Swift Justice


by Prepschoolmaster

Frank Benson walks into the crowded changing-room, slipper in hand.

Frankies in a real bate, murmurs Peter Dickens to his friend Lucas. After two and a half years in Franks house Peter is something of an expert on the mans behaviour. Its not just the menacing slipper he is wielding, its the glint in his eye. Usually when Frankie thrashes you he does it calmly and almost courteously, but that glint is a dangerous sign: Frankie is really angry! Lucas feels his heart thudding rather unpleasantly, as there are a couple of things hes done recently that could make him the target of that viciously painful slipper. He slips on his underpants, perhaps unconsciously protecting that part of his body on which Frankie customarily expresses his displeasure.

Frank scans the room. No sign of Jamie Ross. He puts his head into the shower room, which has now fallen silent - everyone realises trouble is brewing. He sees the boy immediately.

Come here, Jamie.

60 boys feel a surge of relief that its not their turn for a hiding. Young Jamies world turns upside down. He knows exactly what Frank has found out, and hes going to have to pay a high price in bottom pain. It had seemed such a clever way of getting back at that stupid Art teacher...

Nervously, Jamie approaches the burly man, and feels a hand settle on his neck.

Down to your formroom. As you are.

Frank is intent on swift justice. He has wasted a lot of time over the last couple of weeks trying to find the boy who has been vandalising art displays, and he is certain Jamie is the culprit. A sharp-eyed gardener had seen a boy doing it in the middle of a lesson, but couldnt identify him. It had been easy to check with teachers if any boy had been allowed to leave class at that time. Jamie, a Form 3 boy, was the only one.

Man and boy leave the now silent changing room. Frank leaves the door ajar: the sound of the slipper landing on Jamies little bare bottom will serve as a useful reminder to all. Once in the classroom he sits down and eyes the dripping-wet, frightened, naked little boy. He notes a droplet of water form on the tip of the boys foreskin, then drop to the floor.

Youve been vandalising the Art displays, havent you.

The boy desperately wants to lie, but doesnt dare. He nods. Frank leads the boy to an open space that will allow him adequate freedom of arm movement.

Bend over and hold your ankles.

He casts an experienced eye over the bottom he is preparing to beat. Jamie is tall for his 11 years, but very slim in build. The bottom is small and the slipper is large-soled. Three hard strokes on each buttock will fit the bill! He takes out his pocket handkerchief and dries the bottom skin carefully.

Feet further apart, Jamie. Im going to give you six strokes.

Jamie feels sick: hes never had more than two before, and that was bad enough.

At this very moment 12-year-old Robin emerges hurriedly from the changing-room, hair still wet and buttons undone. He sneaks quietly down to the classroom where the slippering is about to take place. The door is ajar and he has a perfect view: Frankie with slipper in hand and Jamie bent over, bottom high in the air. Robin has no idea why spanking and slipperings excite him so much, but they do: he gets a strange itch somewhere near his balls. Hes never even told Peter and Lucas, his two best friends, about the irresistable stirrings that beatings arouse in him.

Robin slides his hands into the pockets of his shorts and starts to rub vigorously. He watches the slipper rise and fall with a crack. Robin knows how painful the slipper is and feels sorry for little Jamie, but watches the unfolding scene with rapt attention. A few other boys have come to see The Slippering of Jamie Ross, but Robin barely notices this.

The slipper descends again on the other buttock, its red imprint clearly visible to the small crowd of spectators. In the room an unhurried Frank Benson waits before again lashing into the nude little boys bottom. Hes taking it well, thinks Frank. Hes not a boy who often appears for disciplining, funnily enough. Frank notices the time ticking away, and slams the slipper across each buttock in quick succession. Jamie is whimpering now. Put him out of his misery, Frank decides, and delivers the final two strokes low and not quite so hard.

Jamie jumps up, tears dribbling down his face.

Go and get dressed, growls Franks. Jamie disappears, a small hand on each small buttock.

Five minutes later we find:

FRANK BENSON drinking tea before the start of afternoon lessons.

JAMIE ROSS trying to pull up his underpants while a knot of fellow Form 3 boys kneel behind him, holding onto the hem, determined to get further examination of his whipped rear-end. "You can make out the toe-mark here" cries Toby Davies, tracing a finger across Jamies sore, bare left buttock.

ROBIN WINTERTON in a toilet cubicle, finishing what he had begun in his shorts pockets. His shorts and pants are round his ankle, his shirt tucked under his chin as he stares downwards intently. Ten busy little fingers stroke, rub, tug and tickle the boy to his moment of pleasure.


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