the cane: “Right, lads, you heard Mr. Caine, In you go; take off your shorts and go and stand in front of one of the horses; and you Straker, you heard Mr. Caine; go stand in front of the last horse on the right.”

It is doubtful that the boys had known beforehand that they would be told to discard their shorts, the only item of clothing they had been wearing, leaving them now totally naked and humiliated, in which state they were to be beaten. This was not the first time that they were seeing each other naked, as they showered together every day.  But it was one thing to shower yourself together with your classmates, and quite another to be forced to stand there naked, waiting to be strapped down over a horse and have your arse beaten in retribution for your sins.  But the three of them could do nothing but obey. And so, a few minutes later, Brad was presented with the utterly alluring prospect of three, muscular sets of buttocks, which were just crying out for attention.  Their submission and total capitulation to authority, as ever, a foregone conclusion, was complete.

Now that the lads were ready for punishment, the Head Warder withdrew leaving the three young guards to supervise the proceedings and deal with the lads after it was over.

Brad was in no hurry to begin and let the boys stew in their own juice and for a few minutes, suffering that mental anguish, which always accompanies the wait before the cane actually mates with its target and delivers its excruciatingly painful message. He had decided that, as this was his debut into his new function as Chief Disciplinarian, he would make his inaugural performance one to be remembered by the three recipients. And using his discretionary powers he greatly increased the severity of the punishment demanded by his colleague, which he himself considered totally inadequate.

Announcing these glad tidings to the three unfortunates, he said: “Gentlemen, I would hate any of you to feel that the school is falling short in the retribution for your misbehaviour which I am shortly to exact from you.”  It is doubtful if any of the three lads understood the meaning of the word retribution or the significance of what they had just heard; but what followed was heart-stoppingly-clear and sent an added shiver of fear down their spines:  “I have, therefore decided to use my discretion as Chief Disciplinarian of this School, to increase the severity of the punishment my colleague initially imposed on you, which, quite frankly, I find inadequate in view of the gravity of your misbehaviour. You will all receive six pre-conditioning swats with the paddle across your buttocks prior to being caned. But you Cummings and you Blaire will then receive 15 rather than 12 cuts of the cane. As for you, Straker, as the instigator of this unfortunate incident, will receive 18 rather than 15 cuts of the cane.” And then for good measure, Brad trotted out that trite and classically fatuous, totally false statement: “You will all, I am sure, realise that in punishing you, I am acting only in your best interests and that you are being corrected for your own good.”

The time for words being over, Brad, the Headmaster’s paddle in his hand, now approached Cummings, who was strapped immobile over the first horse on the left, positioned himself to the lad’s left and gave him three almighty swats on his right buttocks. Cummings voiced his appreciation in the form of roars of pain.  Brad then systematically and deliberately, with no haste at all, gave the other two lads their first three swats with the paddle.  He then repeated this initiation into a world of extreme pain, by giving each of them a further three swats on their left buttocks. Whilst the paddle does not produce the biting pain of the cane, when applied vigorously, as it just had been by Brad, it is also an extremely painful punishment. It has the advantage of spreading the force of the blow over a larger area and does not, therefore, break the skin of the unfortunate recipient.  But with six blows, which are what the lads had each received, it had already left their backsides in a painfully parlous state. And as the Headmaster had pointed out to Brad, it ensured that the recipient derived the maximum effect from the caning which was to follow.

Brad paused for a couple of minutes to admire his handiwork before continuing. He was now presented with three pairs of bright-red, bare buttocks which were just so very inviting; and for a man of Brad’s sexual proclivities, not only from the punishment point of view. By this time, all three lads were sobbing gently, indicating to Brad that the medicine he had just administered had already hit the spot. He glanced across at the three guards and saw from their tented trousers that they had all been aroused by what they had just seen; as had he himself.  It seems to be an ineluctable fact, that most men become sexually aroused when they see another man being punished.  Brad knew that once the beatings were completed, both he himself and the guards would all need immediate relief from the sexual tension which was already building up. He asked himself where he would find relief himself other than shutting himself in a lavatory somewhere and masturbating. But as far as the guards were concerned, he preferred to let sleeping dogs lie and not even to begin to think of what might happen once he had completed beating the lads and had left them in the tender loving care of the guards.

But Brad still had a job to finish and he now advanced, cane in hand, and stood alongside the unfortunate Cummings who was soon to feel the first cutting strokes of his punishment. He laid the cane gently across the lad’s arse, gently tapping him several times as if choosing the place for his first stroke. “Cummings, relax your bottom completely before we begin and keep them that way until I have finished caning you.  Make no mistake; if I see you clenching your buttocks before I have finished then I shall start over from the beginning. Is that clear boy?  And you other two, take note also, as what I have just told Cummings applies equally to you.  Now, boy, brace yourself, because I would be lying to you if I told you that this was not going to hurt, as, for your own good, (yet again, that fatuously insincere phrase!) I intend to make you live through the most painful few minutes of your life to date, in retribution for breaking one of the School’s strictest rules.  You, boy, will think hard and long, after what you are about to experience, before you get into another fight. And you two also take note of what I have just said to your partner in crime here, as it also applies equally to you. Boys, I will not hide from you that fact that I intend to send the three of you to bed tonight with backsides so sore that you will all wish you had never been born.”

The first stroke of the cane landed on Cummings’s arse, with that inimitable crack of well-seasoned rattan mating with raw flesh.  As he watched the deep weal, raised by the cane across Cummings’s arse, quickly turn bright red, it seemed to Brad that the union of the rattan cane with the bare backside of a boy was marriage truly pre-ordained in heaven – or did he mean hell? And as that first stroke of the cane, which truly initiated Brad’s career as a disciplinarian, he knew instinctively, without that shadow of doubt, which had always been lurking at the back of his mind, that he had now found his true vocation in life. Of the 15 cuts, to which he had sentenced the unfortunate Cummings, he now laid on nine, strictly parallel, before moving on to initiate the trembling Blaire to the scourge of the cane. He was rewarded for his efforts and was gratified to hear what he himself thought of – fancily, it has to be admitted – as the lad’s vociferous expressions of appreciation of the efforts being made on his behalf.

Blaire then received the first nine strokes of his punishment before Brad moved on to address his bête-noire, Roger Straker. Brad had promised himself that although he had taken a great dislike to the lad, he would punish him in the same dispassionate way as he had just dealt with Cummings and Blaire. But Brad, like all of us, was human and prone to human failings and he knew now that push had come to shove, in spite of his best intentions he would give the lad hell. The first 12 of the 18 strokes, which had been allocated to Straker, were delivered with an unbridled ferocity; each stroke was doubled, leaving him with an arse embellished with six, deep parallel welts, which were already turning a bluish-purple. Whether Straker himself realised that he had received special treatment is doubtful. What is, however, certain, is that the lad was already in agony and knew that he had a further six cuts still to endure.

And that is exactly what Brad had intended for all three lads.  By splitting the beatings into two parts, thereby allowing the lads to stew in their own rather bitter juice, he had prolonged the agony of the punishment, giving the recipients the additional mental anguish of waiting for another painful encounter with the cane. Before the cane had finally been banned from use in all schools, public school boys, many of whom lived their entire life at school under the constant threat of the cane, often claimed, when they were promised a beating at a later time – a frequent occurrence – that the mental anguish of waiting was worse than the beating itself. You can well understand how these three boys felt to have been given half their punishment and then to have been left there in agony, in a sort of suspended state of animation, obliged to wait for the sequel.

Brad was in no hurry to finish beating the three lads, so he waited for several minutes before again approaching Cummings, who was still sobbing quietly.  As he again laid the cane across the lad’s raw stripes which were now turning blue, Cummings begged for mercy: “Please, Sir, no more Sir.  My bottom is already so very painful, Sir. I don’t think I can stand any more, Sir. So please, please Sir, no more.”

It goes without saying that the lad’s pleas went unheeded and, over the next few minutes Brad delivered six more strokes to each of three already well-roasted arses. But even now, Brad did not finish his task with what might one called a single coup de grace. He first positioned himself, successively, on each boy’s left and gave him three diagonal strokes, before going back and standing on his right to give him the three final strokes diagonally from that position.  Brad surveyed his completed handiwork, which had twice left the boys, in agonisingly painful suspension, wondering if their penance would ever finally come to an end.

He saw, to his great personal satisfaction that he had created what any connoisseur would recognise as three masterpieces of flagellate art; transient, it is true; but masterpieces nevertheless. One thing was sure; the three unfortunate beneficiaries of Brad’s first efforts as Chief Disciplinarian were all in such agony that they were convinced they would never again sit down comfortably. And their magnificently – there is no other word adequately to describe them – striped arses, served to show the eager viewers of the damage that the new boy on the block really did mean business and, like an unexploded bomb, should be avoided like the plague.

But how had this, his first experience of exercising his power as Chief Disciplinarian affected Brad? He had left the Punishment Room floating on a cloud if in seventh heaven. He admitted to himself that he had taken great, personal pleasure in thrashing the three boys; greater pleasure, in fact, than he had ever had from his use of the cane at the Brotherhood meetings. There he had never truly shaken off the feeling that although he was beating guys who wanted to be beaten: guys who willingly offered their arses to the pain of the cane, there was, nevertheless, something inherently wrong about what he was doing. Of course, this was utter nonsense as the beatings were an act between consenting adults. But, whether utter nonsense or not, the feeling was there, and he had not been able to rid himself of it. Was it because he had more or less been inveigled into the whole business of consensual corporal punishment, an act which initially he had found repulsive, but which he had gradually come to enjoy performing? But now, here at Moulton-Midmarsh, he felt completely at ease wielding the cane. He was beating young men, who really did deserve to be punished for their misdeeds and he thoroughly enjoyed making them suffer. He knew that he had found his true vocation in life.

As Brad left the Punishment Room, he wondered what would now happen to the three boys whom he had just punished. The boys had been assembled and prepared for their ordeal by the head-warder, Turner and had been presented to him on a plate with their naked arses perfectly positioned to be beaten. Brad was now concerned that their backsides might need some medical attention as he had, with the vigour of his caning, broken the skin in some places. He was not unduly worried about the painful state in which he had left the three boys as they deserved what they had received. Pain was the name of the game: a maxim to which Brad subscribed wholeheartedly and he had not stinted on the severity of the beatings he had given them. But now that they had taken their punishment and were suffering severe retribution in the form of the extreme pain to which they had been subjected, they should be treated properly.  Brad did not believe rubbing salt into their wounds and as his part in the proceedings had been limited purely to the beating itself, he quite rightly, wondered who would now take care of the boys.

Brad had been surprised to see that Warder Turner, once he had seen that the boys to be beaten were in the correct position, had left the room.  He remembered that Turner had also absented himself from the punishment scene before the actual beatings took place, when he had assisted the Headmaster during his first visit to the School. But Turner was waiting in the corridor as Brad left the Punishment Room.

 “Did everything go alright, Sir? Was everything to your satisfaction Sir?”

“Yes, thank you, Turner, everything was perfect.   I wondered why you yourself did not stay to witness the boys being punished when you left the three guards present.”

“Well, Sir, I have adopted the habit of never being present when boys are being beaten. You see, Sir, strange though it may seem for someone in my position, I do not like to see the lads suffer, even though I know that they deserve all they are being given. And another thing, Sir, I find watching boys being beaten on the bare is such an arousing sight, that I might not be responsible for my actions. So, as you see Sir, I have found it better to leave the room after I have done my job of preparing the lads for caning. But now that it is all over, Sir, you can leave it to the three guards and me to deal with the boys and see that they get the necessary post-punishment care and attention they require.  So, Sir, you yourself have nothing more to do. Just leave it to us, Sir, to get the lads back to their dormitories.”

Did Brad find Turner’s comments reassuring?  Well, only partly. He now understood that Turner knew he could not control himself sexually if he watched the lads being beaten and had, wisely, therefore, decided never to be present to witness the act. But, what about the guards? They were all virile young men and Brad had seen on the two occasions that he had now actively participated in beating arse in the Punishment Room that the guards too had all been sexually aroused, as testified by the tenting their trousers. The facts had to be faced: witnessing corporal punishment, especially when it was delivered on the bare, was usually a sexually arousing experience for the observers, which could have consequences. Brad had become sufficiently honest enough to admit to himself that had he not been able to restrain his own sexual desires, he could happily have fucked all three lads there and then, strapped immobile across the beating horses as they were. Corporal punishment and sex went hand in hand; to think that one could be divorced from the other was pie in the sky; it was just never going to happen.

Brad was acutely aware that he himself was not immune from the sexual arousal which accompanied the act of administering corporal punishment.  For him, at that precise moment in time, the most important thing was to find relief for the sexual tension which had built up as he had thrashed the three lads.  For the moment, his concerns about what was happening to the lads in the tender, loving care of the guards was shelved as he had to attend to his own burning needs. He hot-footed it back to his apartment where he intended to strip off his cum-soaked underpants and relieve himself solo of the sexual tension which had built up by jerking himself off. 

He had just divested himself of his pants and underpants, liberating his rock-hard, cock, which with that mind of its own, with which every man has from time to time to contend, had been straining to escape from its confinement, demanding stridently some action of its own. It was declaring itself fit for purpose as it was dribbling precum in a continuous stream and was glistening with a coating of the viscous emission.  However, that day, the gods were with Brad and avoided him having to use, like a schoolboy, the five-fingered lover to relieve his tension. Suddenly, totally without warning, while Brad was standing there with his cock jutting proudly out, clearly demanding immediate attention, DD came in through the door which connected their two apartments.

Brad took one look at DD, went across to him and without a single word, unbuckled his belt unzipped his trousers and pulled down his underpants.  Then with his astonished partner’s anus now totally exposed for service, Brad swung him around and thrust his dripping cock with one dramatic and quite brutal thrust, as far he could into DD’s arse. Gone for the moment was any question of mutuality, a quality, which Brad usually prized in all matters sexual. This was unadulterated, raw, anal sex at its crudest. Brad was fucking DD without any regard at all for his feelings. It was a happy chance for Brad that DD had arrived at that moment. And even the fact that the two of them had become seriously committed lovers, had no bearing at all on Brad’s actions, which were dictated purely by the need to relieve his sexual tension. In a way Brad was raping his partner; but it could have been any another convenient arse to hand. At that moment, Brad’s thoughts were entirely centred on himself; to hell with what DD was thinking; he was simply a convenient means to an end!

The act of hardcore fucking, almost rape – for, calling a spade a spade, that was what Brad was engaged in – did not last very long. Brad punished DD’s anus with violent thrusts of his cock, but as he had been so psyched up when had finished beating the three boys, within a dozen or so strokes, he climaxed and with one last mighty thrust shot his huge load inside his partner. It was an orgasm that like all others was very brief – for that unfortunately is the nature of the beast – but to Brad at the very moment when he climaxed and achieved the relief he had craved, that exquisite moment seemed like an eternity. Again and again as his semen was uncontrollably jerked from the eye of his cock, he gave DD a few vicious final thrusts, as if to hammer home that for that for that brief moment he was king and everyone else was subservient to him. He finally more or less collapsed on DD’s back, still deeply embedded inside him.

DD finally said: “What the fuck – pardon my French – brought that on? What have I done to deserve such an unexpected welcome?” By now sporting a large erection himself, he slid himself free of Brad’s cock, swung him around and thrust himself into Brad’s anus in exactly the same way as Brad had just done to him   There was however one important difference. Whereas Brad’s cock had been pre-lubricated by his own considerable pre-ejaculation emissions brought on as a result of being so sexually aroused by caning the three lads, DD’s rock-hard penis was totally dry. As DD thrust himself into Brad’s equally dry passage, Brad had his first experience of taking his first hardcore fuck, standing up and totally without any preparation.

For both of them, it took the act of anal sex, motivated by sheer carnal lust on the part of DD, to a level which neither of them had ever experienced before. DD was not deterred from his purpose by the discomfort that both of them were feeling due to a lack of any lubrication. As his actions were also probably motivated by a certain feeling of tit-for-tat payback, he pressed on with his customary vigour, giving Brad long powerful strokes of his sizeable endowment, each of which felt to Brad as if his passage was being reamed with a broom handle covered with sand-paper.  By the time DD finally climaxed, more by good luck than good management he took Brad with him all the way, and the two of them pumped out their seed; DD deposited his load inside Brad, who shot his own wad all over the floor.

DD finally withdrew his cock from Brad and the two of them embraced face to face, with Brad babbling his apologies for what he saw as his bad behaviour: “Can you ever forgive me, DD for doing what I just did to you?  Frankly I am ashamed of myself, for that is no way to treat one’s lover. But you see, today was my inaugural session as Chief Disciplinarian at the School and I felt I had to leave my mark and make an impression.  Although I have thrashed numerous young guys times without number at the Brotherhood meetings, today was quite different. You see at the Brotherhood, the guys I was beating willingly volunteered to be caned; they wanted to have their arses beaten before sex, as it turned them on. But today, for the first time, I was beating boys, who truly deserved to be punished for their misdeeds, which is quite a different matter.”

“Anyway, DD, by the time I had finished with the three lads – and believe me, I really did give them absolute hell – I found that I was really so turned on sexually, in a way more extreme than I had ever been in the past. I had always been aroused by what I used to do at the Brotherhood meetings, which were always a prelude to an evening of sexual pleasure, nor only for the guys I had just beaten, but for me too.  Now I appreciate that corporal punishment and sexual arousal seem to be an indissociable pair of bedfellows. Not only do the direct parties to the act – the beater and the beaten, so to speak – find themselves aroused, but also just observing a beating, especially when it is on the bare, has exactly the same effect on the onlookers. But what I myself felt today transcended anything I had ever experienced in the past, so much so that I really had to restrain myself from going on and fucking the three young arses I had just thrashed. I tell you, DD, I could have done that with the greatest of pleasure”

“Do you realise what I am telling you DD? I, their master, having just given three pupils of this school the beating of their lives, had to restrain myself from going on to fuck them. DD, I had the boys strapped down across the three horses in the Punishment Room; so when I had finished with them, their three arses, richly and, if I say so myself, artistically embellished with what I fancily think of as ephemeral pieces of abstract art, were just crying out for further attention: attention, which I knew I would love to give them personally.  So, before I abandoned my self-restraint and gave way to my worst instincts,  I left the lads, with their arses like three pieces of ripe fruit just waiting to be picked, in the care of the three guards, who, I suspect, may have gone on an done what for me was quite unthinkable. So, with the intention of jerking myself off to relieve my unbelievably intense sexual tension, I came straight back here. Then out of the blue, you dropped in; and the rest is history, for which I am so very sorry. And, moreover, I don’t blame you in the slightest for getting your own back and giving me a dose of the same treatment.”

DD laughed: “Brad, you don’t have to feel sorry. You know I actually really enjoyed being jumped on like that. From time to time it’s just great to be brought down to earth and realise, in spite of our noble aspirations that, at the end of the day, we are all human and prone to human failings. Anyway, Brad, you have shown yourself not always to be like a little Lord Fauntleroy and discovered a side of yourself which I guess you never knew existed until now. But, you know, Brad, to talk turkey, from time to time I really do enjoy rough, uninhibited, animal-like, raw sex, which is exactly what we had together twice just now. You know, the way you attacked me – forgive the word – made me feel like a bitch on heat being mounted by a dog, which having got the scent, could not control itself; but, for my sins, I admit I thoroughly enjoyed it. Even though it had nothing to do with lovemaking, it was an absolutely exhilarating moment and took me back to my last year at boarding school, when I was giving a strictly forbidden slippering by the gym master, who I knew had had eyes for me for ages.”

“Anyway, for being rude to him, or so he claimed, he bent me across a chair in his office and whacked my bare arse with a slipper: an act strictly forbidden; but he did it anyway. But then, when he had finished leathering me, he stuck his finger up my hole with some sort of cream on it and the next thing I knew his hands were on my hips, holding me down and he had his cock up my arse. He fucked me hell for leather, giving me what was, in fact, my first sexual experience ever. And d’you know what? I thoroughly enjoyed it; exactly as I did your effort just now.  I was just 18 at the time and that was my introduction to gay sex.”

“I guess I had known since I was about 15 that I would ultimately be a man’s man, but until then I had never had any form of sex at all. I guess I was a late starter. However, after that impromptu, not-so-gentle introduction to the practice of anal sex, he and I somehow drifted into what I suppose was a sort of relationship. To be fair to him, having raped me, he then went on and taught me the rudiments of anal sex, both as a top and a bottom. After that, I never looked back and here I am with you today. So, my friend, having revealed the darker side of our characters to each other, I suppose we both know what happens for the rest of the evening; your bed or mine?”

Continued in Chapter 20