Although
I gave every second of the meeting my very full
attention I found myself gazing out of the large picture
windows high up on the twenty-sixth floor and marveling
at the vista of the city beneath me. It was my
first meeting of the executive board since my promotion.
I had done very well, if you will forgive the lack of
modesty - it's just that all of this is central to my
story. I had become a real high-flier, the
youngest senior executive rejoicing in the title of Head
of Cabin Services - North America. Everything
appertaining to passengers during their flight on every
route out of the United States and Canada was in my
charge. I had done well, I would make it to the
main board back in London within five years and I owed
it all to one man.
During a brief lull in the meeting while others
poured themselves coffee, whispered non too softly into
their mobile phones
or made the long trek down to the ground floor for a
cigarette I simply sat back and reflected upon all that
had happened since I left university and before that school.
School -
ah yes some good times, very good times and some not so
good times. Some good teachers and some not so
good, one brilliant and one an utter waste of space.
Thank god that my Housemaster
was a stronger character than that feeble idiot who took
me for English.
I still have the greatest possible respect for Mr
D C Ashbridge, Head of BurnhamHouse.
We lads knew him, behind his back at least, as Dell,
while the infamous Phil Deakin must have entered the
world when grotesque nightmares eclipsed all but the
fool. The guy was totally bizarre and about as
ill-equipped to be a teacher as a pork butcher serving
the buffet at a bah mitzvah. |
English,
I happily confess, was not my strongest subject at A
Level, indeed it was my worst, but I had to have a grade
B or above in order to secure my place at university.
My closest friend, Chris, was in the same predicament.
We both worked flat out all the way through the sixth
form giving English far, far more attention than any of
our other subjects. We would often work together
in the evenings on coursework assignments, discussing how
best to achieve the standards we so urgently needed but
seldom with any tangible result. I had discussed
it with Del in one of my house
tutorials but in all honesty
what could he do ?
Chris and I calculated that if we could achieve the
highest possible grade in our coursework submissions
then we would stand a sporting chance with the unseen
questions in the formal examination. We may then
each scrape through with the much needed B grade.
Then one day destiny presented us with an opportunity we
could not turn away.
There was a lad in our English group who everyone
knew was going to achieve the highest grade in every
subject, he could do it blindfolded and with his hands
tied behind his back. Yes, he was brilliant but he
was also the school's
number one dork ! If ever Deakin were to have a
son of his own this would have been the perfect
specimen. Born again prats the pair of them, a
perfect combination where one was always up the metaphorical
backside of the other like a couple of stray dogs on
heat. So when this celebrated goon gave Deakin his
finished coursework folder two weeks ahead of the
deadline and Deakin just left it laying on his desk at
the end of the day the opportunity was too great to be
missed.
We didn't intend to steal it, no not at all, just to
borrow it overnight and see what we could glean from it
to support our own material. It wasn't a major
crime, it wasn't a crime of any kind. It was just
an opportunity that fate presented us, almost an answer
to a prayer. Chris and I shared but a few simple
words, we were of the same mind, before we put a plan
into action and removed the discarded item from Deakin's
classroom.
Perhaps I should
have told you earlier in this account that ours was a
boarding school,
I attended one of England's top public schools.
It's a strange thing in England but Public Schools
are not public at
all, in no way open to the sons of the ordinary general
population. They are
incredibly private and entered only after passing an
examination and having parents who can
afford their high fees. To be a boarder at my school
cost each year a figure in the region of that earned by
an average middle manager in business or industry.
The important thing about all this as far as my story is
concerned is the fact that we were boarders.
Now in the sixth form I had my own private bedroom
rather than sharing in a dormitory as I had done when
younger. It was in my room that Chris and I met
that evening to peruse the bulky coursework folder.
We hadn't been reading for long, each of us making some
small notes as we went along, when there came a knock at
the door. I quickly hid the folder beneath
the covers of my bed before inviting who ever
it was outside to come in. |
|
It
was Del, our Housemaster.
"Good evening gentlemen."
"Good evening Sir." We both stood up to
greet the visitor.
"You are looking a little guilty," Del
said.
We may have been, we certainly had cause to be but I
don't think we were looking anything at all out of the
ordinary. Del was a clever bastard and these words
gave him what he needed to know. A slight change
of facial expression, perhaps a colouring of the skin, a
tone of body language - it was all he needed to confirm
his suspicion.
"No Sir," we protested but this was
futile.
"Trust me you do," he smiled.
"Now can I please have the folder you took from Mr
Deakin's classroom ?"
We glanced quickly to one another before handing over
the offending item.
"Than you," Del said. "
I guessed it was you two but I knew that if my guess was
right you would do the right thing. You'll never
make it as criminals." He paused to
think for a moment. "I respect the fact that
neither of you have tried to lie about your little
peccadillo but you do need to realise just how
very serious this is."
"We only borrowed it Sir, we were going to give it
back," Chris pleaded.
"I'm sure you are right," Deakin replied
but would that have been a defence had Ronnie Biggs
offered it to the judge in his trial for The Great Train
Robbery ?"
Who the
hell was Ronnie Biggs, I wondered.
"Besides Mr Deakin is screaming like a stuck
banshee !"
|
And
what the hell was a banshee ?
"Fortunately for you,' Del continued,
"The Headmaster is away for a couple of days so Mr
Deakin brought the matter to me." He looked
squarely at we two lads then said sternly,
"Had the Head been here he would have had no choice
but to inform the examination board and that would
undoubtedly have resulted in your disqualification from
all A levels this year. I would hardly matter then
if he expelled you both or not, your university careers
would have been destroyed. Everything gone because
of a moment's stupidity."
My blood
ran cold as I contemplated the consequences. I had never
looked at it that way, considered the ramifications. I
was close to tears I have to confess.
"But I'll sort it out for you," Del
said, still sternly but with a note of kindness in his
voice. "After all that's what I'm here for
isn't it ? Don't worry you'll take the
examinations, get your grades and go off to
university."
I knew Deakin, we all did, the vindictive sod would tell
the Headmaster when he returned. What was to stop
him ?
Del anticipated my train of thought
and explained. "Don't worry Mr Deakin will
keep this matter to himself, I have made sure of
that."
"How
?"
"He shouldn't
have left that folder out, examination coursework has to
be securely locked at all times - I have reminded him of
the fact. He won't want the Head to know anything
now I have explained to him the precise nature of his
own position and how
he would face an inquiry and sanction for his own
carelessness."
"Thank you Sir."
As quickly as I had realised just how
dreadful was the crime we had committed and the possible
consequences the relief swept over me as I understood
that we were going to get away with it.
"So,"
Del said bring matters to a conclusion, "I am going
to hush it up. All that remains is for me to take
this folder back to Mr Deakin and for you two to present
yourselves at my study in, shall we say fifteen minutes
?"
With that he turned and left.
"Bloody Hell," Chris sighed.
"That was a close one," I
observed. "I never thought..."
"What does he want us at his study for ?"
Chris puzzled. "I mean if he were going to
give us a bollocking he could have done it here -
now."
I shrugged my shoulders.
He had been very calm throughout.
I didn't have a clue.
D C Ashbridge, Del, had been my Housemaster
ever since I had first started at the school. Honestly
he was the best teacher in the place, by a long way.
He wasn't married although
there were stories and speculation of girlfriends,
trouble was he was married to his job and so probably
never had much time for a social life. No matter
what the time of day or night he was always about,
always a friend to those
in his house
and always a support when a boy needed it. If I
had to guess his age I would put him in his mid thirties
which made him one of the younger members of staff, so
many looked as if they should
have given up the chalk years ago.
Del was famous for his whirlwind slipperings: bend
over - whack ! whack ! Now off you go. But that
was always with the more junior boys. Sometimes he
dished out gentle slaps but for the more serious
offences he could give you some real stingers. I
had received both in my time. Thing with Del was
that he always made you understand the reason and
justification for the punishment, dished it out then
forgot all about it and moved on. He was never
vindictive and never unfair. I guess this all
contributed to our like for the man. There were
some housemasters
I am so very pleased I was not in the charge of,
all except Del used the cane. Shit I'm glad I wasn't in
one of their houses
!
|
But
no housemaster
ever caned a senior boy and the slipper with Del
fell into disuse once you reached the age of fifteen.
Chris and I were in the upper sixth, each one of us
eighteen years of age - adults. No way was Del
going to slipper us. But then if he did it would,
after all, be little more than we deserved.
Chris and I made our way along to the floor at the top
of the building where Del had his study. We looked
at each other then knocked on the door.
This time it was Del's turn to invite us inside
his room. I had been in there many times over my
school
career, a couple or more times for a quick slippering
but more lately forhouse
discussions and friendly meetings. Although
the reason for this meeting was a little enigmatic,
after all we had dealt with our crime back in my room,
the moment we two friends walked in everything was made
perfectly clear.
A housemaster's
study in every English public school
must be similar. A view from the window over the
school
playing fields, book-lined walls, leather armchairs and
a desk which was usually covered in the day's exercise
books awaiting marking. That time Del's desk was
clear, he had moved all the clutter away onto one of the
chairs. It was void, void save for one thing.
That thing made my heart sink deeper inside me than I
could have ever thought
possible. On top of the dark wood surface rested a
long, thin punishment cane !
Del was going to cane Chris and I !
But sixth formers didn't get caned.
Everyone knew that. |
And
Del didn't use the cane on any boy of any age.
We all knew that.
Breathless we waited his next move and explanation.
Eventually he began. "You are two of
the finest boys in my house,
both with brilliant careers ahead of you. I like
and respect you both but your folly today can not go
unpunished. I can not just let you go, patting you
on the head and telling you not to do it again.
And you are both far too old for me to slipper you like
I did when you were younger. I have thought
hard and have decided that the only thing I can do is to
cane you both."
"Yes sir," we kind of stammered softly
together.
"It is most unusual to cane a sixth former, I
doubt it has happened in this school
for a long time so the sooner we get this over and the whole
series of events put behind us the better."
"Yes Sir."
"The reason I don't usually can boys but prefer the
slipper is because all canings have to be entered into
the punishment book, a record the Headmaster makes a
regular study of. This particular caning is not
going to be written down in that book, something which
is against the governors regulations but I am sure you
will understand why I am not recording it."
"Yes Sir."
"So how
many strokes do you think I should
give you ?"
"Six ?" I said softly,
questioningly and hoping
he would dramatically reduce the number.
But he didn't. "That's the exact number I
have in my mind."
This was terrible, surely he was bluffing, frightening
us. Yes, that was it - the fear now surging
through us was the punishment there would be no need for
a real whacking.
Chris moved slowly, taking just two small paces towards
one of the dark leather armchairs. "I'll go
first Sir."
Del steered him to bend over the front of the
chair, adjusting his position until he was satisfied.
It was the evening and so we were no longer wearing our
school
blazers and ties, just shirts and trousers. Del
pulled the shirt tail out of Chris's trousers and folded
it back leaving a narrow ribbon of bare flesh visible
above his belt. I knew he was going to give us
both a very sound thrashing.
Turning his back slightly Del picked up the cane, a
length of rattan about a metre in length. It
looked evil and held within it incredible pain.
Del placed it on Chris's hind quarters to prepare a
target area then drew it back high into the air before
bringing it back with a tremendous swish through the air
and landing with a loud crack on his backside.
Chris exhaled a loud breath the called out.
"Shit !"
Del ignored him, lifted the cane back up then swept it
down again to land alongside the first stroke. My
eyes focused upon it and my brain mesmerised.
Fuckin hell Del was our crime that bad ? Yes, it
was. My closest friend was receiving a most sound
thrashing right in front of my eyes and soon it would be
my turn.
Chris didn't call out when the second stroke hit
but I could see him flinch and his whole
body push forward as the third, the hardest yet, whacked
against his grey trousers. I wondered how
I was going to take this when my turn came. That
would be soon now, Del was half way through with Chris.
Number four cracked like gunfire and this time
Chris let out another shout
but I couldn't be precise in hearing what he said.
My mind was floating somewhere and words were not
registering.
Number five and I was feeling like jelly, one more and
it would be my behind receiving the thrashing. No,
please no this was a bad dream and soon I would awake -
awake to reality just as it was my turn to bend over
that leather chair. But I wasn't dreaming so I
couldn't wake up.
I watched Del raise the cane for the last stroke
on Chris, it moved upwards in slow motion but sped down
at double speed. Perhaps I should
let Del tell the Headmaster, face expulsion from the school
and not go to university after all. Would that be
better than what was about to befall me ? It had
to be. Did I have a choice
? No I didn't. |
The
sound of the final stroke echoed
round the room to give way to a silence.
Gone was the sound of the swishing of the cane
through the air, the gasping of my friend, the cracking
of slender rattan wood against his backside. The
only sound was the thundering beat of my heart.
Slowly Chris stood up and turned round. His
face, ashen and white, told a story of excruciating
pain. His eyes were red but showed
no sign of tears. Would I be able to take my
punishment as bravely as he had ?
There was nothing for it but to move the few paces
from where I stood to take my place across the now
vacated chair. I could smell the leather and the
polish afforded to it by countless generations of
cleaning ladies throughout
the history of the school.
My palms were sweating as I placed them on the arms and
prepared myself for that which was to come. Del
placed a hand either side of my hips and steered me to
where he wanted my rear end. I had forgotten how
he had pulled the shirt from Chris's trousers, that felt
like ages ago. Now Del pulled out my own shirt and
gently folded it back, I felt the cool air where my back
was exposed.
Please get on with it, I thought
to myself. I began to pray, not to god or anything
like that but kind of willing things not to hurt too
much. If I could surround myself with an air of
deep positive thought
it could give a shield of defence. How
did fakirs walk over hot
coals without
burning their feet ? Could I emulate something
like that. Time slowed as I thought
these weighty matters over.
There was
an age while Del went to his desk and picked up the
cane.
|
I
could not see him, I could not see anything as I
squeezed tight my eyes, but I could sense exactly what
was taking place behind me. Very gently he placed
the striking end of the cane against my buttocks, I
could feel it's light touch through my trousers as if it
were a heavy force pressing down. Terror filled me
as I felt it move away. Any second now and it
would return with a vengeance beyond anything I could
possible comprehend.
I held my breath and waited for the swish to
announce the cane was on it way. Every muscle in
my body tensed and waited. My buttocks pinched
together so tight that they began
to hurt, a dull ache, before ever the can made any
contact.
I heard the sound of the air being forced out of
the path as the first stroke headed my way. Faster
and faster it sped towards me then struck like a bolt of
lightening across my cheeks. Although
I was wearing my school
trousers it felt as if the cane had struck my naked
behind. Fuck it hurt, hurt like hell, more than
words can here fully describe.
My lungs snatched for breath and wanted to scream
out against the pain now surging through my body.
Everything was blotted out save for the terrible pain
racing round and round every nerve. I didn't hear
the sound of the second stroke beginning its way towards
me only registering that terrible swishing should
tiny fractions of a second before it hit, landing almost
on top of where the first stroke had imprinted itself.
One third of the way - four more to go. I'd
never be able to take it. Like a coward I wanted
to stand up and plead with my housemaster
to stop the punishment. I wanted to cry and allow
tears to pour down my face. But such options could
not be taken up. Chris had taken his punishment
like a man and I had to do the same. Above me, out
of sight he was watching.
FUCK ! Number three lay its line of fire across my
bottom. The pain was now so great that I could not
tell if it was in the same place as the previous two or
not.
Hurry up Del get this over with. please.
Those
slipperings when I was younger were nothing compared to
this. My arse was on fire. Would it ever be
extinguished ?
Four ! Tears of absolute pain were picking at the
back of my eyes. I was gasping for breath and
wondered if I would faint before it was all over.
Between gasps I tried to grip my teeth together but the
demand for air made it impossible.
Five ! I would have thought
that after so many strokes the pain would have reached a
peak beyond which nothing more could hurt but not at
all. I was in agony, terrible, appalling agony.
Please let it stop. Number six please let it be
over.
The caning was soon to be at an end but I knew the pain
would stay with me for a long time after the final
stroke hit my now tender backside.
I heard the final swish with a sense of gratitude that
things were drawing to a final close. That sound
of rushing air was deafening to a point where is almost
drowned out the crack of the rattan stick biting into my
arse cheeks.
It would have taken much less than a minute for
Del to deliver those
six strokes, it was in real time over so very quickly
yet for me time was relative and the thrashing drew
itself out into several hours.
Slowly I moved to stand up and as the flesh of my
bum adjusted to a new position new racks of pain surge a
new torture. Del was saying something and I was
nodding agreement without
hearing precisely what he was talking about. I
could not speak, I was frightened to speak in case a
tremble of my voice would indicate a desire to burst
into tears. |
Del
placed the cane back onto his desk then stretched out a
hand to shake that of myself and Chris. I would
have despised any other man who had
just thrashed the living daylights out of my behind, who had
taken away my adult dignity as a senior in the school.
But the respect I had for Del was more than enough to
take the punishment he had given out and not to think
any the less of him.
Of course Del had put himself and his own career
on the line by protecting Chris and I from the
consequences of our thoughtless
stupidity. How
many teachers would do that for a couple of silly
teenagers ? Deakin wouldn't for certain although
I am certain for sure that he would have delighted at
the extent of our thrashing.
Chris and I limped back to my room, so much had
happened since we had sat ourselves down to study that
awful coursework folder. Along the way we
exchanged a few words but there wasn't a lot to say back
inside the privacy of my room Chris asked me to take a
look at his behind and see how
badly it had been damaged. I also wanted him to
take a look at my own bum.
I turned the key in the door to lock ourselves in.
Neither of us wanted to speak with anyone. Did
anyone know of our thrashing or had it been kept a
secret ? If anyone had learned of the events
we certainly did not want to discuss them with anyone.
But mainly we locked ourselves in to avoid anyone else
crashing in seeing our wounded backsides.
Chris
smiled for the first time since our ordeal, his familiar
cheeky grin returning to his face.
"Some day this has turned out to be !"
"Say that again."
|
Chris
laughed then said, "Some day this has turned out to
be." He undid the waist of his trousers then
with two hands grasping both them and his underpants
pulled they way
down to his ankles. "So what can you see
?"
What I saw was his two beautifully formed bum
cheeks scored with lines from Del's cane. For a
guy who was
not a caner he had an accurate aim with four of the
lines perfectly parallel to one another. The
remaining two kind of bisected the others at a gentle
angle. Each of those
lines throbbed agony which was totally reflected in my
own pain ridden backside.
I unfastened the waist of my own trousers before
dropping them away to expose my naked flesh to the air.
It felt good to be away from the confines of clothing
with the coolness of the evening, taking away, or at
least feeling as if it were taking away, some of the
pain.
Ok, there is something else which perhaps I should
have told you earlier in the story rather than leaving
it until this late stage of my account. I have
always found the male form particularly attractive,
rather more so than the opposite sex. At the time
of the caning, that evening, I was still a virgin.
Chris was my closest friend, had been so for several
years. One thing gave way to another and before
the pain had ceased rushing across my hind quarters I
lost that virginity and that close friendship between
Chris and I was well and truly consummated.
That fateful day was a turning point in my life,
not only was my university career rescued but also my
sexuality was able to come out and cease to be hidden.
I am grateful to myhousemaster,
the celebrated Del, for his assistance in both areas.
I kept in contact with my housemaster
after leaving school,
writing letters and sending the odd e-mail. It was
with Del that I first confided my sexuality and feelings
for Chris. So much of these memories flooded
through my mind earlier today as I reveled in my new
position within the company. However,
I would most likely have kept these memories to myself
and not trusted them to print were it not for one thing.
When I got home
earlier this evening I checked my e-mails. There
were a number of messages but one in particular,
rather than try to explain let me simply reproduce it.
To:
nigel_d@hotmail.com
From:
teacherdel@cs.net
Subject:
congratulations
Congratulations on
your new promotion, I am sure it is well deserved.
You see everything that happened at school
was worth while.
Coincidence it may
be, I am booked to fly on one of your aircraft next
week. I'm attending a conference in Seattle.
I'll let you know what I think of your cabin services.
I called the office and had then track down the flight
of Mr D C Ashbridge on his flight from London Heathrow
to Seattle, Washington.
"He's booked on flight 0049 leaving London Heathrow
on Wednesday 17th at 14.35 and due to land Seattle
Tacoma at 15.15 local."
"Is he flying economy."
"Yes Sir."
"Up grade him will you," I smiled,
"for both sectors: outbound and return."
"Certainly Sir."
Next Wednesday, I checked my diary - yes I could clear
the day. I needed to visit our West Coast office
so I would do just that and meet my old friend.
That would be good, my backside tingled with
anticipation.
|
|
