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.