The Head Boy's Fag Ch. 01

With this, Mottram indicated to the boy, who was by now, in spite of his age, in tears, to get from the chair and dress himself. He indicated to his victim that he should replace the chair against the wall and hang the cane again on hook on door. He then shook hands with a very tearful boy, who, knowing the required form said: "Thank you Mottram, for correcting me." and then left.

This unexpected bloodbath completely unnerved Lattymer-Smith who now was standing in front of Mottram's desk behind which the Head Boy, his coat now replaced, was formally sitting. The room was neat and tidy and the beating chair and cane had been replaced in their normal positions. It was clear that Mottram loved the formality of the entire procedure. Lattymer-Smith, stood trembling with fear before his fag-master. What he had just witnessed was a frightening experience and he prayed to himself that Mottram would not be as vicious with him as he had just been with Harris.

"Now to you, Lattymer-Smith; I presume that you have divined why I have called you here this evening. To say the very least, your fagging has been most unsatisfactory: indeed, not to put too fine a point on it, totally unsatisfactory, in fact. I know it's your first day, but I am afraid I believe in quick corrective action. To leave things as they are, is to see them go rapidly from bad to worse; that has always been my view," Lattymer-Smith's already sunken heart sank still further, if that was possible. "Now I am a fair man, I think can say (a characteristic which many who knew him did not share) but looking at your efforts to date, have to say that I am disappointed, in fact, very disappointed in you. You are unpunctual and everything you have done so far apart from laying out clothes has been a disaster."

From then on, Mottram went on to point out in minute detail all the points on which which we know Lattymer-Smith had failed in his duties. By the time he had finished berating (it was not a review, but a verbal battering) Lattymer-Smith, naming all the errors he had made, the poor boy was almost in tears. "And so, Lattymer-Smith, I am left with no alternative but to (an here came that hateful word) correct you, as things cannot be allowed to continue on their present path. Pass me the cane, if you please."

The terrified fag went across to the door and took down a junior cane, which he handed to Mottram, placed it on his desk and looked up at his fag. "Lattymer-Smith; can you ever get anything right the first time? What exactly is this you have given me? I showed you yesterday your own personal cane, labelled with the words, Fag's Cane. Now what you have handed me here is the general purpose junior cane. Lattymer-Smith you really do have to pay attention and get things right. Now, replace this cane and please and pass me the correct one; your own personal cane!"

The fag, did as he was asked but now was in such a state of shock that he was outwardly trembling with uncontrollable fear, which increased in intensity with each passing moment. "Lattymer-Smith, as you saw earlier, I am authorized to give twelve cuts of the cane, but as it is your first day I am going to be lenient with you and give you only six strokes."

The fag stood motionless in front of the desk. The sentence had been passed; his arse was going to be beaten and there was nothing, nothing at all, he could do to avoid it. It was a horrible moment; he just remained motionless. "Lattymer-Smith. why are you still standing here in front of me? You know the protocol; you know exactly what is required of you now; so just get on with it." But the fag was in such a state of shock after all that he had witnessed and the thought of what was about to happen to him, that Mottram had to remind him of the next steps. "Get over there, boy and put the chair in the correct position as I showed you yesterday evening. Then take of your coat,, drop your pants and let me see your naked arse across the chair, Come on, boy; get on with it before I lose my temper."

Finally, Lattymer-Smith was in position, his naked buns offered up for sacrifice with Mottram standing over him, the cane now at the ready. Mottram looked down at the white untouched flesh of his fag and said: "You know, Lattymer-Smith, this is a unique occasion; you are going to experience the first beating of your virgin arse and it is going to be given by a virgin cane: your own personal cane: a cane which will be used uniquely to correct you during this, your first year at Ollerton. This is a unique honour."

Lattymer-Smith cared not one iota for the personal honour which had been so graciously bestowed on him. It mattered not at all to him what cane was used to beat his arse. All that worried him now, as he remained bent across they chair with his naked bum sticking up into the air, was whether or not he would he be able to stand the pain which he was about to suffer, and not break down in front of his bullying fag-master; for let's be quite clear about this, for all his fine manners, Mottram was a bully.

Mottram looked at the backside he was about to thrash and thought what a delicious prospect this was. Much as he had enjoyed (and yes, enjoyed was the right word, though really inadmissible) thrashing Harris, the sixth former, there was something supremely erotic about initiating a young virgin arse to the joys of the the cane; additionally, this delightful pair of young buttocks were his and his alone to thrash for the rest of the year. There was no way that Mottram had any intention if sharing the delights offered by Lattymer-Smith's arse with anyone else, except of course with a master, who could thrash (and did) any boy whenever he wished. And, make no mistake, Mottram was now intent on giving that tender white mound a gloriously vigorous initiation to the joys of the cane.

When Mottram beat arse, there was no question of holding back; Lattymer-Smith's naked arse was about to have a baptism of fire. Mottram was acutely aware as he stood there, cane in hand, that his cock was already becoming quite hard between his legs. Looking at Lattymer-Smith's naked buns, raised other longings way and beyond the pleasure that thrashing his arse was about to give him. But he banished such thoughts from his head.

Like many young men at public school, cut off from female company, he regularly indulged in officially forbidden homosexual acts with many of his contemporaries. Ollerton was no different from other public schools. Buggery, anal intercourse, butt fucking, call it what you will, was officially strictly forbidden but quietly tolerated. It was rife among the final year boys who took great care not to get caught in the act, which inevitably led to a severe public birching by the Headmaster, Dr. Redvers-Grex. And Head Boy, Mottram was not immune from the temptation of illicit male sex, which he enjoyed with a number of different partners in the upper sixth.

So, Mottram after giving his fag one final piece of advice to relax his buttocks and sit back and enjoy the experience, began the pleasurable task of showing his fag exactly how a well well beaten arse was achieved. The beating may well have been a pleasure for Mottram. but Lattymer-Smith really did not get much enjoyment out of having his arse beaten. Mottram did not hold back at all and when he had finished, Lattymer-Smith's poor arse, sporting six beautifully applied parallel cuts, looked pretty impressive. Impressive it may have been to the beholder, but the owner of the arse himself was in absolute agony. Even the junior cane, when wielded by an expert, which Mottram most certainly was, delivered the most excruciating pain. To his credit, Lattymer-Smith had managed to retain his composure until the very last stroke and had made all the right responses after every stroke, asking repeatedly for another. When he finally was told to stand up, and pull his pants back on, he shook Mottram by the hand, thanked him for the correction and left the study without a single tear showing in his eye.

Once outside the study however, he broke down and wept, massaging his flaming bum to try to ease the pain. It was ten times worse than anything he had been able to imagine, but it was finally over. He tried to think how he would face his fag-master tomorrow morning, when he again was confronted with tasks at which he was not really adept. But he would learn. The thrashing he had just taken had already taught him that he had to be tough to survive in the cane happy environment of Ollerton and he was determined to do so.

That evening in the showers before bed, his arse attracted the admiration of all his class-mates. Mottram was a very proficient but also artistic wielder of the cane, and Lattymer-Smith's six stripes were perfectly parallel and even, and were already turning a rich reddish-purple. Suddenly he realised that the pain apart, which had been truly awful, he had now somehow arrived at Ollerton: he felt he belonged there; he now felt completely at ease. And so ended the first tumultuous day at Ollerton School for our friend Timothy Lattymer-Smith.

Postlogue

But just to conclude this story. the act of thrashing Lattymer-Smith's virgin arse had so aroused Mottram, who true to his nickname, the Whacking Wanker, now desperately needed to relieve the sexual tension that an evening of beating boys' arses had built up inside him. His cock was now rock hard and in a stage of precum and he was just about to lock his study door and retire to his bathroom to wank himself off, when a knock came at the door and his closest friend David Cromby, a Scots lad, entered. Like Mottram, Cromby was in the upper sixth and aged eighteen.

"I saw your new fag limping away down the the corridor in tears a moment ago so I guess you have just thrashed him. So knowing how you get when you have been wielding the cane, I thought you might just be in need of a little, how shall I put tactfully, stimulative therapy yourself."

Cromby and Mottram., it has to be explained, were regular sex partners: in fact very regular sex partners; their relationship went well beyond the one of just buggering the other. It had developed into a deeply affectionate homosexual relationship, with neither boy really knowing what his exact sexual inclinations were. But for the moment, stuck together as they were in a boys' school with no female company around, they each enjoyed the other's bodies and fucked one another very regularly. So Mottram's nickname might well have been more appropriate had it been the Whacking Buttfucker. And it was, of course, for sex that Cromby had come looking for Mottram.

"Cromby, you arsehole of a friend," laughed Mottram, "Let me put it you bluntly rather than tactfully. At this moment you are a gift from heaven as yes, I am really in need of a good hard fuck as I am sure you are too; but then, when are you ever not? So if that's what you want, just lock the door and let's get started; but let's get one thing quite straight; I get first fuck." And that is is precisely what the two young men did.

THE END