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From: "Y. Lee Coyote" <See.signature.line@mail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: The Headboy and the New Master (t/b, t/t, t/M, spank, hand, slipper, cane, sex)
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Date: Sat, 07 Apr 2007 19:10:01 -0400
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ST: The Headboy and the New Master (t/b, t/t, t/M, spank, hand,
slipper, cane, sex)  [2335 words]
Summary: The Headboy at a public school talks about his power to wield
the cane at students and others and his pleasure of doing it.

This story is fiction and deals with the spanking of m/m spanking and
sex.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a
minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

Thanks to Mike Ward who helped me with British's idioms and details.
The narrator is speaking of events prior to 1965 when CP was much more
common and we did not worry about STDs.  So, consequently, my
characters are not concerned about them and don't use condoms as you
should now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited
without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if
complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including
constructive criticism, and suggestions.  E-mail: YLeeCoyote@mail.com


The Headboy and the New Master
by
Y Lee Coyote

I was not the first Giles Mills-ffleming to be Headboy at Dorwick, an
ancient public school, hidden away in a remote, very conservative bit
of England, north of Hadrian's Wall with the paneled walls oozing
traditions.  My cousin, who was twelve years older than I, had
preceded me in the position.  The long time faculty remembered him and
for the six years that I was a student at Dorwick, I had extra high
benchmarks set for of me because of him.  Fortunately, my cousin was
not perfect and had left some room for surpassing his achievements.

As the new term got underway, I observed that there had been few
changes in the population of masters, staff and students with the
obvious exception of the new boys in the first and that the previous
sixth had not returned.  There was one new master; Julian Howlett, BA,
for the Arts.  My cousin was showing more interest in me now that I
was a sentient creature, instead of a mere infant and, especially, as
I was holding the honoured position he himself had held so that we
corresponded frequently  He also told me about one of the boys in his
year of that same name.  That boy was a full fledged faggot; a
crybaby.  Back in the first when he was spanked by hand, by one of the
prefects, he cried.  In the fourth, when he was slippered on his gym
kit he cried.  Even in his last year -- at seventeen years old -- he
bawled and yelled bloody murder by the third cut even when he was
swished by my cousin.

As you can imagine, there is a lot of wanking that goes on in boys'
public schools and Dorwick was no exception.  Not all of the wanking
is solo, however, for there are those about who want more than a hand.
Since hot, horny youths like hot holes many will take advantage of the
willing lad when lasses are not available; well convinced that it is
OK since they are taking the male role in the act.  It happened that
Howlett was not only a nancy boy but happy to please by submitting to
the more aggressive guys.  My cousin quickly learnt how to take
advantage and reduced his need for wanking by an order of magnitude.
Howlett visited him regularly to provide excellent oral service.
After a caning or even a slipperring, my cousin would grease up his
rod and shag Howlett who was not allowed to get up until commanded.

Something about this intrigued me and I did some investigation.  The
new Master looked a lot like the nancy boy in the school photographs.
That made it worthwhile to check his _curriculum vitae_ which provided
the definitive answer.  They were one and the same person.  I looked
backed on the old punishment books (conveniently on my own
bookshelves) and noted that Howlett was listed far more often than a
coward should be -- strongly hinting that he wanted to be.

You may wonder why any of this was of interest at all.  It was because
I quickly developed a strong dislike of the man.  He still presented
an image of being a nancy boy and I found his subject distasteful.
Worse of all, he was constantly sending lads to the Head for
inconsequential reasons at a far greater rate than any other two
masters combined.

§

Permit me to talk about myself and my new position.  In a word I found
it BRILLIANT!  The benefits far outweighed the costs of the extra
work.  I had quickly found that I loved being a leader and having
authority over my peers.  Best of all, I even had the power to use
corporal punishment when the miscreant chose me rather than the Head.

Most of the firsts that I dealt with were shaking in their boots even
before they timidly knocked on my door.  They all knew about spanking
for they had been spanked for years by their parents, governess and
other caregivers.  As much as they were unhappy with getting spanked
by me they were far more scared to go to the Head, whose fierce
reputation was always exaggerated for their ears.  Not only did my
feeling of importance and power grow from these encounters but so did
my sense of adulthood.  Even though they were only five years younger
than myself, opening their belts and lined shorts so that I could pull
them down along, naturally, with their pants emphasized that I was
wearing longs and unequivocally in authority.  They never resisted my
pulling them over my lap and holding them in place while I smacked
their little bums even though they would have much preferred to do
that themselves and bend over.  There was a penalty for that -- as I
would then use the slipper and I had a well cultivated reputation
about doing that most painfully even to the uppers.  The lads did
their best not to cry and never yelled out either with an ouch or plea
to stop.  They were brave little men-to-be as I turned their bottoms
bright red.  Then, when they were dressed, they bravely thanked me and
even shook my hand.

The second through fourth form boys usually got the slipper.  This was
a far more dignified procedure.  They would bend over a chair usually
after lowering their shorts and pants to present their arses for
chastisement.  The slipper I used was just an old plimsoll sole.  It
made the most delightful sound when I smacked it onto the target
leaving a lovely red mark.  After a session, especially when several
lads required such attention, I enjoyed one of the major perks of my
position -- a private chamber where I could wank in private.

I most enjoyed dealing with the fifths and sixths, my own form, boys.
At least eighty percent of the time the most I could do was use the
slipper like with the fourths although the older the lad, the less he
liked bending over for a peer.  But bend they did and I enjoyed it
even though they did not.  The harshest punishment I was allowed to
administer was four cuts of the junior cane.  I practised a lot
totally destroying an innocent pillow in the process.  I think that
the time was well worth the effort as I really got proficient at it.
The trick, as everyone knows, lies in the wrist.  You all know how
delightful it is to admire a mate's stripes but it is even better to
admire them when you yourself have inflicted them.

By the time a third of the year had past, I realized that I was
fantasising about dealing with guys, bent over, with bare backsides
worrying about the cane in my hand primed to thrash them.  To some
extent my dreams were realized by my fellow students but then the
scope of my desires had quickly broadened to older men.  I doubted
that there would be such opportunities here at Dowick for I had little
contact with the staff and certainly never even considered the
masters.  All I could do was wait until I got to the uni, for the
local little village I got to occasionally was truly minute and had
nothing to offer.  I'm happy to report that I was wrong.

I needed to do some work on my art project so I went to the arts room.
Since it was a recent addition (only two decades) it had been put into
some previously used space and was big enough to contain both studio
and class spaces.  I was not particularly surprised to see Mr. Howlett
sitting in the couch used by the models and reading.  (The under
matrons and sculleries sat, fully dressed, for some drawing classes.)
He was most engrossed and was massaging his crotch as I approached
unnoticed.  Most indiscrete of him to be caught doing this.  I could
only imagine the roar that the Head would have bellowed had he
observed it.  Then I saw what he was reading -- a skin magazine -- for
the cover illustration was of nudes and the name of the same class.

I stepped up to him and snatched the evidence from his hands.
"Howlett!  Doing this again!  This is disgraceful.  What if one of the
lowers had come in?  I will give this to the Head in the morning."
(One of the reports in the punishment book indicated that my cousin
had caught him doing this as a student.  It was regular procedure that
every morning I reported to the Head so there was not any need to
rush.)  Howlett was so flustered that he just dashed out of the room.
I put the damning evidence back into the plain brown envelope that it
apparently had been posted in and placed it into my portfolio with my
sketches and went to work on my painting with a light heart.

It was right after lights out when there was a knock on my door.  I
was surprised that it was Howlett.  He looked very sheepish.  He
looked as scared as a first former.  "Yes, Howlett.  You wish to say
something?" I said as if he were a lower former.

He stammered.  "Yes, Mills-ffleming...I don't think that it necessary
to speak to the Head about this afternoon....er...."  Perhaps he saw
me just as he saw my cousin twelve years ago.  After all, the name on
the door was the same and I looked just like he did at my age.

I had prepared the old punishment book to show to the Head.  In the
privacy of my chambers, I showed the miscreant the entry I marked.
There, in my cousin's neat hand, was the report of him found with
scabrous material for which he had received six-of-the-best and
promised never to bring such filth into the school's precincts ever
again.  Of course, it was signed by him.  He had two choices.  The
first was to be a man and a master and immediately demand that I
return his magazine.  He did not do this and instead he turned pale
like he had when he was a student and my cousin was the Headboy.
"Please...." he begged evidently still the coward.

"There is another way." I said softy after a most pregnant pause
pointing to my cane in its place in the corner.  He shuddered frozen
in place.  I watched him for more than a minute.  Fear and fascination
was on his face.  Then I spoke with as much authority that I could
muster.  "Strip and get into position.  You know the drill, boy."  He
remained frozen as I stepped over and picked up my cane.  He flinched
when I cut the air with it.  "Strip", I repeated, "Howlett.  NOW!"

I watched, fascinated, as he removed his jacket and placed it neatly
on the chair.  My cock was also responding.  He opened his belt and
trousers and started to take then off and found his shoes were an
obstacle so he removed them first and then his trousers.  He moved to
the desk and I barked: "Everything, boy!"  Slowly he removed his tie,
shirt and vest as I watched.  He continued to the desk and leaned
over.  Smiling, I lowered his pants to his ankles and he stepped out
of them when I tapped his foot.  His nakedness was emphasized by his
black knee high socks so that he appeared to float.

"Position.  Remember, don't get up until I tell you to -- unless you
want extras."  My boy, Howlett, dutifully bent over and grabbed the
far side of my desk.  I took my position and let him feel the cane as
I made sure I was in proper position.  I raised my cane and brought it
back down on target with all the skill I had.  Just like he had when
he was my age and younger he cried out.  The echos faded before the
track marks formed.  I had to reach into my own trousers and pants to
adjust myself.  I waited a full minute before giving him the second
cut and another minute for the third.

"Halfway, boy." I said and dashed into my bedroom to fetch something
before resuming.  Cut four was just as straight as the first three and
the nancy boy was crying.  I made sure that the fifth would really
hurt by putting it on the crease at the bum/thigh meeting.  The sixth
cut I placed diagonally to make a proper gate.  I had removed my
blazer before starting and now I quickly undid my belt and trousers
and pulled out my hard shaft.  I quickly covered it with the petroleum
jelly and, most considerately, smeared some on my boy's hole.  A
finger, then several slipped into the hot cavity easily but I did not
let them remain very long.  I positioned my cock on his hole and
grabbed the crying boy by the hips and shoved in.  He docilely kept
his hands on the far side of the desk as I shagged him thoroughly
blasting my babymakers deep into his arse.  I was very hot so I
continued shagging until I climaxed a second time.  Then I told him to
get dressed and leave.  He did without even asking for his magazine
but thanking me like he did my cousin when he was a student.

This was not the best fuck I ever had but it was most satisfying.  I
could hardly sleep that night because I was still flying having
totally dominated an adult (even though he was a faggot).  I was
already looking forward to the next time.

The next afternoon, another truth was revealed to me as I listened
Howlett's soporific droning.  It was not that his lecture contained a
great truth but that I could see (in my mind's eye) through his gown,
trousers and pants the perfect gate that I made on his bottom.  It was
then that I realized that swishing older men was most satisfying.

The End

(c) Copyright A.I.L.  April 7, 2007


Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote (at) mail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)

See my stories at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/YLeeCoyote/www/
See Goldilocks stories at http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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