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The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles

By: JASONSHOMOEROTICA



THE INGRAM-LEWIS CHRONICLES

OLIVER'S FIRST SCHOOL DAYS

A Homoerotic Short Story

By

Jason Land

This is the first of a series of, stand-alone, short stories set in the early part of the twentieth century, concerning the life and times of members of an English upper class family, the Ingram-Lewis's. 

*****

The cane was tapping gently across a splendid pair of naked buttocks in perfect condition for their first, how shall I put it, encounter with the realities of life in the English Public school system? The Headmaster who was wielding the cane looked admiringly at the quality of the arse he was about to beat. Two beautiful, well rounded globes, virgin territory, hitherto totally untouched by any cane, or any other implement of corporal punishment for that matter. They were a sight for sore eyes, eyes which had not looked upon any boy's arse since the end of the school year in July. So, the Headmaster, who like many of his kind was an inveterate beater of boy's arses, was suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms, not having had the opportunity to administer what he euphemistically referred to as "corrective percussive therapy" to anybody for the last two months. It was now September, the beginning of the new school year, with an intake of new boys who had to be taught the manners of young gentlemen, which throughout the British upper class education system usually involved liberal use of the cane and the birch. So things would soon look up and the Headmaster could look forward again to setting his young flock on the right road, which inevitably would involve liberal application of the cane to naked buttocks. In fact the Headmaster enjoyed nothing more than applying the cane to a pair of naked buttocks and watching their owner squirm with pain.

The Headmaster was relishing the tension he was allowing to build up in the owner of those two delightful globes whose pristine beauty he was about to defile. He continued tapping gently, getting the feel of where he proposed to lay the first real stroke of the cane and trying to decide what sort of pattern he should imprint on the boy's backside, a backside which in a few minutes time would be changed forever with the baptism of fire it was about to suffer. But there was no rush as he was truly savouring the moment as he prepared himself for the delicious moment when the cane would crack down for the very first time on the naked rump and the owner would enter the real world of the English public school system. I doubt, however, that the same could be said for the owner of the arse about to be roasted. He was certainly not savouring the moment, bent as he was across the beating stool, trembling with fear at what was to be his first thrashing ever. 

The above scene was being enacted - a good word to describe the situation - in the Headmaster's study of Rigby Court Preparatory School for Boys, where the pupils were given a rigorous preparation for the entry a few years later into Rigby School, a small but nevertheless academically acclaimed Public School. For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with the English school system, a Public School is, in fact, a private fee (high!) paying establishment where members of the great and the good of British society send their offspring to be educated. What commonsense would define as a public school anywhere else, are called state schools in England. But of course, commonsense does not always triumph over tradition. So public schools are anything but public. 

The cane-tapping Headmaster of Rigby Court was one, Gerald Gordon Inkpen, some 27 years and a strict disciplinarian. In fact, not to mince matters, Gee-Gee, as he was nicknamed by the boys, was a real martinet, whose favourite pastime, which, if questioned about, he would have vehemently denied, was thrashing the arses of his charges. Had he been in charge of an older group of boys, he might well have done more than just thrash the arses of the older boys, but as he wasn't he didn't. Like many unmarried school masters, the Headmaster was a closet homosexual.

The Headmaster rejoiced in possessing what had to be one of the rarest and most extraordinary surnames in the country. Inkpen was a name going back to 1200 AD. But in spite of his extraordinary name, Gerald Cordon Inkp'n, as he wrote it, dropping the E, was in fact a very ordinary man: very very ordinary indeed. And in spite of his high-flown name, the boys had nicknamed him Gee-Gee. 

Rigby Court took boys as boarders from aged eight and tended to their educational and bodily needs until they left, aged thirteen, to move on to Rigby School. Serious preparation for the rigours of a public school education did not really being until the boys were aged eleven and a number of boys were admitted to the school at this age. The unblemished buttocks being presented to the doubtful pleasures of Gee-Gee's cane were the property of just such a boy: Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis. Called Cedric, by his father and always Cedric Oliver, by his mother and paternal grandmother, he was known as Oliver to all his friends, but all versions will be used depending on who is speaking. 

Prior to his entry aged eleven into Rigby Court, Oliver had not had a particularly pleasant life. The Ingram-Lewis's were an old family from Northumberland and had originally been owners of several coal mines just north of Newcastle. As such, they had become very rich and their main pit, Ingram Deep, was one of the most profitable in England. It produced some of the finest steam-raising coal in the country. The family had more or less handed the management of their business to a professional managing director and simply sat back and collected the proceeds, which were considerable. 

Oliver's father, Patrick Ingram-Lewis, was in the Regular Navy where he had attained the rank of Commander. As the navy was his fulltime occupation, he was rarely at home and Oliver was brought up by his mother and grandmother in the family pile, Ingram House, located near Hexham in Northumberland. 

Commander Ingram-Lewis had himself been left without a father, who had died when his son was still at school and had been brought up by his mother. He had trodden much the same path as his son was now embarking on and had run the gauntlet of life at both Rigby Court and Rigby School, where he had been introduced at the age of eighteen to the forbidden pleasures of male sex. Boys at Rigby had no contact at all with girls. Remember we are there talking about Oliver's father in late Victorian times and buggery, to give it its official name, was rife in such places as Rigby. Although strictly forbidden and leading to horrendous birchings for any boy caught in the act, the practice was unofficially tolerated. The powers that be, governors and teachers together, realised that they were wasting their time in trying to stop boys experimenting with sex. It should also be added that the teaching profession was a refuge for what we today would call closet homosexuals. It was not unknown for certain staff members to give certain senior boys what was referred to as anal stimulation. More crudely put, the boys in question got their arses fucked. On the whole, most of them enjoyed the experience, but even those who did not, never complained. So at Rigby, as elsewhere in similar establishments throughout the country, a culture of hypocrisy reigned supreme. Everyone knew what was going on, but eyes were closed and nothing was said. 

Of course you have to remember that under the benighted laws of the UK, buggery and homosexuality were punishable by imprisonment; so everyone kept mum. And on the whole, things worked out all right. The public schools turned out outstanding young men, the proportion of homosexuals in which was much the same as the national average. Many of the boys were what might well be called "frustration buggers", boys who fucked their school mates out of frustration and who, on leaving school and finding themselves in mixed company, reverted to regular sexual relationships with members of the opposite sex.

Patrick Ingram Lewis was first introduced to the delights of buggery when he was eighteen. He had committed a slight misdemeanour, for which one of the senior prefects decided to cane him. Summoned by Ashton, the senior prefect in question, to answer for his piffling faux-pas, he was offered six bare or three bare and... Six bare implied that he would be given six strokes of the cane across is naked arse and the other option of three bare and... Well, the meaning of the word "bare" was left to his imagination. Knowing full well just how brutal the prefects were in wielding the cane across their schoolmates naked arses, Patrick had taken the second option in the spirit of "nothing ventured, nothing gained" without any clear idea of what was about to happen. He thought that it could not be worse than the pain from the cane, a pain with which he was already intimately familiar, for as in most public schools, the cane reigned supreme at Rigby, wielded by both the Headmaster and the prefects.

After three stingingly awful cuts across his naked arse, Ashton told him to stay bent over the chair over which he had been caned. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt a hand massage some oil into the cleavage between his buns and into his anus, to be followed by the insertion of Ashton's long, smooth cock into his fundamental orifice. Patrick found the experience quite pleasant, although when Ashton finally shot his load, Patrick had no idea what he was supposed to do with the spunk which had just been injected into his arsehole. Anyway, all's well that ends well. Ashton shook his hand, told him not to mention what had happened to anyone and sent Patrick on his way. So that was how Patrick Ingram-Lewis was introduced to the homosexual sex act. He had, in the official verbiage of the day, been buggered and had, like many before him, enjoyed it. And in the great tradition of the English public school ethic, it never even crossed his mind to report Ashton for gross indecency, as it was officially called; it just was not done!

We do not need to go into details as to where this new knowledge led the young man. Suffice it to say that in the remaining two years he spent at Rigby School, copulation became one of the key elements in his life. Initially confined to his school mates, where fucking was rife, Patrick allowed his curiosity to take him into the forbidden pastures of the town. He was an attractive young man, very well endowed where it mattered most and, as such, had no problem in finding willing female company. What the school authorities would have said about that and what they would have done had they known, remains a matter of conjecture, as they never did find out about Patrick's extramural sexual escapades. 

Much to his surprise in his final year at Rigby, Patrick was made a prefect. Patrick had not been a bad pupil but even his kindest judges would not have rated his performance as stellar. Patrick had not been particularly rebellious in his time at Rigby, but he had, nevertheless, for one reason or another been a regular visitor to the Headmaster's study. There his "bare bum" .to use the vulgar expression common among the boys, had suffered regular roasting, all of which he had taken with a shrug as being part and parcel of public school life. But even worse had been the beatings dished out by the prefects whose job it was to maintain rule and order outside the classroom. Limited by the school rules to a maximum of six strokes of the cane across the recipient's naked arse, the prefects managed, by dint of constant practice, to deliver excruciatingly exemplary pain to the supplicant. It goes without saying that they much enjoyed making their schoolmates suffer and the word "maximum" might just have well not have been there, for not one prefect ever gave less than the six strokes. Indeed, a prefect's beating, even with fewer strokes of the cane, was quite often much worse than any that the Headmaster himself ever delivered. These boys were great practitioners of the "more from less philosophy" in that they all studied methods of applying the cane to the supplicant arses which came their way, to ensure that every stroke delivered s maximum pain. So with practice a prefect could achieve in six strokes what the Headmaster did in twelve; they were just very, very efficient.

But now, like a gift from heaven, Patrick was a prefect himself so that he too could now apply the cane to the naked arses of any miscreants. He thought of it as poetic justice; the ability to give to others what he had so often received him. He smiled inwardly to himself, as he composed what he thought was an apposite pseudo-biblical quotation on the matter, which ran:

"To him who hath so often received, so shall he in the fullness of time experience the joy of giving!" 

And let us be quite clear, in his final year, Patrick Ingram-Lewis really experienced the joy of giving, as he dispensed his percussive generosity on every possible occasion. Not even the smallest infringement of the school rules escaped his attention. If he caught the miscreant in the act, six stinging cuts of the senior cane the bare arse were automatic. But the ability to administer corporal punishment opened up another joyous pastime to Patrick. As a sexual athlete, Patrick rapidly was acknowledged by his classmates as being "one hell of a shafter". If the occasion presented itself and conditions looked propitious, Patrick indulged in what was to become his greatest pleasure: fucking the arse of the boy he had just beaten. He found it unbelievably erotic, once his victim's arse was flaming with the weals of the cane, to provide the hapless lad with what he referred to as "anal stimulation" was the height of sexual pleasure. At buggery he was a past master, as were many of his schoolmates, but for sheer eroticism, nothing compared with fucking an arse he had just beaten. But he was careful in his actions and limited them to the boys in the last year at school all of whom were aged eighteen and were young men rather than boys. Of course, what he did was strictly forbidden, but so were all sexual activities: forbidden but tolerated. And if no one complained, which no one ever did, then where was the harm. Let's be frank; no boy was ever raped and once initiated into the joys of sex, no one ever complained, for the truth of the matter was that for those who indulged in it, anal sex rapidly became a pleasure, which few would forego.

A prime case of what could happen was the following incident. Passing the lavatories one day, Patrick smelled smoke, entered and found a sixth former, Roderick Pennington, quite alone, leaning against one of the wash basins, smoking a cigarette. Now smoking was on the strictly forbidden list, but, nevertheless, many boys took every chance they had to "have a drag" as it was commonly called. But having caught Pennington red-handed, Patrick had no option as a prefect but to follow through with the inevitably painful consequences for the miscreant. 

"My study, at eight this evening, straight after supper, Pennington and don't be late, I hate to be kept waiting to correct someone."

"Oh, come on Ingram-Lewis; have a heart, I was only having a drag. No one saw me so couldn't you close a blind eye for once and let the matter go. Come on, Ingram Lewis, you have a drag yourself sometimes, I know."

"My dear Pennington, that fact that I myself smoke a cigarette from time to time is immaterial to the present situation. You have had the misfortune to be caught smoking by me, a prefect, sworn to uphold the school rules, which I am sorry to say I have to do. Your mistake, Pennington, was to be caught at it by me, a prefect. If you wish to smoke, then you should take precautions to be more discreet and let no one see you. I know, as do the masters, that many boys smoke on the quiet. It is just your bad luck to be caught at it, for which I am afraid you have to pay the price: a rather painful price, I regret to say,"

"It's all so fucking hypocritical and you know it, Ingram-Lewis. There is no reason at all why you cannot turn a blind eye just this once and let it go."

"I suggest, Pennington, that you cool your language when talking to me in my capacity as prefect. You are so very wrong about thinking that I could, if I wished, forget this little incident. If I "turn a blind eye" as you put it and let you off scot-free, then the next thing I know is that you will have related our little encounter here to your pals, telling them how you sweet-talked your way out of an awkward situation. My standing and authority as a prefect would be undermined completely. So, Pennington, as I said before: my study at eight his evening and don't be late."

"Fuck you" said Pennington, under his breath. But of course, had he reflected on the reputation of Ingram Lewis as probably the school's greatest sexual athlete, he would have realised that any fucking which was to be done would be by Ingram-Lewis and not by himself. So, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had been stupid to smoke somewhere where he could so easily be caught. It was entirely his own fault. He had made his bed and now was going to have to lie in it, although being realistic he knew that he was not going to have a very comfortable night in bed, for Ingram-Lewis's prowess with the cane was already legendary, on a par with his sexual prowess.

Patrick went by the prefect's common room and picked up a senior cane. The Headmaster had just that week issued the prefects with both junior and senior canes of a new model he had chosen himself. They were both very flexible, much more so than the conventional rattan cane used in most schools. In the right hands - and Patrick Ingram-Lewis did have the right hands - the new cane was capable of giving the recipient arse a very painful experience: very painful indeed. Patrick had not yet had the pleasure of testing out the cane on warm naked flesh, but he spent some time in the privacy of his study, in flexing and testing the cane on a cushion from a chair to make sure that he had the feel of this new this new, improved, implement. He wanted to be sure that he knew how to deliver its full potential on the arse he was now awaiting.

The appointed hour arrived and Pennington entered Patrick's study. The chair over which the unfortunate Pennington was destined to bend was already in the middle of the room. The new cane, bright and shiny in its pristine glory, lay on Patrick's desk. The observant Pennington also noticed that there was a bottle of baby oil standing on the desk, alongside the cane.

"Ah, Pennington, delighted that you agreed to join me this evening. Make yourself comfortable. Drop our trousers and underpants and bend across the back of that chair, if you please. No! On second thoughts I think it might be better if you shed your trousers and underwear completely and put them neatly folded on that other chair over there. We don't want them interfering in our little business, do we?"

"Oh, come off it, Ingram-Lewis, you don't mean to go through with this do you? Come on, I'm eighteen years old and one does not beat boys in their final year at school. All that's only for the younger boys."

"I am afraid I have to disabuse you of that notion, Pennington. At this school, all boys, from the day they enter to the day the leave are subject to the same rules, which are there to be obeyed. If they are broken, sanctions become automatic and boys are caned. In this case, it is you who will be caned. There is no negotiation. All miscreants get their arses beaten bare. That also includes us, the prefects, who are in a position of trust. If we break that trust then we too are subject to the same punishment as any other boy. The difference is that in our case the Headmaster would birch us rather than beat us with the cane, And that, believe me is much, much worse than the cane. I know as have experienced it myself twice in my time at Rigby. It is definitely something to be avoided. So, Pennington, jump to it. I want your bare arse over the back of that chair."


The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 02



PATRICK INGRAM-LEWIS - OLIVER'S FATHER

A Homoerotic Short Story

By

Jason Land

FOREWORD

Subsequent to publishing the first story in the chronicles of the Ingram-Lewis family, the present Headmaster of Rigby School, having read the first account, kindly gave me access to documents from the school archives which throw a somewhat different light on the school career of Patrick Ingram-Lewis, the main character in this second part of the Ingram-Lewis Chronicles. 

I have used these records, now over one hundred years old, in the re-construction of Patrick's career at Rigby School. Perceptive readers of the first story will discern certain discrepancies between the two accounts. However, in light of my most recent researches into the life of the two members of this family, Patrick Ingram- Lewis and his son, Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis, I believe that the events as reported in the present narrative are as accurate as can be expected, in view of the fact that neither of the key players, Patrick or his son, Cedric Oliver, nor for that matter any of their contemporaries are still with us to give us any verbatim account of their school days.

PATRICK INGRAM-LEWIS : EARLY YEARS

In the first story about the Ingram-Lewis family, we met Patrick Ingram-Lewis and his son, Cedric Oliver, who aged just eleven was plunged into an that bath of cold water which is the English Preparatory School where he had to face up to the ghastly realities of the English public school system for the first time. We are now going to go back in time to the early days of the twentieth century, when Patrick Ingram-Lewis was himself still a schoolboy and learn something about him, for his career greatly affected his son, Cedric Oliver.

Patrick Ingram-Lewis was the heir to the Ingram-Lewis fortune and property, which had been built on coal mining in the northeast of England. The family home, Ingram House, was located in the small Northumberland town of Hexham, some twenty-five miles west of Newcastle where the family business was located. The actual mine, Ingram Deep, was to be found in the coal fields just north of the City. Patrick had inherited the Ingram-Lewis fortune and become the nominal head of the family at the tender age of twelve, when his father had suddenly died. 

His mother, Mildred Ingram-Lewis lived in considerable style in the family home and as befitted Patrick as the only child of a well-to-do family, he had been shipped off at the age of eight to a preparatory school, Rigby Court, whence in due course he moved on, aged thirteen, to Rigby School, a small but well respected public school. 

So, Patrick was essentially "out-of sight and out-of-mind" between the ages of eight and nineteen, when he finally left Rigby. His only contact with his rather remote mother during these formative years was during the school holidays, when he came home to Ingram House. In this he was not alone for his education mirrored that of countless other boys of similar background. However, as Patrick was an only child, his time at home was very lonely, which had a profound effect on his overall development. He never truly had a parental hand to guide him and as such he had, since is earliest days, ploughed his own furrow. And a very interesting furrow it turned out to be, for APtrick had n ot the slightest interest in coal, that source of the family fortunes.

English upper class education in the early 1900s was rigorous and brutal. Boys were subjected to regular beating and birching for the slightest deviation from the imposed norms of the school where they were enrolled. It was generally thought that this approach was "good for the soul" and produced young gentlemen, capable of taking leading posts in politics, the civil service with its ramifications throughout the British Empire, as well as commissions in the armed forces. All these posts were filled by products of the Britain public school system and its two ancient Universities; it was all reminiscent one huge club to which members belonged by birthright and to which outsiders were definitely not welcome.

And to some extent many observers maintain that the same is still true today. While members of parliament and their political parties come and go, that basso-profundo, the British senior civil service, is still awash with products of the British public school system. Times are changing, but these types still hang on and exert enormous influence from behind the scenes. As one senior civil servant once put it: "Our job is to stop the elected members from making horrible mistakes." Looking at the British economy since the end of the Second World War, many observers feel that these self-satisfied guardians of the realm have largely failed. They are, nevertheless, still very much around.

Patrick Ingram-Lewis was not a stupid boy, but neither was he brilliant. But his biggest problem was his lack of application, which became apparent to his masters soon after he started his school career aged eight. And so, poor Patrick's bottom was regularly beaten in an attempt to get him to toe the line. English public schools had implements of punishment which suited all ages and which dated back into t heists of times. Junior canes were used on boys aged eight to thirteen and senior canes and the dreaded birch thereafter. All punishment was applied "bare" which is to say that the unfortunate recipient was made to drop his trousers and underpants and was bent across a chair or desk and had his naked buttocks beaten. 

And when I say beaten, I mean beaten hard; there was never any soft pedalling as the cane descended on the boy's naked arse. One way and another Patrick seemed to be very often offering up his naked arse for punishment and he became much admire by his classmates for the stoic way in which he accepted what seemed to be his destiny. The wielders of these implements had got punishment down to a fine art. They knew how hard they could apply the cane or the birch to inflict maximum pain, but without ever drawing blood. And on the whole, one has tot say that masters and prefects who were allowed to thrash their errant schoolmates, carried out their duties with gusto: for the most part the enjoyed it!

At Rigby Court Preparatory school, only the Headmaster had used the cane, which he did with that monotonous regularity of one who actually enjoys inflicting pain on others, which he did! But things changed radically for the worse for Patrick once he arrived at Rigby School itself. There the Headmaster flogged and birched boys regularly, but in addition there was a two tier prefect system, whose members could also cane their schoolmates. Rigby's two tier system was unique, for the Headmaster appointed a number of junior prefects, selected from boys in their penultimate year, who were only allowed to discipline thirteen year old boys in their first year at the school and this only with the light junior cane. 

In their final year the junior prefects achieved seniority and were also allowed to beat older boys with a heavier senior cane. In both cases the prefects were limited to a maximum number of six strokes of the cane: six were always given! The one exception to this rule was the Head Boy. Nominated to this high status from among the senior prefects, the Head Boy, now in his final year at the school was allowed to administer "up to" twelve strokes of the cane. 

It goes without saying that when the Head Boy beat someone, the words "up to" were forgotten, for every Head Boy, present or past, invariably gave twelve strokes of the cane when he punished a boy, a task which every Head Boy since the creation of the post had discharged with vigour and (dare I say it?) pleasure; for let us be quite clear about this; prefects who had themselves been beaten on a regular basis by the Headmaster for their entire school career to date, saw their elevation to the school "police force", for that was what it amounted to, as what they called "pay-back time". 

So pretty well every prefect took every possibly opportunity to beat arse and being limited to six strokes did not prevent them from leaving their "victims" with very, very sore backsides. Six from a well-trained prefect with a good strong arm were just as bad as twelve from the Headmaster, as many a boy could testify. It was quite common for the prefects to practise their caning techniques on cushion, pillows and chair arms and they gave each other tips, such as that final flick of the wrist just before the cane bit into the naked flesh of the victim's arse, to ensure that maximum pain was delivered.

And so, this was the disciplinary regime to which Patrick Ingram-Lewis entered at the age of thirteen. He had six long years: eighteen terms to "serve", for in many ways it looked like a prison sentence. And make no mistake: every misdemeanour discovered was punished and punished severely, for there were no lighter "sentences" or the equivalent to "time off for good behaviour". Good behaviour was considered the norm and all delinquencies led directly to very sore arses. 

Another peculiarity about Rigby was that all ages were subjected to the same rigid discipline. From entrants aged thirteen to eighteen year old and above tofinal year boys, the cane and the birch were applied without discrimination, even to the naked arses of the prefects themselves. No one was excluded and several junior prefects had the doubtful pleasure of being birched by the headmaster during Patrick's time at Rigby. 

So, as you can see this was one of those great British educational establishments where the maxim "School days are the happiest days of your life," rang rather hollow. Were the boys unhappy? Not particularly. The canings and birchings were such common daily occurrences that they were accepted as part and parcel of school life. After all, the boys had no bench mark against which to compare their treatment; so no, the boys were not unhappy and no one ever complained about a sore arse. And no boy ever went bearing tales to a master about the often brutal beating he had taken from a prefect. The Rigbyans were young gentlemen and gentlemen did not tell tales.

Patrick Ingram-Lewis was not naturally a rebel; he was not "against" everything in the way some boys are, but along with many others he fell afoul of the system on many different occasions, usually for committing some minor misdemeanour, which led to him offering his naked arse for "correction" either to the Headmaster or the prefects on a monotonously regular basis. 

But worst of all was to be beaten by the Head Boy, for one incumbent to that annual position after the other proved himself capable of raising the level of pain in a boy's arse to unbelievable heights. It was as if they were each in turn endowed with a special talent for applying the cane. So a summons to the Head Boy's study with all that that implied was viewed with fear by most boys; it was the thing to be avoided at all costs.

Things finally came to a life-changing head for Patrick when, one gruesomely awful day, his arse was thrashed twice, leaving him in a state of excruciating agony. The pain was well night unbearable and he vowed there and then to himself that he would never again expose himself to such severe punishment; he had truly learned his lesson. How did it all happen? Well it was all Patrick's own silly fault. 

He began by slipping off into the town centre late one afternoon to buy a boy's paper at the local newsagent's, without the necessary "exeat" from his form-master. To compound his delinquency, he neglected to wear his school cap, which was mandatory when in town and, of course, he was seen by one of the masters who happened, that day, also to be shopping. And so at the daily assembly next morning, the Headmaster, having made his announcements then said: "Ingram-Lewis, I would like to see in my study for a few minutes immediately after assembly. You and I have some urgent business to transact before your first class this morning, So, Ingram-Lewis, kindly don't be late for our meeting."

Patrick's hear sank to his boots as he realised why he had been summoned to see the Headmaster; someone had seen him down town yesterday afternoon and had reported him and he was now to pay the price for his stupidity, which he knew would be twelve sound cuts of the cane across his bare arse. The Headmaster briefly lectured Patrick on the sins of breaking the school rules, before having him him offer up is naked arse for the ritual sacrifice which visits to his study invariably involved. So Patrick, I almost said, poor Patrick, but he was the victim of his own stupidity, started the first class of that day with a freshly beaten arse: he could barely sit down at his desk.

But Patrick had still not fully learned the folly of his ways, which was to be brought home to him only later that day: after supper in fact. It was the end of the day and there was a period of recreation between the end of prep. and supper and that day Patrick and two of his friends took off and installed themselves in the shower room adjacent to the gym to "have a drag." Smoking was strictly forbidden, and was therefore one of those delicious temptations which many boys could not resist even though many of them did not actually much enjoy the experience itself. 

The shower room and gym at that hour were considered safe from prying eyes of both prefects and masters. But that day proved the exception to the rule, for the gym instructor Mr Patterson, a frightening and bullying man, who when he was taking a class walked around with a leather strap in his hand, a strap he applied liberally to the shorts of any boy he deemed to be slacking, walked into the shower room and caught the three lads smoking. He made the three of them drop their pants there and then, touch their toes and gave each of them six resounding whacks across their bare arses with his strap, before hauling them off to the Headmaster, who said: " I will see the three of you here in your gym strips, at eight o'clock sharp, right after supper. Is that clear?"

The fatidic hour arrived and the three boys stood trembling in front of the Headmaster, seated at his desk, wearing his most thunderous expression. To the side stood the odious and much disliked Mr Patterson. "You all know that smoking is strictly forbidden. It is one of the school's most sacred and inviolable rules, which you three boys have chosen to break. Mr Patterson was quite right to give you each an immediate taste of his strap in the shower room where he found you, but the true moment of reckoning for your inexcusable behaviour is right now. I am going to give each one of you in turn twelve strokes of the birch, for the normal cane is not capable of delivering a message painful enough to teach you the lesson you all richly deserve."

In Rigby School, birchings were always performed in a separate punishment room a few yards down the corridor from the Headmaster's study. This room was equipped with a professionally made birching horse, which allowed a boy's wrists and and ankles to be strapped to the frame and render him immobile for the duration of the punishment. The whole business was quite frightening, for the "victim" had to remove his lower clothes completely, step up to the frame, where an assistant, in this case Mr Patterson, fixed the straps on around his wrists and ankles, leaving his naked arse exposed to take the birch.

Patrick was the last to be punished and had watched with horror as the Headmaster brought down the birch bundle on the arses of his two friends, each of whom howled with as the pain of the beating built up. "You're the last Ingram-Lewis. Come on lad, step up and look lively, I've not got all night."

"Please sir, I don't think I should be birched. You already gave me twelve cuts of the cane this morning before class and Mr Patterson has just given me another six with his strap. Really sir, I don't think I can stand a birching. Please sir, do have a heart, I have really suffered enough today."

But Patrick's pleas fell upon stony ground. "Ingram-Lewis, the beating I gave you this morning, was for a completely unrelated offence which you very foolishly committed. You have now been foolish enough to go on and break yet another rule, this time a much more serious one, for which you a now going to pay the painful price: the birch! Now step up to the horse and allow Mr Patterson to strap you in place so that I can get on and give your backside 

the treatment which it richly deserves."

The Headmaster paused once Patrick was strapped in place and surveyed his earlier handiwork of that morning. "Yes, Ingram-Lewis, I would say that your backside is in perfect condition to receive an additional beating. I see that this morning I placed my twelve cuts parallel to each other across the entire expanse of your handsome bottom. I have to say, Ingram-Lewis, that you do have a bottom which lends itself admirably to the act of beating. It is one, which if I may say so, inspires the beater, in this case me, to the heights of what I call percussive artistry." 

"If I may make a comparison, the, picture, for that, Ingram-Lewis is how I see it, I whacked into your bottom this morning, is reminiscent of a denuded forest, made up of a series of vertical tree trunks. The birch will enable me to complete this magnificent tableau, by filling in the intervening spaces with what will appear as leaves on the trees. Ingram- Lewis, you should count yourself as fortunate that due to a rather unhappy concatenation of events, you are, nevertheless, going to have a most interesting posterior to show to your fellow classmates in the showers tonight." 

What Patrick Ingram-Lewis thought about the load of twaddle which the Headmaster had just uttered, we shall never know, for once he had finished his speech, the Headmaster set to with the birch. Although Patrick had been foolish enough to bring all this upon himself, one has to feel sorry for him for when he finally escaped and went back to his dormitory, he was in absolute agony; his arse had been well and truly roasted that day. He lay there in bed, naked on his belly, with is arse uncovered, for he could not even bear the weight of a sheet to touch its raw, burning skin. He prayed that in the morning the pain would have subsided to a bearable level. But Patrick wept bitterly well into the night.

The outcome of this awful day was that Patrick Ingram-Lewis took a serious look at himself in the mirror. The severe punishment he had just received had finally taught him a lesson he would never forget and he was man enough to blame no one for what had happened other than himself. And so, standing there looking at his reflection that morning, his arse still hideously painful, he vowed that from then on he would abandon all stupid gestures leading to beatings and become a model pupil for the rest of his time at Rigby. 

Now remember that Patrick was only fifteen years old when this incident had occurred and he still had three more years to go before leaving the school at eighteen. Fine words and sentiments, you might think, but actions speak louder than words and incredibly, Patrick stuck to his vow and apart from one painful beating by the Head Boy for swearing, he had no more brushes with the Headmaster or the prefects. Ingram-Lewis became, in a word, that module pupil of his vow: his promise to himself.

We now move the action forward several years. Patrick is now in the lower sixth and it is first day of the third term, the summer term, of his penultimate year at Rigby. It is the morning assembly and the Headmaster, having completed his announcements paused and said: "Ingram-Lewis, will you kindly see me immediately after assembly in my study." Patrick had an immediate release of adrenalin as a frisson of fear shot through his body. His first thought: "What have I done now? Why does he want to see me?" 




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 02



Anyway, the assembly ended and Patrick duly presented himself in a state of high tension and trepidation at the Headmaster's study. After all, since that awful day several years ago now, when he had had his arse beaten to pulp by the very man he was now about to see, he had never again spoken the Headmaster. He had, as he had promised himself, kept his nose clean. He had toed the line and broken no rules and apart from that one lone beating by the Head Boy, his arse had suffered no other "percussive correction" in the meantime. So why the fuck (No, don't use that word, he told himself) was he here?

"Ah, do come in Ingram Lewis: I wanted to see you at the end of last term but the pressure other matters prevented it; so I felt I had to see you promptly today. Ingram-Lewis, we have not had the pleasure of each other's company for quite some time now; in fact, our last meeting was, if I recollect correctly, not a very agreeable one. I seem to remember that I had occasion to correct you twice in one day."

Patrick breathed an inward sigh of relief, for evidently he had not been summoned by the Headmaster to be punished for some unknown delinquency. In fact the tone of the Headmaster was really quite benign. "Yes sir, I remember that occasion well. I still have a very vivid memory of the pain of that day; in fact, sir, it is as if it were just yesterday. But I deserved the two beatings you gave me; they taught me a lesson I have never forgotten and since then, sir, I have endeavoured to behave correctly."

"Quite, quite, Ingram-Lewis and I see from your record that since that fateful day, you have been beaten only once by the Head Boy and that you have otherwise an unblemished record to your name. I have also been reviewing your school work and I see that you are almost the top of your class in practically all subjects, which is a remarkable achievement and turn around for a boy who started life here as a rebel. I also see from the report of Mr Patterson, the gym and PE instructor, that you are also one of the best gymnasts and sportsmen of your year. So, Ingram-Lewis, you appear to have become a model pupil and you are to be congratulated on your own achievement."

Patrick heaved a large internal sigh of relief at all this unexpected praise. But where was it all leading?

"So, Ingram-Lewis, in consultation with my colleagues, I have decided to appoint you to the rank of senior prefect as of now. You will appreciate that this is an unusual appointment as the Rigby system is to appoint the chosen boys as junior prefects in their penultimate year, to become senior prefects in their final year, one of whom will then be honoured by being named Head Boy." 

"These appointments are usually made at the start of the school year in September, but as you are nearing the end of your time in the lower sixth I have decided that you will have the rank of senior prefect for this term and for the three terms of your final year at the school so that you will enjoy a full four terms as a senior prefect, an honour no other boy has ever obtained. This, Ingram-Lewis is your reward for your remarkable achievement. The saying has it, that virtue is its own reward, but I think that a more evident a reward is most appropriate in this case."

Patrick could not believe his ears at the news and began to thank the Headmaster profusely, only to be cut short by the Headmaster.

"Ingram-Lewis, before you drown yourself in the evident euphoria you are clearly gripped by at the moment, I have to remind you that as a prefect you shoulder some grave responsibilities. Outside of class hours, it is the Court of Prefects, to which you now belong, who are charged with maintaining order and discipline among their fellow classmates. Now, this can be an awkward experience, for it means that you, as a prefect, have to distance yourself from the boys you are controlling. In a word, Ingram-Lewis, you cannot be servant and master; you cannot run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. 

Now this can lead to some unpleasant actions, which are also part and parcel of your job. For example, you will certainly be called upon to beat some of your fellow classmates, or even worse, a boy older than yourself, which is often a hard task. So, Ingram-Lewis you have to stick fast to your powers as a prefect and if a boy questions your decisions and refuses to obey you, then you must refer him immediately to me and I shall then take appropriate action, which, I can assure you will be more severe than anything you are authorised to visit on a miscreant. However, I feel that those of you, who are honoured to be named as prefects, will rise to such occasions, which will equip you well for your future careers, where necessary decisions are not always easy to take."

"Now to a few practicalities; this chit, you can take to the school outfitters in town and they will provide you with your mortar board, which will replace your normal school cap now that you have joined the rank of prefects. It is a gift from the school in recognition of your new status. Wear it with pride, but please remember, Ingram-Lewis, that as of now, you must always wear your mortar board when you are outside the school premises." 

"And, most important, there are the accoutrements of discipline, your personal junior and senior canes; they are on the chair behind you. Take them with you when you leave me and use them wisely; but do use them, for a good taste of the cane applied to the naked buttocks of a miscreant boy, is a miracle worker, as you yourself, I am sure, can testify." 

"And so, Ingram-Lewis, it remains for me to wish you well in your new role. Oh, I believe that the Head Boy, Jeremy Meakin, whom I have informed of your elevation, would like to see you at the mid-morning break to welcome you to the fold and doubtless your fellow prefects will give you a warm welcome to their common room, which is also where they hold Court once a week to deal with any recalcitrant delinquents. I am sure, Ingram-Lewis that you will soon get the hang of things in your new role and integrate yourself into the elite group to which you now belong. Oh, and I quite forgot; you will, of course, have your own private study from now on; a privilege granted to all senior prefects."

After all that wordiness, Patrick left the Headmaster's study, clutching his two canes and went off to his first class of the term. He was walking on air: he was in seventh heaven: he was euphoric! He, Patrick Ingram-Lewis was now a prefect! Who would ever have thought it? Certainly not Patrick himself.

"Ingram-Lewis," said Mr Carruthers, the English master, whose class he had just entered late, "You are late for class, which would normally result in a punishment. However, on this occasion I believe that congratulations are in order, for I see that you are brandishing your two new canes, so I suppose we are to understand that you have been elevated to the level of prefect by the Headmaster."

"Yes sir, that's right, sir. The Headmaster has just told me of my appointment as a senior prefect and given me my two canes."

"Well, Ingram-Lewis, I congratulate you on your preferment as I am sure do your classmates, whom I would, nevertheless, now warn to tread carefully otherwise they might find themselves on the receiving end of one of your weapons."

Everyone laughed, if somewhat nervously, for there was more than a grain of truth in Mr Carruthers's remarks. But as the Headmaster had said, things were never to be the same again for Ingram-Lewis. He had become one of "them" and was no longer one of "us."

Jeremy Meakin, the Head Boy, saw Ingram-Lewis at the break and welcomed him into the fold: "Your fellow prefects look forward to welcoming you into their midst and you are expected in the prefects' common room after prep. this evening, when we shall endeavour to show you the ropes."

That evening, Patrick entered the prefects' common room for the first time as a member of the elite group. He had, in the distant past, been a regular visitor for the Friday night Prefects' Court, when the assembled prefects dispensed their justice on delinquent boys by thrashing their naked arses. The Friday night beatings dispensed by the Prefects' Court, was one of the all enduring fixtures in the Rigby calendar. It is safe to say that the prefects themselves loved it, whilst the boys, their "victims" had a rather different view.

The Head Boy explained: "The way it works, Ingram-Lewis (always surnames and never ever a Christian name!) is that we, the prefects, are authorised to use the cane to correct any boy whom we find committing a misdemeanour. The junior prefects may correct boys in the first year with the junior cane, but must refer any older boy to the Court of Prefects for punishment with the senior cane." 

"The senior prefects, to whom you now number, can beat any miscreant boy from any class, using the junior cane on the thirteen year olds and the senior cane thereafter on boys from any class. The school rules limit us to six strokes, always applied to the bare arse, by the way, but of that I am sure you yourself are painfully aware of that as are we all. The one exception to this rule is myself; as Head Boy I have the right to give twelve strokes at any one time, a facility of which I regularly avail myself."

"Now, Ingram-Lewis, you have the right to cane individual boys as you see fit, if you find them breaking the rules. However, the Prefects' Court, which meets every Friday night after supper to deal collectively with the week's "harvest" of miscreants, needs to be certain that it has a regular supply of what we, among ourselves refer to as "cannon fodder" on which to exercise its disciplinary rights. Crudely put, Ingram Lewis, we need at least half a dozen arses available to beat every Friday night." 

"It's all very unofficial of course, but we have to be sure that we have a minimum number of backsides at our disposal at every formal meeting of the court. Now, to achieve that target, each of us has a "quota", which is the number of boys per month each prefect has to deliver to the Court. So, your quota, as it is your first term as a prefect will be two boys a month, So, Ingram-Lewis you are expected to name two boys each month who will appear before us at Court and whose arses we shall proceed to beat."

" As Head Boy, I participate in this weekly dispensation of justice as I feel that there are always a few individuals who merit a dozen cuts, which only I personally am authorised to give. So, for instance, if you bring a boy before the Court, it is your duty to beat him, but you are limited to six cuts only. However, it may well be, as is so often the case, that the offence merits a more severe beating. So, as Head Boy I then step in and administer another six cuts, bringing his total up to twelve. And believe me, Ingram-Lewis, with twelve good naked arse cuts and our finely honed techniques with the cane, a Prefects' Court beating surpasses anything that the Head Master can hand deliver." 

"We don't, brag about our prowess, of course, but it is a fact; I can assure you that boys leave the Court on Friday nights with an unbelievably painful backside. Of course, any boys you find over and above your monthly quota, you are free to beat yourself, or to hand them over to the Court for collective justice, as you see fit."

Patrick thought for a moment and said: "But supposing I don't find two boys a month who deserve a beating; what happens then? Take me for instance; I've been made a prefect partly because for the past two years I've kept myself out of trouble and never been beaten. Supposing I can't meet my quota, what happens then?"

"Ah, well, Ingram-Lewis, that would be unfortunate for you, as there is a sting in the tail of all this. Prefects who do not meet their quota are obliged to make up the lack with their own arses. So, old son, if you don't produce two boys a month, it's your own backside which will take six at the Court. But I would not worry too much, for it is dead easy to find errant arses to haul up before the Court." 

"Remember outside of classes, our word is more or less law, so just keep your eyes peeled and pounce on any minor infraction. You'll soon get the hang of it. It's not difficult you know, and once you get a taste for thrashing a well-rounded pair of naked buttocks, well, I suppose I shouldn't say this as we are supposed to be administering a punishment, but most of us find it real pleasure as I am sure you will. I know I do!"

"Too bloody true, I will," thought Patrick, "There is no fucking way that any of you lot is going to take pleasure in tickling my arse with your canes. I'll make bloody sure that I not only make, but exceed, my quota. This is pay-back time for me and I intend to exercise my right arm on any arse I fancy."

We now move on to the Saturday afternoon following Patrick's promotion. This was to turn out to be the fatidic day on which he was to be presented with his first opportunity as prefect to try out one of his new canes on an errant but receptive arse, the junior cane as it so happened. He had just turned the corner to see a boy running down down the corridor in the opposite . When Patrick saw him he had almost reached the other end. Patrick stopped him dead in his tracks. "Tomlinson," he called, "Is that you I see careering down the corridor. Stop where you are Tomlinson, turn round and walk back to me; walk, boy, I said, not run." 

The boy turned round and very slowly came back to stood trembling in front of Patrick, who, himself nearly six feet tall and towered above this first former. "Tomlinson, would you like to explain to me why you were in such haste running down this corridor? You are aware, I suppose, that running anywhere inside the school premises, excepting in the gymnasium, is strictly forbidden as it has been the source of several accidents in the past."

"Yes Ingram-Lewis; I'm very sorry I was running and I won't do it again. I was just making my way to the JCR (the junior common room) to have some tea and fruit cake. You know Ingram Lewis, it is Saturday and every Saturday there is tea and ..."

"Tomlinson, I have been at this school for the past five years and I am fully conversant with the catering arrangements, so I do not need you to tell me that there is tea and cake in the JCR on Saturday afternoons. What I do need you to tell me, however, is why you were breaking a cardinal rule of the school and running down this corridor. So come on, Tomlinson, let's be having an explanation for your delinquency (that word and all that it implied for the addressee made Tomlinson tremble in his boots) and it had better be a good one."

Patrick stood there gazing down beadily at Tomlinson, whom he could see was wracking his brain to come with some plausible explanation for his behaviour, for the very mention of the word, delinquency, had sent shivers down the boy's spine. 

"Well, Ingram-Lewis, it's like this; you see I don't like strong stewed tea: it really does disagree with me you know. I do have a very delicate stomach and so I was hurrying along to the JCR so that I could get a cup of freshly made tea before it became stewed in pot. So, Ingram-Lewis, as you can see, it was a sort of medical necessity. I absolutely needed to get there before the tea became too stewed and ..." Here his voice tailed off as he realised the utter futility of his excuse. "Anyway, Ingram-Lewis I am truly sorry and as it is Saturday afternoon and as I do really need a cup of tea, do you think that I might go now?"

"Indeed I think you might go, Tomlinson, but not to the tea room, I am sorry to say. Just run along, figuratively speaking that is, and wait for me outside of my study. I will go and have a cup of tea myself and when I return, suitably refreshed, I shall be in fine form to deal with you. You and I, Tomlinson, will then get to the bottom of this; thrash it out together, so to speak," said Patrick with heavy irony.

"Oh please, Ingram-Lewis, have a heart; it is Saturday afternoon and there was no one around to see me breaking the rules so couldn't you just, for once, turn a blind eye and let me off."

"Tomlinson, you have broken a cardinal rule of the school and far from no one being around, I am someone and I was around and I caught you breaking the rules and I, as prefect have a duty to bring home to you what happens to any boy of this school, a junior boy to boot, who breaks a rule. So, Tomlinson: no blind eyes and no lettings off. Do as I say and go and wait for me outside my study. I will be with you shortly." Patrick was adept at using the very wordy English commonly use by prefects and masters when they were dressing down a boy. He literally laid it on with a trowel; it was all very theatrical and turned a minor infraction into a real life drama, turning Tomlinson into a limp leaf.

A deflated Tomlinson did as he was bidden and found himself standing alone in the corridor before the said study door for the best part of twenty minutes during which time Patrick regaled himself on tea and cake. During this long waiting period, poor Tomlinson, who let's face it, had not broken a very serious rule, spent his time engaged in that metaphorical act known in modern day vernacular as "shitting bricks." 

Patrick arrived, opened the door and ushered Tomlinson, his first "victim" into his study. Tomlinson was trembling with fear as he knew only too well what was about to happen to him. "Tomlinson, the only thing I can say about your ludicrous reason for your lamentable lack of observation of the school rules is that you reminded me that it was Saturday afternoon and that there was was tea and cake available in the JCR. So, my dear Tomlinson, even though I am not exactly a junior, I went along there and availed myself of their generous hospitality and partook of tea and cake myself. And I can tell you, Tomlinson that I enjoyed it and, moreover, the tea, in spite of the fact that I walked there, was not stewed. 

So, Tomlinson, as even someone as dim as you can see (it was common practice for prefects at public schools to berate and belittle the boys they were about to thrash) had you yourself observed the rules and walked like a gentleman down the corridor to the JCR, you too would have enjoyed freshly brewed tea and fruit cake. However, as it is, you did not walk: you ran and for that reason instead of tea and cake you are going to enjoy a very enervating experience as I whack your arse. I trust I make myself clear Tomlinson. So may I suggest, Tomlinson, that you now go to that chair over there; drop your pants and underwear, bend across the back of the back, put your hands on the seat and present your bare arse to me for examination."

Poor Tomlinson listened to this avalanche of sarcasm fomr Patrick, and then made one last attempt to rescue himself from the truly desperate situation in which he now found himself: "Oh, come on, Ingram-Lewis, be a sport, don't be so hard on me. It is a Saturday afternoon and I wasn't causing any harm or doing any damage and it is the first and only time I have ever run in the corridor and I won't ever do it again I promise, so please, Ingram-Lewis, please have a heart and let me off this one time." 

Tomlinson ended his plea for "clemency" by painting a penitent look on his face, none of which moved Patrick in the slightest. As you can well imagine, Patrick had the bit between his teeth and was not going to let Tomlinson, his first "trophy" so to speak, off the hook. Tomlinson's arse was well and truly doomed that Saturday afternoon and he knew it.

"Tomlinson, you are trying my patience to the limit. Now let me see a naked arse across the back of that chair immediately." Tomlinson finally capitulated and did as he was told. Patrick looked at the pair of buttocks which were presented to him for his first onslaught ever with the cane and was singularly unimpressed. It was unclear what more he could have expected to find under the trousers of a thirteen year old boy and rational observer would have found Tomlinson fine for his age. 




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 02



But we have to remember that Patrick was in a state of considerable tension himself, for he was about to thrash a boy for the first time. He knew precisely what Tomlinson was feeling as he had been in exactly that same position himself so very many times, but he had never experienced being on the delivery end of the cane before and he found himself almost cumming as his cock hardened with the homoeroticism of the occasion. He Patrick Ingram-Lewis, was about to thrash a naked arse for the very first time and he was relishing the thought.

"Tomlinson, I have to tell you that you have the most miserable looking arses I have ever had the misfortune to beat, (Tomlinson had, of course no idea that he was Patrick's maiden target) but I suppose I shall have to make the best of it and see that it gets its just deserts. But I see, Tomlinson, that your arse has received some fairly recent percussive attention, judging from the welts I discern on it. So who has beaten you recently?"

"Oh, Ingram-Lewis, it was the Head Boy who corrected me about two weeks ago and he gave me twelve and it was frightfully painful."

"Well, Tomlinson, I can only give you six, with the junior cane, but believe me when I say that I will try to make this an occasion you will never forget." And with that Patrick picked up the cane flexed it and was preparing to address his target, when a firm knock came at the door and the Head Boy himself entered.

"Oh, excuse the interruption, Ingram Lewis, I see that you are occupied and are just about to beat a boy. I'll come back later." Then looking at Tomlinson, he continued: "I see that you have the wretched Tomlinson in your sights; he's a serial offender you know. What's he been up to now? I had to beat him myself a couple or so weeks ago and the miserable wretch screamed the heavens down; no backbone at all! God help him if he gets a birching from Headmaster, which seems highly likely if he continues on his present trajectory. What are you beating him for?"

"Well, Meakin, I caught this miserable little sod running down the corridor this afternoon and hauled him in here for correction. You know, Meakin, you would never believe the cock and bull story he told me in mitigation of his breaking of the rules."

"Oh yes I would, Ingram-Lewis; our friend here is a spinner of tall tales. In fact he told me a load of nonsense the last time I beat him for exactly the same reason as you are doing now: he was running down the corridor and I caught him red-handed."

"You beat him for running down the corridor, did you? Well not only is he a teller of tall tales but he is a liar to boot. He told me that this was the first time he had ever run down the corridor and would never do it again."

By this time, Tomlinson was beginning to feel very uneasy about his immediate future, as you might well imagine. Not only had he been caught by Ingram-Lewis, but he had then gone on and lied to him: a lie which had now been exposed.

"Ingram-Lewis, before you give Tomlinson's arse the thrashing that it clearly merits, would you please hand me your cane, I think our friend here needs to be taught not to lie and I am a very good teacher; so your cane, if you please Ingram-Lewis."

Patrick handed over the cane he had been about to apply to Tomlinson's arse to Meakin, who said to Tomlinson: "You miserable brat. Stay just as you are and I will show you exactly how we deal with liars like you in this school." He then proceeded to give Tomlinson twelve cuts of the cane, which he spaced with obvious expertise, across the full width of Tomlinson's two buns.

Patrick watched with unconcealed admiration as the Head Boy applied stroke after stroke with extraordinary force and precision to the errant arse. Stroke followed stroke, each raising an angry looking weal, placed in precise parallel lines across Tomlinson's buns. Patrick realised that he was watching a true expert with the cane, one who knew now to deliver the maximum pain to a boy without ever breaking the skin. He observed how Meakin added a final flick of his wrist just before the cane landed on its target, a flick which gave an additional roasting touch to an already painful experience. 

It was, by any standards a virtuoso piece of corporal punishment and served as a true object lesson to Patrick, the absolute beginner. He realised he had a long way to go before he could equal the performance of the Head boy. But he told himself as he watched Meakin's performance that he would get there; by the end of term he vowed to himself that he would be as proficient as his impromptu mentor. It was also an object lesson to Tomlinson, who howled blue murder as each stroke landed and wept copiously; surely after such a beating he would mend his ways, 

When he had finished, Meakin handed the cane back to Patrick and said: "Over to you, Ingram-Lewis; let me see you give him six good cuts for having run down the corridor this afternoon. I suggest you place three of your strokes low down where his arse joins his legs. It's a very sensitive spot and he will not be able to sit down comfortably for a couple of days. So, Ingram-Lewis, don't hold back. You know, I did not mean to steal your thunder, but as Head Boy, I felt I had to correct Tomlinson personally for telling lies."

Tomlinson was now begging for mercy; "Oh please, Ingram-Lewis don't be too hard on me, my backside is on fire and I don't think that I could stand anymore."

It was the Head Boy who answered him: "Oh do shut up, Tomlinson. You are a miserable, lying, moaning wretch and deserve everything you are getting today. So, button up you lip and allow Ingram-Lewis to correct you for running along the corridor. Just thank your lucky stars that the school rules only allow Ingram-Lewis to give your six strokes, for frankly in my view you merit another dozen!"

And so Patrick went ahead and gave Tomlinson another six hard cuts of the cane. It was a first time for Patrick, but one has to say that did not acquit himself badly. He did place those three key strokes low down on Tomlinson's rump at the "sitting spot" which is highly sensitive and sent Tomlinson into paroxysms of pain. Beginner or not, Patrick found that he had actually taken great pleasure in thrashing Tomlinson's arse. There was something quite erotic about and he felt himself totally hard in his pants. A glance over at Meakin showed him that he too was enjoying a similar sensation.

Then it was all over and the two prefects, full of contempt for Tomlinson, told him to pull his pants back up and get out. But the afternoon was far from being over for Meakin and Ingram-Lewis.

The Head Boy looked at Patrick, his eyes focused on Patrick's bulging crotch, which even the most inexperienced of eyes must have known was hiding a rock- hard cock. "Well, Ingram-Lewis, that was a job well done. I think. It was lucky I dropped by as otherwise that dreg of humanity which is Tomlinson would have escaped with just six cuts. But you see now how duplicitous boys can be as they try to wriggle their way out of any awkward situation into which they have got themselves. 

Anyway, listen, Patrick (note the change in style of address and tone of voice; Patrick certainly did) I think you did very well for a first time beating, so keep up the good work. Don't let anyone get away with the slightest infraction. Either haul them in to your own study and thrash them or hand them over to the Friday Prefect's Court and we'll thrash them together. Never let any one of them talk his way out of a caning. Always get his pants down and thrash his naked arse. But listen, Patrick, just looking at you, I can see that you are in a very excited state as am I myself. In fact I always find beating arse arouses me. So, well, I was wondering if you might fancy our getting together on a more intimate basis; you know, getting to know one another a bit better."

Patrick had never before been propositioned and aged eighteen he was still an anal virgin. In fact he was a total virgin as he had never had sex with anyone: male or female. So what he truly knew about sex was really hearsay, as there were at that time not many explicit books about sex available. So it was all by word of mouth and innuendo, until the fatidic day when two warm bodies actually got physically together. 

So, hitherto he had released his sexual tension, like so many other young men of his age, by simply jerking off in private. In fact, somewhat surprising for a boys boarding school, he had never even joined in at a jerking off party, where a number of adolescent lads get together, fiddle around with one another's cocks and indulge in group masturbation. So here he was being invited, in a subtle way to have sex with the senior prefect, Jeremy Meakin, the Head Boy, whose prowess with the cane he had just been admiring. And although totally inexperienced, Patrick knew exactly what Jeremy was offering. So, what should he do? 

Well, Patrick was now eighteen and he rationalised to himself that it had to be sometime so why not now, as Jeremy seemed to know what he was talking about: at least that was the way it appeared by the positive invitation Jeremy had just proffered. And, Jeremy was a good looking well developed, muscular young man, whom Patrick rather liked. So Patrick said: " I take your meaning Jeremy and I am flattered that you are attracted by me, but listen, what you are proposing as I understand it would amount to us committing an act of buggery together, which is strictly against the school rules and moreover against the law What happens to us if we are caught?"

Jeremy laughed: "Listen, my friend, the art in living life to the full in this place is to break the rules and not to get caught. Realistically, our job as prefects is not to make the boys obey the rules but to punish them if and when we catch them in the act of breaking a rule. That might sound very cynical and I suppose it is. But taking Tomlinson as an example; who gives a fuck that he was running down the corridor? Short answer: nobody. But what was unfortunate for him was that he got caught. Look here, Patrick, pretty well everybody is breaking school rules all the time and for the most part they do not get caught. And most of the time their infractions don't amount to a hill of beans." 

"We, the prefects, need to catch a few lads at some nefarious actions so that we can bring them to book, whack their arses and be seen to be doing our job. But do we actually care that they had been breaking the rules before we caught them or for that matter would continue again later. Of course we don't. Our job is merely to discipline the guys we catch and not to try to make them toe the line." 

"So, if you and I get together, and commit an act which many people find repulsive and which, if we are taken "in flagrente delicto" then we are in for the high jump. Our arses will be birched to pulp by the Headmaster. But, my friend, we are not going to be so stupid as to be caught. So, the question is: do we do it together or not? "It" by the way so that you have no illusions, is to fuck one another, or put in more formal but less graphic terms, to indulge in anal intercourse together. Patrick, I have to tell you that I find you super attractive; so, are we on or off?"

Patrick said nothing for a moment as a huge number of thoughts flashed through his head: "Providing we do not get caught, what have I got to lose, apart from my virginity? And that has got to go sometime, so why not now? I am surely old enough, so why not? And I really dig Jeremy. I never realised until he propositioned me that I was attracted to men in quite the way that I now realise that I am." 

"And he says he find me attractive. And he is dead right; I am really horny after having thrashed Tomlinson. Should I feel guilty about that? I really had no control over my cock. It just went hard on me of its own accord; quite embarrassing really, the way one's cock makes a sort of tent out of one's crotch, but I guess it might be fairly general, for looking at Jeremy's crotch, he is just as hard as I am. So, I guess that is just the way it is. At least it seems to be so for us two anyway. Are we both perverts I wonder? But what constitutes a pervert? I am not at all sure. But I know that I am not interested in young boys, so I guess I am not a pervert. I hope I am not as I would hate to be classified as one. So what the fuck; I may as well go with it and see if sex is a great as it is made out to be."

"It's sort of suck it and see. And anyway, stuck away in this place, there is no access at all to any girls, so that option looks remote, although lots of the lads talk of nothing else. But it is all talk: no action. After all, I might even like it with another guy. Who knows? In fact, I hope I do, otherwise it will be a great let down for me."

All these considerations flashed like lightening through Patrick's head as he answered: "OK Jeremy, let's give it a try out. But I have to confess, before we start, that like the caning I just gave Tomlinson, this too will be a first for me. So, Jeremy, you will have to hold my hand, metaphorically, of course, all the way; it's you and not I who will be the lead player."

"You mean a well set up guy like you has never had sex? What the hell have have you been doing? You are truly missing out on one of the greatest pleasures of life. But listen, it'll be my pleasure to initiate you into the alternative ways of exercising your cock, other than jerking off. How you can have managed to avoid it in a place like this baffles me, for there is buggery absolutely everywhere." 

"You know, Patrick, stuck here away from any female company, what the fuck are we supposed to do to relieve ourselves? We're basically normal, healthy young men; it's the system that forces us to fuck each other; it's the system that is responsible. But don't worry; it'll all be OK, believe me Patrick. I don't want to brag, but I'm as expert with my cock as I am with the cane; so you are in good hands. There has to be a first time for you, so why not now?" 

"And don't worry; I won't tell anyone that you had never had sex before, because, believe me, now that you are a prefect, with your looks and body, you'll get plenty of solicitations. And not to alarm you, but there are one or two masters who are not averse to consorting with us. Yes, it does happen; don't look so surprised; they are men too, you know, with the same basic needs. Look, let's go off to my study; it's bigger than yours and more comfortable and I know we shall not be disturbed there. And you know we have still two hours before supper so we've loads of time."

The two young men, I say men and not boys, for they were young men, went off to the Head Boy's study. Jeremy locked the door behind them as they entered and promptly started stripping off his clothes. Patrick, unaccustomed to what was about to happen, felt embarrassed to see Patrick standing there in front of him, stark naked, his cock rock-hard and raring to go. "Come on, Patrick, strip off and let's have a look at you. Surely you're not shy about showing yourself off in front of me; after all we all do it every day in the showers in front of our class mates."

"I know I do, Jeremy, but you know that is, somehow different and right now it feels a bit awkward. We're not just about to take a shower, but to do something quite different together and you know I'm not at all sure I want to go on with this any further."

"Oh, fuck that," said Jeremy as he came cross to the reluctant Patrick and pulled his pants down. "Come on Patrick, strip off and let's get started. Listen; you are going to lose our virginity here and now; no arguments; just accept it as part of your destiny: something written in your stars: something you can do nothing to avoid. Patrick, just relax and accept the inevitable. I'm not going to hurt you and if you decide after you tried it all out that it's not for you, then all well and good. There is a first time for everything and this is the first time for you; so just accept the fact that you're about to get your arse fucked; just relax and enjoy the anal stimulation which is coming."

Patrick finally composed himself sufficiently and pulled himself together to be able to strip off and stand naked in front of Jeremy. The two young men stood looking at each other: two muscular young studs: two rock-hard cocks: two pictures of perfect young manhood. It was not surprising that Jeremy had made his advances on Patrick, as both were clearly sexually aroused by the canings they had just carried out. 

And whether Patrick knew it or not, his own cock, standing there strictly to attention, was telling him exactly what it wanted. For once he had to listen and acquiesce to its demands. So he finally decided that the best approach was, as Jeremy had suggested, just to "sit back and enjoy his first experience."

Jeremy, as was clear, had to take the lead: "Look, Patrick, I know it's all a bit strange at the moment, but just relax and let me show you how it's done; don't resist, just let me very gently take your anal virginity away from you. Look, Patrick, lie down on my couch there, and just raise yourself a bit on your knees and then I will do the rest. Believe me, you'll enjoy it."

Patrick did as he was told and Jeremy fished a small bottle of oil out of the drawer of his desk and generously lubricated his own cock and Patrick's hole, before very gently pushing his member against Patrick's tight little anal sphincter. Patrick winced at the pressure, but Jeremy persisted and is cock slipped smoothly inside of Patrick, who let out a slight gasp of pain.

"It's all right, Patrick; it's all part of the experience," said Jeremy and then proceeded to give Patrick's anus a long, professional fuck. A he had sid, Jeremy was as proficient a handler of his man-meat as he was at wielding the cane and he went on and gave Patrick his first fuck taking him to heaven and back. He understood the art of anal intercourse to perfection and of the need to bring his supplicant partner to a climax as well as satisfying his own needs. 

And so, Patrick had what was probably the very best introduction to male anal sex he could have had anywhere. When Jeremy finally shot his wad, he managed to bring Patrick to a simultaneous climactic orgasm so that Patrick ejaculated spurts of creamy thick sperm in a long series of jerks. One had to admit, Jeremy was a real pro. both with the cane and also when it came to fucking butt.

Jeremy collapsed on Patrick's back when he had finished and remained there, clinging to his partner for several minutes in complete silence before asking "So lover boy; how was it?"

"That was just the most amazing experience I have ever had. OK, so I know how an orgasm feels as I jerk off regularly myself, but Jeremy, that was really something else. It was beyond my wildest imagination: that exquisite sensation I had as you brought me to climax and I shot my load all over your sofa. On a practical note, thank god it's covered in leather otherwise it would be a monumental sticky mess."

Jeremy laughed at Patrick's obvious concern for his furniture: "So you enjoyed it; that's the only thing that matters Patrick: you actually enjoyed your first supplicant fuck. You see, I told you that it would all be OK and it was. Now, lover boy, it's your turn; you have got to do the same for me to complete your baptism into the art of male sex. At the moment you are still half a virgin: fucked but not a fucker. A superb stud like you needs to know how to do both. Besides, you will have a great deal of pleasure exercising your own cock on my arse, where you are the prime mover in the action. So, come on Patrick, shake yourself and give me the pleasure of taking your cock up my arse: I can hardly wait; you have a super cock, by the way!"

And Patrick did exactly as he had been requested. Like all well equipped young men - and he was very well equipped indeed - Patrick took to fucking butt as easily as the proverbial duck takes to water. The two young men then went on for another hour, during which Jeremy showed Patrick other sex positions. When they finally dressed and went along to supper, Patrick was a changed man, he was more confident in himself; he had taken that first, often difficult step of having sex with another person and he had to admit to himself that he enjoyed it. That night as he lay in bed he felt utterly contented with his day's work. He had learned how to swing the cane effectively and he had learned how to fuck: a sort of double first; he somehow felt more complete in himself. The immediate future looked bright.




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 02



Monday was the dawn of Patrick's first full week as a prefect. He had already decided that he would attempt to fill his monthly quota for the Friday night's Prefects' Court immediately, as he did not want to risk, having his own arse beaten as a substitute for that of some other poor sod. So he went around, eyes peeled, to ensure that not the slightest misdemeanour escaped him. Luck was with him as he found two second formers sneaking out of the school grounds without their caps on. 

Taking a leaf out of the Head Boy's book he promptly upbraided them in the insulting, hectoring sort of language which it was evident that the prefects used when on the war path: "Where do you two miserable specimens of humanity think you are going in such an indecent state of undress," he began. "I have seen slovenliness in my time, but frankly you two take the biscuit: you really do. What on earth do you imagine that people will think when they see such an untidy looking pair as you two sauntering around half naked?" 

Remember now, the "gravity" of the boys' offence was that they were not wearing their caps; that was all. It was, of course, a breach of school rules, but mountains have regularly been built out of molehills and by his absurdly theatrical performance, Patrick managed to make them feel as if they had committed a capital crime. Drew and Bristow, for those were the names of the two boys, wilted visibly under this verbal onslaught. But what could they say in their own defence? 

So Patrick went on with his verbal invective: "Well, you two god-forsaken specimens, you don't have much to say for yourselves, do you? So, the pair of you: Friday night at eight sharp, at the Prefect's Court, when we shall see if we can set you on the road to correct behaviour. And remember to arrive wearing the correct attire for the occasion: gym shorts and gymslip and no underwear!" Having given the two boys their "sentence", Patrick heaved an internal sign if relief. He had attained his quota and his own arse was out of danger.

The Prefect's Court had decided unanimously several years ago that the owners of the arses comprising its Friday night "catch" should present themselves for punishment in their gym kit to facilitate the naked access to the target parts of their anatomy. This practice had been promulgate by the Court several years earlier but had been adopted enthusiastically by every Court since then. 

And the Rigby system of junior and senior prefects assured the continuation of tradition within the Court, for the juniors who became seniors in their final year were already fully indoctrinated into the traditions of the Court. There was no doubt about it that once elevated to the rank of prefect, a boy's perspectives and attitudes towards his erstwhile classmates, from which group the himself had been selected, changed radically. 

In general, it was safe to say that the prefects were extremely enthusiastic upholders of the school rules. Catching miscreants ensured that they could indulge in a pastime which pretty well all of them quickly came to enjoy: beating naked arse! In fact, an acute observer might have observed that the elevation to the rank of prefect in the Rigby School system, gave a boy a degree of power over his classmates which bordered on the abusive. In microcosm, the Rigby system was an illustration of the maxim "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely." 

But that was the way things worked at Rigby. Outside of the classroom, the Court of Prefects' word was law. They seized upon even the most minor infraction of the school rules to inflict excessively severe corporal punishment on the perpetrators. And the extraordinary fact was that the boys being punished accepted their fate as being part and parcel of the system. Checks and balances: forget it!

It may sound incredible, but Patrick, who in his earlier years had been a serial offender and had been beaten times without number both by the Headmaster and the prefects, had, in fact, in recent times never been summoned to the Prefects' Court. And so, it was on the first Friday meeting of the Court that term that Patrick, now a prefect himself, arrived at the prefects'common room early, to find that the evening's "catch", including his two nominees already lined up at the door awaiting the order to enter. 

To Patrick it looked like being a good evening as there were no less than eight boys in their gym kit waiting to enter. He was surprised to see that the Prefect's Court was formally arranged around a table at which the Head Boy, Meakin was already sitting as President of the Court. 

"Ingram-Lewis, welcome to your first Prefect's Court," began Meakin. "You are to be congratulated as a newcomer on your contribution of no less than two eminently acceptable backsides to this evening's session. Just to put you in the picture as to how we handle things. All the miscreants are brought into the room together and have to stand against the wall with their hands on their heads, and watch as each of their school fellows takes his punishment." 

"The lucky lads, or perhaps better put, the unfortunate miscreants, are punished in date order. So those assigned to the Court at beginning of the week are thrashed first and so on. Where two or more boys are caught breaking a school rule together, then we thrash them together. That is to say in the case of your two citations, they will be put across two chairs together and two of us will then proceed to apply the cane to their naked arses simultaneously, to the count of another prefect. 

We think that this heightens the drama of the whole occasion and brings home to the boys being beaten that they were partners in crime, so to speak. And so, this evening, you will beat one of your referrals and you may nominate any other of your fellow prefects to beat the other boy alongside you." 

"Now, in certain cases of a severe breach of rules, irrespective of who made the referral, I myself intervene and administer the cane, as I alone am authorised to give up to twelve cuts. So, as you can see, Ingram-Lewis, this is quite a formal occasion and brings home to those of our school fellows we are correcting, the serious way in which we, the prefects, take our role in maintaining order out of class time. And so, Ingram-Lewis now that you are conversant with our methods I think that we can invite our unfortunate friends to enter and get on with tonight's proceedings."

The eight supplicants entered and lined themselves up against the wall, hands on heads as bidden by the Head Boy. "Geoffrey Merton, step forward and stand in front of the desk," intoned the Head Boy. "Merton, you were caught smoking a cigarette in the changing rooms. As you know, this is viewed very gravely by the Headmaster and if referred to him you will most certainly be birched. However, as this is your first offence of this kind, we have decided to be lenient and deal with the matter here and now. I shall personally have the unpleasant (he actually meant, pleasant) task of beating you myself, as this offence merits twelve cuts." 

Poor Merton blanched at the thought of what what was about to happen to him, as The Head Boy's skill with the cane was legendary. Remember we are in the third term of the school year and Meakin, the Head Boy had been exercising his caning arm for five terms already, three as a junior prefect and two as Head Boy. 

In fact he had become somewhat of a caning legend, for no one was considered his equal, not even the Headmaster himself. A beating by Meakin was just about as bad as it could get: the most excruciatingly painful experience imaginable. And here was Merton about to suffer twelve vicious strokes for what he had just been told was a lenient punishment. Merton looked nervous, but then who would not have knowing that he was about to have his naked arse roasted; but he said nothing.

"Right, then Merton, step out of your shorts, bend across the back of that chair in there and present your naked arse to me for treatment," said the Head Boy. Merton hesitated for a moment but was immediately urged on by the Head Boy: "Come on Merton, get a move on; we've not got all night and we have a lot to get through," he concluded, throwing a meaningful glance at the waiting line-up. With Merton finally in place and his arse presented to the Head Boy's satisfaction, he picked up a senior cane and proceeded to give Merton's buns a text- book thrashing. 

Patrick watched in sheer admiration as he saw Meakin, for the second time in a few days, lay on stroke after stinging stroke in neat parallel lines across the full width Merton's arse. He enjoyed the sound of the cane as it cut into Merton's muscular buns, creating furrow after furrow, which turned red and then blue. It was clear that the pain achieved by the Head Boy with the senior cane greatly exceeded that that which he had inflicted on the miserable Tomlinson the other day. 

Merton, to his great credit, maintained complete silence through the entire onslaught (there is no other word to describe it) but but when he finally got up from his beating, pulled back on his shorts and resumed his position in the row of waiting supplicants, his face was full of tears. The others waiting their turn had winced at each stroke, but punishment was punishment and they all accepted it with no ill will towards the prefects. 

However, it has to be said that Merton was the object of immense admiration, not only from the waiting boys, but also from the prefects, for Merton and exhibited that quality which they all admired tremendously: at the end of the day, Merton was a true gentleman and had behaved as such; he had exhibited that much admired quality, the stiff upper lip. He had broken the rules and taken his punishment but there was now no sign of rancour. This may sound strange today, but such was the attitude among the British upper classes at the beginning of the twentieth century: the end of Victoria's long reign.

"Christopher Drew and Colin Bristow, step forward you're next. Now we have to thank our new member, Ingram-Lewis, whose vigilant eye caught you breaking one of the most commonly broken rules: going out without your caps. This, as you both know, is always punished by six and in your case, as you are now both fourteen, six with the senior cane. So, step up to the two chairs the pair of you, shorts down and let's be seeing what your backsides look like and what sort of picture we can paint on them."

We should perhaps describe how the two boys were to be beaten simultaneously. The two chairs had been place in the middle of the room, seat to seat, with a boy bending across the back of each chair, so that the two lads were in fact facing each other. 

"So, Ingram-Lewis; this is your maiden appearance at the Court to which you have most commendably sent two young tearaways for its attention: so, whom would you like to nominate to help you in this double caning?" asked the Head Boy. "I am sure anyone of us will be delighted to perform the task and exercise his caning arm on your behalf. So, who is it to be? But remember that you must choose a senior prefect, for these two young delinquents are going to be given a good taste of the senior cane."

"Well, Meakin, thank you very much; I would like to ask Ashton, if he would care to help me and perhaps you yourself would do me the honour of calling the strokes: six in total, I think."

So Patrick and Ashton each picked up a cane and stood over the naked arse of one of the boys: Patrick took Drew and Ashton, Bristow. It has to be said that both lads had arses which were just asking to be caned: well rounded muscular buttocks, with no other recent "attacks", provided perfect fields for the two prefects to exercise their skills. So Patrick and Ashton stood more or less facing each other as each was right handed and that was the best way to address of each target. 

On a nod from Patrick, the Head Boy called out the first stroke and both canes descended in perfect unison to land with a resounding thwack across their targets. Both boys were less stoic than the admirable Merton and let out howls of pain. 

The Head Boy waited several seconds to let the impact of the first stroke sink in and then said: "Two". And so it went on from there. The highly experienced Ashton laid on his six in strictly parallel lines. Patrick tried to emulate him, but this was his first effort and a public one at that; with the senior cane his cuts were not quite as uniformly distributed. But he managed to deliver a good stinging caning to Drew's arse, and when the two lads were finally got up they were both in tears.

And so the Court continued its beating trajectory, as boy followed boy and one naked arse after the other was thrashed. Patrick who had never experienced anything like it, was in seventh heaven, he realised that he absolutely adored beating naked arse. It gave him a sexual high; so much so that by the time it was all over his underpants were soaked with his cum and he could hardly keep his cock in his pants, so hard was his erection. 

But looking around at his this co-perfects he saw that he was not alone. It had to be admitted that the beating naked young men's bare buttocks was a very exhilarating homoerotic experience. 

The evening was, however, not yet over; the Head Boy suddenly raised his hand for silence, walked across to the door, which suddenly pulled open. Two young boys, clearly first formers, virtually fell into the room; they had clearly been eavesdropping at the door, trying to find out what was going on. One was the ubiquitous Tomlinson and the other a boy called Parker, The Head Boy clearly knew them both and said: "Tomlinson, Parker, what can we do for you two this evening? What exactly were you doing there standing at the door?" 

There was a brief silence whilst both lads tried to think of something to say to excuse their eavesdropping and it was, of course, the ever inventive "I don't like strong stewed tea" Tomlinson, who ventured another unlikely explanation for their misconduct: "Well, Meakin, it was like this we were just going along the corridor when Parker's shoelace came undone and he just leaned against the door to support himself whilst he re-tied it."

"And what were you doing propping yourself up on the door, Tomlinson? Was one of your shoelaces also undone?"

"Oh no, Meakin, I was just leaning there to help support Parker, whilst he re-tied his lace; so that he wouldn't fall over, you see, Meakin; I was actually just helping him."

"Yes, I do understand. Tomlinson; it was most noble and considerate of you to help our friend in need. But you know Tomlinson, I may be a bit thick right now, but how do you explain the fact that you were tying or helping to tie shoelaces when you are both wearing your bedroom slippers? Just explain that to me, would you Tomlinson; no doubt, as ever, there is a rational explanation to this unlikely act; or could it be, Tomlinson that your slippers are, in fact, a mirage and that you are both wearing shoes, or am I imagining things when I think that you may be wearing slippers in order not to disturb us at our appointed task? You know, Tomlinson, I see a great literary future for you as a writer of unbelievable tales. I can see the book now: Tomlinson's Tall Tales."

Tomlinson, as ever unable to keep quiet said: "Do you really think so , Meakin? I never ever thought about that."

"Tomlinson, not only are you an serial breaker of the school rules, an inveterate liar and a teller of the most unlikely tales, but you are an utter twit to boot. You know, Tomlinson, I can think of no arse I enjoy thrashing more than I do yours. You, Tomlinson, have a backside on which the words "Thrash me" are written large."

Parker was now getting increasingly nervous and could see by now what a mess Tomlinson had got them into and said: "Well, truth to tell, Meakin, we were wondering what actually happened at Prefects' Court and that is why we were listening at the door. So now that you know the truth, if it is all right with you, could we please go back to our dormitory as it is nearly lights-out time for first formers and we are not allowed to out of bed."

"Don't worry your little head, Parker, about lights-out. We shall see that you get to bed on time; but as you are here we shall also satisfy your curiosity about what happens at Prefects' Court." And with that Meakin motioned the two boys to enter the room, at the same time indicating to Patrick that he should put the two chairs in their central position, ready to accept the two boys. 

"Well, boys, now that you are in the Prefects' Court, just look around you. You see that line of boys in their gym kit, over by the wall; well, they have all just been beaten by us the prefects to correct various misdemeanours which they committed during the week. That is what we do on Friday nights at Prefects' Court: we correct the misdemeanours of errant boys by beating their arses." 

"Now you two, miserable specimens of humanity, allow me to tell you that gentlemen do not eavesdrop. It is a very a grave misdemeanour, which has to be corrected. But fortunately you are in the very place for that correction to be applied. So no arguments; drop your trousers and underpants, the pair of you and each bend across the back one of those two chairs and present your naked arses to me for inspection. Ingram-Lewis, if you would be so kind as to help me correct this odious pair. I suggest you take that miserable liar, Tomlinson , with whose anatomy you recently familiarised yourself and I will explore the unknown delights of what Parker has to offer."

Meakin and Patrick then went ahead and with six cuts of the junior cane, reduced the two boys to snivelling, whining wrecks. "Parker, you may get up up, pull up your shorts and join the line against the wall, As for you, Tomlinson, stay exactly as you are, for I personally intend to give your miserable arse some further attention, You Tomlinson are a serial liar and we do not like liars in this school. The cuts you have just received were your punishment for eavesdropping. Now you, and you alone, Tomlinson , are going to pay the price for lying yet again." 

"The only regret I have on this occasion, Tomlinson, is that your age does not permit me to use the senior cane on your backside, so I shall just have to do my best with the tools to hand. Ingram-Lewis you would kindly stand aside and allow me access to Tomlinson's arse, I will I have the doubtful pleasure of trying to teach him yet the same lesson as I did previously; that lying does not pay."

When it was all over and the boys who had been punished and the prefects had dispersed, Meakin looked at Patrick and said: "You know, Patrick (note the intimate form of address which presaged what was to follow) you look as though you need some stimulation yourself. You did very well indeed this evening at your first Prefect's Court and if you wish, I will try and give you a few tips as to how to improve our stroke, It's all in that final flick of the wrist, which makes the difference between a good and a great caner, And you have all the makings of a truly great caner, let me tell you. Patrick if you feel like a little relaxation with me before we go bed, just say the word. Me, not to mince words, I could do with a really good fuck before going to bed; so how about it?"

Of course, Patrick needed no further invitation and he and Jeremy went off togeter to Jeremy's study, where behind a locked door they released their mutual tensions by fucking each other. This was the second time that they had enjoyed each other's company and Patrick was much more relaxed. Suffice it to say that Patrick finally came away and went to bed feeling sexually very satisfied; he had had the greatest homoerotic experience ever, in taking part in the Prefects' Court and had then gone on to an equally delightful bout of anal sex with Jeremy: a perfect ending to a perfect day. He really felt that he had found his way in life.




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 02



And so, Patrick, the unexpected new prefect took the bit between his teeth and flogged and fucked his way through the rest of the term. It was, without a doubt, the happiest time he had ever had at Rigby, for he had found what he saw as two complementary vocational activities: to beat arse and to fuck it. He enjoyed his regular participation in the Friday night Prefects' Court, but he also maintained an eagle eye to ensure that he had a regular number of boys to beat himself. One of these beatings, of a boy of his own age, named Roderick Pennington, has already been described in some detail in Part 1 of this chronicle, but for the sake of completeness the salient details of this encounter are repeated here, as Pennington was to play a major role in Patrick's subsequent school life.

Patrick had caught Pennington smoking. After a great deal of argumentative to and fro between the two young men, Pennington had had to submit to Patrick who had given him a hard beating. But then, he had gone on and immediately established an active sexual relationship with Pennington, who himself was already quite experienced. The two young men and clicked and had become regular sex partners, so that Patrick had two very experienced young men with whom he had regular sex during that summer term before the long vacation, Roderick Pennington, and the Head Boy, Jeremy Meakin. 

It was during that first term that Patrick acquired the reputation of being one of the hardest caners among the prefects and one of the school's greatest sexual athletes. He adopted a technique where he would offer all boys over eighteen whom he was about to beat an option which came to be known as "The either-or." Patrick had not thought up the idea but had himself been offered it on one occasion by a senior prefect, who had been preparing to beat Patrick's arse. Had been given the choice of either six bare or three bare and... The "and" was left hanging but the meaning was clear: six full strokes or three strokes and an arse fuck. 

Patrick had hesitated at the time but had finally taken the six; otherwise he would have lost his anal virginity there and then. Patrick availed himself of this idea on a very regular basis and many of his supplicants were happy to take three cuts and an anal fuck from Patrick, who rapidly became recognised as one of the school's top sexual athletes. But for Patrick it was also a revelation. He had learned to love male sex but never more then when the supplicant opted for three cuts followed by a good hard anal fuck. Fucking an arse which he had just beaten became Patrick's idea of heaven; not that a more comfortable and relaxed fuck was to ne n-sneezed at either. Patrick loved them both!

So Patrick flogged and fucked his way through that final summer term, which ended in an extraordinary Prefects'Court. Jeremy Meakin, the Head Boy, would be leaving at the end of the term along with all the other senior prefects and a new Head Boy from among the newly promoted juniors, who in their final year became seniors, would be named by the Head Master for the beginning of the new school year in September. All the present juniors were agog, wondering who of their number would have the honour to be made Head Boy. Meanwhile, Meakin wanted his reign as Head Boy to go out with a bang so he urged his co-prefects to round up minimum of twelve miscreants to "take part" in the final Prefects' Court of the year. 

"Listen ," he said to his fellow senior prefects, "Round up as many miscreants as you can so that we can have a gala thrashing for our final Court together. I know that what we are supposed to be doing is to maintain order, but there is no reason at all why we do not make a special effort to find as many tearaway rule breakers as possible, so that we too, as prefects feel satisfied with our final efforts; no slacking in our duties just because it is the end of our term of office and we seniors are all leaving Rigby for good. We need to set a good example for the new Court." 

What he left unsaid, but what everyone understood, was that the prefects were also aiming to enjoy themselves by having a gala beating occasion for the final Court of the year. And so in that final week, all stops were pulled out to corral twelve "candidates".

Twelve candidates to be beaten was a tall order, or so thought Patrick, but as he and Meakin were very close he was determined to do his best for his friend. Fate or luck (bad luck for the boys who were caught) helped Patrick. He was again passing the shower room where he had caught Roderick Pennington smoking, when he heard some loudish laughter and again smelled smoke, so he opened the door to find four sixth formers just back from a cross country run, standing around having a drag. 

The boys looked sheepish at being caught red-handed by a prefect and knowing full well the potential consequences of their action, one of them said: "Oh, come on, Ingram-Lewis, it's the end of term; let it go for once, can't you. You have fag yourself sometimes; come and have a drag with us."

"Patterson (for that was the name of the boy who had spoken) I am afraid that is not possible. The four of you, Patterson, Collins, Williams and Bairstow, are all senior boys and you all know that smoking is an offence which is dealt with by the Headmaster and usually involves a birching. I ought to report you to him immediately, but as it is the end of term, I will ask the Head Boy if, on this occasion, we can be lenient and deal with you next Friday at the last Prefects' Court of the term."

"Oh come on, Ingram-Lewis; be a sport and let the whole thing go; nobody will be any the wiser and you do take the odd drag yourself. It looks awfully like the pot calling the kettle black to me"

"Patterson, and all of you, I have to tell you that the fact that I do occasionally smoke a cigarette myself is not relevant. I am not proposing to refer you to the Head Boy for smoking, but for having caught you in the act of smoking. If I look the other way, then it will be round the school like greased lightening that Ingram-Lewis is a soft touch and my authority as a prefect, which continues in the coming school year this September, will be undermined." 

"So no, I cannot and will not let your delinquency go unpunished, as I say I will suggest to the Head Boy that you be brought before the Prefects' Court this Friday, rather than reporting you to the Headmaster; that way you will get a caning rather than a birching."

Patterson looked unbelievingly at Ingram-Lewis: "Oh fuck you Ingram-Lewis! Get real; get off your high horse: who the fuck do you think you are, lording it over us?"

"To answer your question, Patterson, I am a senior prefect and I am simply carrying out the duties associated with my office. Patterson, you and your three friends here, were stupid enough to allow yourselves to get caught breaking the rules: a cardinal rule, for infringement of the no smoking rule is considered a serious offence and is always punished. As for your other comment, Patterson, I am afraid that you will have to forego the pleasure to which you just alluded. However, other delights await you in fifteen minutes in my study. Is that clear Patterson? You will present yourself in my study in fifteen minutes."

"Fuck you, Ingram-Lewis! What the hell do you think you are doing, bossing me around like this?"

"Let me make it quite clear to you what I am doing Patterson. I am telling you, a boy whom I have just caught smoking and who has chosen to become abusive to me, a senior prefect, who was doing nothing other than performing his duty, to see me in my study in fifteen minutes time. On that occasion I shall have the pleasure, and believe me, Patterson, in view of your abusive remarks, it will be a pleasure, to correct you in the time-honoured manner of Rigby. I shall attempt to beat some manners into you by applying my cane to your bare arse. Fifteen minutes, Patterson; don't be late." And with that Patrick turned on his heel and left the four lads stewing in their own juice. 

Patterson wished that he had held his tongue, but what was done could not now be undone and he knew he was in for a very painful few minutes. He knew he had to obey Patrick's order, for to ignore it would mean being hauled before the Head Master with the prospect of a birching. He entered Patrick's study, with a look of defiance still on his face. "Pants and underpants down and across that chair," said Patrick with no other word of explanation.

"Oh come on Ingram-Lewis; be reasonable, what I said was in haste and anger and I am sorry I said it; so couldn't we just forget it for once? Look we are all going to get a thrashing for smoking at the Prefects' Court on Friday, so you don't really need to cane me now; come on, Ingram-Lewis, be a sport and say you will forget it."

"Patterson, you were totally abusive to me and you need to be taught a lesson as to when to hold your abusive tongue. This has got nothing at all to do with your being caught smoking; this is personal to you. You need to be taught a sharp lesson and I am going to undertake that task here and now; so naked arse across that chair and quick about it." To add weight to his remarks, Patrick had picked up his senior cane, which he had bent practically double in front of Patterson, whilst he was speaking. Patterson blanched visibly as he saw the Patrick truly meant business. "Come on Patterson; what are you waiting for? Let me see your bare bum over that chair right now." 

Patrick then went on and gave Patterson's buns as sound a thrashing as he was able. It has to be said that we were now at the end of the term and Patrick had greatly improved his earlier technique, so that he was now up there alongside the Head Boy in terms of the pain he was able to deliver. Patterson for all his braggadocio was reduced to tears by Patrick's efforts. As he left Patrick's study a humbler man, Patrick added a reminder: "Don't forget Patterson you and your three friends are expected at the Prefects' Court this Friday at eight sharp; don't be late otherwise you will all finish up in front of the Head Master; that's not a threat, but a promise!"

The final Prefects' Court of the school year was sort of a gala occasion. The word "gala" is really inappropriate to describe a gathering whose job was to punish a number of errant youths. But all the seniors, whose schooldays would be over for ever in just a few more days, looked upon it as an occasion when they would have, for the very last time, access to a selection of naked arses which they could beat. So there was an element of "Schadenfreude" - joy in the misfortunes of others - as well as a strong current of homoeroticism in the air as the prefects assembled and viewed their final "catch. For most of the seniors, this would be the last time ever that they wield wield the cane. Their schooldays were at an end." 

Together, by increased vigilance during the week, the prefects had managed to put together a group of twelve boys whom they intended to beat, of which Patrick's contribution, the four smokers, was considered the jewel in the crown: four boys who would be made to offer their arses simultaneously for punishment: a flogging hitherto unheard of. The Head Boy, Meakin had literally jumped for joy when Patrick told him of his "catch". "You know Meakin, according to to the rules; we should refer this to the Head Master, for smoking is a birching offence." 

"Not on our life, Ingram-Lewis," was Meakin's immediate reaction. " There is no way we are going to hand them over to the Head Master and deny ourselves the pleasure of a four man, naked arse beating to end the year. They will be the magnificent final act of our last Court of the year. Don't worry, there is no way they are going to complain, for none of them would want to have his arse birched, which as we both know from personal experience, is one of the most painful of all experiences."

The fatal Friday evening arrived. The prefects were assembled. The "condemned" boys were brought in, wearing their gym strips and all in a state of nervousness which testified to the electric feeling running through the air. The Head Boy called the name of the first boy to present himself for punishment. Usually boys were caned in the chronological order in which they had been caught "in flagrante delicto." But the Head Boy had decreed that Patrick's group of four would be punished last, to provide a fitting finale to the Court's last session of the school year. A sense of drama heightened the tension and made this final Court a very special occasion.

Each supplicant had to drop his gym shorts, bend across the chair and take his punishment across his naked arse. The prefect who had nominated the supplicant to appear before the Court was the one who carried out the task and it is safe to say that everyone put heart and soul into wielding the cane. All the boys who had been beaten stood up somewhat tearful for their ordeal. But the Court was to witness as a climax, two simultaneous multiple beatings, the first of two boys who had been caught down town not wearing their caps and the second, the four smokers, sent to the Court by Patrick.

Two chairs were arranged for the two-man simultaneous beating and guess who were the lucky lads? None other than our old friend, the ubiquitous Tomlinson and his "partner in crime", Parker. Earlier in the term the two of them had been thrashed by the Court for having eavesdropped and Tomlinson had been given added strokes on that occasion for having lied to the Head Boy. Also, earlier in the term the Head Boy had himself thrashed Tomlinson for running in the corridor and a few weeks later Patrick had taken the cane to him for exactly the same offence, on which occasion the Head Boy had also felt obliged to give Tomlinson a dozen additional cuts for lying to Patrick. 

As he called up the two boys for punishment, the Head Boy said: "Tomlinson, I see that you are again up for punishment. I have the strong impression that yours is an arse in perpetual search of a cane. Tell me, Tomlinson, how many times have you been beaten this term?"

Tomlinson thought for a second and then said; "Seven times, or eight if you include today, Meakin. But just let me explain: many times I was victimised; for instance..." 

And Tomlinson would have launched himself into one of his tall stories, concocting an absurd excuse, had Meakin not cut him short. "The pair of you, shorts down and each across a chair and let's see your arses naked to see what we need to do to put you on the right path." It was a junior prefect who had caught the pair without their caps and he had nominated another junior to assist him in the simultaneous caning of the two boys. 

The Head Boy called the count and the two prefects synchronised their strokes so that the two canes landed simultaneously across the two waiting arses with a satisfying crack; satisfying for the onlookers that is but terribly painful for the two recipients, both of whom howled with pain as blow followed blow. Both were in tears when they finally were told to get up and rejoin the observing line of penitents. 

The Head Boy then said toTomlinson: "Tomlinson, in view of your extraordinary record this term: the exceptional number of encounters between the cane and your arse, I think that tomorrow, you and I need to have a little talk about your future; my study tomorrow morning immediately before lunch." Tomlinson started to protest, but was silenced by Meakin: "As I have just said, Tomlinson, tomorrow, my study, immediately before lunch and don't, please don't, come up with some lame, far fetched excuse, such as "I couldn't find your study, Meakin." Just be there Tomlinson; be there boy!"

But now came the climax of the final of meeting of the Prefects' Court of the school year. The four boys, Patterson, Collins, Williams and Bairstow were called to stand in front of the Head Boy, who sat like a judge in the centre of the table, surrounded by several senior prefects. He manage to make the whole scene sound like the passing a death sentence in court of law. "As you know, strictly speaking you four should have been referred to Head Master for birching, but we have decided to be lenient with you and deal with your gross misconduct and blatant disregard for school rules here in Court." 

The Head Boy laid it on with a trowel but one has to ask oneself whether the four recipients of what the Court was about to inflict on them would consider their punishment as lenient. It was very doubtful: very doubtful indeed! Meakin went on: "The four of you will each first receive six cuts of the senior cane across your naked arses, laid on by Ingram-Lewis, to whom we are grateful for his perspicacity in catching you in the act. He will be assisted by three other senior prefects, whom he has nominated to help him. These four gentlemen will deliver each of the six strokes to your eagerly expectant arses in a synchronised manner so that each of you will have the pleasure of feeling the cane at the same moment." 

"I shall, myself, then intervene and in my capacity as Head Boy give each of you a further six strokes of the cane to bring up the total to twelve cuts, which is what we feel your particular offence merits. By way of comparison the Head Master's tariff for your offence would be fifteen strokes of the birch, so as you can see you are being let off very lightly! That was the Head Boy's take on the situation, but I suspect that the supplicants had a different view, which they were not, of course, invited to express! So, gentlemen, if you would like to turn around, drop your shorts and assume the appropriate position, I think we are ready to begin."

Whilst the Head Boy had been berating the four supplicants, four chairs had been arranged in the centre of the room in a square formation so that each boy could bend over the back of a chair and make his arse accessible to the cane. Patrick and his three helpers each stood above the boy they had selected to beat. The Head Boy called the first stroke and each of the four canes landed simultaneously on a naked arse. 

The four supplicants had agreed among themselves that they would take the beating with a stiff upper lip and would neither cry out in pain nor shed a tear. There was something horribly dramatic about the way the punishment was handled. At the end of the day, each boy was, in fact, being caned by one prefect, but somehow the fact that they were all bent over together and that four blows landed simultaneously with resounding thwacks' as the cane met the buttocks, enhanced the overall effect. It was truly homoerotic, not to mention, sadistic occasion.

The Head Boy now took over where the others had left off. He brought his cane down with exquisitely balance force on one pair of buttocks after another: one stroke at a time, before moving on to the next boy And so he continued stroke by stroke, arse by arse until he and given each boy a further six strokes. If ever any boys had received a truly thorough beating, this was it. And to their credit, with their arses on fire, they stood up, pulled up their shorts and rejoined the line up without a murmur. These four boys were the object of admiration both by the others who had been beaten earlier and by the prefects themselves.

And so ended the final climactic Prefects' Court of the summer term. As Meakin said later to Patrick, as they lay together in his study, having spent the rest of the evening fucking each other by way of a release of the tension they had built up during the final meeting of the Court: "You know Patrick, those four boys took their punishment as true English gentlemen; they will all go far in life, I think."

But there was still one unpleasant matter the Head Boy had to deal with: Tomlinson. Tomlinson arrived at the Head Boy's study as requested, having no idea what was going to happen. "Tomlinson, let me get this quite straight. As I understand it you have been beaten by one or other the prefects no less than eight times this term. If that is correct, which I assume it is, I believe that there is something radically wrong, something which requires immediate attention. I have decided to take your case to the Head Master to see what he thinks should be done with you. Clearly you cannot go on breaking the rules left, right and centre, as you have done this term, otherwise you will finish up being expelled from the school and I am sure that you don't wish that." 




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 03



THE INGRAM-LEWIS CHRONICLES – PART 3

PATRICK'S SCHOOL FORTUNES SOAR – BEATING AND SEX GALORE.

A Homoerotic Short Story

By

Jason Land 

CHAPTER 1

We left Patrick Ingram-Lewis at the end of his penultimate year at Rigby School, where he had been, much to his surprise, elevated to the level of Senior Prefect. He had revelled in his new role; after a timid start, vigorously exercising his power to punish his delinquent school fellows with the cane, so that by the end of term he was considered to be the equal of the then Head Boy, Jeremy Meakin, who had the reputation of being the hardest caner ever. Meakin had also introduced Patrick into the joys of anal sex and the two of them were regular partners throughout that final term. 

But Patrick had also become close friends with a boy his own age, Roderick Pennington, whom he had beaten and then fucked, subsequent to which the two had become inseparable companions and sex partners. So, one way and another, Patrick truly found his feet at Rigby as he flogged and fucked his way through that final term before the long summer vacation. Flogging and fucking had become vocational activities for Patrick and he adored both.

As we know, Patrick had lost his father at an early age and was, as the owner of Ingram House in Hexham, Northumberland, the sole proprietor of the family's coal mining business, the source of their considerable wealth. So, aged eighteen, he was considered to be Lord of the Manor, free to do as he wished. He had invited Roderick to spend the month of August at Ingram House, where he would otherwise have been alone. His mother, Mildred Ingram-Lewis, who had all the qualities of a fly in the ointment, was plnning to spend that entire month with a group of her friends on cultural pursuits in Italy. He was relieved that he would be alone in the house with Roderick and free to do as he wished.

Ingram House was a large early Victorian pile, built originally by Patrick's great grandfather, Jonathan Ingram-Lewis, who had had more money than taste and had created a large uncomfortable house for his family. Since the death of her husband, Patrick's mother had lived alone with a paid companion, whom she bossed around, was waited on by a full complement of servants paid for by the ample proceeds of the coal mining business. She had a butler, two footmen, a cook and various maids, plus a head gardener and his assistant so that the house and grounds were all well maintained. 

Mildred Ingram-Lewis was, by nature, a vinegary sort of woman. Highly pretentious, she conducted herself as a member of the aristocracy, to which stratum of society, in class ridden England, she did not, to her enduring regret, belong. True, her double-barrelled surname conferred a certain cachet, but her greatest regret was that she was not Lady Ingram-Lewis. 

She was perpetually aggravated by the fact that her father, Sebastian Ingram-Lewis, who had had political aspirations over and above his coal mining activities, had been incompetent enough to earn, if that was the word, a knighthood, becoming Sir Sebastian Ingram-Lewis, when with a little more push he could have landed himself a baronetcy, with a hereditary title. But he had not done so, and on his death the title died with him so Mildred's husband, another Jonathan, only had the style of "Mr Ingram-Lewis" a fact which was a constant source of irritation to his wife. Patrick didn't give a damn!

Patrick had barely known his father, having been shunted off to Rigby Court Preparatory school at the tender age of eight. His mother had always been a remote figure, who saw him for an hour or so each day at tea time. So Patrick, like so many upper class boys was brought up by a nanny whom he dearly loved, and then at school, where he was subjected to regular beatings across his bare arse. All in all it was typical of the upbringing of boys of his class at the beginning of the twentieth century.

In her desire to belong to the social class above her station in life, Mildred Ingram-Lewis affected all sorts of airs and graces of which the most awfully apparent was the way she spoke, or better put, mangled, the English language. Until relatively recently it was considered not the "done thing" to speak with any form of regional accent in England. And so the upper classes, all of whom sent their offspring to private schools, spoke what was originally called, Queen's English, although what Victoria knew about it, God alone knows, as she and her husband were basically German speakers. On her death it was renamed King's English and then later Oxford English. It has now become a very indeterminate thing known as the "Received Pronunciation." Received from whom by whom one might well ask? Anyway, coming from a region like Tyneside, with a strong local accent and dialect, Mrs Ingram-Lewis made great efforts to speak with a most "refained" accent, masking any vestige of local pronunciation. 

Refinement in the hands, or rather the mouths, of the upper classes involved, and indeed still involves today, mispronouncing simple words in a way in which they are not written. I call it "pronuncification", a word I have coined to denote the ridiculous way in which the upper and would-be uppers, speak. For example, a word like "that" becomes "thet" , " and" becomes "end", "than" becomes "then", "off" becomes "awrff" , "law" becomes "lawr" , "draw" become "drawr" and so on, and on. 

In the mouth of an expert, and Mrs Ingram-Lewis, to her credit was certainly that, one finishes up speaking in a way to which it is excruciatingly horrible to listen. Add to this the tone of the voice, which is very often likened to the braying of a donkey, the whole thing becomes a caricature of what the spoken language should sound like. Those who speak it together do not seem to realise how ridiculous they sound. But ordinary folk, who are in the vast majority, finish up being made to feel very inferior and hardly dare open their mouths in the presence of such "refainement". 

In a word, they are intimidated, embarrassed and barely able to express themselves when in the presence of someone who "talks posh". And that is exactly the effect Mrs Ingram-Lewis had on people. It drove any ordinary person, with whom she had contact, up the wall and served to define and consolidate the class divide: us and them! This included her son, Patrick, who thought his mother beyond the pale with her airs and graces. It is not surprising that he was delighted that for the second half of the long vacation he would be rid of her.

CHAPTER 2

But Patrick, arriving home in the first days of July, had to endure his mother and her dreary lady companion for a full month before their departure for Italy and the arrival of his friend. Roderick Pennington would bring him salvation and, he hoped, sex. 

As I said earlier, Mrs Ingram-Lewis maintained a lavish style of living. She dressed for dinner every evening and she and her companion were served in solitary splendour at table by the butler and two footmen. Meals in the Ingram-Lewis household tended to be more an exercise in good manners than good food, as the cook, Mrs Partridge, was not exactly a gourmet chef. But at table, under the watchful eye of the butler, all was done "comme il faut" as the diners chewed their way through some truly awful cooking and made polite but utterly boring conversation. Patrick, now eighteen, had to endure all this and it bored him to tears. 

However, he noticed that since his last visit home some months previously, his mother had appointed (or was it the butler who did it? I'm not sure; but there was certainly a protocol to be observed in such matters) a new footman. His name was Geoffrey. Footmen were always known by their Christian names, the butler by his surname and the housekeeper and cook, whether married or not, were always addressed as Mrs so and so. All the other maids were known by their Christian names. 

Geoffrey looked about twenty years old and was, to coin a phrase, drop dead gorgeous; at least, that is what Patrick thought as he clapped eyes on him at dinner on his first evening at home. Patrick and Geoffrey exchanged glances at the table several times during dinner and it soon became clear that Geoffrey found Patrick as attractive as Patrick clearly found him. 

The next evening Patrick could not keep his eyes off Geoffrey as he waited at table. Finally their gazes met; not a word was spoken, but Patrick's eyes asked a question to which Geoffrey's eyes replied. Each understood what they wanted. Whether anyone else present had realised what had happened seems very unlikely; it was communication by telepathy.

As Patrick lay in his bed that evening, he wondered if anything would come of the silent exchange he felt sure he had had with Geoffrey. It was approaching midnight, when a knock came at the door and Geoffrey, still fully attired in his footman's livery, entered, "Good evening Mr Patrick." This was the normal form of address by the servants to the children of the house in which they served. Until the age of seventeen or eighteen boys were addressed as Master, followed by their Christian name and thereafter as Mr. Strictly speaking, Geoffrey should have said: "Good evening Mr. Ingram-Lewis". I can tell you that had the butler heard him make that mistake, he would have been sharply pulled up and corrected on it, form was everything. "I wondered sir, if you needed anything before retiring; is there anything at all for which you need my services?"

Patrick's heart jumped for joy as Geoffrey appeared, for he knew that his visual message had been received and understood and was now being acted upon. He could hardly wait to see how things would develop: "You know, Geoffrey, now that you ask me, there is. Look, here, I shall be here for the next two months, all the summer in fact; so I was just wondering if you would be kind enough to valet for me. As there are no male members of the family in residence, there are no valets. I know it's not really your job, but it would be good if you could look after me whilst I am here; always as long as it does not interfere with your other duties, of course. I'll talk to Bates (the butler) about it first thing tomorrow. So, for now, be a good chap and pick up my things and put them away if you would."

Geoffrey started to collect Patrick's discarded clothes, which he, in typical schoolboy fashion, had left lying around on chairs and the floor and started to hang them up. As a first step in the right direction, Patrick then said: "Take off your coat, Geoffrey, if you are too hot working in here and when you have finished what you are doing come over here and we'll discuss in more detail just what you can do for me." With Geoffrey's coat off, Patrick got a good look at the footman's shapely arse, beautifully moulded into the well fitting trousers of his footman's livery. He was already salivating metaphorically at the thought of what would be revealed once his trousers came down; and Patrick was certain that they would come down.

Patrick felt his cock telling him what it wanted him to do; lust was very definitely in the air. What we today would call chemistry between two guys was already working its magic. Patrick knew full well that he wanted to fuck his young footman there and then; there was no way he wanted to let that lusciously attractive pair of buns escape unexplored that evening. But how did one make the first move? And did Geoffrey feel the same way about Patrick? 

The exchange of glances at the dinner table had clearly been enough to lure Geoffrey to Patrick's bedroom; was Geoffrey a willing partner? he just had to be; but did one find out? The start was always so awkward.

Having finished with the clothes, Geoffrey turned around, came towards the bed and stood there in front of the recumbent Patrick. Patrick saw immediately that what he himself was experiencing was clearly also being felt by the footman. As any eye could see, Geoffrey's cock had already hardened and the crotch of his trousers was straining to keep the rampant organ in check. It was clear to Patrick that the two of them were on the same wavelength. The question was how to break the ice and who was to do it. Geoffrey stood facing Patrick waiting for him to say something.

By now, Patrick had decided that this was what looked like what might be called a "Go Situation", so he said: "Geoffrey, you are not very considerate. My mother has provided you with a splendid footman's livery, and just look at what you are doing to your trousers; certain parts of your anatomy are clearly out of control, so I suggest that you rectify matters and take off your trousers immediately before they suffer irreparable damage. Meanwhile, do something to control yourself." But ridiculous though the reasoning was, the ice was broken and the tension which existed between the two young men suddenly vanished.

Geoffrey looked at Patrick, laughed and said: "Mr Patrick, I've heard quite a number of different come-ons in my time, but yours is the most imaginative ever sir; it really takes the biscuit; it truly does! Wherever did you dig up that one from sir?" And whilst he was saying this, he did, in fact step out of his trousers.

"Well, Geoffrey, while you are about it, why don't you hang them up; and you might just as well strip off completely, and get into bed with me here, for we both know why you are here, don't we?"

"Mr Patrick sir, I don't know what to say. I never thought that you had any such idea in your head when I came in here tonight. I was just proposing to act as your temporary valet."

"Oh Geoffrey, cut the crap and tell it to the marines. You know and I both know, that you came up here because I had the hots for you and frankly, unless I have read the tea leaves wrongly, you feel the same about me. We both knew that at the dinner table tonight, didn't we? So let's cut to the chase. Geoffrey, why don't you just strip off and get over here and let's do what we both want to do, which is to fuck each other; I am right aren't I?" Then with a slight panic attack added: " I hope for Christ's sake I have not misread the signs".

"Your word is my command, master," said Geoffrey with a slight bow and a laugh, as he threw off the rest of his clothes and stood there stark naked in front of Patrick, without any embarrassment whatsoever. Patrick gave a low whistle at what he saw. 

Geoffrey was a muscular looking stud, with a magnificent cock, which was already rock-hard and raring to go. And for the first time, Patrick saw a tool which had undergone the knife: Geoffrey's cock had been circumcised. And whoever had done this job, not at all common then, or for that matter now in England, had done it superbly well. Geoffrey had a magnificent piece of man-meat with a large head well defined by a beautiful rim. Somehow a well cut cock always looks so much better with the head proud and not shrouded in nebulous foreskin. Patrick was full of admiration, not to mention lust, for what he saw. he wondered saht Geoffrey would think of his offering when it was revealed.

Patrick said: "So tell me, Geoffrey, how did you divine what it was that I wanted? We had not even exchanged a word and yet you knew."

"Mr Patrick, when you looked at me across the table, your expression told me all that I needed to know, as did mine for you. We didn't need to say anything; sex is like that. One knows at first sight what one wants; the only problem is that very often one does not get it! Anyway sir, it looks as though things have worked out for both of us just as we hoped. So sir, what would you like to do first? I am game for pretty well anything. Just name your pleasure sir."

"Tell me first how old you are, for it my guess that you are much more experienced than I am. You do know, don't you, that what we are about to do together is an act of buggery, officially known as sodomy and that we could both finish up in gaol if we are caught in the act? That is a risk I am ready to take; but are you Geoffrey? To tell out the truth I am just longing to feel that cock of yours inside me. I've never felt quite like that about anyone before."

"Well, Mr Patrick, I'm actually a bit older than I look, I know I've got what might be called a baby face, but I am twenty five, so that makes me about seven years older than you. Is that a problem for you, for I guess being at school you've been having sex with your schoolmates and not with anyone around my age? As for experience, well, I suppose I'm what you would call an old hand; I started aged eighteen, like you, and I've been at it ever since. I cannot live without sex, but I have to tell you that I'm sort of, how shall I put it, ambidextrous, if you get my meaning. I like it equally well with either a man or a woman. So where do we stand in the light of what you now know? You've seen what I look like, so do you still fancy me as much as I fancy you?"

Patrick got himself out of bed where he had been lying throughout this entire exchange, stood in front of Geoffrey, who was about the same height and stepped out of his pyjamas. "Does that answer your question, Geoffrey? Am I sufficiently attractive now that you see me in the all together?" This was a sort of redundant question for Patrick knew full well that he was a highly attractive looking hunk of young manhood and, OK, even if his own cock was not quite up to Geoffrey's monument, it wasn't half bad and filled most guys who saw it with envy.

Geoffrey laughed again, "Oh I think you might just scrape through sir, if you see what I mean. Now sir, what is your pleasure?"

CHAPTER 3

Patrick locked the bedroom door and then went to the bathroom whence he returned with a small bottle of oil in his hand. He handed to this to Geoffrey. Without a word, he went over to the bed knelt down and offered up his arse to Geoffrey's ministrations. Geoffrey laughingly said: "Am I to understand sir, you wish to undergo a session of anal stimulation administered by me? I am not sure sir, that such an act is covered in my terms of employment in your household. To the best of my recollection sir, I was engaged as footman and not as a cocks-man. Perhaps I have misunderstood the contract sir, so perhaps we ought to look at it together before I ..."

Patrick laughed, interrupted Geoffrey's nonsense and said: "Geoffrey, for crying out loud, stop pissing me around and get on with it. I have offered you my arse on a plate. Now for fuck's sake man, do something about it; mu bum is getting very lonely and cold floating around in the air; it's just crying out for some company. Listen Geoffrey; this is your last chance, either shit or get off the pot!" This was truly the most extraordinary exchange between a master and his footman, but it serves to show how totally relaxed and at ease the two young men had become with one another and all this in the space of a few brief minutes; in modern day parlance we would say that the two young studs had clicked. How one would have expressed it in 1900, I am not at all sure.

Anyway, Geoffrey got the message and very professionally oiled both his cock and Patrick' arse before sharing his monument with Patrick. "I think it might be wise sir, to place a towel on the bed before we begin sir. Fucking is a very satisfying business, as I am sure you are aware sir, but it does also get rather messy. So, if you will permit me sir, I will just slip this towel underneath you." 

Any observer would have instantly recognised that Geoffrey was a true expert in the management of his man-meat. He did not mess around, for once ready, he thrust big rock-hard tool as far as it would go into Patrick's hole and then gave him a very vigorous fuck. Patrick loved every minute of his first dose of "anal stimulation" with Geoffrey realising he had found a superbly competent partner for the long summer holiday.




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 03



Geoffrey was not a gentle lover; he preferred the vigorous approach and Patrick soon discovered that being served by him was one of the most exhilarating experiences of his hitherto brief sex life. Once you had been served by Geoffrey, you really knew what top grade fucking was all about. Geoffrey addressed his target with force and intensity coupled with ever increasing stroke length as he reached his own climax. Then, just before ejaculating his load, he withdrew his cock entirely from Patrick and then brought both himself and Patrick to simultaneous orgasms. Patrick had never ever experienced anything comparable with his school fellows; Geoff fey was in a different league and, as Patrick he was to learn during the coming weeks, was one of the most imaginative copulators ever, subtle and loving he was not; but boy, did he know how to deliver the goods.

Patrick lay breathless. Geoffrey at his side looked at him. "Well sir, how about you try to do the same for me." He then lay flat on his back, spread his legs and bent them to show Patrick his own port of entry. "Come on sir, don't be shy. Just give me a spot of oil and away you go." Patrick did as he was asked and within seconds his own sizeable cock was deep inside Geoffrey. In the mission position , which was what Geoffrey had offered him, Patrick pushed his partners legs way back over his body, so that his arse was completely open for attack; and attack he did, taking a leaf out of Geoffrey's book, Patrick had never before been quite so vigorous in fucking his partner's hole. 

It was clear that that was what Geoffrey wanted, so once started, Patrick was soon swept up in the eroticism of the moment as he fucked away as if there was no tomorrow. This was a new departure for Patrick, as fundamental in its way as that first fuck he had had at school with the Head Boy three months ago. It showed him a new level of anal sex, a level of which he had never previously dreamed. It was the first step to a long and glorious summer holiday of rough sex, which was to be shared a little later with equal enthusiasm by Roderick, whose arrival Patrick was keenly awaiting.

But there was still a full month before Roderick arrived. This was the first encounter with Geoffrey, who was to prove a brilliant mentor for Patrick throughout the long hot month of July .Theirs was one of those chance encounters, which both men enjoyed, but like the summer, it would fade away when Patrick returned to begin his final year at Rigby; but it was wonderful while it lasted. 

The two young men lay side by side in Patrick's bed, talking together and getting to know something about each other. Geoffrey explained that the post as footman to Mrs Ingram-Lewis was a gift from heaven. There were no men around the house and after dinner, which was served early at seven each evening, both footmen were more or less free to do as they wished, for any late evening attention demanded by Mrs Ingram Lewis was handled by her personal maid. 

Geoffrey had found a kindred spirit in the assistant gardener, who lived alone in a bothy on the estate. His name was Thomas Marshall and by a stroke of good fortune he was as enthusiastic about male sex as was Geoffrey. So, both young men - Tom was also about twenty five - were able to indulge themselves without straying far from home. But Tom had a like minded friend, Mitch Smithers, who worked at the butcher's shop in the village, so that the three of them were able to enjoy what we today would call group sex. As you can see, when it come so sex, there is little new under the sun; it's always been there, often hidden but practised nevertheless.

Geoffrey also revealed, as he had said earlier that he was also not averse to sex with woman, that he and Rose, the kitchen maid, often spent time together. 

"Have you ever had sex with a woman, sir?" asked Geoffrey, to which Patrick had to reply in the negative, explaining that in the all male environment of the school there was pretty well no contact with women of any kind. "Geoffrey, the only females we see are matron, who looks after our illnesses and the school secretary, a dry old bat, called Miss Hetherington, who does the Headmaster's bidding; that's as near to a female as any of us get."

"You need to think about widening your horizons, Mr Patrick. It's as well to know what goes on in the world. Take little Rose, for example. She's a real hot piece and I can tell you, though you've only been here a couple of days, she already has the hots for you sir, she really does. So, if you fancy dipping your wick into different waters it can all be arranged, believe me; Rose will be up here in a shot."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Just trust me sir; I just know," said Geoffrey with a smile on his face.

"You know Geoffrey, it's been a godsend meeting you and getting together so quickly. And, quite frankly, I've already learned a hell of a lot from you and I really did enjoy the vigorous way in which you fuck. It was absolutely terrific; better than anything I experienced at school. You know, coming here alone for the long holidays, with my pal Roderick not expected until next month, I wondered what the hell I was going to do this month. You see, like you, even as a newcomer to the pastime, I am quite addicted to sex and I've become so attached to fucking butt at school, that the thought of being on my own for a month and having to resort to the five fingered lover to relieve my tensions was unbearable. But now that I have found you, or rather that we have found each other, all that's changed." 

He went on: "There is one aspect of school that I shall miss over the next two months. Do do you know what that is? You'll never guess. Well I'll tell you. Since becoming a prefect I have had the authority to cane boys who break the rules. It's quite the normal thing at public schools for senior boys to act as "policemen" over their younger schoolfellows and to thrash their naked arses when they misbehave, which is very often indeed. Well, over this last term, I've developed a real taste for beating bare bums and seeing the miscreant squirm as I lay on the cane."

"I suppose I'm a bit of a sadist, but then so are most of my fellow prefects. Believe me Geoffrey, once you are given the right to beat arse, then you take every opportunity to do so. It's a very agreeable feeling to get a boy to drop his pants and present his bare bum over a chair for you to flog. Most of us consider it a sort of payback for all we endured in our earlier years, for the cane and birch reign supreme at Rigby. Believe me when I tell you that not a day goes by but what some poor unfortunate gets his arse roasted either by the Headmaster or one of the prefects. And let me tell you, Geoffrey, I've learned how to lay it on so that it bloody well hurts. The Head Boy and I are reckoned to be the kings of the cane. Rumour has it that a beating from either of us is much worse than the Headmaster manages to inflict. The old boy is getting a bit doddery, by the way; I think he'll be retiring in a couple of years."

"But you know, there are no complaints, for it is all part and parcel of a public school education. It helps make us leaders of men, or so we are told as the rod cuts into our naked arses, but I have to say, I don't much subscribe to that school of thought. So I just enjoy laying on the cane to any naked arse I can. It's highly homoerotic you know; we all get hard as we thrash a naked pair of buns. And, you know, it gets so bad that I often have to rush off and jerk myself off in private when I have thrashed a couple of arses. it's just that euphorically arousing,"

"Beyond that, the thing I really enjoy more than anything is to fuck the arse I've just finished beating whilst the boy is still bent across the chair. You know, Geoffrey, I find it very, very satisfying to stick my cock up the guy's arse and give him a real good fuck before I let him get up. It sends me to heaven in the same way that you did tonight. I ask myself if I am a pervert, but I think not as I never ever fuck younger boys, only the final year lads, all eighteen years old, all of whom all seem to revel in sex. I rexckon it all coes from the fact that we are totally cut off from the opposite sex, so, what the hell, we fuck each other; we just cannot help it: it's nature at work. I regularly cane plenty of younger boys, but I am never even tempted to have sex with them. So, I reckon I am not a pervert, a bit kinky perhaps, but nothing more."

"Mr Patrick sir, what I don't understand is how any boy you've just thrashed lets you go on and fuck him. I should have thought that most of them would not feel very kindly towards you after you had just laid a cane across their naked arses. I know I certainly wouldn't."

"Oh, Geoffrey, you are so wrong. Look there are two methods I use. We, the senior prefects are only authorised to give six strokes on any one occasion, but believe me when I tell you that by dint of practice, most of us prefects can leave a boy's arse feeling very, very sore with the six we give. We've got caning down to a fine art is what it amounts to. So, I give lads an option when I'm going to cane them, either six or three and... And they all know what the "and", which is never actually spelled out is and pretty well all of them opt for three strokes followed by a good hard fuck." 

"So, I get plenty of opportunity to exercise my cock in a way which I absolutely love. In fact my pal, Roderick Pennington, who arrives at the end of the month, was a guy whom I flogged for smoking and then went straight on and fucked him. We became great pals, so much so that he's coming here for the whole of next month; so, there is another sex partner on the horizon, Lord knows what my mother would say if she knew! But thereis nome arthly reason why she should, ever know. What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve, so let's just laeve it like that."

"But, and this you may find hard to believe, even the guys who opt to take six are often willing to let me fuck them after I've finished beating their arses. I offer them a little "anal stimulation" to ease the pain I've just inflicted on them and very often they accept; and let me tell you that most of them really enjoy having their butts fucked. Come on, Geoffrey, look at you and me; we've enjoyed fucking each other this evening, so why shouldn't a guy whose arse is on fire, because that is what a well whacked arse feels like, also enjoy a little relaxation? Anyway, that's how it happens. So, what I really wanted to tell you is that for the next two months I am really going to miss having a succession of naked arses to beat. But I suppose I shall survive; especially now that we have got together."

Patrick had become very proficient at fucking butt at school but he was really an absolute beginner in the sex stakes, compared to Geoffrey. But as we shall see, Geoffrey took him under his wing and imparted all he knew, so much so, that when the end of the holiday arrived, Patrick was truly a highly proficient young man in all aspects of sex, both homo and heterosexual, both of which he practised and enjoyed with gusto. It was during this period that that the foundation of Patrick's future adult sex life was laid down.

"Mr Patrick sir, I wonder if you would like to spend an evening with Tom (the assistant gardener, you remember) and me. It's always interesting to get to know other guys I think and I reckon that the three of us could have a great time together. Tom is pretty nifty with his cock and he has plenty to be nifty about; he has a real monument of uncontrollable flesh and when he gets going, well sir, he is unbelievable. But sir, there is something else I wanted to tell you; Tom is , what do you call it, a maso ...? (Here Geoffrey stumbled over the word, which Patrick quickly supplied) that's it sir, a masochist. I wouldn't call him a pervert sir, as he doesn't go after little boys, but he certainly enjoys abuse and cruelty from his sex partner."

"It's not really my scene sir, as I prefer straight sex, but I gather that he quite likes taking a few across his arse, or so Mitch the butcher's boy, tells me. I don't know that he is of the same persuasion as Tom, but I do know that he belts Tom across his naked arse from time to time and Tom just laps it up. They do have sex together of course; in fact all three of us get together quite regularly. Both Tom and Mitch are totally homo, by the way, unlike me. So, you see what I'm getting at sir, Tom might provide an outlet for your pent up need to thrash someone. After all, if he likes having his arse polished by Mitch, then I'm sure that he would be more than delighted to have the same from his master, a public school boy, who knows how to thrash arse as it should be done, sir."

And on that note the two young men parted for the night. Patrick lay in bed musing over the evening's happenings. Who would have thought that he could have found such a congenial and helpful partner on his second evening at home; and a good one at that: someone he had really taken to: someone who knew how to fuck arse really well and satisfy his partner and someone, who, from all that he had told Patrick, would be able to teach his young master a great deal during the next two months. And, as we shall learn, that is exactly what happened. Patrick and later Roderick too, had a glorious holiday where sex was always on the menu. It was more than Patrick had ever hoped for. 

CHAPTER 4

The next evening, after dinner Geoffrey again came to Patrick's bedroom. This second occasion was less tense and both young men knew what they wanted to do. Patrick took the lead at the outset and began by getting Geoffrey to kneel on his bed, with his arse well raised and legs spread so that he could affect a rear entry into Geoffrey's beautiful hole. As ever, he oiled up his partner and his own cock before firmly and with no hesitation thrust his rock-hard member into his Geoffrey and giving him a text-book rear entry fuck. 

And from then on the evening went from strength to strength as Geoffrey shafted Patrick and both young studs truly enjoyed a totally uninhibited hour of deep anal sex. For Patrick it was absolute heaven, for never at school had he experienced such vigour as Geoffrey had used on him. Emboldened by his mentor, Patrick increased his own stroke length and vigour, finally withdrawing his cock completely before a final, powerful thrust brought him to that climactic moment, where the orgasm both guys experienced was so intense that it rendered them breathless for several minutes after the seemingly endless ejaculation of their sperm.

The young men lay side by side on the bed, relaxing after their strenuous efforts. Part rick was still hot for Geoffrey and would have taken up with him again straight away, had Geoffrey not stopped him. Geoffrey now wanted to pursue a new agenda: "You know sir, I mentioned that the kitchen maid, Rose, was really hot for you. Well sir, I think that this would be a great opportunity for you to take your first steps in having sex with a woman. I think, sir that you ought to think very seriously about fucking Rose Sir, you are only just beginning your sex life and unless you have an absolute aversion to women, which I don't think you do sir, I think that you should grasp this god given chance. After all, experience is a great thing to have under one's belt sir, and just think, sir; you have got a willing partner right here in the house."

"Geoffrey, how can you be so sure that this girl, whom I have seen only once and I'll admit she is very attractive, is so willing?"

"Just trust me sir. I know that she wants nothing more than to have sex with you. She's a real nympho. If you understand me, sir; she's one of those women who has totally uncontrollable sexual desires, and right now believe me sir, those desires are all focused on you. My guess is that you will enjoy it. And believe me when I say from personal experience Rose really knows the ropes, she knows how to deliver! And sir, whatever you may have heard, size is important and you sir, have got plenty of size. Rose will be in seventh heaven with you sir. I speak from personal experience sir, when I tell you that

Rose really likes a good hard fuck."

"Geoffrey, for crying out loud, will you please stop calling me Mr Patrick and adding sir at ever verse end. Look man; we are fucking each other. We are as close as two men can ever be; so just call me Patrick when we are alone together. Anyway, Geoffrey, are you telling me that you have had relations with this woman; you've fucked her yourself? She sounds little better than a prostitute to me you know."

"Oh no sir, it would never do for me to call you Patrick. You, Mr Patrick sir, are the master and I am a servant and although we are very close, that distinction still exists. So, if you do not mind sir, I shall go on calling you Mr Patrick and sir whenever I deem it appropriate. It does not imply a lack of friendship sir; it merely reflects our different stations in life, which I feel we should preserve, sir. I trust that you will understand my point of view sir." 

"But to answer your question; yes sir, both the other footman and I oblige Rose from time to time and help her to satisfy her sexual needs. She's actually a really nice girl sir, and she is certainly not a prostitute, as she does not sell herself for money. It's just that she has an insatiable sexual drive just as you do at school sir, when you fuck your classmates' arses. My advice sir, is not to look a gift horse in the mouth sir and strike whilst the iron is hot. You've nothing to lose sir. You'll be with an experienced woman who knows the ropes, knows what she wants, knows what a man wants, so where's the harm. Once you've tried it once, if you don't like it you'll at least know, you won't sit around wondering."

Patrick reflected on the advice and encouragement he had just received and finally decided that Geoffrey in his role of what we today would call his "sex therapist" was talking good sense. He really ought to suck it and see, fuck a woman and see whether he actually liked it. One thing was certain; Patrick knew he loved fucking another guy's butt, so perhaps he would also enjoy it equally with a woman. Perhaps he would just like fucking: male or female; who knows? Geoffrey seemed totally at ease having sex with either a man or a woman so why not him? "OK, Geoffrey, I take your point. I'll give it a try and see what I think."

"I think that's the right decision, Mr Patrick, but before we go any further, how much do you really know about sex? I mean you fuck butt like it's going out of style and you yourself know how to take it from another guy, but what do you really know about sex, in particular sex with a woman?" 

You have to remember, reader, that we are in the year 1900 and that things sexual were much less open then than they are today. Sex education was unheard of and the word sex itself was never uttered in polite society. So it is not surprising that poor Patrick, aged eighteen, had to confess with some embarrassment to Geoffrey that he was to all intents and purposes an ignoramus. What he did know he had learned from Meakin, the Head Boy at Rigby, who had taught him how to fuck butt, but that was about all; and as we all now know Patrick had taken to that like a duck to water. 

Had he that antipathy towards women that many gay men do? The answer was a definite no. But did he know anything about what in polite society is referred to as "having intimate relations" with a woman? Then the answer was again a definite no. So Patrick's knowledge of the part women played in sex was limited to the fact that he knew that they produced babies and that a man was also involved and that was about the sum total of his knowledge. He had no idea that women could be just as much sexually motivated as men and could be equally enthusiastic about being fucked. All this was now to be made clear to him under Geoffrey's tutelage. And Geoffrey was a great teacher, for Geoffrey had been around. Geoffrey kept is hand, or perhaps better put, his cock in!




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 03



"Well, now that I've agreed to your suggestion, what do I do next? How do we make it happen? I don't know Rose from Eve and I have only seen her a few times. OK; she's a pretty attractive girl, but how are we two going to get together?"

"Mr Patrick sir, there are certain things you need to know before you and Rose get together, or indeed before you start fucking any woman. What do you know about contraception?" 

Of course Patrick had only the vaguest idea of the concept. Geoffrey, with no embarrassment at all, went on to explain to him the precautions he needed to take before dipping his wick into a woman. "Well sir, you are, I suppose aware that when a man and a woman have sex, it is the man's sperm which fertilises the woman's egg which leads to the conception of a new baby. So sir, if you are not married to the girl you are fucking, you do not want, by your act, to put her "in the family way", so it is vital that you use some form of protection to guard against this unwanted eventuality. It's something that happens a lot sir and unmarried mothers, as you well know, have an awful life. They are shunned by today's society, and I don't only mean the level of society you come from, sir; it's just as bad among the working classes."

Patrick listened intently to these words of wisdom as they dropped from Geoffrey's lips. "So sir, whenever you have sex with a woman, you need to use a sheath." 

Patrick looked enquiringly at Geoffrey, who went on, "Yes sir, you need to wear a rubber sheath on your cock before you enter the woman. I know sir that no one ever talks about them but they are universally used by men of all classes who wish to control the size of their families. Those huge mid-Victorian families, consider our Queen with nine children, were as a result of rampant sex with no protection, so multiple pregnancies ensued. One asks oneself if the Queen and her husband had ever heard of birth control, judging from their prodigious output. One wonders how many more children she would have had, had Albert not died so young, for the Queen was clearly a very willing sex partner."

"So sir, what you need to do before having sex with a woman, is to roll a rubber sheath on your hard cock before any contact with her. Then when you reach climax and eject your sperm, it's caught in the sheath and avoids unwanted consequences. For sir, you need to know that although sex is seen by the church as being for the procreation of the species, let me tell you sir that women are just a keen to fuck for the sheer pleasure of it as are men. In fact sir, once they get a taste for it, many of them cannot live without regular sex with a man. It's not talked about at all sir, but it is a fact: still waters run deep, sir, that's a fact." 

And with that, Geoffrey pulled himself up out of Patrick's bed and walked across to where he had left his clothes. Patrick started hardening again just looking at the sight of Geoffrey's muscular buttocks as he walked naked across the room. Geoffrey returned with a small packet in his hand. He opened the packet and pulled out a rubber, a condom as we would call it, which he showed to Patrick. "This is the sort of thing you need to wear when you have sex with a woman sir. Come on, Mr Patrick let me show you how to put it on, as I can see that you are already as hard as a rock and randy as a bull raring to go again." 

Geoffrey then unrolled the rubber sheath over his partner's cock, whilst Patrick looked down at himself. Geoffrey then knelt on the side of the bed spread his legs and offered Patrick his arse. "Go on sir, just go ahead and do what I know you want to do; just fuck me hard again, this time wearing that sheath and see what you think."

Patrick looked down at his rubber clad cock and then did as Geoffrey had asked him, for it was quite true, he really did want to fuck Geoffrey again. And thus it was that Patrick experienced sex for the first time using a rubber, albeit on a man. When it was over, he said to Geoffrey: "Well that was still great, although I did notice a bit less feeling due to the sheath. But it's OK, and I get the idea, the sheath catches my load and protects the woman. So where do we get these from? I've never seen them anywhere?"

"Well sir, they are mainly sold by barbers' shops; places where only male clients go. There is a great deal of embarrassment about buying these things, as you might well imagine. But you can also get them at chemists' shops. They are never advertised or mentioned, but everyone knows that they are available. There is just one thing you need to know about rubbers, sir. Whenever you use one you must never use any oil based lubricant, as the oil quickly destroys the rubber and the sheath may burst; they are very thin sir, as you have seen." 

"Anyway sir, don't worry about getting any rubbers yourself. I'll put a few in your top drawer tomorrow and then if Rose appears you will be well equipped. And don't worry too much about lubricants sir, women are not like men, when they are ready they lubricate themselves; its nature's way of helping the procreation process along sir."

"But, Geoffrey, I'm not at all sure what to do if Rose arrives and sets her sights on me. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Listen to me sir. Stop worrying! You managed to get your arse fucked at school without really knowing what was going to happen to you and you quickly went on from there to become a star performer yourself sir. And that is not meant to flatter you sir, it's a fact. You handle your cock better than any other guy I know. So just relax sir; don't worry. Once you get together, you will find yourself hardening and your cock will tell you what you should do. You will find that it all comes naturally and there will be no problem, especially for an experienced person like you. Just remember to put on the sheath before you actually perform the act. As for the act itself, well, believe me sir, you won't need any telling what to do; it'll all just happen; you'll see sir." 

"Now sir, you've had your second bit of fun for tonight, so how about letting me give you a return round sir. You're not the only one who is randy, sir", concluded Geoffrey with a laugh. And with that, he forced Patrick down onto his back and gave him a long and vigorous fuck in the mission position, before bidding him goodnight. 

CHAPTER 5

After Geoffrey had departed, Patrick lay awake for a long time musing over all that had happened. He felt he had really learned a lot listening to Geoffrey. What luck to have found such an excellent teacher? And what if Geoffrey's thoughts turned out to be right and Rose did really turn up? Well, that would be something. How to deal with it Patrick did not really know, but he fell asleep telling himself that he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Patrick felt truly blessed that he had found so much sex in the first few days home, totally unanticipated, totally unforeseen and totally wonderful. 

For the next few evenings Geoffrey turned up at Patrick's door around ten and the two young studs enjoyed each other sexually until the early hours. Patrick was bored during the day as there were not many people around and he had no friends locally of his own age. So he waited with keen anticipation the arrival of Geoffrey each evening after dinner. It was two days later, when Geoffrey suddenly said: "Sir, if you fancy a change of scenery, we could go and call on Tom in his bothy and see if he's interested in a threesome. I've already told Tom about your activities as a prefect at school, sir; the way you and your co-prefects maintain discipline. I can tell you, sir that Tom's eyes lit up at the thought of what you might be able to do for him."

Now Patrick had never had sex other than on a one-to-one basis so the thought of three of them getting together was at once exciting and slightly frightening. The very idea sent shivers down his spine, but the thought of such an "adventure", for that was how Patrick saw the prospect, was simply too good to miss; sex coupled with the chance to beat arse, manna from heaven indeed! 

Tom opened the door of his bothy and welcomed his two guests. Patrick, who actually owned the bothy, had never before seen the place. Tom was lucky in that he had it to himself, for usually on large estates a bothy was shared by several young unmarried outdoor workers. The place was neat and tidy and consisted of one large room in which Tom lived and slept. A coal fired cooking range was provided, giving heat in winter and, miracle of miracles, running hot water. The toilet facilities, for what they were, were located outside. But for 1900, the place was really quite palatial and Tom obviously valued it. In fact, Tom was a model occupant compared with the rough way in which many such young workers lived.

Entering Tom's abode for the first time, brought home graphically to Patrick just how big was the divide that separated the classes. Here was a young man, his own paid employee, with whom he was about to venture into an illegal evening of sex, who lived a simple life with which he appeared utterly contented. Meanwhile, he, the lord in his manor, lived the life of a gentleman, waited on by servants with every luxury of the day. The thought of what the three of them were about to do together brought home that all men were really equal when it came down to it. In a few minutes they were going to be totally naked and fucking each other and if taken in flagrante delicto could find themselves in gaol for their activities together. The law and its execution by the courts was the great leveller. But Geoffrey had taught Patrick so much in such a short time, that Patrick already thought of him as an equal.

Surprisingly, for young employees are often embarrassed in the presence of their employer and find any conversation difficult, Tom had no problem in welcoming Patrick and Geoff (Patrick noticed immediately the use of the diminutive, something he could never do, however much he might wish) into his house. In typical northern fashion he had made a pot of tea and suggested that they all have a cup together so that Patrick could relax and feel comfortable. What Mrs Ingram Lewis would have thought had she known what her son was doing and what he was about to embark on, we shall never know, as, fortunately she was left forever in total ignorance of this hidden side of her son's character. 

Tom began: "The news that you had been made a senior prefect at school must have pleased your mother no end, sir. Geoff tells me that at a public school prefects can discipline unruly boys with a cane and that you have beaten quite a number of naughty boys since your promotion, sir. I am sure sir, that Geoff has told you how close we two are together, but did he also tell you sir, that I have a slight perversion, at least I suppose that's what you'd call it, in that I like to have my own backside beaten from time to time?" 

"You see sir, it's like this, I was once beaten with my pants down at school for being cheeky to the headmaster and I found that I actually liked the experience. It was painful but I found I really enjoyed being thrashed, sir. And since then sir, from time to time, I try to find someone who will give me a good thrashing. It really does wonders for me. Anyway sir, it's like this; I have tried get Geoff to oblige me but he won't do it sir. As you are here I wonder if you would mind obliging me sir and give my arse, pardon my language sir, a good beating. I really feel I need it."

Tom went on, "Sir, why don't you begin by giving me a good thrashing and then we can get on with our evening together; the three of us that is sir, if that's all right by you sir. I have made a switch so that you can get on with the bit that Geoff doesn't like. I don't have an actual cane, sir but the switch I've made is from this year's growth from an apple tree and it's very swishy sir. I hope it will do sir. And as I have already made it sir, you may as well try it out and see what you think sir; so please sir; do you think that we might get on with it? But of course sir if you don't think it's suitable, what I have made myself sir, then we could put it off and I could try to get a proper cane and you could do it another time sir, if that's what you would prefer sir. But I truly would like you do it sir, if you don't object, sir that is." 

And there ended this verbal outpouring, peppered with "sirs" provoked probably by Tom's embarrassment at what he was asking, which anyone hearing it would have had to admit was a very rare request. Certainly Patrick had never known a schoolboy offer up his arse for punishment in the way that Tom had just done. Of course, what Tom did not know is that Patrick was absolutely delighted at the request and could already feel his cock hardening at the thought of what was to come. It did not matter one iota to Patrick whether he used an apple switch or a cane on Tom's arse. What was important was that he was getting an arse to thrash, which was something he dearly loved to do as much as Tom seemed to love being thrashed.

So, all in all, Tom and Patrick were a well matched pair, a sort of corporal punishment bottom and top, a situation not to be sneezed at. And it was also to be a first for him; he an eighteen year old schoolboy thrashing the naked arse of a twenty five year old. It was promising to be a highly homoerotic experience; one to be savoured and a perfect introduction to an evening of three man sex, although Patrick was not sure how that was going to work.

"Tom, go get your switch and let's all get stripped off and down to business." 

At these words, all the tension and embarrassment Tom had been under just a few moments earlier totally vanished; the relief was palpable and things were going to go as planned. He handed Patrick the switch, which proved to be an admirably flexible implement, one quite capable of inflicting considerable pain on the recipient's arse. Tom started stripping off his clothes, followed by Patrick who motioned to Geoffrey to do the same. A few moments later the three young men, totally naked, stood looking admiringly at one another, for all three of them were very well equipped specimens of young manhood, Tom and Patrick giving a clear indication of what Patrick would look like in a very few years as he filled out into full manhood. It was already clear that Patrick, at eighteen, was going to be a splendid stud of a man by any standards. 

"Right Tom, bend over the back of that chair and let me see you arse. Now, it's your call Tom, how many cuts do you want and how hard should they be?" As Patrick stood beside Tom's backside, Geoffrey handed him a bottle of oil and motioned to Patrick that he should lube up Tom's crack and anus, which he did.

"Well sir, I have to leave it up to you. You're the expert, but I reckon that to give me a real good thrashing so that my arse knows it has been properly treated you should perhaps count on a dozen strokes sir. Please be sure to lay them on well. I want it to hurt sir; not just a few light taps. Yes sir, lay them on well, sir and I'll be satisfied." 

Geoffrey looked on as Patrick prepared to lay on the first stroke with this whippy switch, which really was a very vicious looking instrument. Patrick found himself viewing two unblemished buns. He asked himself when was the last time that Tom had indulged himself, for there was no trace of any earlier beating. So Patrick surmised that Tom, being someone who clearly needed discipline, had been desperate to get his arse roasted this evening for he was suffering from severe deprivation.

The fatidic moment arrived. Patrick gave a few gentle taps to Tom's arse, raised the switch and brought it down with considerable force at the top of Tom's buttocks. As the switch landed on the naked flash, there was a very satisfying thwack, which echoed around the room – or at least so it seemed. Then Patrick, who was very experienced in handling the cane, applied stroke after parallel stroke down Tom's arse, finishing with the twelfth stroke on the highly sensitive sit-spot at the top of the legs. 

It was a real virtuoso performance. Geoffrey, looking on, winced at every stroke, while Tom made no sound. When he had finished, Patrick surveyed his handiwork, which was in the form of twelve closely placed parallel weals descending the full length of Tom's arse. Patrick also noticed that Geoffrey, who professed not to like beatings, had developed a rock-hard cock that was already dribbling precum, a sign that he had also experienced sexual arousal as the switch did its work.

Patrick himself was in the same state of arousal as both Tom and Geoffrey and before Tom could get up from the chair, he thrust his own cock deep into Tom's hole, thereby consummating his own favourite act; flogging arse and then immediately fucking it. Patrick did not hold back and gave Tom's hole as monumental a fucking as the thrashing it had just received. But now was the moment when Patrick was to learn one aspect of how three man sex functioned. Whilst he was totally engaged in vigorously pounding Tom's hole, he suddenly he felt a rock-hard cock up his own arse. Geoffrey had lubed up his tool and had thrust it, with no hesitation, into Patrick, so that the three young men were joined together by two cocks. 

"Now", said Geoffrey, "Let's thrust together and we can all come to one simultaneous orgasm". Which is exactly what they did!

The three studs paused for a few minutes to recover from their efforts, for make no mistake, fucking butt can be quite strenuous especially in the vigorous way in which Patrick and Geoffrey went about it. But the results were quite spectacular in terms of intensity of their orgasms and the sheer quantity of sperm each guy ejaculated. And that included Tom, who had been the subservient bottom. Patrick, by his extreme vigour had brought him too to a great climax.

"Mr Patrick sir," said Tom, "You really are the tops. You are a master with the rod and a master with your cock sir. My god sir, how did you ever get to be so good so young sir? That was one of the best thrashings I've ever had and nobody, but nobody, has ever fucked my butt in the way you did sir. It was a unique experience sir; my god what a climax I had."

The next variant the three men tried was to let Tom shaft Patrick whilst he shafted Geoffrey. And so they went on for a couple of hours, until Tom suddenly said: "Come on Geoffrey, you wouldn't beat my arse, but how about letting Mr Patrick give you a few with the switch." 

Geoffrey demurred, saying that he had never been subjected to a beating, to which both Patrick and Tom replied that every man should experience an arse beating at least once in his life, just so he knew what it felt like. Tom added that he might like it! "It will tone up your arse muscles a bit", he concluded laughing. 

Patrick said that he had watched Geoffrey as he was beating Tom and had seen how quickly Geoffrey's cock had reacted. It had clearly been quite a homoerotic experience for him too, although he was loath to admit it. Anyway, much to the delight of both his partners he eventually agreed to let Patrick give him six cuts "by way of an initiation", as he put it. Patrick picked up on the word, as it implied that there might be further occasions. Or was it just an ill chosen phrase? Anyhow, Tom was delighted, whilst Patrick, that arch flagellator of naked flesh, was in seventh heaven. Two arse beatings in one evening; could it ever be any better?

Geoffrey finally bent across the chair and allowed Patrick to administer a little tender loving care to his virgin looking buttocks with Tom's switch. Patrick made sure that the six cuts he gave to his mentor really counted. He spaced each stroke so that Geoffrey finished up with an artistic set of evenly spaced parallel weals across his arse. 




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 03



Geoffrey groaned and howled a bit, but when he finally got up he said: "You know guys, it did hurt a bit; in fact, it fucking well hurt a lot! But you know, it was quite invigorating in its own way and at the end of the day I really quite liked it. I can see what you like about it Tom. It really is a brilliant introduction to anal sex, whack an arse and then fuck it. Now Mr Patrick, it's your turn sir; come on sir, over the chair yourself and I'll give you six". 

Which he did, in spite of mild protests from Patrick that he knew exactly what it was like. Anyway, the three young studs had had a great time together, floggings included. It has been a great homoerotic evening for all three of them.

"You know", said Patrick, as they were leaving Tom's bothy, "You ought to think about making a birch, Tom. I'd be very happy to show you what that feels like. I reckon it's the king of all implements. Every man should have one dose of it in his lifetime. Think about it."

CHAPTER 6

Patrick and Geoffrey arrived back at Ingram House about midnight. As they parted and went their separate ways, Geoffrey said to Patrick: "That was a great evening sir, wasn't it? I hope you enjoy the rest just as much." And with that he left Patrick to go his separate way. Patrick was totally at a loss to know what Geoffrey had meant and he pondered this somewhat cryptic remark as he mounted the stairs and went to his own bedroom. 

He entered the room to find that two oil lamps were burning. Glancing at his bed, he saw to his great surprise that it was already occupied. Closer inspection showed that the occupant was none other than Rose, the kitchen maid. For a moment he knew neither what to say nor do. He realized this was Geoffrey's doing and the significance of that final remark of his, "I hope you enjoy rest just as much", made sense. Geoffrey was clearly determined to expand the sexual horizons of his young master, to which end he had sent the nubile nymph Rose, to tempt him.

Rose, who was a very pretty girl, very pretty indeed, smiled at Patrick and said: "Welcome back Mr Patrick. Geoffrey thought that you might need some relaxation after your strenuous efforts earlier this evening and so he asked me to come up so that if you felt like it, you could relax with me. I really do know how to make a man feel relaxed sir. So sir, I'm more than willing to help you relax and lose the tension you have built up earlier this evening."

Patrick thought to himself that what this young nymph had in mind could hardly be described as relaxation. But analysing his reaction to the scenario that Geoffrey had engineered for him, he realised that the prospect of fucking a woman for the first time was something which he found extremely appealing. He had never had the chance to have sex with a woman and here it was being offered to him on a plate, by an attractive experienced female, already in his own bed. He realised, that faced with the prospect of his "first time" he was truly looking forward to "relaxing" with Rose. 

Patrick was fully confident about his prowess with his cock. He knew how to handle himself and saw no problem with sharing his bounty with a woman. His feelings, as he looked down at Rose in the bed, told him that he was highly attracted to the female form. He was not just a man's man, not simply a homosexual, but a man who would enjoy sex with both male and female partners. And here was the perfect opportunity to sample sex with an experienced female. So why not? What had he to lose? 

"What makes you think I need to relax, as you put it, Rose?"

"Well sir, I know just how strenuous things can get when a group of young men have a "party" together. So I just thought sir, that perhaps... Well sir, it's only if you want to. Why don't you make yourself comfortable and get into bed with me and see how we get on together? You know sir; I am sure that Geoffrey has told you that I find you very attractive. Do you find me just a little bit attractive too sir? Enough, perhaps to make you want to relax with me?"

Patrick thought that it was a now or never situation, so with Rose gazing at him he started to remove his clothes, somewhat as a strip tease artist might do; tantalising his audience. Rose looked on in wonder as her master showed her his all. Soon, Patrick stood totally naked, free of any embarrassment in front of his kitchen maid, who saw a muscular young man, with a large cock, which was already rock-hard and pointing skywards. He was just the quintessential young stud; super attractive to any eye, male or female, and was very, very sexy. 

"Do you like what you see, Rose? Will I do? Do you reckon that we can relax together?" And Patrick started across to the chest of drawers to get himself a rubber just as Geoffrey had advised him.

"Mr Patrick sir, you don't need to bother about that", said Rose, knowingly, "I've taken care of everything myself sir." And she lifted the bedcovers inviting Patrick to slip in beside her, which of course he did. No sooner was he in bed, Rose was upon him. As Geoffrey had said, she truly did have the hots for him and had no inhibition in showing it. Within seconds, she had Patrick, who was already rock-hard with anticipation, inside her and was urging him on by her own body movements. It was clear to Patrick within seconds, that he was with a highly experienced woman who loved sex and was determined to milk him dry. Rose wrapped herself around Patrick, enveloping him in her super-soft body so completely, that it seemed that the pair of them were subsumed into one single entity.

Patrick had never experienced anything even vaguely like what was happening to to him and he adored every moment of it. He was accustomed to fucking young men of his own age, muscular young studs whose hard bodies he loved to feel against his own as he he fucked their arses. But being with a woman was something so totally different, for the soft, silky smoothness of Rose under him felt utterly divine. He thrust and thrust again, as deep as he could into his partner until he arrived at an enormous climax.  

It was, for him a divine sort of initiation into heterosexual sex. Patrick experienced perhaps the biggest and most intense orgasm he had ever had as he pumped a seemingly endless stream of his cream deep into Rose. He knew nothing about the finer points of sex with a woman and acted purely to satisfy his own needs, but from the appreciative moans made by Rose and the enormous shudders which shook her body as he climaxed, it was clear that she had also got what she wanted. 

The young couple lay breathless side by side recovering from their efforts. Rose though, was not yet satisfied. So she climbed onto Patrick and lowered herself onto his still hard cock. And then she did all that was necessary to bring Patrick to the heights of orgasmic pleasure yet again. He finally fell asleep, exhausted by their efforts. 

CHAPTER 7

Next morning Patrick awoke late. It was already nine and Rose was gone. He reflected on what had happened the previous evening. Group se x with Geoffrey and Tom; beating both their arses, and finally, being initiated into the joys of sex with a female. What a time he had had, and how much he had enjoyed it all! 

Mrs Ingram-Lewis remained completely oblivious to what her son got up to. One thing is clear, however, she would not have approved of her son socialising with his servants, let alone having any form of sexual relationship with them. Patrick did not care. He had had a marvellous time. Patrick realised that what he really liked were muscular well equipped men and, from his brief experience with Rose, nymph or not, a beautiful, slim, soft and very sensual woman. These thoughts were to shape his future life, for Patrick was to have a very active sex life with both men and women.

July passed with Patrick enjoying a very active sex life with Geoffrey, Tom and an occasional visit from Rose. He could not believe his luck in finding three such marvellous partners to counter the boredom of being alone with his mother. 

August dawned and with it the arrival of Roderick Pennington. What a lot Patrick had to tell him! Roderick's only experience of the delights of sex had, to date, been limited to Patrick at school. Like most virile young men, he had no difficulty adapting himself to the somewhat bizarre atmosphere which existed that summer at Ingram House.

Soon the four young men had several intense free-style, no holds barred sessions together, where they all exercised their imagination as to the positions they could adopt to fuck each other. Who was going to fuck whom, in what order and how? For Roderick, the greatest revelation was when Patrick flung him down on his back on the bed, hoisted his legs up over his shoulders and gave his arse a monumentally vigorous pounding with his huge cock before passing the torch to Geoffrey, then to Tom, so that Roderick had the pleasure of being sequentially fucked by his three companions. Then each stud in turn adopted the same position on the bed and allowed his three companions to fuck his arse, so that everyone had the pleasure of fucking three different holes in a very short space of time. If ever there was an introduction to group sex, this was surely it for Roderick and Patrick. 

Next, Tom produced the birch he had made. Patrick had the pleasure of giving Tom's arse a thorough beating. This was followed by each of the others taking turns to have his arse given the same treatment. Painful you might think it was, and you would be right; but in the context of the intense fuckfest to which these four young studs were treating themselves, the pain was all part of the experience. Pain and sexual climax went hand in hand and all four young men went to bed that night exhausted, each of them sporting a very sore arse but intensely contented. It had been a perfect evening of vigorous group sex for all four of them.

Perhaps the most noteworthy thing which happened during this long summer holiday was that the ever willing Rose, took a shine to Roderick so he too was able to chalk up the loss of his sexual innocence with the girl. It happened like this. Patrick and Roderick were together on Patrick's bed one evening with Patrick giving Roderick's arse a truly vigorous shafting. The door opened quietly and Rose appeared. She surveyed the two young studs in the middle of their copulative act and said: "So that's how lads do it; I had always wondered."

Both boys were shocked to have been discovered and were very embarrassed. But they need not have worried, for Rose, ever ready for a fuck herself asked, "Can I join in?" With no more ado she started undressing in front of the two boys, whose eyes were by now popping out their heads with the audacity of this young woman. Patrick had already told Roderick of his adventures with Rose. Now this delectable and highly experienced young female stood naked in front of them. 

Rose was a very pretty girl with an alluring figure and standing there naked as she was, the two young men gaping at her were totally dumbstruck. Rose was not at all a shrinking violet and thinking that she would find Patrick alone and be able to slide into bed with him, had crept quietly up to his bedroom, in search of sex which she constantly craved. However, on finding the two young men together realised that she had truly struck gold and had stumbled across what promised to be a very exciting sexual encounter "à trois". She said: "Have you two no manners at all? I thought you were supposed to be gentlemen; aren't you going to invite me to join you?"

Patrick and Roderick were flabbergasted at Rose's audacity, but then, looking at her (and she was well worth looking at!) they realised that here was an incredible opportunity, not one to be missed. What move should they make? They did not have long to wonder, for the nubile and highly experienced Rose again took the lead.

"So, which of you two fine young bucks would like to show me what he can do? Which of you would like to be first?" And with the consummate assurance of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, Rose lay down on the bed beside the two young studs, who were sporting enormously hard cocks and wrapped herself around Roderick giving him a long kiss. 

Roderick, totally inexperienced as regards women, did not have long to wait, for Rose slid herself under him, took his cock in her hand and showed him where it should go. He did not take long to learn. But then, who does when it comes to the most natural act between a man and a woman? Roderick did what all men do, he fucked Rose hard and it was as easy as falling off a log. Instinct told Roderick what he had to do and he did it. 

Patrick, meanwhile, watching Roderick's arse in its rhythmic motion as it rose and fell, simply could not resist the allure of those well-rounded buttocks from which his own cock had been so rudely banished by the unexpected arrival of Rose. So he knelt over the couple and pushed his cock back into Roderick's arse. So, Roderick's first experience of fucking a woman was enlivened by the fact that he simultaneously had another man's cock stuck up his own arse. This really had to be chalked up as a "first".

Roderick continued with his ever more vigorous attack on Rose, while Patrick benefitted from Roderick's movements to massage his cock which he had left stuck inside Roderick's hole. Roderick suddenly climaxed and emptied himself into Rose and it was evident that Rose had her own orgasm at the same moment, her body shaking spasmodically as Roderick shot his wad. But the most remarkable thing was that Roderick's efforts had also brought Patrick to a simultaneous climax, so that he discharged his load into Roderick at the same moment. To any serious student of the sexual practices of the human male and female, this had to rank as one of the most unique occasions ever. 

The three of them lay side by side on the bed, recovering from the effort. Patrick was still hard as a rock and after a few minutes, he rolled over onto Rose and fucked her really hard. Rose, being the nymph she was, again enjoyed every moment of the attention he paid her. Finally she said: "Listen boys, why don't you let me see you two finish together what you were in the middle of when I interrupted you." 

Patrick and Roderick were astounded at this request, for Rose, a woman, was asking them to give her a demonstration of homosexual sex. They looked questioningly at Rose who said: "Oh, for crying out loud, go on; do it; fuck each other. I really want to see exactly how two guys have sex together. Come on; after all we've done together this evening, it's the least you can do for me; go on, just do it."

Patrick said: "I never thought I would hear a woman ask me to give her a demonstration on how I fuck another man, but, in view of our little party this evening, and to please a lady; all right." And that is how the evening ended.

But what had Roderick thought when, in the middle of fucking Rose, his first time with a woman, he had found his own hole had suddenly been penetrated by his erstwhile partner's cock. Talking about it later later he said: "You know Patrick, it was a bit of a shock to find myself suddenly speared by you, but it felt absolutely great and everything turned out all right. I reckon all of us had an incredible experience. And, from my point of view, it was my first time with a woman, and I can tell you that I enjoyed every minute of it. My god, that Rose is one hell of a girl."

CHAPTER 8

The month just flew away. Patrick and Roderick indulged themselves together practically every day, punctuated by the occasional appearance of Rose, who was devoted to the art of sexual intercourse in all its forms. Rose was game for anything and everything and the two lads really enjoyed her company and participation. If ever a woman was broad minded, it was Rose. And then, of course, there were the occasions when the four young studs, Patrick, Roderick, Geoffrey and Tom got together when they had what can but be described as a flagellation fuckfest. 

In spite of the pain that they inflicted on each other with the cane, all of them had quickly learned to enjoy the pleasure of fucking a freshly beaten arse. It was the ultimate erotic experience for the four of them; an acquired taste but one which quickly became addictive. By the end of the month both Patrick and Roderick could consider themselves truly beyond their apprenticeship in to sexual acrobatics. They had each become what could be called "accomplished copulators" an activity which both lads performed with gusto with either sex.

It was the last week in August and a letter arrive d unexpectedly from Rigby, addressed personally to Patrick who opened it with a certain misgiving, which turned out to be totally misplaced. It was from the Headmaster, Mr Cuthbert Godber, who wrote,

Dear Ingram-Lewis,

It is with the greatest of pleasure that I write to you today to tell you that by unanimous accord among the teaching staff, it has been decided to appoint you as Head Boy for the coming school year, your final year at Rigby. 

After a shaky start in your career, you pulled yourself together and have now become one of the most outstanding pupils we have ever had. You have excelled not only in all subjects, but also on the sports-field and at gymnastics, becoming one of the most admirable and admired of all our present pupils; a true credit to the school and to yourself.

Since your elevation to the rank of Senior Prefect last term, you have shown yourself willing to bring discipline and order outside of class time, even when this has involved taking unpopular decisions: leaders are often unpopular, but, nevertheless, admired. You have acquired among the boys the enviable reputation of never shirking your duty with the cane, the backbone of our traditional system here at Rigby. In short, Ingram-Lewis, you have, in the space of one term, become a force with whom to be reckoned. And it is for this reason that we are delighted to appoint you Head Boy. The school requires someone who will unflinchingly uphold the discipline, so necessary to the order and the good name of the school. We are confidant, you are that man. I say man advisedly as you are now eighteen years of age and although still at school for one more year, you are, in fact a young man.

As you know, the new school year starts on September 1 next, but it would be helpful to me if you would arrive a day early, as there are a number of organisational matters I wish to discuss with you before the term starts and I intend the new arrangements I have in mind to be fully operational from day one. There will be no honeymoon period. We shall start as we mean to go on.

Please reply by return of post to confirm that you will be able to arrive as requested.

Yours sincerely

Cuthbert T. H. Godber

Headmaster

Patrick could not believe his eyes. He scraped himself of the floor, speaking metaphorically of course, and re-read the letter. Yes it was true; he was to be Head Boy. Three glorious final terms when he could indulge himself in one of his favourite pastimes, whacking arse; but hopefully going on to indulge himself further! He was in seventh heaven. He went quickly to the study, wrote to the Headmaster confirming that he would arrive two days before the start of term and had one of the servants take it to the post. 

But now he had to share his good news with Roderick, who was to leave Ingram House the next day to prepare himself too for the new school year. Patrick decided that he would impart his good news to Roderick that evening when they planned to be alone together indulging for one last time in the act they so much enjoyed.

It was after dinner; which was always served formally, even though Mrs Ingram-Lewis was absent. There were just the two young men eating. To do otherwise would have been disturbing for the servants, who had a set routine which they hated to break. That night in Patrick's bedroom, he was deep inside Roderick fucking him as hard as he could and when he finally climaxed, he rolled over laughing and said: "Listen stud, I've had some amazing news. You'll never guess, but I've been appointed Head Boy of Rigby for the final year. So, my friend, you had better watch yourself as I might be obliged to take a cane to your arse. Remember, Roderick, no one is above the law at Rigby and the cane and birch are still used right up to the final year, which includes you, my friend." 




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 03



Roderick just laughed and shrugged the matter off as of no consequence. "We'll cross that bridge, Patrick, if and when we have to, but for now, just be a good lad and present your arse to me as I am simply dying to give you a return match. Come on, stud, how do you fancy it tonight, doggy or face to face? It's the last time this holiday so let's make the most of it. I'll drill you into the ground," he concluded with a laugh. And he did exactly that; he fucked Patrick's arse as if there was no tomorrow and both young studs collapsed in a climax of cum, which was a fitting ending to their holiday together. It would be two very different and sexually experienced young men who would return to Rigby in a few days time. And both young studs were wondering how they could exercise their newly developed sexual expertise on their schoolmates.

But Patrick had actually meant what he said, for if an occasion arose where Roderick deserved a beating, then as Head Boy,he would be obliged to deliver it, friendship notwithstanding. It worried him slightly, though that was life. With position comes duty, and doing one's duty can sometimes be painfully unpleasant.

CHAPTER 9

Patrick arrived back at Rigby, early as requested and announced his arrival to Mr Godber, with whom we now find him in conference. "Ingram-Lewis, I am delighted to see you. First let me congratulate you on your position as Head Boy. This is an honour which you richly deserve and I was pleased that the entire teaching staff agreed with my nomination."

"Now, down to business! The reason why I asked you to come here a little early is that I wish to affect a number of changes, many of which will concern you specifically. You may not know, but I shall be retiring at the end of his academic year, after no less than fifty-two years devoted to this school. I came here as a pupil in autumn of 1848, I think it was, if my memory serves me correctly and apart from the three years I spent at Oxford where I read classics, I have never left the school. After graduating I came straight back here as a junior master, from which post I worked my way up to Assistant Master and finally to Headmaster, a post I have now held for thirty years. So, as you can see, Rigby has been my life! So, Ingram- Lewis, both you and I shall be leaving Rigby at the end of this school year, you to pursue your future career in the wider world; I to retirement."

"Old age has crept up on me, I am afraid, and I have therefore decided that for this final year of my time at Rigby I am going to relinquish many of my disciplinary functions almost completely and hand them over to you as Head Boy and President of the Court of Prefects. To enable you to carry out the functions which I wish to confer upon you, you will not only hold the position of Head Boy, but that of Head Boy with powers "in loco domini". Acting "in loco domini", as I am sure you are aware, means acting in the place of the master, in this case, the Headmaster."

"Yes sir, I do understand the translation of the phrase, but I would be most grateful if you could enlighten me as to what its implications are in the present situation."

"Ah, Ingram-Lewis, we now come to the crux of the matter and the reason why I wanted some time together to discuss the new arrangements, which I intend to announce to the boys at the first Daily Assembly of the new school year. As you are well aware, the cane and the birch still play a very important role in the life of this school, and long may they do so! They are the two traditional implements with which we maintain discipline . Without them, the place would fall into chaos. They used to play much more important roles when I was a boy. Both cane and birch were in daily use and I think it is perhaps true to say that not one boy finally escaped a taste of both in those long gone days. Passage of time has attenuated their usage somewhat, too much to my mind, but we cannot always harp back to the past, for it is the future which counts."

"Anyway, Ingram Lewis, I no longer feel sufficiently physically fit to handle the punishment load which has become my lot as Headmaster, so I have decided that you and the Court of Prefects will more or less take over the whole of the corporal punishment element at Rigby, hence the role "in loco domini". This will give you the full authority necessary to perform this essential task." 

"Now, the junior and senior prefects and the Head Boy have always had the responsibility of keeping order out of class and this will continue unchanged. That is to say that the junior prefects will still be allowed to apply a maximum of six cuts of the junior cane to the buttocks of any miscreants in the first and second forms, but must refer older boys to the Court of Prefects for correction. The senior prefects again have the right to apply six strokes of the cane to any boy whom they feel merits a beating, and may use the senior cane where appropriate. Remember, Ingram-Lewis, all boys including those in the upper sixth can still be subjected to the cane and the birch, no one is exempt: no one at all!"

"As you well know, any misdemeanours in the classroom have been notified to me via the system of punishment slips. I introduced this system many years ago as I had observed that certain masters were reluctant to beat boys at all whilst others who did wield the cane often did so half-heartedly. Now, as your own backside must testify to you, my philosophy is that if a boy is to be beaten, no matter what the reason, it has to hurt. He has to be beaten thoroughly, as hard as possible, without, of course, doing any physical damage to his anatomy, which requires a very judicious eye when placing the strokes and in the severity with which they are delivered. It goes without saying, of course, that all beatings are on the bare buttocks, which seem somehow to be god given for this very purpose. A boy's buttocks can take an enormous amount of painful punishment without any serious effects."

"Over the past several years, I have undertaken this task, single handed. I am not grumbling, as, frankly, there is a certain pleasure as I am sure you have found in your term as senior prefect, in roasting a boy's backside. But there comes a time, now, in fact, that I feel I can no longer do justice to such a work load, which is why, Ingram-Lewis, you are to be Head Boy "in loco domini". I want you to take over the major part of this beating load from me." 

"Now here is what I propose. The masters will still send their punishment slips to me in the normal manner to arrive in my box by 5.30 pm each weekday. I will then look them over and select one or two particularly bad-looking cases which I will deal with myself in the usual manner, keeping my hand in, so to speak. The rest I shall hand over to you."

"With this added complexity introduced into the system, I have decided that boys will be punished immediately after supper on the evening of the day following their citation. I shall post two lists each day one list will show the boys who must report to me and the other those who must report to you. These lists will be posted on the general notice board each morning and all boys who have received a citation will be required to check the lists immediately after morning assembly to see to whom they are to offer their arses for correction. Pardon my vulgarity Ingram-Lewis, but I imagine that is the word you lads use among yourselves. I know we did in my days!" 

"I shall leave it up to you to decide when and where to administer the punishment. So you can see in your role "in loco domini" you will have much greater involvement in the day to day punishment of boys than before. My suggestion would be that you administer all canings in the prefects' common room, for being a larger room than your own study it will more readily accommodate several miscreants at a time. As for the timing, well I think that the hour immediately after supper each day is a very convenient time, no need to rush and there is the advantage of sending the corrected lads off to bed with nicely warmed backsides". The Headmaster said with a laugh, before concluding. 

"One final point I would like to make about disciplinary actions. There will be sixty new boys entering the school tomorrow, all of whom are totally unaware of the way Rigby is run. Rigby Rigour, if I may make a pun, will be new to all of them. My advice to you is to try to make sure that you roast the arses of at least one third of the entire new intake during the first month of this term, rising to about half of all the new boys by the middle of term. I would like to think that every new boy has had a good taste of the cane by the end of his first year." 

"It's not a bad idea either, to give the odd lad a taste of the birch so that they all know that Rigby is a place which lives by the rule and punishes every misdemeanour. Give these youngsters and inch and they will take a mile, so make sure that they are reined in from the word go. Beat their arses at every opportunity: iIt makes for a well run school and turns out the sort of young men, like you, Ingram-Lewis, of whom the school can be proud. And don't go soft on them. Once you get their bare bottoms over a chair, make sure that you beat them hard. Let them howl and weep. A well beaten arse will do them no end of good and turn them into fine young men."

Patrick listened in total silence and amazement to this exposition by the Headmaster. The old boy was clearly very attached to beating naked arse, a pastime dear also to Patrick and was, moreover, exhorting him to use the power he was giving him. Never in a month of Sundays would Patrick have dreamt that such a golden opportunity would be offered to him. Here he was, the new Head Boy, with three full terms of non-stop beating of bare arses in front of him. This was truly manna from heaven. And the Headmaster had mentioned the birch. Did he intend that Patrick should use the birch? It certainly sounded so.

"Headmaster, I am totally overwhelmed by the confidence which you clearly have in me and the extraordinary powers which the status "in loco domini" confers upon me and I give you sir, here and now, my most sincere assurances that I shall endeavour to carry out my extended duties to meet your every wish, so that on your retirement you can be certain that you are leaving to your successor a well run and well disciplined school of which you can be truly proud. In fact sir, you can rightly be seen as the the creator of the present-day school, in view of the lifetime of service you have given to the place. One might well say sir, if you will forgive a little joke, God made heaven and earth but Godber made Rigby!" The Headmaster roared with laughter. " But sir, if I might ask you, is it your intention to endow me with the power to use the birch on errant boys, if I deem it appropriate?"

"My dear Ingram-Lewis, but of course! "In loco domini" gives you full power to use both cane and birch as and when you see fit. I have already informed the head gardener, Mr Paterson, who has made the birches for me for many years now, that he shall as of now, make them to your order. And you will have your own key to the punishment room, for it is there and there alone that birchings are administered. If you take my advice, you will be well advised to nominate a couple of your senior prefect colleagues to assist you on the occasions when you intend to use the birch. But, Ingram-Lewis, if you deem it necessary, then just do not hesitate to use it. You know from your own painful experience what a wonderful corrective instrument the birch is. After all, just think what your last birching did for you. Without it, I doubt you would be where you are today. It finally made you see sense!" stopped to draw breath with yet another laugh.

"Now, before I forget, there is just one more thing. I know that each senior prefect has his own two regulation canes, but I wanted to give you, in your new position something a little special with which to tickle errant arses. Over the years, I have accumulated quite a selection of canes, many of which are now twenty or even more years old. They are over there in the large oriental pot, where I keep them. Let me select a few of particularly good ones for you. These are very whippy examples and I believe that they are capable of inflicting the most exquisite pain on any target. These old canes have something that the modern new stuff seems to lack." The Headmaster selected what he deemed to be eight of his choicest specimens and handed them to Patrick. 

"Well, I think that concludes our formal business and so I will let you run along and settle into your new study. However, Ingram-Lewis, I would be happy if you would do me the honour of dining with me this evening. We shall be quite alone and my cook produces and excellent dinner. We can also enjoy a little fine wine together, as I still have an excellent cellar, running back some thirty years or so. It will give us an opportunity to relax together and get to know one another better. After all, you are now my right arm. So might I suggest seven o'clock when it will give me great pleasure to entertain you, the new Head Boy."

Patrick was overwhelmed by this invitation, for to the best of his knowledge no boy had ever been invited to dine with the Headmaster. He wondered where all this was leading. But what the hell, if the old boy wanted to wine and dine him, then who was he to say no, he thought as he left.

CHAPTER 10

Mr Godber was a bachelor and had a very spacious set of rooms. He offered Patrick sherry and then red wine to accompany a very excellent dinner and as was the tradition at the turn of the century, port and dessert were placed on the table by the Headmaster's butler. The Headmaster, by now somewhat mellowed by the alcohol, became more expansive and it was not long before Patrick, who was quite worldly wise, realised where it was all leading.

"Ingram-Lewis, I am afraid I have become a lonely old man these last few years, living alone as I do. I don't want to burden you with my problems, (which was, of course, was exactly what he was about to do) but it is rare for me to have a young man like you around to talk to other than about school matters. And as I said to you earlier, I do consider you a young man, Ingram-Lewis, even though you are technically still a pupil of the school until the end of the school year. You will have passed your nineteenth birthday by then. But as you must have realised in conferring upon you the responsibilities I have, you do have my fullest confidence, that you will uphold the fine disciplinarian tradition of the school, which has been the hall mark of Rigby for well over a century now. But I am sure you will understand, Ingram-Lewis, that even an old man like me finds it helpful, on occasions, to unburden himself to someone."

"As you are doubtless aware, I have lived totally alone since before you entered the school; but it was not always like that, oh no! Indeed not. Most definitely not. No, for more than twenty years I had a very close friendship, very close indeed, with the assistant master, Mr Crockford, a classicist like myself, but who unfortunately died some eight or so years ago of a heart attack. He had a weak heart, you know, and he knew he should take care. I always told him not to over-exert himself; but he was devoted to me and regularly threw caution to the wind in his desire to please me. In the end it was that which was his undoing; it was his excessive exertions which led to the final fatal attack. I was utterly heart broken as we had been together for almost a quarter of a century, and then, puff, as quick as a wink, the poor fellow was no more. I am not sure that I have ever completely recovered from his passing."

"Of course, the doctors tried to revive him but it was already too late and I had to face the bitter truth that my closest friend was gone forever. The doctors were very understanding, given the circumstance of his sudden departure and the whole matter was handled with extreme delicacy and discretion, with never a whiff of scandal. It could have been quite dreadful had the full details surrounding his sudden demise been made public." 

"I shouldn't really tell you this, something I have never vouchsafed to anyone. Dear old Clarence, that was his Christian name, by the way, died whilst he was in the act of servicing me. I take it as a man of the world you know the type of service to which I am referring and I need not spell it out in any greater detail. You know, after all these years it's a great relief, Ingram-Lewis, to be able to share the awful facts of the business with someone. And you know, Ingram-Lewis, it is so much easier to unburden oneself to someone totally uninvolved. So, Ingram-Lewis, now you know, your Headmaster is, in fact, a homosexual, non-practising, by the way since Clarence's untimely departure, but a homosexual nevertheless."

Patrick had listened to all this with increasing incredulity. Here was his elderly Headmaster pouring out his innermost secrets to his newly appointed Head Boy. It did not require any imagination to understand that Mr Clarence Crockford, of blessed memory, had been engaged in fucking the Headmaster when he had suddenly keeled over with a heart attack and died. "My god, what a way to go," thought Patrick, "Though at least he went quickly and in the act of doing something which he clearly enjoyed. I wonder if his relationship with Godber was two- way, or did he just do the fucking and Godber was always the bottom." 

Having listened to this outpouring, Patrick realised that the Headmaster had needed a friendly ear into which to pour his pent-up grief and, mellowed by several glasses of good port, had decided to reveal all to Patrick, who even though but a pupil had proved a sympathetic listener. This left Patrick wondering if the headmaster had any inkling of his own sexual activities and where the present revelations were leading.

Sex between the boys was strictly forbidden, but pretty well all public schools closed a blind eye to the numerous acts of buggery that the boys committed among themselves. As any sensible person knows, sex is such an important driving force in life - the most important, in fact - that it is totally understandable that boys in their late teens, denied female company, have recourse to anal intercourse among themselves. If caught in the act, then the Rigby rule was a mandatory birching. So, the great trick was not to get caught. There was a tacit understanding among all staff not to go looking. Of course if a member of the teaching staff or a prefect came across boys in the act, then they had to be punished. It was all quite hypocritical when members of the teaching staff, and here the self confessed Headmaster imself is included, indulged in the very act that was forbidden to the pupils.

"You know, Ingram-Lewis, now that I have metaphorically laid myself bare in front of you, I have to tell you that since Crockford's death I have had not sexual contact with any other person." There was a slight pause as the Headmaster tried to organise his thoughts, but Patrick knew by now, exactly where it was all going. "I, er, wonder, Ingram-Lewis, if you, er, might consider, er..." And it was obvious that the Headmaster was having great difficulty in voicing his thoughts, which, if you think about it, was not at all surprising, as he was about to ask Ingram-Lewis, his Head Boy, if he would like to take up where Clarence Crockford had so precipitously and dramatically left off.

Patrick felt sorry for the Headmaster and seeing just how difficult it had become for him to put his desires into words said, very gently: "Headmaster, am I to understand that you would like me service you sexually? Crudely put, calling a spade a spade sir, as sex is, at the end of the day, a rather crude act, you would like me to fuck you?"




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 04



PATRICK "IN LOCO DOMINI"

CANE AND BIRCH REIGN SUPREME AT RIGBY SCHOOL

A Homoerotic Short Story

By

Jason Land 

CHAPTER 1

In Part 3 of the Ingram-Lewis Chronicles, we had left Patrick Ingram-Lewis on the first day of his final year at Rigby School where he had, much to his surprise, been appointed Head Boy. But his appointment went much further than that normally associated with the position of Head Boy. The present Headmaster, Mr. Godber, had conferred upon him exceptional powers, in declaring him not only Head Boy, but also "in loco domini" which translates as "in place of the master". By this extraordinary act, Mr. Godber had handed over to Patrick Ingram-Lewis the responsibility for the enforcement of the entire discipline of the school. In concrete terms he was putting Patrick in charge of administering all corporal punishment at the school. As he had consulted no one prior to making his announcement, it had come as a complete surprise to both masters and pupils when this amazing news was announced at the first School Assembly of the new school year.

In the past, Mr. Godber had himself beaten and birched boys who were referred to him by the system of punishment slips issued by the teaching staff. This was the traditional Rigby method of enforcing the school rules during class times: the masters themselves never wielded the cane, but by this referral system, handed errant boys over to the Headmaster for punishment .The prefects themselves had, at the same time, been able to administer beatings to any boys whom they caught misbehaving out of class time. But now, with this edict, in one stroke, Patrick Ingram-Lewis, aided, of course, by his fellow prefects, was more or less solely responsible for beating the boys. I say more or less, because Mr. Godber had told Patrick that he would still carry out certain punishments himself. But Patrick believed that he would soon drop that idea and leave the entire wielding of the cane and the birch to him and his cohorts of prefects, who together constituted the Court of Prefects. 

And so, under the new arrangements, the system of punishments slips continued, as this was the only means the teaching staff had of disciplining their pupils. But as of now, the corporal punishment associated with such citations would be handled not by the Headmaster himself, but by Patrick Ingram-Lewis, the Head Boy, aided by the Court of Prefects. However, outside of class time, the prefects individually were still allowed to beat boys whom they caught breaking the school rules or, if they wished, have the errant youth appear before the Court itself and undergo his beating there. So, Rigby School had possibly the most rigorous and extensive system imaginable of enforcing the school rules. Every beating was accompanied by a pink slip giving the full details which were entered each day by the Head Boy into the Punishment Register. It truly was a case of Rigby Rigour, for every delinquency no matter how minor was punished and the cane and birch reigned supreme. 

On that first day of the new term, the first of the morning classes had been cancelled as the Headmaster had spent considerable time at the first School Assembly laying out the dramatic changes in the running of the school to both masters and boys. Immediately after the assembly, Patrick, who as Head Boy was also the President of the Court of Prefects, called the first meeting of the Court for eight o'clock that same evening, to discuss with his co-prefects how they would manage the revised situation.

It was immediately after lunch in the noon pause before the start of afternoon activities that Patrick happened to be walking on the corridor in front of one of the first form class rooms. Rigby was not a big school, and had an intake of some sixty thirteen- year- old- boys each year, who were distributed into three first form classes designated 1A, 1B and 1C. Passing the door of 1A, Patrick heard through the closed door, what was clearly a rumpus going on in the classroom. Now a Rigby rule, rigidly enforced for several years, was that first and second year boys were not allowed alone in the class rooms, all of which were supposed to be locked over the lunch hour. 

Mr. Godber, himself, had introduced this rule many years ago (he had been around at the school for over forty years) as on one occasion, boys had been left alone in the classroom when one of them had climbed onto the master's raised desk, from which he had fallen and broken his arm. The boy in question had had to be taken to the hospital to have the fracture set. From then on, all classrooms were locked over the lunch hour, a job which devolved on the junior prefects, who did the job in a rota. So Patrick asked himself why, as evidenced by the noise, boys were clearly in the room in defiance of the rules.

Patrick flung open the door to find that a chalk fight was going on. Some dozen or so boys were engaged in a pitched battle, throwing broken pieces of chalk at each other, itself a highly risky pastime. As he entered the boys, all of whom were new entrants and none of whom he knew personally, 

suddenly stopped their antics and fell silent. They looked sheepishly at the Head Boy, wearing his gold tasselled mortar board, whom they had seen for the first time at the Assembly that morning. 

"You are, I am sure, all aware that it is strictly forbidden for first year boys to be alone in the classroom over the lunch hour." Utter silence! "I shall take your silence as affirmative, which for those of you who are still vocabulary impaired, means that you are aware of the rule and of the consequences you now face as a result of breaking it" Again, utter silence. "You boy, take a sheet of paper and write down for me your own name and the names of all your classmates who are involved in this lamentable spectacle." Patrick waited whilst the boy in question did as he was bidden and a few moments later handed over a complete list of the young delinquents, who numbered a round dozen in all. The names of the new boys still meant nothing to Patrick but the name of the boy, whom he had charged with preparing the list, struck an immediate note of recognition: Tomlinson.

"Tomlinson: that is a name well known to me: the name of an older boy who chose last year to break every school rule in the book for which he was soundly punished on many occasions." Patrick gazed at Tomlinson and then it suddenly hit him; this young lad was none other than Tomlinson's younger brother.

"Ingram-Lewis sir, (The Headmaster in his first address to the Assembly earlier that same day, had informed the boys that those in the the first and second years would address the Head boy as a mark of respect as "Ingram-Lewis sir") I'm Thomas Tomlinson, and the person you are thinking of is my elder brother, Colin, who is now in the second form, sir. He's a year older than me, sir."

"Tomlinson it is not necessary for you to tell me that your brother is a year older then you: believe it or not, I had managed to work that out for myself. Well, Tomlinson, I suppose that now we are to have the doubtful pleasure of coping with the two of you, we shall have to accord you the handle "minor" and refer to you as Tomlinson Minor, whilst your brother will be known as Tomlinson Major. So, Tomlinson Minor, let me give you a piece of advice. do not emulate the school career to date of your elder brother, otherwise you will find you backside in a permanent state of pain: the very kind of pain that you and your miscreant classmates are going to experience this evening. Do I make myself clear?"

Patrick's style of address was typical of the way in which older boys treated their younger brethren in public schools of the period. Every opportunity that arose was taken by the prefects to punish the younger boys and to berate them in much the way Patrick had just done with Tomlinson. It was all part and parcel of life in an upper class public school of that time. The other young boys were all deathly silent whilst this was being said, but they now realised that they were in for what was often called "the high jump" that evening. Anyone could see with half an eye that many of them were already trembling at the thought of what was to happen to them. 

The thought was turned into a reality by Patrick: "You boys, all twelve of you, will report to the Court of Prefects this evening at eight o'clock precisely; I repeat eight o'clock precisely. You will present yourselves wearing only your gym shorts and vests and in your bedroom slippers; no underwear of any sort to be worn. Is that clear?" There was a long silence whilst the implications of what has been said sank in. Patrick repeated: "Is that clear?" Finally the boys mustered a weak positive response.

"Good; then we all understand one another perfectly. Now, the lot of you will pick up all the bits of chalk you have been throwing around and when that is done, you will all line up for inspection in the corridor outside the classroom. Be quick about it, I shall be back in five minutes." And Patrick left the boys to stew in their own juice, contemplating their fate, whilst attempting to clean up the mess they had made. If ever a group of lads merited correction, it was this lot and they were to learn that evening precisely what Rigby Rigour actually meant as the cane descended on their naked arses.

Patrick had chanced upon these boys and their antics, but now decided that he would check on the other two first form class rooms. Both were still open, whereas the doors should have been locked, but both were empty. Returning to the class room 1A, he inspected the place to see that it had been restored to order, which it had and then told the line of boys in the corridor to go outside and play until the afternoon classes started. This done he himself turned the corner of the corridor in the direction of his own study.

CHAPTER 2

Patrick had no sooner turned the corner when he was almost knocked off his feet by a boy who had been running hell for leather down the corridor. Patrick was surprised (or was he, given the boy's previous record?) to find himself face to face with none other than the second year boy whom we now know as Tomlinson Major. The two looked at each other. "Tomlinson, Tomlinson, Tomlinson! You yet again; running in the corridor; and on the first day of term. What on earth were you doing rushing around at such speed? Did you not learn your lesson last term as to the painful consequences of such a serious disregard for one of the cardinal rules of the school? Perhaps to make sure that you understand the seriousness of the trouble in which you once again find yourself, you would kindly repeat to me the rules governing movement inside the school buildings. Come along Tomlinson, out with it, boy; let me here you recite the relevant rule which governs your conduct inside the school."

The ever resourceful Tomlinson, evidently not in the slightest nonplussed by the situation in which he once again found himself said, took the business in his stride: "Ingram-Lewis, sir, (he had clearly heard and understood the Headmaster's remarks at the Assembly that morning) I know that the rules forbid running in the corridors, sir, I really am aware of that, I really am, sir, but on this occasion it was justified. You see, I was running to the lavatory as I was nearly bursting and needed to have a pee."

Patrick did not know whether to laugh or cry; one had to admire the inventiveness of Tomlinson, who always came up with some ludicrous excuse for his behaviour. "Tomlinson, or Tomlinson Major as I now must call you having just had the very doubtful pleasure of making the acquaintance of your younger brother, calls of nature requiring such drastically precipitate attention simply do not occur. It is the lunch hour and you have had every opportunity to prepare yourself well in advance for any call of nature. Anyway, thousands wouldn't, Tomlinson, but I shall believe you about your need to have a pee. So kindly go and relieve yourself and then come directly to my study."

"Oh, Ingram-Lewis, sir, the urge has now passed and I no longer feel the need to go, so perhaps I could make my way ..."

"Directly to my study, in that case," said Patrick, finishing the sentence for Tomlinson. "Tomlinson, you are starting this new term in the same way as which you completed the last one. You are a serial offender: a regular breaker of the school rules and shall be treated as such. So, Tomlinson, kindly button your lip and don't waste your breath in thinking up new excuses for your behaviour. Just go along to my study and wait at the door for me. I shall be with you in a few moments and you and I will, as ever, get to the bottom of your problems in the traditional and time honoured way." Patrick then saw that in spite of his instructions, Tomlinson had not yet given up the fight and was preparing another excuse, so nipping the matter in the bud, Patrick said: "Not another word, boy! My study immediately and be quick about it." Tomlinson finally shut up and did as he had been bidden.

Facing Tomlinson, who was now standing nervously in front of Patrick in his study, Patrick said: "Tomlinson, do you actually enjoy having your arse thrashed so regularly? Do you flaunt the rules in order to ensure that you are beaten by either the Headmaster or one of the prefects more times than any other boy each term? Or is it that you are just a masochist and enjoy the pain of the rod across your arse? There are people like that you know. Well, Tomlinson, as you know the Rigby way of punishing a boy for his misdeeds is what you would call a bare bum beating. So, whilst I select a cane appropriate for the present occasion, perhaps you would kindly drop your trousers and underpants, bend over that chair there and let me review your arse in detail, so that I can decide how to proceed with maximum effect. I really wouldn't want you to think that you were missing out on anything."

Tomlinson started to say something, but Patrick cut him short: "Tomlinson, do as I say, otherwise I shall be obliged to give you extra strokes for disobedience. Nothing you can say or do is going to save you from a very sore backside, so just cut the cackle, put your arse across that chair and let's get on with it." 

Patrick was standing, chosen cane in hand, when a firm knock came at the door which was flung open to reveal none other than Mr. Godber, the Headmaster: "Ah, Ingram-Lewis, I see that I arrive at a very propitious moment, for unless my eyes deceive me, I perceive that you are just about to correct some errant boy; excellent, excellent! Ingram-Lewis, when I gave you the best of my canes the other day, it completely slipped my mind to give you the handle which went with them. I see you have selected one of my very old favourites, one I used for over twenty years to great effect on miscreants' bottoms. But as you will have observed, this cane, along with all the others I gave you, lacks crook of the traditional rattan. Its its slenderness renders it rather difficult to maintain a firm grip on it. It makes it rather awkward to place the cuts exactly where you want them and it has a nasty habit of slipping out of one's hand. I speak from long personal experience, of course."

"So, Ingram-Lewis, I have brought you a couple of the handles I had made by a local joinery shop a few years ago, to overcome this problem. If you would kindly hand me the implement you are at present holding, I will show you how it works" The Headmaster took the cane from Patrick's hand and showed him how it could be inserted into a well designed handle, where it was held in place by a simple manual thumb screw. The addition of the handle, as the Headmaster said, enabled the user to get a very firm grip, thereby rendering its use much easier and more accurate. "As you can see, Ingram-Lewis, the handle enables you to change the actual cane to suit the present purpose. You will find that you can better place each stroke on the miscreant's bottom, which as I am sure you appreciate is a very important aspect of any serious beating,"

"So, now that that is settled, whom have we here awaiting punishment? Good lord, I don't believe it: it's that serial offender Tomlinson, unless I am sadly mistaken. What has he done now to find himself at noon on the first day of the new term, offering his backside up for a beating? No, don't tell me; let me guess. You caught him running in the corridor again. Yes, Ingram-Lewis, I can see from our face that I am right." Which, of course he, was. "Well, I'm delighted that you caught him in the act so early in the term, so that some swift punitive action right now now might set him on the straight and narrow for the rest of the term., But knowing his history last year as a new entrant at Rigby, I do wonder, I really do. Still it is our duty to try, as I am sure that you agree."

"Well, far be it from me to interfere, Ingram-Lewis, but just how many strokes were you thinking of applying to this wretched boy's posterior; not only six, I hope, for I have long been of the opinion that to achieve a well beaten bare bottom at least twelve good, well applied and evenly spaced strokes are needed; and in certain cases considerably more. Anyway, Ingram-Lewis, I have achieved my mission in bringing you the missing cane handles, and you must do as you feel fit. But do remember Ingram-Lewis, that as Head Boy, in loco domino, you are no longer limited to six strokes of the cane, which applies only to the other prefects when they beat a boy alone. You are free to use your own discretion as to the severity of any punishment, which I am sure you will do. And remember too, that in your presence and at your behest, the other prefects can also administer beating of more than the six strokes." And with that the Headmaster departed, leaving his Head Boy and the suppliant Tomlinson still arse naked across the chair.

Tomlinson having listened to all this, his naked arse stuck in the air waiting for Ingram-Lewis to begin his "attack", was now in the state of what we today would crudely put as "shitting bricks". Here had been were the Head Boy and the Headmaster discussing in front of him, what should happen to his arse. Tomlinson was sure in his own mind that Ingram-Lewis, prompted by the comments of the Head Master would now give him at least twelve hard cuts. Ingram-Lewis, after his previous one term as senior prefect, had already acquired the reputation along with Meacher, the previous Head Boy, of being a really hard caner. But now left free to deal with the boys as he and he alone saw fit, well, Ingram-Lewis could be an absolute terror. Tomlinson waited trembling for the first stroke to land on his rump. He was not to be disappointed, for Patrick had every intention of well and truly roasting Tomlinson's arse before he left his study.

Patrick surveyed what was for him the new term's first virgin battlefield offered by Tomlinson's two well rounded globes, As the long summer vacation had intervened between Tomlinson's last beating and the present moment, there were no traces at all of any of the previous term's thrashings, which Tomlinson had suffered. Looking at the smooth flesh he was about to defile, Patrick could already feel himself hardening inside his trousers. There was no doubt about it at all; beating a boys naked buttocks was a truly homoerotic experience which Patrick, with a slight pang of guilt, realised he enjoyed. Swishing the cane a few times in the air, to set the scene, Patrick then set to with a will and gave Tomlinson's arse a text book beating. He placed the first cut directly in the middle and then moved upwards, stroke by stroke to the bottom of the boy's back. Finally he turned his attention to the lower regions, making sure that the all sensitive sit-spot, where the buttock join the legs, received some careful attention.




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 04



Tomlinson howled and howled as the cane rose and fell on his backside and the pain grew steadily worse until Patrick placed the final twelfth stroke diagonally across the rest. "Up you get Tomlinson," he said to the tearful boy. "Let that be a lesson to you never ever again to run in the corridors. Now, get your clothes back on and cut along to class otherwise you will be late and find yourself the unfortunate recipient of a punishment slip."

Tomlinson, whose arse was truly on fire, hobbled along the corridor, went into the lavatory and attempted to look at his damaged anatomy, before a few minutes later, creeping gingerly into the class. Mr Cass, the classics master, a dried up, unpopular and unsympathetic figure who and been at Rigby almost as long as the Headmaster himself said: "Nice of you to join us, Tomlinson. Do I gather from your limping gate that you have already had your backside beaten? That must surely be a record as we are only half way through the first day of the new term. Well boy, go and sit down and let's get on with the lesson."

"Please sir, do you think I might stand at the back of the class for the moment?"

"Certainly not, Tomlinson. You have been beaten for a reason and your backside is no doubt aching, but that is no excuse whatsoever for not sitting at your desk in the normal manner. The fact that sitting down has now become painful is, my dear Tomlinson, a problem of your own making."

"But sir, it's just so very painful when I sit down; I'm in agony, sir. Please sir, couldn't I just remain standing?"

"Sit down, Tomlinson. You, young man, are now reaping what you have sown. You clearly broke some rule and merited a thrashing and you must now live with the consequences. So, boy, for the last time sit down and pay attention before I feel myself obliged to issue you with a punishment slip."

Tomlinson, by now completely demoralised, did finally sit down and had a very uncomfortable afternoon.

CHAPTER 3

That evening, the Court of Prefects met for the first time. Patrick presided over the meeting and explained to his co prefects exactly how the changes, announced by the Headmaster that morning, affected them. As of now, the prefects, under the direction of Patrick himself, were more or less responsible for the entire discipline of the school. The previous rule, which had limited them to no more than six cuts of the cane to any miscreant still applied. The senior prefects could administer punishment to any of the boys with either the junior or senior canes, but the newly appointed junior prefects were limited to the junior cane and could beat only boys in the first and second forms.

But then came the great change; as Head Boy in loco domini, Patrick had now the authority to beat and birch any of the boys as he wished. There was no limit on the severity of the punishment, other than that imposed by the school regulations, which limited the maximum number of strokes of the cane to twenty-four on any one occasion and eighteen for the birch. But, as Patrick now pointed out, the court of Prefects, under his presidency and in his presence, could administer the cane as he directed. His co-prefects were of course delighted to hear that they would have the chance to carry out more severe beatings.

But it got even better, for the Court of Prefects would now be responsible for beating boys who had received punishment slips from the teaching staff; punishment which had previously been administered exclusively by the Headmaster himself. Patrick now informed the Court of the changed situation: "As you will now appreciate, the Court will convene every weekday evening after supper, when we will jointly have the pleasure of beating the boys who are on that day's punishment list. Boys will be punished the evening of the day after their offence, to enable the school secretary to prepare and post the list of those boys who are expected to attend the Court that evening. The actual number of strokes to be given is a matter for the Court itself to decide. However, I can tell you that the Headmaster himself has just today told me that he considers twelve cuts are needed to beat a boy's backside adequately and that often more can be justified. So gentlemen I sugest we align orusleves to the Headmaster's wishes and consider twelve cuts as the starting tariff? I am sure you all agree with that suggestion." (As if anyone would object!)

"And so, gentlemen, as you can now see, we the prefects, under my direction, will more or less administer all corporal punishment at Rigby. We have it in our power to make sure that the miscreants with whom we deal are adequately punished and I suggest that we make the concept of Rigby Rigour mean something. It is up to us, to make sure that each boy leaving the Court does so with an arse which has been well and truly roasted. I want no half measures here; beatings have got to hurt and boys should leave us in the knowledge that they will have a very painful arse for several days. Of course, gentlemen, as ever, all canings will be given "bare bum" as the boys call it. And any of you who individually wish to punish a boy for some misdemeanour or other and feel limited by the statutory six cuts, then just refer him to the Court."

"Well, gentlemen, unless there are any questions, I suggest that we get down to this evening's business" At this, the prefects were all more or less agog, wondering what Patrick meant, for none of them were aware that he had, by chance, found some twelve boys, the chalk fighters, who were now waiting in the corridor outside the Court and who would be the first boys to be punished as a group by the new Court of Prefects. "Awaiting our ministrations in the corridor are twelve first year boys, who entered Rigby this very day and already, in the lunch hour, were creating mayhem. I therefore propose that we come down on them like a ton of bricks and give each of them a beating to remember. Firstly it will teach them a lesson and secondly, by word of mouth on the grape vine, the whole school will soon know that we the prefects mean business. I think it is good that our power should be known and exercised when necessary, We need to be feared by all: new boys and our contemporaries in the lower and upper sixths."

"Now to this evening's inaugural beating session; Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you the bath-brush." And Patrick pulled from under his desk two long handled wooden brushes of the type used earlier in the century by people to scrub their backs whilst in the bath. But these brushes with their large flat wooden heads and long handles, made an excellent implement with which to administer a hard spanking, I use the word spanking here in the English sense, which is less than a caning and was a light punishment often applied by a father to the naked bottom of his errant child whilst pulled across his knee. Patrick continued: "What I propose is that the six junior prefects give each of these boys a little "warm up"; let us say three good hard whacks with this brush on each of their cheeks." 

"Then, gentlemen, we will proceed to some serious caning. The Head Master has given to me several of his his favourite old canes and I can tell you that after a brief examination that we have in our hands some superb instruments with which to beat these boys. So, after a warm up session with the brush, I will personally give each boy three strokes of the cane, leaving the nine remaining strokes to complete their punishment to be applied by you, the senior prefects. I propose that we deal with the boys two at a time; across two chairs and that we coordinate our strokes to add a touch of drama to the occasion. I want these boys to experience true Rigby Rigour, and to go away wondering what they are going to do to calm down their arses. Believe me, gentlemen, these twelve miscreants will rue the day they ever started the chalk fight. They are all in for a very uncomfortable night in bed, I can tell you"

"Now, before we begin, there is one other thing which has to be cleared up: why was the classroom door left unlocked at lunchtime? There is a rota of junior prefects whose job it is to ensure that all the junior form rooms are locked over the lunch hour. Now, all three first year rooms were, in fact, left unlocked. I checked the other two; and so, I would like the the prefect whose job it was to lock the rooms this week, to see me in my study immediately after we have finished dispensing justice here. Now, gentlemen, might I suggest that we begin our arduous task?" There was a titter of laughter at this remark as the prefects were relishing roasting a dozen virgin arses. What luck and on the very first day of term to boot! This was to be a metaphorical bloodbath.

The twelve first formers filed nervously into the room and were told to line themselves up against the wall. Patrick gave them a brief lecture about the error of their ways and told them that they were going to be punished here and now; moreover, severely punished as an example of what happened to boys who broke the rules. By this time the boys were all trembling with fear without really knowing exactly what was to happen to them. "Right, drop your gym shorts, all of you step out of them, fold them neatly and place them on the floor behind you; then stand to attention with your hands on your heads," said Patrick. This was for most of them their first acquaintance of the utter brutality of public school life: everyone was allowed to see everything; there were no secrets.

Reading from the list of names prepared by Tomlinson Minor, Patrick ordered the first two boys to step forward and bend across a chair. "Come on you two; look lively; get your arses well up in the air so that we can see what we are doing. Don't worry, you will not catch cold, for we are going to warm you up right now." Then motioning to the two junior prefects who were to form the first relay and were to administer the first strokes with the brushes, he stood back and said: "Now, gentlemen, on my count and together, let us show these two miscreants how now we do things here at Rigby." 

The two young lads howled with pain as they each took six resounding strokes across their arses, three on each of their virgin buns. By the time this warm up bout was finished, tears were streaming down the faces of both boys, neither of whom had any idea of what was still awaiting them. They were followed successively by pairs of their class-mates, each of whom received a similar treatment. Those who had been punished first and sent back to stand and watch their classmates receiving the same treatment probably thought that the punishment was over. Alas they were sadly mistaken

"Now boys that you have had a warming prelude to to what is in store for you, the first two of you kindly step up and bend over the chairs again when we shall proceed to make you wish that you could peel off your arses and hang them out to dry." The poor lads looked at each other in horror and fear. What was going to happen to them now? Patrick now took the cane and gave each of the two now rosy red backsides three hard well placed cuts of the cane. He gave the strokes one at a time and moved between the boys. Having completed his task, two senior prefects took over, this time each armed with a cane and to Patrick's count, gave each boy another nine resounding cuts. The boys cried out in agony, as stroke followed stroke. The rest of the class looked on, hands on heads, in utter fear as they now knew what was in store for them.

When the last pair had been beaten Patrick ordered all of them to get dressed and go to bed, but it was a very sad parade of twelve first formers who trooped woefully back to their dormitory. The punishment had been very severe; their backsides felt as if they were on fire. They felt as if they had taken a series of cuts from a knife. But closer examination would have shown that no skin had been broken and no permanent damage done to the boys' anatomies. It was as if a boy's buttocks had been designed specially to take the cane: a sort of combination made in heaven! It had been an exemplary lesson for the twelve lads who had had the misfortune to be caught out on their very first day at school. It had truly been an initiation by fire into the the rigours of Rigby. 

But as the Headmaster had said, his view was that at least one third of the new intake ought to have had their arses beaten by the end of the first month and two thirds by the end of the term. What had just taken place would be a shining example to the entire school of the way in which the new disciplinary regime under Patrick Ingram-Lewis in loco domini would function. That the new regime meant business; well, everyone had better believe it! Patrick, recalling the Headmaster's remarks, felt that he had made a good start to say that it was only the end of the first day of term. Already thirteen arses had been thoroughly thrashed and the question of the unlocked doors remained to be answered. Who was responsible? Its solution would almost certainly involve a further beating of some delinquent's arse; but whose?

Patrick passed the time in his study waiting for the as yet unknown junior prefect who had forgotten to lock the form room doors that lunch time. He examined the selection of old canes which the Headmaster had given him the previous day and after much thought, selected a particularly gnarled looking one with several prominent knots along its length. He saw no reason to deprive the arse of the errant boy who was about to enter from the very severest of treatments. After all, his negligence could have led to a serious accident. So, having fitted the chosen implement into its handle - a brilliant idea of the Headmaster's - Patrick waited with eager anticipation to see which of the newly appointed junior prefects would appear. It was one of them who had been delinquent in his duty and that was cause enough to give him a really good thrashing. And administering a really good thrashing to an older boy's naked arse, was an act Patrick savoured; it was just so much more satisfying to thrash the well muscled arse of an older boy than to beat the stuffing out of some first or second former.

A knock came at the door. Patrick opened it to find a highly embarrassed lower sixth former called David Stevens awaiting his invitation to enter. Stevens was big lad, one of the biggest of his year. He was a keen rugby player and had the physique to go with it. In particular he had well rounded, muscular arse, which was the part of his anatomy on which Patrick's eye immediately alighted. "An eminently beatable arse," thought Patrick to himself. "What luck! Stevens is going to go to bed feeling very, very sorry for himself by the time he leaves here."

"Ingram-Lewis, you said at the Court this evening that you wished to see the prefect who had inadvertently left the form rooms unlocked over the lunch hour today. Well, "mea culpa" old man, I am sorry to say it was me and I am most awfully, awfully sorry. I don't know how I came to forget to lock the doors. It was just one of those things which could have happened to anyone (already moving from himself into a wider circle of potential "forgetters"): a moment of inexplicable forgetfulness and as I say I am truly awfully sorry and it will most certainly not happen again. So now that you know, Ingram -Lewis, and have heard my apology, perhaps I could cut off and go to bed now." 

Stevens's eye now came to rest on the beating chair which Patrick had already placed in the centre of the room, his chosen can resting across its arms . He also looked nervously at the large selection of canes which stood in an old oriental pot near the door. The chair was known to many of the pupils of Rigby for it had stood for years in the Head Boy's study and had seen countless lads bend across its back and offer their arses for punishment. 

"Stevens, I have to remind you that today was your very first day as a junior prefect, a position of trust and responsibility, I repeat, responsibility, which the Headmaster placed in you when he elevated you to the rank of prefect. Now you come here and tell me that you forgot to do the very job for which you were responsible this week, and this on your very first day. How can this be? You must have been asleep. Well Stevens I simply cannot let such dereliction of duty pass without some form of sanction and I propose to send you away tonight wide awake."

Patrick could see that Stevens was getting more and more nervous as he listened to him. His his gaze was fixed on the horribly foreboding chair and cane, which he had now fully understood were destined for him that evening. "So, Stevens, I am afraid that you have to be punished, to do penance, for your, shall we call it, forgetfulness. As you must realise it could have led to some very unpleasant consequences. Just image what might have happened if one of those first year boys, whom we have just thrashed, had been hit in the eye by a piece of chalk. Your delinquency would have contributed directly to such an event, which could have had dire consequences," concluded Patrick laying on the drama with spades.

"Yes I agree, Ingram-Lewis, there could have been an accident, but in the event, there was not, so, don't you think that you are blowing this business out of all proportion? After all, it was not done intentionally, with malice aforethought; it was just a simple piece of forgetfulness on my part." Stevens was already beginning to try to present arguments to escape from what he must have known was the inevitable beating. Alas he was wasting is breath!

"Stevens, we the prefects, of which you are one, are a privileged group in this school. We are appointed to keep order and have the power to punish boys who break the rules. If you escape your present delinquency unscathed, what are the boys going to think. Well, I will tell you. They are going to say, "Look at him; he is supposed to be in charge, but he makes his own rules and escapes uncensored when things go wrong." The same with your fellow prefects; if you are not punished for your dereliction of duty, the others are going to say that things don't really matter and well, if we forget something, who cares? Well Stevens, I'll tell you who cares; I care as Head Boy; I have to. I have been given exceptional powers, in loco domini: powers designed to enable me, aided by you the prefects, to maintain order and the standards long associated with this school. It is my job to see that things are done according to the rules, which I intend to do. And so, Stevens, much to my regret, you have to be punished; I cannot let it pass. You failed in your duty on the very first day of term and for that you have to answer to me. Sorry, but that is that." 

"Oh, come on, Ingram-Lewis, you are making a mountain out of a molehill. You are surely not suggesting that you are going to beat me, a co-prefect and a sixth-former. Come on, Ingram-Lewis, be reasonable; prefects and sixth formers do not get beaten."

"There I am afraid you are sadly mistaken, Stevens. Everyone at this school is subject the same rules and the same punishments. That goes from the first form right through to the upper sixth, prefects and myself as Head Boy included. So there are no exceptions."

"Oh come on, Ingram-Lewis, you really are not going to beat me, just because I made on slip up."

"Stevens, I am afraid that I am, so I suggest that you stop arguing with me and accept what is coming to you, which frankly you do truly deserve."

At this stage, Stevens became quite abusive and started to dig himself more deeply into the hole in which he already found himself. "You are a fucking pompous prick, Ingram -Lewis. I see now that in your new position you think you can lord it over all and sundry. Well you are not going to boss me around the way you think you can. I am a prefect and I have certain rights. I think you have blown this out of all proportion and you just fancy showing me that you are the boss. Well some boss you turn out to be, threatening to beat me on your first day as Head Boy. You really are the bloody limit." And so the invective continued until Stevens finally ran out of steam and insults to hurl at Patrick, who had listened to all this in complete silence.




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 04



"Stevens, let me disabuse you of one thing you just said. I am not threatening you with a beating, believe me. I am actually going to beat you here and now. It is a reality, not a threat or a promise; you had better accept the fact that you are going to get your arse beaten. Now, Stevens, for your information, the Headmaster has decided that the standard, shall we call it "tariff" for normal offences are to be twelve strokes, as I told you all at Court a little while ago. The Headmaster thinks, and I totally agree with him, that six strokes of the cane are simply not enough to teach a boy a lesson. And so, Stevens you had qualified for a twelve stroke beating by virtue of your dereliction of duty this lunch hour. Note I say "had qualified" which was the situation before you addressed me with you insulting remarks. Stevens, your comments to me were not those a gentleman would make to anyone, let alone to his immediate superior. Therefore you will receive an additional three strokes over and above the standard number."

"Oh fuck you, Ingram-Lewis; if you think I am taking that nonsense from jumped up nobody like you you are bloody-well mistaken. There is no way I am going to let you thrash my arse. Do I make myself clear?"

"Six additional strokes, Stevens; pray continue if you wish, for there is still a good margin available before we reach the absolute maximum number of strokes set by the Board of Governors, which for your information is twenty-four: a round two dozen. You will appreciate that you are now at eighteen, so there are still six more cuts available if you which to avail yourself of them and go for what might be called "a grand slam". Now, Stevens as you seem to want to question my authority, I will give you a choice; either you take the beating from me here and now, which is the gentlemanly thing to do, or we go together straight to the Headmaster and let him deal with you directly. Far be it for me to prejudge matters, but I think that Mr. Godber, when he hears what you have done, or rather what you did not do, will reduce you to the ranks."

"You will no longer be a prefect and will be obliged to hand back your mortar board and lapel star. And in addition you will certainly receive a birching. So Stevens, there you have the alternatives. Neither is particularly attractive for you, but you must decide. I shall turn my back on you to check whether another cane form muy collection might be more suited to the present situation that the one you see reposing there across the chair. When I turn around, I except to see you presenting our naked arse to me across that chair. If that is not the case, then we shall immediately go to see Mr. Godber. I trust you understand your options."

Stevens was now completely silent, He realised that he was in what might well be described as dire straits. Patrick spent a couple of minutes with his back turned to Stevens whilst he pursued his inventory of canes, trying to decided which he thought would be the most painful implement to apply to Stevens's arse. When he turned around he saw that Stevens had decided that he would, in fact take the beating and Patrick was presented with a magnificent pair of muscular buttocks. For all his braggadocio, Stevens was a fine sportsman, a bit of a bully, but as a rugby player he had a strong figure and his arse was well rounded and muscular. It was simply crying out to be beaten. Patrick found himself hardening at the thought of what he was about to do; of the pain he intended to inflict, for with Stevens's intransigence he intended to give his arse a really hard roasting.

"Stevens, keep absolutely still until I have finished with you. Keep your hands on the seat of the chair and do touch your arse. This is, I am afraid, going to be very painful for you and I suggest you bite on this cork to help m you bear the pain." Patrick paused for a few moments admiring the two magnificent globes of flesh which he was about to thrash. He decided in his own mind to start with one stroke right across the middle, covering the two halves and then process with five strokes upwards, each spaced by a thin even space. Then he would transfer his attention to the lower part of Stevens's anatomy and give him six severe strokes in that most sensitive part, the seat. Then he thought he would pause for a couple of minutes before returning to the upper half, where he intended to place the remaining six strokes directly on the first furrows he had ploughed. With eighteen strokes of a whippy cane applied with all the force of Patrick's right arm Stevens would get up from the chair with a very, very sore arse indeed. It would be a lesson he would never forget.

Patrick had a natural sense of the theatrical and allowed Stevens to stew in his own juice, so to speak, his arse in the air, whilst he himself flexed the cane and gave it several quick, menacing cuts through the air. Then he approached his target and began by very gently tapping the centre spot when intended to begin. He could see Stevens arse quivering as he felt the tap tap tap of the cane, wondering when the first fateful stroke would descend. When it did it took away is breath. It was like being cut with a knife. The pain was excruciating. Patrick had decided that there was no rush to finish, so he allowed about ten seconds between each stroke so that Stevens could fully appreciate what was happening to him. Stroke followed stroke, with unerring accuracy and after the fourth stroke, Stevens began to howl. By the time Patrick had started on his lower arse, he was in tears, which was not at all surprising as Patrick truly laid the cane on as hard as he could and the thin flexible rod cut into Stevens's arse with great force.

After twelve strokes, Patrick stopped for five minutes. Stevens made as if to rise from the chair but was stopped by Patrick; "Not yet, my friend; you still have six more cuts to come, so just stay where you are. we are simply taking a short pause to allow me to regain my strength."

When it was all over, Stevens raised himself painfully from the chair, rubbed his richly striped arse, pulled on his clothes and made as if to leave. Patrick said: "Stevens, before you go it is customary to thank me for having corrected you." He offered him his hand, which was taken by Stevens through his tears and the requisite thanks were given. "You may go now, Stevens, but let that be a lesson to you. No one in this school is above the law, me included. Don't forget to lock the doors tomorrow lunch time and curb that abusive lip of yours." The beating had taken a full fifteen minutes, given the pauses between the strokes that Patrick had taken and Stevens left with an arse, pulsing with pain, very tender and raging with heat; he barely knew what to do with himself. He had learned a serious lesson as he admitted to himself privately. But was that enough to set him on the straight and narrow path which all Rigbyans were expected to follow? 

By now Patrick himself was in a highly aroused state. He went to the door to lock it before going to his bathroom intending to relieve his sexual tension in the classic solo-male manner. As he was about to turn the key in the lock, there came a knock at the door; it was his friend and sex partner of the past summer holidays, Roderick Pennington. By way of a brief recapitulation back to what had been a sex- filled summer for the two boys, Roderick had spend the whole of August with Patrick at his family home, Ingram House, in Northumberland. There, together with a sexually very active young footman and an assistant gardener, the two of them had fine honed their techniques at gay sex. But as an additional bonus, both young studs had been introduced to heterosexual sex with a kitchen maid, Rose, who had generously bestowed her favours on both young men. So it was two sexually experienced young men who greeted one another at that moment.

"My god," said Patrick, "Roderick you are a gift from heaven as I am absolutely dying for a fuck." And he quickly explained to his friend how he had come to be in such an aroused state. Roderick, like Patrick was always ready for any form of sexual pleasure and quickly gave his friend access to his most vital parts to allow him to release his tension. The relationship between Patrick and Roderick had gone way beyond the classic act of buggery, forbidden in theory, but tolerated in practice, in English public schools. Theirs had become a deep homosexual relationship. Whilst buggery was forbidden but tolerated, as the school authorities realised that it was essentially due to the lack of female company which led the lads to fuck each other, a deep relationship such as now existed between Patrick and Roderick would have lead to instant expulsion if discovered. 

Roderick stayed until late that evening with Patrick and as they lay together in Patrick's bed after slaking their sexual thirsts on each other, Patrick said to Roderick: "Listen Rod, I know you play the field here at school but for Christ's sake, don't get caught at it. If you are, then old Godber will have to birch you and with the present new arrangements with myself, the old boy might well ask me to officiate. And as you might imagine, the last thing I want to do is to thrash your arse. So, Roderick, if you bugger another of your classmates, I don't care personally (he did, in fact, as he wanted Roderick entirely for himself) but do make sure you are not caught "in flagrante" otherwise I might find myself obliged to roast your arse, I know I did it once, and it brought us together, but I don't want to have to do it again."

Roderick, somewhat cavalier about the whole thing, brushed it off and said: "Patrick, stop worrying. It will never come to that."

Patrick replied: "I hope to hell you're right. Please, please watch it!" 

CHAPTER 4

Lying in bed that same evening, Patrick reflected on his first day at Rigby as Head Boy. If anyone had told him that he would have beaten no less than fourteen different arses that one day, he would have roared with laughter. But it was true and Patrick had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed every single moment where he had wielded the cane personally. For him there was something intently satisfying in the sound of a well seasoned rattan cane landing on the bare flesh of a well-presented pair of naked buttocks. It was for Patrick and for many other prefects like him, not only at Rigby but throughout the English public school system, a most satisfying experience; highly homoerotic in most cases, leaving the beater himself in such a highly arouse state that on occasions he climaxed in his pants. All in all this had been a most exhilarating day for Patrick in the exercising of his powers as Head Boy in loco domini. He looked forward to the rest of the first term and the two terms to follow.

After this dramatic start to the term, the rest of that first week was much quieter The Court of Prefects met each evening at eight o'clock but there were only two beatings to be carried out: boys who had been cited by their masters for some offence or other, which the Court punished in its thorough way and the two young miscreants left with burning backsides. So the first week's "arse count" was a nifty fourteen: a very creditable performance.

Patrick took the opportunity to tell his fellow prefects about the Headmaster's thoughts on the new entrants that term: "The Headmaster is of the firm opinion that pretty well all of the new entrants need to feel the cane on their arses sometime during their first year. They have to become accustomed to the fact that the cane and the birch are part and parcel of daily life at Rigby. He further thinks that we should have an objective: to ensure that at least one third, that's about twenty boys, get their arses roasted in the first month, rising to at least half of all new entrants by the end of term." 

"But the ultimate objective is to see that by the end of the school year all of the new entrants have experienced the pleasure of a naked arse beating and understand the meaning of Rigby Rigour. So gentlemen be vigilant; don't let these new lads get away with anything and haul them before the Court for the slightest infraction, so that we can warm their arses in the traditional way. With a little effort we should be able to exceed the Headmaster's expectations; so let's set ourselves a private objective of thrashing half the new boys by the middle of this term with two thirds before Christmas. And gentlemen, let us adopt as standard practice at the court, of giving delinquents six good whacks with the bath brush before applying the cane. I cannot help but feel that a pre-warmed arse beats better than a cold one. So let's make the brush the perquisite of the junior prefects and the cane that of the seniors. The distribution of these "unfortunate" duties I shall leave to you to decide. But each and every one of you has to be prepared to share the burden of this heavy task. It is one of the crosses we, as prefects, have to bear!" 

Patrick's concluding remarks were made with heavy irony, for as he well knew, the prefects, lock, stock and barrel, enjoyed nothing more than beating arse; or perhaps in the senior ranks, fucking it. In much the same way, boys had a lively morbid interest in watching a classmate being punished: it was human nature: a highly homoerotic experience even for the younger boys, whose immature cocks hardened as they watched a classmate take a beating.

On Saturday morning Patrick found a note under the door of his study. It was from the Headmaster inviting him to take a glass of port with him in his lodgings on Sunday evening after supper. "An occasion for us to review the first week's progress under the new arrangements," the Headmaster had written. And so Sunday evening towards eight o'clock, Patrick was again to be found in the company of the Headmaster: the man who had granted him his exceptional powers. 

Curiously, although consumption of alcohol of any kind was strictly forbidden to the pupils and which, if discovered, led to a mandatory birching, the Headmaster, Mr. Goober, apparently saw no inconsistency in plying his Head Boy with port, whilst simultaneously exhorting him to apply the birch to any and all boys caught drinking alcohol. Equally, as we shall see later, the fact that the Headmaster himself indulged in sexual relations with his Head Boy did not deter him from inflicting a mandatory birching on any boys caught in the act of buggery. 

Mr. Godber was a prime example of the philosophy "Do as I say, not as I do." It is unlikely that any such considerations of inconsistency had ever crossed Mr. Godber's mind. For him, his universe was Rigby; he was in charge and people did what he said. There was no question at all that the system was rotten to the core: that was the way it had always been, was now and would probably be in the future! Actually, it worked; it was not broken, so why try to mend it? 

Mr. Godber began: "Well, Ingram-Lewis, do please sit down and let me pour you a glass of port. The butler tells me that this is my last bottle of Taylor's 1865: 35 years old: absolutely at its prime. I did by a pipe: that's about 700 bottles in all you know and I have been drinking my way through it for the last twenty five years. Well, you seem to have made a very good start in maintaining discipline at Rigby. I've taken a glance at the punishment register and see that you managed to cane no less than 16 boys in the first week of term. That's by way of being a record, I think. And what is certainly a record is that you corrected that perpetual miscreant, Tomlinson, by noon on the very first day of term. I hope you laid it on good and hard, for he is a problem. But I also saw you had beaten Stevens, one of your fellow prefects, rather severely; what was that about?"

"Well sir, Stevens was the reason the twelve first formers from class 1A got their backsides beaten, including Tomlinson's younger brother, by the way. I caught twelve of them at lunch time in the form room having a chalk fight and the Court of Prefects beat them for that the same evening. But it was Stevens who left all three classrooms unlocked over the lunch break that first day when he was the duty prefect responsible for locking the rooms. And so I had to beat him for that. He got eighteen rather than the usual twelve cuts as he became verbally totally abusive to me when I told him he had to be punished. So sir, I am afraid he went away with a very sore backside. I am not totally sure, sir, that Stevens will prove a reliable prefect and he certianly does ot behave as a gentleman."

"Excellent, excellent, Ingram-Lewis; I am delighted that you are not afraid to take on a senior boy, a prefect to boot, and thrash him. And if Stevens was abusive, then you were quite right to give him six extra strokes. But you know, Ingram-Lewis, I think we need to keep a sharp eye on Stevens in the light of is dereliction of duty on his first day as a junior prefect. My colleagues were not at all keen that I promote him to prefect, but I overrode their view and did it anyway. But I was really the only one of the staff in his favour; I may have made a mistake; so, keep an eye on him. If there are any more problems, send him to me and I will deal with him personally."

"Moving on to another matter, Ingram-Lewis, I think you should give serious thought to the question of the birch. I am anxious that we maintain the birch as an implement of punishment here at Rgby. And I do not want the boys to get the idea that its use has been abandoned. Now, clearly the way to ensure that does not happen is for you to birch a few bottoms. Quite specifically, any cases of buggery between boys of any age, is a mandatory birching offence and boys involved will get eighteen strokes. Any boy caught stealing should also be birched; eighteen strokes again. And boys who are repeat offenders in spite of numerous warnings and canings should also be given a taste of the birch on their naked buttocks. But there are many other instances, which I am sure will come your way in the course of the term, where you could quite easily justify giving a boy a good birching." 

"The point of all this, Ingram-Lewis, is that I think you ought to find some reason to birch at least one boy before the end of the month. The boys have got to see that it is not just a threat but that it is currently being used on miscreants if they deserve it. It's the time honoured practice here at Rigby. Now I went into the punishment room just the other day and there are no fresh birches available at the moment, So, Ingram-Lewis, I suggest that in the next few days you talk to Mr. Patterson, the head gardener and get him to make up few new birches for you. You need to be prepared; to be able to strike whilst the iron is hot, so to speak. I always used to birch one or two boys quite early in the term; they merited it, of course, but it served to underline the fact that the birch was alive and well and would be used on any errant bottom if required." 

So there it was; the Headmaster wanted Patrick to make sure that birches were available and used in the near future. It was reassuring to Patrick that the Headmaster had clearly approved of his first week's performance with the cane and wanted him to use the birch on some poor lad's arse in the very near future. The birch, for the Headmaster, had to remain a reality, part and parcel of Rigby Rigour and not just a threat. As far as finding a suitable arse to flog, Patrick did not see any great difficulty, for boys were boys and there was no telling as to what mischief they might get up to. And, of course, Patrick enjoyed beating naked arse, so he was unlikely to miss an opportunity to move to the next stage. Yes, Mr.Godber had made an excellent choice in Patrick.

"Well Patrick, I think that concludes all the immediate business."




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 04



With the change of the form of address from Ingram-Lewis to Patrick, one did not have to be a mind reader to see what was coming next. Patrick sat there sipping his port, which was delicious, musing to himself as the Headmaster prattled on about times past etc. etc. etc. In fact Patrick did not really listen to what Mr. Godber was actually saying as he knew exactly what was going to be required of him. As Godber droned on, Patrick mused to himself: "In anno domini 1900, in the year of the Lord 1900, here I am "in loco domini", in place of the master, and in a few moments I shall be required to be "in ano domini", with my cock stuck up the old boy's anus." 

And that is, of course, exactly what happened; it was more or less a repeat performance of their first encounter. Godber retired to his bedroom where Patrick followed him a few minutes later and proceeded to fuck the old boy's arse. But as before, Godber was satisfied with one good hard fuck and did not suggest a return bout. In fact Patrick never really got a good look at Godber's penis, as he was flat on his belly when Patrick entered. This was to become a regular pattern on Sunday evenings for Patrick throughout his final year at Rigby: an hour or so to review of the week's events accompanied by a glass of port and ending with a good hard fuck. But Patrick did not mind, for in a way he quickly came to be quite fond of old Godber and he wondered how he would fare when, alone, he left Rigby for ever at the end of the year. "A frightening prospect for the old man," Patrick thought.

CHAPTER 5

The following week, acting on the Headmaster's advice, Patrick went to see Mr. Patterson, the head- gardener, who lived in a bothy on the school grounds. He was greeted like a long lost friend by the gardener, whom he barely knew: "Mr. Patrick sir, the Headmaster told me about your position as Head boy and the heavy burden he had put on your shoulders making you responsible for all discipline in the school. You know sir, I remember when you first came here as a thirteen year old; my goodness what a tearaway you were in those days and I guess you must have felt one of my birches across your backside more than once. And look at you now: Head Boy and ordering birches to use yourself."

"Well sir, the Headmaster told me that as of now I should take my instructions from you as to the making of the birches. I've been here for twenty-five years, you know. I came as a fifteen year old apprentice and became head gardener fifteen years ago when I was only twenty-five myself. But you know, sir, I've actually been making the birches for the Headmaster for over twenty years. Now sir, as it's the beginning of term I suppose you will need a new supply as unlike the cane the birch does not have a very long life; especially those which were made from birch twigs themselves. Why sir, I can remember having to make at least three or four a week as the Headmaster used two on one boy; very fragile they were, which is why I moved onto a birch made of hazel twigs. But sir, I have now found something much better."

"I don't want to burden you with my life story, sir (which is, of course, exactly what he was going to do) but since my wife died about six years ago, I've been left a widower with two young lads, Herbert and Alfred to bring up by myself. They're a good pair of lads, really, eleven and twelve now, but recently they have been getting beyond themselves and the Headmaster at the village school where they go has caned them on the hand several times, for rudeness. So, I thought to myself that it was time to give them each a really good thrashing, just to put them on the straight and narrow, if you get my meaning sir." 

"Until then I had never ever laid a finger on either of them, but they did truly need taking down a peg. So I thought to myself that if a birching is what the young gentlemen up at the school get to make them toe the line, then it's surely good enough for my Herb and Alfie. So last week sir, I made a couple, in fact three, birches which I intended to use on my two sons. Now sir, I came across, in the grounds, the stump of a maple tree, which had thrown up a lot of whippy young shoots from the base. It suddenly struck me, looking at them, that they would make a splendid birch; you know sir, the new shoots of the maple are very fine and bendy but they are also very strong, in many ways like fine bamboo. Anyway sir, I cut them, took them back to my work-shed and made them into three birches. And let me tell you sir, I've never had a taste of the birch myself, but these seemed pretty good to me."

"So last week, one evening after the boys had gone to bed, I called them down to the kitchen, made them drop their pyjama trousers and bend across the table and I gave each of them a real good thrashing. My god sir, how my two sons howled; but I pressed on regardless and gave them a dozen really good hard cuts each; no point in half doing the job I thought. When I had finished the two lads were in tears and their backsides were bright red thanks to my efforts. Well sir, since then I have out heard a peep out of them and the two have been as good as gold. So I feel very satisfied with my efforts. But the thing is, sir, I made these birches only last week so they are more or less brand new and I still have them in my shed, so if you think that you could use them up at the school then you have three ready-made birches to hand now." 

So Patrick and Mr. Patterson went to the shed where Patrick was shown three magnificent bundles of maple twigs. As Patterson had said, they were really very strong and the implement made a very satisfying noise as it was swished through the air. Patrick looked at the gardener's handiwork with admiration and realised that he was an expert in the fabrication of this implement of corporal punishment and that the three examples he had in front of him were in their own way, masterpieces of the art. Mr. Patterson explained that he had made one birch somewhat longer than the other two: "You see sir, some of the shoots were a bit longer than the others and I saw no reason to cut them down. So if you like sir, there are two what you might call junior birches and the longer one is sort of a senior birch. Believe me sir, with the longer one and the greater length of stroke, you'll be able to give the older boys a really good thrashing; let them know what a good birching feels like; that should keep them out of future mischief sir. A really sore backside works wonders with boys in my view."

Patrick realised that Mr. Patterson took his job as maker of birches really seriously and that he himself was a firm believer in their efficacy. So he thanked Mr. Patterson for his handiwork and asked him if he would kindly deposit the three rods in the punishment room to which he knew from the Headmaster, Mr Patterson had a key. To this Mr. Patterson readily agreed saying he would deposit the three new rods he had made there later that day. So Patrick went back to the school in the knowledge that he had all the tools he needed to open for business; all he now needed were some "customers".

Patrick did not have long to wait long to test out his newly acquired birches as a suitable opportunity soon presented itself. As is often the case, it happened quite unexpectedly. However, as we shall see, what started small soon blossomed into the discovery of a major piece of delinquency which ultimately left quite a number of second formers with very painful arses.

It was the Saturday evening in the third week of term that Patrick was walking along the upper corridor off which a series of twelve bed dormitories let, when he detected that inimitable smell of cigarette smoke. Smoking was, of course, strictly forbidden along with alcohol consumption and a variety of other acts and closer investigation seemed to indicate that the source was located in the linen room at the end of the corridor. Throwing open the door, Patrick found two boys lounging nonchalantly on a pile of clean towels, puffing away like hardened smokers. "What do you two think you are doing (a rather stupid question as it was as plain as a pikestaff what they were doing?) Put out those fags at once step outside into the corridor and explain yourselves." 

The linen room had been lit by a single gas-light but once in the corridor, Patrick discovered that one of the miscreants was that habitual offender, that regular breaker of any and all school rules, that "arse in wafting to the cane" Tomlinson Major. The other boy was called Newton: Jonathan Newton. "Tomlinson, why am I not surprised to find that you are the source of the smoke? Where did you get the cigarettes from; come on; out with it Tomlinson. And don't tell me, please that they were a present to you from last Christmas or that your mother kindly packed them for you for the new term. You know Tomlinson, your bum and the cane seem to have a remarkable affinity for each other; an affinity which once again is going to be turned into a reality as I thrash your miserable arse for the second time this term. And you, Newton, where did your fags come from?"

"Oh Ingram-Lewis sir, we weren't really smoking," began the agile minded Tomlinson, "We were just conducting a test to see whether it irritated our throats as some people say and we did not intend to continue; indeed, Ingram-Lewis sir, we did not; it was purely in the interests of medical science as you can surely see, sir. And Newton did not have any cigarettes of his own, so I just lent him one of mine so that he could take part in this ground breaking experiment. So, as you can see, it was completely innocent and instructive, and we were not, in fact, breaking any school rule, Ingram-Lewis Sir." 

"Tomlinson, can you stick to the question and not indulge yourself in another of your flights of utter fantasy. The question I asked you, boy, was where the cigarettes came from and while you are at it, just tell me now many more you still have. And I would draw your attention to the fact that you do not lend someone a cigarette, for once it is smoked it is gone and cannot be returned; and it was quite clear that the pair of you were smoking. So come on Tomlinson, let's be having an answer. Now, the only clear fact so far is that Newton did not have any fags of his own and that you gave him one, which he was foolish enough to smoke, and so the pair of you were smoking which is against the school rules and a very serious offence. So now, Tomlinson, I want to know where you got your supply from."

Tomlinson finally realised that he had to come clean and said: "I brought them with me from home at the beginning of term. I actually got them from my father's smoking room. (By way of a historical note; gentlemen at that time often avoided smoking in the presence of ladies and had one room to which they retired to smoke). You see my father always keeps a supply of cigarettes and I just sort of helped myself to a few. He only smokes cigars himself and keeps the cigarettes to offer to friends who prefer them. So it's not as if I have deprived my father of his own pleasure, for I did not take any cigars."

"Let me get this quite clear, Tomlinson, are you telling me that you stole the fags from your father's stock? And while you were at it, just tell me exactly how many you appropriated?"

"Well, Ingram-Lewis, sir, I wouldn't actually call it stealing; I just sort of pocketed a few. After all they were in the house and it's not as if I pinched them for a shop or anything is it?" By this time Tomlinson was beginning to realise that he was in deep trouble; not only had he been nabbed smoking but smoking stolen cigarettes to boot.

"Well, Tomlinson, if you did not steal them from your father, how exactly would you describe your actions? And, let me ask you this question. If your father had caught you in the act what would he have done to you and if I tell him now that his son had stolen cigarettes from him what would he say?"

Tomlinson blanched as he now realised that there was no easy way out of the predicament in which he found himself and said: "Well, I suppose you might just call it stealing, Ingram-Lewis, sir, but the cigarettes were just lying there so I helped myself. If my father had caught me he would have thrashed me hard. He's an army man, you know, who believes in order, rules and discipline and all that sort of stuff and he has beaten both me and my younger brother on numerous occasions."

"So finally Tomlinson, we agree that you stole from your own father, but you still have not told me how many cigarettes you took. Come on, out with it boy; I want to know and I want an answer now."

Newton had been trembling in his metaphorical boots (both boys were in fact in their pyjamas as they were supposed to have been in bed when caught) as he listened to this inquisition. A very chastened Tomlinson finally said "Two packets, Ingram-Lewis, sir. But I have only smoked five so far so there are still about thirty-five cigarettes left."

"So, Tomlinson, far from conducting any medical experiment as you claimed, you are in fact a hardened smoker and and intended to smoke the lot. Frankly, Tomlinson, I am utterly astounded that you took two full packets from your father's stock and that he never noticed the loss. Well gentlemen, let us return to your dormitory when you, Tomlinson will hand over your remaining stock." 

The atmosphere in the dormitory among the other ten boys, all of whom were in bed but awake, was tense. They had all half overheard what had been said in the corridor and it was clear to everyone that Tomlinson and Newton were in trouble up to their necks.

Patrick adopted his sternest expression and said: "Now these two of your classmates here, have just been caught smoking in the linen room; and, as you all know, smoking is a very serious offence. Now, I wonder how many of you here also have cigarettes which you are hiding away. So, here is what is known as a deal; all of you who are hiding cigarettes have one minute from now to step forward and hand over your forbidden fags to me. And woe betide any boy who has cigarettes hidden away and does not now come forward, for later when it comes to light, which it inevitably will, then the wrath of god will descend upon him."

The atmosphere was tense; the silence was deafening; the boys looked around knowingly at each other, for whether guilty or not, everything was known to the entire dormitory. Then one boy stepped slowly forward and handed Patrick an unopened packet of cigarettes, knowing that in so doing he was going to get his arse beaten. He was followed shortly afterwards by three others who tipped up their illicit stocks. 

"Well gentlemen, if that is the sum total, then there are six of you who have broken a very serious rule of the school and six of you who are, to use the classical illusion, purer than Caesar's wife. Well the six of you cigarette hoarders know full well that you are to be punished, so each of you stand at the head of one of the six beds down this side of the room and wait there until I come back with a suitable cane with which to warm your backsides. Oh, Tomlinson and Newton you two will be at the end of the line up."

Patrick turned round and left the boys to their own devices whilst he went back to his study and selected a long flexible cane with which to deal with miscreants. He was himself quite looking forward to thrashing a series of six naked arses as he re-entered the dormitory, swishing the cane through the air to add a touch of drama to the whole proceedings. "Right, gentlemen, kindly drop your pyjama trousers, bend across the end of the bed where you are standing and present your naked bums for my attention." 

Patrick viewed the initial vista with inward delight; six sturdy sets of buttocks bent over, tightly stretched and just asking to be caned. He felt his cock already stirring as he went slowly along the row of waiting arses, giving each bum a slight tap with the cane, telling the odd boy to bed over further or to raise his arse higher into the air. He then walked to the first boy in the row, gave him a few gentle taps in the centre of his buns before suddenly bringing down the cane with a tremendous crack onto the boy's rump. There was an immediate howl of pain, for Patrick had really well and truly laid on the stroke. By any standards this was a serious beating which was being administered. Patrick paused for a few seconds and then moved on to the next boy in line and repeated the whole procedure with the same cries of pain as the cane landed smartly on naked flesh.

Slowly and methodically with great precision and force, Patrick completed his first pass before returning to the first boy who was now in tears with the pain of that first stroke. And methodically Patrick then gave each boy five more strokes, one at a time so that by the time he had finished the six lads had all had six very painful cuts of Patrick's cane across their arses. "Now, all of you pull up your pants and get back into bed."

By the time he had finished all the boys were weeping profusely, which was not at all surprising, for Patrick had the knack of getting the best out of every cane in his hand; he was a real crack, of that there was no doubt; his reputation as the hardest caner ever was assured. None of the boys had gone to bed that evening with any idea of the bloodbath that Tomlinson and Newton would bring upon them by their stupid act of smoking in the linen room. The two lads were decidedly unpopular that evening. But it was not yet over for Tomlinson and Newton. Patrick said: "I wish to see the two of you tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock in my study; that's three precisely and come in our gym strips." 

"But Ingram-Lewis, sir," protested Tomlinson, "You have just punished us. Surely you are not going to beat us again tomorrow?"

"As I said; three o'clock tomorrow afternoon in my study." And with that Patrick left and returned to his own study and bedroom. He was desperate to relieve the sexual tension which had built-up inside him as he had thrashed the six arses. By the time he had finished whacking the last arse, he was practically about to climax, a phenomenon that happened to many men, prefects and masters alike, when they beat a boy's naked arse. But he manage to control himself and get back to his study where intended to relieve himself in the time honoured way when a young man is alone. But he had no sooner entered his study, than a knock came at the door and his friend, sex partner, and lover, Roderick Pennington entered.

"Boy, am I glad to see you." said Patrick. "A friend in need is a friend indeed and what I most need right now is your friendly arse. If ever a guy need to fuck butt, well you are looking at him right now."

Roderick laughed, locked the door behind himself and started stripping off with no further questions. "I guessed you might be in a state of super arousal," he said, "As he prepared to offer his arse to his friend. I came by a little earlier, thinking that we might get together this evening, for I could do with a good fuck myself, but as I came around the corridor, I saw you beetling off towards the dorms. with a vicious looking cane in your hand. So I followed you up there to see you enter one of the second year dorms. Ever curious, I stood by the door and listed and realised that you were intent on thrashing a whole raft of arses, I don't know how many, but I heard that distinctive crack of the cane as it mated firmly with naked flesh and the howl of pain that it elicited from some lucky lad who had just received it. But it seemed to go on and on so I guessed you were having a bloodbath in there and I thought I would come back later when you had finished your labour of love, correcting those miserable specimens of humanity in the second year. What did they do?"




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 04



By this time Patrick had stripped off complete and was showing his rock hard cock to his pal Roderick. Nothing new in that as they had long been sex partners, but Roderick said: " Jesus, man, what the hell has got into you today? My god, I've never seen you looking so big in all the times we have fucked together. Listen Patrick, if you are proposing to stick that piece of meat up my arse right now, for crying out loud, lube it well up with some oil and give my hole a good dose too; you really look as though you would like to rip me apart; you are just so fucking horny, it is not true."

Patrick did as he was asked and then proceeded to give his partner a truly hard fuck, He pounded Roderick's arse as if there was to be no tomorrow and when he climaxed he shot out an unbelievable quantity of creamy cum. which seems to go on forever. When he had calmed down, he said Roderick: "You, my friend, have just saved my life. I was so aroused after thrashing six arses one after the other in the dorm. that I could hardly contain myself. My god, what an experience it was; I just got harder and harder as I worked my way through them; I could hardly stop myself cumming there and then, which is why I was in such a state when you arrived. My god, the sexual tension was enormous. To put you in the picture, I thrashed six of them for hiding cigarettes in the dorm. Old Godber is keen to stamp out smoking and so I felt I had to make an example of them; so I thrashed the naked arses of six of them in front of the other six in the dorm." 

"And, let me tell you it is not yet over completely, for tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to birch the two principal culprits: that serial offender Tomlinson and another lad called Newton. The thrashing they've all just had had was for concealing cigarettes, but tomorrow I'm going to birch tat pair for being caught smoking . They don't know exactly what they have in store tomorrow, so they are going to have a very uncomfortable night, both physically and mentally; but I reckon it's good some times to let boys stew in their own juice and come to terms with what they have done and what the punishment might be. Anyway, they both deserve a birching. So as old Godber wants me to make sure that I get some birching in, so that the boys all realise that it is still on the books, tomorrow afternoon I will kill two birds with one stone. Now, my friend, can I offer you the pleasure of my own hole, since you said you fancied a fuck?"

And the two young men spent a pleasant hour together, enjoying one another sexually. After the summer vacation which Patrick and Roderick had spent together at Ingram House, their physical relationship had gone far beyond an act of casual sex, that release of sexual tension so common in public schools. Aged eighteen, the two young g men were now serious lovers. What Mr., Godber would have said about that if he had known, we shall never find out, as the two boys were very discreet in their liaison. But Roderick, foot loose and fancy free, still messed around sexually with other schoolmates and Patrick warned him yet again to be careful, for if he was caught, then Godber would birch him and possibly expel him from the school. Patrick's worst fear was that Godber would expect him to carry out the punishment, for he had more or less abrogated wielding the cane himself since giving Patrick the power in loco domini. The last thing Patrick wanted to do was to be forced by Godber to thrash his lover. But what if it came to that? What could Patrick do? It was one of those awful thoughts which was always somewhere in the back of his mind. He could not escape from it. And so, that night after Roderick had gone off to his dorm. and Patrick was alone in bed, although sexually very satisfied, he could not escape from that feeling of uneasiness. Try as he might, he simply could not banish the thought from his mind.

CHAPTER 6 

The Sunday dawned and Patrick, between chapel and lunch, thought that he had better take a look at the punishment room and familiarise himself with the equipment there: equipment he was about to use on the odious Tomlinson and his partner in crime, Newton. Both boys knew that they were in for a further dose of punishment, but just what was going to happen to them they had no idea, as Patrick had never mentioned the birch.

The dreaded punishment room was a largish essentially empty room with one window looking onto the garden. In the centre stood the dreaded Rigby Horse, the birching stool, which some previous mid-nineteenth century Headmaster had had commissioned to be made especially for the school. The horse was a formidable piece of equipment on four stout legs, down the length of each of which was series of straps, designed to secure the suppliant's ankles and wrists so that he was held immobile whilst his arse was being roasted. Patrick had not entered the room or seen the horse since that awful day some three years ago when he himself had been made to ride the Rigby Horse and Mr Godber himself had birched his naked arse. The excruciating pain which the Headmaster had managed to inflict on him that day remained as vivid in his mind today as the day it had been inflicted. It had been the key factor in Patrick's earlier life, when he had been a young tearaway himself and the regular recipient of the cane, which had led him to reform his ways. Since that awful day, he had never again been subjected to any form of corporal punishment at Rigby in the intervening years. And now here he was, about to inflict the dreaded birch on two young boys: two boys who richly deserved it..

Anyone who has never had the very doubtful pleasure of being birched has no idea of the pain which a bunch of twigs can inflict on the buttocks of an errant boy. Unlike the cane, whose effect is immediately felt and seen in the form of a furrow-like welt on the naked flesh of the offender, the birch is a subtler form of punishment. The first two strokes do hurt, but are not terrribly painful. But as stroke follows stroke, the agony builds up until it becomes unbearable, which is the reason why the offender is always strapped down so that he cannot jump up and disrupt the process. And unlike the cane, whose path across the arse of the offender can be clearly seen, the birch, by its very nature, splays out covers a wider area. In fact, a well birched arse is left a fiery red colour, composed of hundreds of minute but painful flecks left by the twigs over its entire surface. The birch is the ultimate punishment and this is exactly what Patrick, encouraged by the Headmaster, was intending to visit on Tomlinson and Newton later that day.

Patrick looked at the horse with an inward feeling of anticipation but tinged with a touch of horror of what he intended to do; just looking at the apparatus already had an effect on his cock which was beginning to harden. The Rigby Horse had been designed for older boys, young men in all but name, so that when they were strapped in place, their arses were more or less horizontal, with their legs being held down the front legs of the horse, whilst their wrists were strapped to one of a series of cross bars which were to be found between the two back legs. As the basic horse was clearly too big for younger, smaller offenders, a set of two steps stood to hand; these fitted between the two front leg of the horse. Depending on the height of the unfortunate lad being birched, he was made to stand on one or other of the steps so that his arse conveniently fell in the desired place. So at Rigby, the birch descended more or less vertically onto the waiting pair of naked buttocks.

Patrick looked at the three maple birches, which Mr. Patterson had delivered to the punishment room. He had placed them, like bunches of flowers in the water buckets, with their cut ends in water so that they would remain supple for as long as possible. Patrick picked one up, shook off the little water remaining and swished it around, admiring the sound it made as he brought it smartly down through the air. Then, never having used a birch before, he decided to take it back to his study and have a few practice strokes on the arm of an easy chair, to make sure that when it came to the real event he was truly proficient. For good measure he also took the longer, let us call it, the senior birch along him to see if there was any noticeable difference between the two.There was no doubt at all that Patrick knew how to wield the cane to great effect; but he wanted to be absolutely sure of himself with this new implement. 

Back in his study, he gave his armchair a thorough thrashing. He saw how the twigs spread out and realised that with a few well placed strokes he could cover a boy's entire arse before going on to consolidate his work and produce that red, well roasted pair of red globes, the hallmark of a well birched pair of buttocks. There was also no doubt at all that the senior birch by virtue of its length was a superior instrument of punishment when compared with the smaller version of the instrument. All in all, Patrick thought that it all looked deliciously promising; a sense of achievement for him and the satisfaction of knowing that Tomlinson and Newton would have very, very painful arses for the several following days.

At the appointed hour of 3 pm, Tomlinson and Newton duly presented themselves at Patrick's study. Patrick sat, stony faced, behind his desk and made the two lads stand in front of him. As ever, Tomlinson began: "Ingram-Lewis sir, I don't think that it is fair that you have called us here today to beat us again. Look, you beat us in the dorm, the other evening so why should we two and not the other four be singled out now for special treatment?" Newton meanwhile kept silent, eyes focused on his feet. He clearly realised that they were both in a hole and he did not want to dig himself in any deeper, so he heartily wished that Tomlinson would shut up.

"My dear Tomlinson, what on earth gave you the mistaken idea that you are here to be beaten for a crime for which you have already paid the penalty. No Tomlinson, you and Newton along with your other classmates have already paid for that discretion. You were all beaten for possessing and concealing cigarettes, which is strictly against the school rules and attracts a mandatory beating. You two lads are here today because you were caught in the act of smoking your forbidden loot; and it is for that act you are going to be punished. And additionally,Tomlinson, you personally have something else to answer for: the fact that you pocketed, purloined, pilfered, appropriated, acquired - call it what you will - but the actual words is "stole"- not one, but two full packets of cigarettes from your father. Now that, Tomlinson, is a very serious matter indeed."

Tomlinson, who, as ever, merited full marks for trying, said: "But Ingram-Lewis sir, I was at home when I pilfered the cigarettes and not at school so that should be a matter between my father and me."

"Indeed, Tomlinson, that would be the case, were you at home and answering to your father for your actions. But the fact of the matter is that you are here at Rigby and the masters act "in loco parentis" whilst you are in their care. I presume that you understand what that means, Tomlinson; but to be absolutely sure, that you do, let me tell you that whilst you are at this school the masters and I as Head Boy in loco domini act in place of your parents. So, Tomlinson, you will answer to me for the theft of the cigarettes and I shall punish you accordingly. Now, you told me that your father would thrash you for the theft if he found out and that, Tomlinson, is exactly that I propose to do."

"Now, I do not propose to beat you two boys again, for I think that seriousness of your offences merits a more severe punishment than a simple caning of your naked backsides. You two young men are going to have the privilege of being the first boys this term to ride the Rigby Horse. So if you two gentlemen would follow me to the punishment room, we will get this affair settled once and for all."

Both Tomlinson and Newton were now trembling with fear at what was about to happen to them, but they could do nothing but follow Patrick as he led them to the punishment room and the dreaded Rigby Horse. Tomlinson, who could never be silent for long, said: "Ingram-Lewis sir, you don't mean that you are going to birch us sir, do you?"

"Tomlinson, you have hit the nail on the head; that is precisely what I am going to do to you. I am going to treat your naked arses to a good firm dose of the newest birches made by Mr. Patterson, the gardener just last week. He has tried them on out to great effect on his own two sons and tells me that since then he has had no more trouble from them. So, let us hope that after you have both enjoyed the percussive therapy of a fine birch rod across your arses, you will do likewise and tread the straight and narrow and stop misbehaving. I should tell you that Mr. Patterson has produced a splendid new version of our old friend, the time honoured birch rod; it is made of fine maple twigs and is, apparently, very effective."

Tomlinson and Newton eyed the Rugby Horse with undisguised horror as they stood there waiting. "Gentlemen, kindly step out of your gym shorts completely and you Newton mount the horse as I am going to deal with you first. Tomlinson, if you would be so kind at to assist Newton and attach his ankles and wrists to the horse by means the straps. Pull them tight so that Newton is firmly held, but make sure that he is comfortable, for his may take some time. Administering a good birching is akin to drinking a glass of fine wine: something to be savoured slowly so that the recipient has the time to appreciate the full effect of every stroke." 

Tomlinson did as he was told and the hapless Newton found himself firmly strapped to the horse, somewhat like a trussed chicken, his naked arse in the perfect position to receive the dreaded birch. "Now Tomlinson, stand over there against the wall, your hands on your head and do not move again until I tell you to do so." So Tomlinson stood there, wearing only in his gym vest, his lower body and his cock and balls totally naked. It was totally humiliating for him. Whilst boys saw each other naked in the showers on a daily basis it was not the same as having to stand there parading one's private parts to all and sundry,

Patrick selected one of the two smaller birches and prepared to beat Newton. He saw the six cuts of the cane he had given the lad the previous evening had now coloured up and were looking quite blue; he was pleased with his handiwork as the six cuts were evenly spaced. So he now intended to treat Newton to a good dose of the birch and leave him with a well roasted and painful backside. Patrick began by tapping Newton's arse gently all over before raising the birch high above his head to administering the first cut. Patrick felt his own cock hardening and a great shiver of of excitement coursed through his body as he brought down the birch with a resounding crack directly in the middle of Newton's arse.

As the blow landed with that satisfying sound of the birch mating with naked flesh, Newton took in a moaning breath, but nothing more. Remember this was the very first time Patrick had actually applied the birch to a boy's arse. He paused and inspected the result. He saw that the twigs had spread out widely and given a series of marks covering both of Newton's buns and some six inches wide. He waited a few seconds and then very deliberately gave Newton a second stroke, this time directed upwards towards Newton's back. Newton again let out a moan but no more. And so Patrick slowly continued, pausing between each stroke to allow Newton to appreciate the full impact of his punishment. He spaced the strokes so that the whole of Newton's arse was well and truly beaten. From the fourth stroke onwards, Newton started to howl with pain and after that his protests grew ever louder as the pain built up in that inexorable way associated only with the birch. By the time the twelfth stroke had been administered, Newton had been reduced to a weeping wreck. His arse was bright red and flecked with the traces of the twigs and the boy was obviously in excruciating pain.

As Tomlinson undid the straps Newton said: "Ingram-Lewis sir, that really hurt: really hurt a lot. It was a horrible experience; the most horrible experience of my life. I never ever want to see another cigarette as long as I live."

Patrick now said: "Come on Tomlinson! Jump to it; it's your turn now, so mount the horse and let me be seeing your arse, boy, for believe me that part of your anatomy is just crying out for corrective attention. Now, Newton, if you feel up to it, perhaps you would accord Tomlinson the same service as he did for you and fix the straps around his wrists and ankles. Tomlinson, you have chosen to pursue a persistent course of misdemeanour since your arrival at Rigby last year. Last year you were beaten lord only know how many times and at the end of the year, the Headmaster decided to birch you. Now here you are again at the beginning of a new term, your second year at Rigby and I have already beaten you twice and am now about to birch you."

"Well, Tomlinson let me tell you that I intend this to be the most painful encounter you have ever had with a rod of correction since your arrival at this school. You, Tomlinson will take the same twelve cuts as your friend Newton, which is specifically to punish you for smoking. However, in view of your appalling action in stealing from your father, I shall, in loco parentis, give you a further six cuts, but this time with the senior birch. Tomlinson it is my intention to send you away from here today, with the sorest arse imaginable. If I am successful, you, boy, will be unable to sit down comfortably for at least a week. I am quite sure that your father, Colonel Tomlinson, would fully approve of what is about to happen to you. Indeed, if he ever finds out about your thieving, he may well wish to give you another thrashing the next time he sees you.You, Tomlinson, need to take a serious look at yourself and mend your ways. Frankly, Tomlinson, you have all the makings of what in prison terms is known as an old lag. Take yourself in hand, now boy, before it is too late to reform." 

Patrick was by now totally sexually arouse with the proceedings and could hardy hold his cock in check inside his pants. But he treated Tomlinson to the most tremendous birching imaginable. The final six strokes with the senior cane were sort of the icing on the cake. Tomlinson hit the roof with his howls of pain as the birch descended time after time with tremendous force on his naked arse. When he finally got down from the horse, his backside was black and blue and raging with pain. Patrick wondered with the extraordinary resilience and resistance that Tomlinson showed at all times, whether he would ever reform or whether he was just a misdemeanour looking for somewhere to happen.

Patrick left the punishment room with his cock urgently in need of relief. He sought out his friend Roderick and together, locked in Patrick's study, they spent a wonderful hour together fucking each other. Patrick attacked Roderick's hole as if it was his last act on earth; he was just so very aroused by what he had just done. The homoerotic effects of administering corporal punishment should never be underestimated and it was obvious to Patrick that he was particularly susceptible to serious sexual arousal when he wielded the rod. The ever faithful Roderick supplied the soothing balm of anal sex to allow Patrick to relax and then Patrick reciprocated and allowed Roderick to fuck him. 

The two young men could have gone on and on, until Patrick remembered that he had to prepare for what had now become his regular Sunday evening port- sipping meeting with the Headmaster. True to his word to Mr. Godber, Patrick never ever mentioned the sexual service he rendered to the Headmaster, not even to Roderick. To all outward appearances it was a weekly working meeting between a retiring Headmaster and his all important Head Boy. Patrick had to admit to himself that, in spite of the total hypocrisy of the situation, he had become quite fond of old Mr. Godber and did not in the least mind servicing him. He assuaged his conscience, by persuading himself that their actions injured no one, so where was the harm?




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles



But Pennington still showed signs of resistance: "Come off it, Ingram-Lewis, you could just overlook..."

"Pennington, I shall count to three and if I don't see a naked arse waiting to be beaten by then, I shall take you to the Headmaster forthwith. Believe me, Pennington if that occurs, you will certainly get a birching. So, it's up to you. Decide!"

And that was how Patrick found himself gazing at a finely muscled rump, totally naked and just asking to be beaten and possibly fucked. He also noted that Pennington had a splendid cock which, freed from the encumbering underwear, and was hanging loosely between his legs. 

He picked up the cane from his desk, bent it practically completely double under Pennington's nose and said: "You know Pennington; you are a lucky lad tonight. You see this cane. It's brand new and of a special flexible quality reputed to be much more painful than the old rattan. The Headmaster has ordered several of them specially and has just today handed them out to the prefects. So, Pennington, as you can see, everyone has your best interests at heart. We all want to assure you that you are been give the very best available treatment. And in your case, it's a double first: look upon it as equivalent to being awarded the top Cambridge degree: the double first! I shall have the honour to be the first prefect to apply this cane and yours the first arse to feel its magic. So, Pennington, you should feel very privileged, very privileged indeed."

Pennington, of course, couldn't give a fuck about the uniqueness of the occasion. All that worried him right then was just now painful the beating was going to be. He soon found out. Patrick tapped Pennington's rump a few times, more or less on its equator as he tried to judge where to place the six strokes to maximum effect, the places to deliver the greatest pain to the awaiting arse. He delivered the first resounding cut more or less across the middle of Pennington's arse and was delighted to see that the new cane, with its enhanced flexibility, wrapped itself effectively right around Pennington's two splendid buns, where a wicked red welt rapidly appeared. It has to be remembered that prefects seldom moderated their strokes in the way a master often did, but went ahead and thrashed their target with the maximum force, a force just below the blood-drawing threshold. Yes, it was true; a prefect's beating was a usually awesome and painful occasion and one to be avoided.

Pennington let out a howl of pain. But then, who wouldn't have done the same? Patrick fished in his pocket and found an old cork which he had forgotten to give to Pennington to bite on to help him bear the pain quietly.

"Fucking hell, Ingram Lewis that was bloody painful. Couldn't you just moderate it a bit?"

"Pennington, when I beat a boy, I aim to leave him with an excruciatingly painful arse. I see no reason for half measure s. If a boy deserves beating, as you undoubtedly do, then maximum pain is the order of the day and that is exactly what I intend to treat your backside to. So, just bite on that cork and it will soon be over."

With that, Patrick proceeded to give the supplicant arse another five cuts, placing two towards the lower back and three on the lower buttocks near the top of the legs. This, the so-called "sit-upon-spot" was a favourite target by experience wielders of the cane, for it ensured that the recipient had difficulty in sitting down comfortably for quite some time. When he had finished, Pennington, eighteen years old or not, could not control his tears. His arse was absolutely incandescent with pain and one had to admit that Patrick was an ace with the cane.

"Fucking hell, Ingram Lewis, That was the most painful experience I have ever had in my entire school career. It was twice as bad as anything I have ever had from the Headmaster, who always gives twelve cuts bare. But Jesus Christ man, you have really roasted my buns. How the hell am I ever going to sit down again? I don't think you have any idea of the pain: it's bloody awful." Pennington had not yet pulled himself upright from the chair. He could hardly bear move his arse: it was just so painful.

"Well. Pennington, I just did my duty. Whenever I cane a boy, I make him appreciate what punishment is all about. I see no point at all in giving just a few light taps. So, now you know: it's always full steam ahead with me. Anyway, Pennington, you'll soon recover and I hope there are no hard feelings; I've nothing against you personally, and you took our beating very well."

Patrick now noticed that Pennington's cock had hardened during the beating and was dripping drops of pre-cum onto the floor. His own large cock was already fighting to get out of his trousers, for all beatings always aroused Patrick.

Changing the tone of his voice, now that the punishment was over, he said: "Listen Roderick, I know you're in absolute agony. But you have to understand that that is the name of the game. There is no point in beating a guy unless it really hurts. He has to realise that pain is the retribution he has to suffer. I know exactly how you feel as I've lived through it countless times myself. So listen, if you like, I'll I could try and help you ease the pain, with little light massage."

"So that's what that bottle of oil is for: to help me ease my pain. Well, OK, Patrick if you think it will help, go ahead. How do you want me? Should I stay where I am?"

And that was how the first step was taken, to what was to become a very pleasant evening for both young men. Both Roderick and Patrick knew full well what was going to happen but neither of them actually put it into words; not yet in any case. Patrick opened the oil and poured a liberal quantity into the chasm separating Roderick's two flaming buns. He then began very gently massaging the soothing oil into the raw flesh, his fingers probing ever more deeply until they reached that all important point: Roderick's anus. He paused and waited a few moments until Roderick told him to go on.

"Listen, Patrick, if you're going to do it, for Christ's sake get on with it. Go on; shaft me, for that's what you want to do isn't it?"

"I don't want to do anything which you do not want to do, Roderick." said Patrick as he stepped out of his own trousers and underwear, freeing is rock-hard tool, already dripping with pre-cum from its confinement.

"Oh for crying out loud, Patrick, stop acting like an old woman. Get on with it. Stick it to me and give my hole a good pounding, for that's what we both want. Just let's stop pussy-footing about. Just give me a real good fuck."

Patrick did exactly that. When he finally climaxed in a huge orgasm, both he and Roderick let out moans of pleasure. "My god, Patrick, you're as good with our cock as you are with the cane. You really are a true pro. with both."

"Ah, my friend, there's no substitute for experience and I've had plenty at both. Glad you enjoyed the fuck, though. It gave me more pleasure than thrashing hour arse. Now, how about a fag? I really need a smoke to cal my nerves."

"You don't mean that we are now going to have a drag, here and now do you? Fucking hell man, you've just beaten me to pulp for smoking and now you propose that we so the same."

"My dear, Roderick, let's be quite clear about something. I didn't punish you for smoking; I punished you because I caught you smoking and as a prefect I had no option but to beat you; I had to do my duty. As I told you, your mistake was to allow yourself to be caught by a prefect. Anyone of my co-prefects would have done the same. Now, do you or do you not want a fag?"

"Yes I do. You know full well I do. But what the hell happens if someone catches us smoking in here, half naked?"

"Well, we'll probably both be birched. But fear not, O ye of little faith, no one is going to catch us. So let's enjoy a drag and then if you feel up to it, not too weak I mean, you might like to consider a return bout. You have a really nice cock, Roderick, and you know my own arse does feel very neglected given all the attention yours has been getting recently,"

Needled by these provocative remarks, which, of course had been Patrick's intention, Roderick duped in feet first: "What the fuck do you mean by saying if I do not feel up to it? Let me tell you that I am quite capable of nailing our arse to the ground and that is precisely what I am going to do."

Patrick walked laughingly across to the half naked Roderick; pulled of his shirt and then his own and the two muscular, young studs stood there, face to face, cocks rock-hard, waiting for each other to move. Suddenly Roderick realised that he had been sent up and started to laugh: "OK stud. How do you want it? Anyway is good for me. I reckon that when it comes to fucking arse, I'm at least your equal and quite possibly your better."

"I really hope so; my hole is crying out to be fucked. So just go ahead and prove it to me." And with that, Patrick went over to the couch, lay on his back, opened his legs to welcome Roderick's cock and waited.

And thus began an hour or so of more or less continuous copulation as the two boys enjoyed each other's bodies. It was a truly joyous coupling and the two lads finally left to go to their respective beds, firm friends. And it was true, Roderick proved himself one hell of a stud: an excellent all-round cocksman.

They were a well matched pair.

The above little vignette gives the reader a good idea of how Patrick's final year at Rigby panned out. Basically, to sum up Patrick's philosophy rather crudely, it was very much flog 'em and then fuck 'em if they are old enough. In fact Patrick really only liked boys of his own age or a year or so older, so only the final year boys at Rigby experienced the largesse of Patrick's undoubted prowess at arse reaming. And although Patrick himself was not alone to practise anal intercourse, he was its undoubted king. Fucking and flogging were to remain permanently two key activities in Patrick's life and his taste for both male and female companions continued until the day he died.

It is worth noting that Roderick Pennington was a typical example of a straight boy who indulged in buggery whilst at school. When he left, he went on to university, where he did well and thence into industry, where he became chairman of a major manufacturing company and eventually was awarded a knighthood. Sir Roderick Pennington married and had three children. He was a prime example of the reason why most public schools tolerated buggery among the older boys. His career bore out the assertion that most boys were not homosexual and that once out of school and in mixed society, they would drop the habit of fucking other men, marry and lead a normal life. 

But coming back to Patrick Ingram-Lewis, he left Rigby and enrolled in a Royal Navy officer cadet training course with a view to joining the Royal Navy as a commissioned officer. The course was somewhat of a shock, like standing under a shower of ice-cold water, for having been a beater himself at Rigby, he now found himself, as a young trainee officer cadet, being beaten by his instructors. But after two years he emerged as a young commissioned officer with the rank of lieutenant, with the reputation among his fellow cadets of having a hyperactive cock, whose largesse was enjoyed by both his male comrades and his female conquests in town. Yes, Patrick Ingram-Lewis was a bit of a lad, to say the very least, which brings us to the conception, birth and the early life of his only son, Cedric Oliver, Ingram-Lewis, who in case you had forgotten was, at the beginning of this story to be found stretched across a chair waiting for that Sword of Damocles in the form of Headmaster, Mr Inkpen's cane to warm his virgin arse.

Patrick Ingram-Lewis had been left without a father at a fairly early age and his mother, Mrs Mildred Ingram-Lewis, born Mildred Agnes Crosby-Aston, lived alone in the Ingram-Lewis family pile, Ingram House, near Hexham. The Parker-Astons had also been in coalmining and were considered the crème de la crème of the mining dynasties. So the marriage uniting the double barrelled Ingram-Lewis's with the double barrelled Parker-Astons created what Mrs Ingram-Lewis, as Mildred now became, the premier family in the region. That is, anyway, the way that Mildred saw it. Mildred Ingram-Lewis lived in isolated grandeur surrounded by servants and rarely saw her only child, Patrick, who, in the tradition of the upper classes, had been shipped off to boarding school at the tender age of eight, and saw his mother only during the school holidays, when his presence even then was somewhat of a bore, for he interfered with his mother's social life.

When he graduated as a lieutenant from his naval training, all of which had been conducted down in Devon in the south of the country, just about as far from his home territory as he could get, he spent three months at home in Hexham, before bis first posting at sea. This was about the longest period in his life he had ever had to put up with his mother and she with him. To say that they did not to see eye to eye was to put it very mildly. But as head of the family and owner of the family estate, Patrick did exactly as he pleased, whilst his mother looked on in disapproving silence.

To a young and sexually active naval officer like Patrick, the delights of Hexam were distinctly limited. So he took to going into Newcastle to find some congenial company, either male of female, on whom he could exercise his considerable sexual attributes. Among those who fell prey to Patrick's sexual advances was one, Beryl Cherith Penge. I ask you, what a name to be lumbered with. But Beryl was an attractive girl, indeed very attractive, had a nice figure and Patrick found her irresistible. In fact it was not clear who found whom more irresistible, for Beryl did not need much encouragement. Well, to cut a long story short, the outcome of their frequent coupling was the Patricks son, Cedric Oliver, heir to the Ingram-Lewis fortune.

Beryl's father had been an underground miner in one of the pits just north of Newcastle, but he and his wife and, of course, Beryl, now ran a seaside boarding house in the nearby resort of Whitley Bay. For those of you unfamiliar with the north east coast of England near Newcastle, let me tell you that it is one of the most dismally unattractive stretches of coast in the country, looking out as it does onto the grey, cold North Sea. How this place managed to drag itself up by its bootstraps and become a holiday destination beats me: but it did! Anyway, thanks to his inability to control his own cock, Patrick now found himself with a pregnant woman on his hands; moreover a woman from a totally different class to himself. And that, in the early part of the century was a very serious matter. People were very class conscious in Britain. They still are, but not the way they were back then. Then there was a place for everyone and everyone knew his place and Beryl and Patrick did not come from the same place and they both knew it.

But in the foolishness of youth, Patrick convinced himself that he was in love with Beryl and "did the right thing by her", which is to say she became his wife and in the fullness of time the mother of our "hero" Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis, the heir to the Ingram- Lewis estate and fortune. The ink on the marriage certificate was barely dry, before Patrick realised that he had made a monumental mistake. Apart from sex, which both he and Beryl enjoyed together enormously, the two of them had nothing whatsoever in common. Indeed they almost spoke a different language. 

Patrick's mother was appalled at the marriage and nearly had an apoplectic fit when he installed his wife as mistress of Ingram House, which was, of course, his, and then took off to sea, leaving mother and grandmother to tend to baby Cedric Oliver's needs. The only good thing about the whole affair was that there was plenty of money and so the two women did not have to stint themselves. But it was the abundance of cash which was the ultimate problem leading to diametrically opposed views as to how the child should be brought up. The elder Mrs Ingram Lewis and her daughter, Beryl, whose name she could barely bring herself to utter out loud, had diametrically opposed views on how the child should be brought up. Patrick's mother, as befitted someone of her class, wanted to engage a nanny and then pack Cedric Oliver off to a preparatory school as soon as possible, whereas his working class mother wanted to raise her child herself. And so there was a constant battle between the two women, always civil, but rarely amiable.

At the end the day, a nanny was engaged, but Beryl was never far away and she and the nanny, as you might well imagine, did not see eye to eye, for who was controlling the child? And nannies, of course, although being basically from the working class (upper working class!), considered themselves a cut above the rest and to have to answer to a mistress who was from the same class as herself was a bitter pill for a nanny to swallow. So there was friction between the women, for the nanny thought that she was in control, whereas Beryl, who understood as much about the art of nannying as she did about flying to the moon, knew that, at the end of the day, it was she who had the final word. So, yes, there was friction: considerable friction. But as Cedric Oliver grew older, a private male tutor was engaged and the boy received the doubtful benefit of an education at home, totally divorced from the realities of life. Moreover, as Beryl was highly protective of her only child, Oliver was totally spoiled and did as he wished. He became a wilful young miscreant, but one who was never punished. And so, as you might well image, when he was finally shipped off, aged eleven, to the Rigby Court Preparatory School, he was totally unacquainted with the harsh realities of the life at an upper class school into which he was now thrown. It was like being dumped into a bath of cold water, as he no longer had his mother to protect him.

Oliver barely knew his father, who spent most of his working days aboard his ship as a commissioned office of the Royal Navy and, quite frankly, what he did know of him, he did not particularly like. He saw him only on the rare occasions when he came up north on leave and there was not much of the father-son relationship between them. And with the 1914-1918 war when his father was more or less on active service the whole time, the rare visits became even rarer. However, in 1919, when Oliver reached the age of ten, Commander Ingram-Lewis as he had by then become, finally put his foot down and told Beryl that as of next year, their son would be enrolled in the Rigby Court Preparatory School to prepare him for entry at age thirteen into Rigby School. There was no longer any further question of his education being left in the hands of an ineffective private tutor. Oliver would enjoy the rigours of the English Public school system and would be brought up as an English gentleman: what had been good enough for his father would be good enough for him. And so, we join Oliver, aged eleven, on his first day at Rigby Court School and already, so to speak, in deep water and sinking fast. He was about to "enjoy" his first day at school!

The Headmaster, Mr Inkpen, had had a totally unsatisfactory summer break. He had gone off on a holiday with a friend of similar sexual persuasion to himself with whom, in the past he had enjoyed a good physical relationship. They had taken a cottage together in the Lake District and Gee-Gee had been looking forward to two weeks of active copulation. But, alas, his friend had commenced to have doubts about his own true sexuality. It turned out that he had met a girl whom he was rather keen on, who had captured his heart, as a result of which he was questioning himself about his own sexuality. He was in that awful, uncertain phase of asking himself: "Am I or am I not?" So what had been envisaged as a period of uninhibited fucking turned out to be two weeks of interminable, soul-searching conversation between the two men. Had anyone recorded it, it would have made a great basis for one of those dreary novels written by the "break-through" writers. You know the sort; the ones no one actually reads, except for the critics who were sent a free copy of the book by the publisher and who then acclaim them before they disappear into oblivion. The two weeks, during which it rained more or less incessantly (a key feature of the Lake District, by the way) ended with their being no conclusion and the Gee-Gee's friend left still searching his soul, wondering what he should do. Gee-Gee, meanwhile left and went back to the school where he lived, feeling utterly frustrated. It would be fare to say that at that time, Gee-Gee's heart was not overflowing with the milk of human kindness. In the modern vernacular, he was pissed off!




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles



Back at school, Gee-Gee busied himself with preparing for the new school year. In particular in perusing the school supplier's catalogue, he came across a highly recommended new cane, made from a different species of bamboo, which was claimed to be more flexible, heavier size for size than the normal rattans and capable of delivering a really stinging experience to an errant backside. He promptly ordered half a dozen as a sort of compensation prize for his abortive holiday and he felt a lot better just at the thought of what it would be like to thrash some errant lads' arse with one. And when they arrived he found that they truly were different, which made his spirits soar. Unlike the normal school canes they were straight with no bent handle, but were supplied with a well made wooden handle into which a cane could be fitted, giving its wielder a good firm grip. The new can was also very flexible and could be bent virtually into a full circle: it was a very promising implement and Gee-Gee, who as you already know, was a great believer in corporal punishment, could hardly wait to try out his latest acquisition on an actual arse. And you can guess already whose arse was going to be accorded that privilege. 

The great breakthrough in Gee-Gee's monotony came late in the day on of the very first day of term. He was sitting in his study reading through the files of the new boys when his bell rang. He pressed the "enter" sign; the door opened and a tallish boy, clearly one of the new entrants that term, for he did not recognise him, entered. He was holding in his hand a punishment slip. Here a word of explanation is needed. In the lower school where boys aged eight to ten were taught, the masters were allowed to administer corporal punishment to the boys directly with a light cane applied across the trousers covering the miscreant's buttocks. However, in the upper school, where our little drama is unfolding, only the Headmaster in the form of Mr Inkpen wielded the cane, a task he did with great vigour and considerable relish. And here the dreaded cane was always applied to a boy's naked arse; bare bum caning as the boy's called it. 

Any master wishing to punish a boy, filled out a small punishment slip, which the unfortunate recipient had to take to the Headmaster's study at the end of each day, before evening preparation, (that's the boarding school equivalent of homework, by the way) when under the "strike whilst the iron is hot" maxim, the boy in question had his arse well and truly roasted by the Headmaster. It was, for Gee-Gee, one of the highlights of his daily routine, for there was nothing which gave him greater satisfaction than beating a boy's butt. He thought of it as "correcting" the errant recipient, but it was a task which he truly enjoyed: one which gave him a certain sexual high. But he was somewhat surprised to see a candidate for his cane present himself at the end of the very first day of term and an unknown new boy to boot.

Gee-Gee looked balefully at the boy, bade him stand in front of his desk, put his hand out to take the punishment slip and said: "And who might you be, young man? I don't seem to have had the pleasure of your acquaintance."

"I'm a new boy today, sir, Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis, sir."

"Oh yes, Ingram-Lewis, I've just been reading your file. It's right here on my desk as a matter of fact. Now, why are you here this evening on your very first day a school presenting me with a punishment slip? You do know what this slip of paper means, I presume? In case you are in any doubt, Ingram -Lewis, it minas that the master who gave it to you thinks that you deserve to be punished for some misdemeanour committed in his presence. You do know that I suppose, don't you? Well, boy, let me see what he slip says and who gave it to you."

Gee-Gee carefully read what was before him, leaving Oliver standing there trembling, wondering what was going to happen next; he was soon to find out. He had already been told by several of his new classmates, who had come up through the junior ranks and were already familiar with the ways of the school what would very likely happen to him.

"I see Ingram Lewis, that this punishments slip was given to you this morning, your very first morning in this establishment and indeed in your very first class, by Mr Turner who was endeavouring to familiarise you with certain elementary facts of mathematics. He says you refused to do the work, Indeed, he says that you finally tore a page out of your exercise book. Moreover you were insulting to him. Let me tell you here and now Ingram-Lewis that such behaviour is not and never will be tolerated in this school and Mr Turner was quite right to refer you to me for punishment. Are you aware of how I punish miscreant boys like you Ingram- Lewis? Probably not, I suspect, so let me explain to you what happens to boys who cross this threshold with a punishment slip; I beat their bottoms with a cane and let me tell you when I beat a boy, I beat him hard so that he knows that has been beaten. Make no mistake, young man; he leaves here with a very, very painful bottom."

"Oh please sir, don't beat me. I don't want to be beaten. In fact, sir, I don't think that I could stand being beaten and, sir, I don't think my father would approve either. And anyway, sir, it is my first day, and I am a new boy and I think that you could let me off, just this once and I will promise to be good in future and not do it again"

And so he babbled on, but all these entreaties fell on stony ground, for Gee-Gee could well have inscribed the legend from Dante's Inferno above the door: "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." No boy, arriving with a punishment slip, ever left Gee-Gee's study without a sore arse. 

"Allow me to dissuade you, Ingram Lewis, from the mistaken impression you clearly have of your father's thoughts on this matter, for I have a here, in your file, a letter from him. Just listen to what he says."

"My son, Cedric Oliver, has been mollycoddled all his life up to now by his mother and grandmother and educated at home by a private tutor, which in my view has been a great mistake. The three of them allowed my son to run wild in a discipline free environment, whilst I myself was away on active service in the Royal Navy. I blame myself for having allowed his mother and grandmother to persuade me that a private education was best, which, viewing the results to date, is clearly not the case. As such you may well find that it will be difficult to make him toe the line when he arrives at Rigby Court, so do not hesitate to give him a sound thrashing, indeed, possibly several sound thrashings, to bring him into the real world. I am myself of the opinion that a sore backside never harmed a boy, so do not hold back if you feel it is necessary; just give him a good hard beating. As you are aware, I am myself an old boy of both Rigby Court and Rigby School itself and I know that both establishments maintain rigorous discipline in the old fashioned way, which has my entire approval. So, Headmaster, if needs be, take a cane to my son and knock some sense into him. You have my complete confidence and blessing in your task."

"So, Master Ingram-Lewis, what do you have to say to that? Ingram-Lewis, when a boy enters my study with a punishment slip, then he is always, I repeat, always, beaten immediately. You are no doubt familiar with the saying: "Strike whilst the iron is hot." Well, Ingram-Lewis, that is a saying which I take very much to heart, which is why any boy handed a punishment slip during the day has to see me that same day, immediately after the last class, when I administer the punishment. And the punishment, as I have already told you, is a beaten bottom. As for letting you off as you are a new boy, that is out of the question. If a boy, you in this instance, oversteps the mark, then he is punished, no matter how long he has been in the school. I am a great believer in another saying: "Give a boy and inch and he will take a mile." And so, Ingram-Lewis, I never, ever let any boy, and that includes a first day boy such as yourself, take that first inch. So, Ingram-Lewis now that we have got all that cleared up, I suggest you step up to that chair, drop our trousers and underwear, bend across the back of the chair and present your buttocks to me for punishment."

"Oh, please sir you're not going to beat my bare bum, are you? I don't think that I could stand it sir, Please, sir, have a heart. You know sir, I have never been caned before and I don't want to be caned now, sir."

"Ingram-Lewis, I do have a heart; but frankly, the way you are going on is making it feel very stony at the moment: very stony indeed. So, be a good lad and do as I say; drop your trousers and underpants and bend across that chair. And yes, Ingram-Lewis, I am going to beat your bare bum, as you so picturesquely put it. In this school I beat a boy's backside, not his trousers. Now Ingram-Lewis; for the very last time; pants and underpants down and over that chair as I have now told you several times. Just do it, lad, there is no way out. And, Ingram-Lewis, to stop you bleating on anymore, I can tell you that it will hurt; in fact it will hurt a lot, for that Ingram-Lewis is the object of the exercise. And as for it being your first time; well there has to be a first time for everything and today is the first time that your backside is going to feel the tonic effects of the cane. In fact Ingram-Lewis we are about to celebrate, for it's going to be your first caning, on your first days at school, on the first day of the new school year, with a brand new cane which I shall apply for the first time to your buttocks. And you will be the first boy to be caned this year. So, there you are, Ingram- Lewis, this truly is a very special occasion."

Poor Oliver, although I am not sure that we should call him that, as he clearly was a handful to manage, finally obeyed, dropped his pants and underwear and we find him as described at the beginning of this story, with his bare arse being gently tapped by the cane wielded by the Headmaster. Now Gee-Gee always savoured the moment he was about to thrash a boy's arse, which as we have mentioned already, was his favourite pastime. Looking at Ingram-Lewis's lusciously inviting posterior, it suddenly occurred to Gee-Gee that although the boy was only eleven, he was big for his age and could probably take the senior cane. So he stopped for a moment to choose a more potent implement with which to give Ingram-Lewis's arse its maiden trashing.

Finally the moment of truth arrived and the first stroke of the cane landed across the middle of Ingram-Lewis's buns. The boy let out a howl at the pain, for never had he realised just how painful the cane could be. And Gee-Gee was truly an expert at judging just how far he could go; how hard a blow he could deliver. He believed in caning every boy to the limit of his endurance and always tried to apply the maximum force, which would be excruciatingly painful, but which would never break the skin. There was never any blood when Gee-Gee wielded the cane, but no one could have delivered more pain than he did.

He paused between each stroke to allow Oliver to appreciate fully the effect of each individual cut and although Oliver implored him to stop, the strokes went on and on, evenly distribute in parallel stripes across both buns, so that by the twelfth stroke his arse was a neat picture of parallel stripes distributed across its entire surface. The pain was unbearable, yet had to be endured and the poor boy wept copiously. But then, given the expert beating he had just had, would any other boy have behaved differently?

The Headmaster helped Oliver up from the chair and said: "Well, Ingram-Lewis, for a first time you took that very well, very well indeed and I hope that you now know just how we deal with naughty boys as this school and what a painful experience awaits any boy who presents a punishment slip to me. I have been lenient with you today and I hope that I shall not have occasion to see you again this term."

If that was lenient, one asks oneself what a severe beating would have been like. But we have to remember that in the early part of the century, things were much harsher than they are today and Rigby Court was not alone in dispensing the sort of beating that Oliver had just undergone. One might have thought in view of the excruciating pain he had endured, that our friend Ingram-Lewis would have learned his lesson and mended his ways. But no! He was one of those boys who could not keep out of trouble and for the rest of the term he was a regular visitor to Headmaster's study, where like so many more before and after him he was regularly beaten. But he had not counted on what was to happen to him the end of the term, just before the school broke up for the long Christmas vacation.

It was three days before the end of term. The boys would leave for two weeks holiday at the end of the week. At the assembly that day, after the usual hymn prayers and daily announcements, the Headmaster paused and said: "I would like to see the following three boys in my study, after supper this evening and he announced three names, among which was Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis's. Eight o'clock sharp boys and I suggest that you wear your gym kit - no underwear necessary. You three young gentlemen (very ominous indeed!) and I have some very important unfinished business to attend to."

Well, you can imagine the feeling of panic which this announcement engendered in the three boys. The three were not at all friends and did nothing together. One was Duncan Phyphe, a Scot in his final year before moving on to Rigby school; the other, David Fairclough, was in his second year and our friend, Oliver was the youngest, just ending the first term of his first year. None of the three had any idea why they had been summoned but judging by the clothing they had been told to wear, it looked horribly like a beating was coming. But why? What had they done? And why these three? As you can well imagine all three spent a very uncomfortable and mentally unsettled day in their classes wondering what the evening had in store for them.

Eight o'clock saw them standing in front of the door of the Headmaster's study. The door was suddenly flung open and a severe faced Mr Inkpen beckoned them inside.

"You will, I am sure, all be wondering why I have brought you here tonight and I am equally sure that you are each saying to yourself that you have done nothing to merit punishment so why am I here in my gym strip. Well, gentlemen (always ominous) I will tell you why the three of you are here tonight. Each of you has been, in the course of his autumn term, a constant source of annoyance to your various masters, who have sent each of you to me for a beating a frequent number of times. You Phyphe, I have beaten no less than six times this term; you Fairclough, seven times and you, Ingram Lewis, the new boy, no less than eight times have I had to beat your naked buttocks in this very room. It is clear that you three boys are incapable of obeying the rules and are perpetually bent upon sowing disorder. I have therefore decided that the three of you each needs to be taught a very painful lesson and you are here this evening to be taught that very lessons: I am going to birch each of you. You Phyphe will receive ten strokes, you Fairclough, twelve and you Ingram-Lewis will suffer no less than fifteen strokes of the birch, as you are without doubt the most disruptive boy I have ever experienced. Look upon this beating as a final effort by me to make the three of you toe the line. So, all three of you: gym shoes and socks off and step out of your gym shorts. I want the three of you bare buttocks standing in line against that wall, with your hands on your heads."

The three boys gulped when they heard what was to happen to them. None of them had ever been birched before and they did not even know that the Headmaster had a birch rod. All was now revealed however, for opening off the Headmaster's study was a room into which no one had ever been until then. The door was now opened to reveal a largish room empty apart from what was clearly a professionally made birching horse, with straps to hold ankles and wrists in place on the frame, thereby immobilising the unfortunate recipient. On the side stood three buckets with the birch rods soaking in water. The three boys were totally petrified at this awful sight and could barely believe what they were about to undergo.

"I'll deal with you first, Phyphe," said the Headmaster. "Step over to the horse. It's known as riding the pony by the way, so you are to be the first to take a ride!" Phyphe moved slowly towards the horrible contraption until the Headmaster suddenly said: "Smart about it Phyphe; I've not got all night. Now, you Fairclough; show willing and just buckle the straps on to your miscreant friend's wrists and ankles and step aside. He'll do the same for you in a few minutes."

Once immobilised, Phyphe could do nothing but wait for the onslaught, which he knew was about to come. The Headmaster picked up one of the birch rods, an implement made of a number of twigs bound together to form a handle, shook of the water and then gently tapped the rod against Phyphe's arse. Phyphe trembled with fear as he waited for the first stroke, which came with a sudden swish and covered a good part of his buttocks as the twigs spread out. The first stroke was not so painful but as stroke followed stroke, each administered with maximum force by the Headmaster, the pain built up until it was totally unbearable; but unbearable though it was, the boy had to bear it. Finally, with his arse totally inflamed by the birch, the Headmaster undid the straps and told Phyphe to go and stand against the wall with his hands on his head and not to touch his ragingly painful arse.

"You next, Fairclough; fix the straps Ingram-Lewis and then go and stand by Phyphe and wait your turn." And so the three boys were very soundly birched. If anyone had told them that it was worse than the canings they had received during the term, they could have hardly believed it possible: but it was. Indeed it was easily the most painful thing that had ever happen to the three boys. How they slept that night, do not ask, for their arses were raging with pain. In fact some connoisseurs of the implements of corporal punishment rank the birch, which is always applied to the naked arse, as being worse than the dreaded cat of nine tails, once beloved by, but now banned from use, in the navy. 

So could Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis look forward to a pleasant Christmas at home? Well, I wish I could say that he could, but he was fated to misfortune. He arrived back at Ingram House just before Christmas to find his father, Commander Patrick Ingram-Lewis home for the holidays. Now most boys would have been overjoyed to see their father who was so rarely at home, but not so Cedric Oliver, for he had never really liked his father whom he really barely knew and found him a formidably frightening figure. Cedric Olive had been at home for two days and it was December 23rd, approaching that "Time of good will and good cheer" but also, in the words of the ditty, "The time that turkeys fear." Well, Cedric Oliver was not exactly a turkey, but he had the same misgivings and felt totally ill at ease at home with his father around.

That morning a letter arrived by the first post, was opened and read by the Commander, who with a face as black as thunder, said to his son: "This is a letter from the Headmaster of your school recounting your appalling behaviour throughout the term. I thought that they would knock some sense and decency into you at Rigby Court, but evidently I was wrong. I will see you in my study this evening immediately after dinner and you and I will have a little chat. It really is time that you and I had a very serious talk, Cedric."




The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles



Now the Commander's study was not really a study at all. He was so rarely at home that he did not need a study, but this place was his private room in which he could shut himself away from the nuisances of his wife and mother when at home. So although it contained a huge mahogany desk, this was largely empty and the rest of the furniture was of leather armchairs and a leather sofa, all very redolent of a gentlemen's club. In fact it was the Commander's private smoking room. After dinner that evening, Cedric Oliver entered, very hesitantly, his father's private domain. Lying on the desk was a very heavy leather razor strop, with a large handle. This was already a very inauspicious start to the "serious talk" which his father had mentioned. The way his father welcomed him into the room and the tone of his father's voice did nothing to dispel his fears.

"Come in, boy, (Boy! Not Cedric or son). Sit down over there, whilst you are still able. I have here a report from your Headmaster and I have to tell you that it makes depressing reading. It seems that you have adopted an attitude that you can do at school exactly as you wish. You have been continuously disruptive in class and in spite of several beatings the Headmaster felt that he had to birch you the other day because of your persistent unfortunate behaviour throughout the entire term. This is not the sort of behaviour I expect from my son. What have you to say for yourself?"

Poor Oliver did not know how to answer his father. He knew he had a high annoyance quotient at school and had come to accept that when he was thrashed, as he frequently was, he merited it. But he had no idea what to say to his father.

"For a boy who is so disruptive at school you seem to have little to say for yourself today, Cedric. I have to say that I blame myself for what has happened, for I allowed your mother and grandmother to talk me into a private education here at home when you should have been sent to prep. school much earlier. But, young man, there is no way that a son of mine behaves the way you have clearly done this last term. It has to stop. I am appalled by the number of beatings which Headmaster has felt compelled to give you to try to make you toe the line. However he has clearly failed to inculcate into you a sense of decency and responsibility and I therefore propose to attempt to achieve that goal myself today."

Cedric's heart sank at these words, for he realised now that the instrument of inculcation was the razor strap and that his father was going to beat him and that there was nothing at all he could do to avoid it. He watched with horror as his father reached for the strap: a viciously painful piece of equipment when used for the purpose which his father clearly had in mind.

"Stand up Cedric, drop our trousers and underpants and kneel on the sofa there, leaning over the arm. Hold your buttocks up high so that I can see what I am doing."

Although he knew he was pleading a lost cause, Cedric tried nevertheless to escape from the inevitable: "Please father, please don't beat me again. I was birched just two days ago and my bum is still very sore."

"Your bum, as you put it, is going to be a lot sorer in a few minutes, when I have finished with you, my lad Now, do as I said; drop your pants and underpants and over the arm of the sofa. I want a nice bare arse to beat."

"Oh father, please..."

"Pants and underpants down, boy, and over the sofa. Let me see your bare arse, boy and be quick about it!"

Cedric finally obeyed and waited, trembling, for the first stroke of that awful strap his father was wielding.

"The Headmaster seems to have done a good job recently on your backside, Cedric." said the Commander as he inspected his son's backside. "A few really well placed stripes from a recent caning and a good overall dispersal of the birching. I can see that a good thrashing with the belt will be an excellent means of consolidating your end of term punishment. Now, keep quite still until I have finished and keep your hands out of the way. I am going to give you twenty-four strokes of the strop, which I hope will finally bring home to you the seriousness of your situation. But just let me tell you that if you continue on your present path, I shall have no compunction in beating you again: none whatsoever!"

And so ended, very painfully, Cedric Oliver Ingram-Lewis's first term at school. The razor strop was excruciatingly painful; as bad as the birch or so it seemed, and poor Cedric howled and wept as he begged his father to stop. But it was all to no avail, for the Commander, as we all know, took great satisfaction in administering corporal punishment and the fact that the target today was his own son's arse was of no consideration. The Commander was administering punishment where he thought it was due and it never even crossed his mind that what he was doing was excessive. So Cedric had a rather uncomfortable few days over Christmas. His first term at school had been a baptism of fire.

THE END