It was to be an unusual Christmas for six families whose only connection with each other was the fact that their sons went to Hillhead School, a private boarding school for boys in Shropshire. The idea began to be developed when Simon Jenkins, a fourteen year old boy in the fourth form, told Christopher Chaplin, a boy of the same age and in the same form, that his parents were considering taking him and his younger brother, Jason, on a skiing holiday at Christmas. Christopher, who had been on two school skiing trips before, was deeply envious. He had immediately written home to his parents suggesting that they, too, might like to consider a family skiing holiday at Christmas.
Meanwhile, Jason, who was twelve and in the second form, had been boasting to his best friend, Joe Lackman, about the proposed holiday. Joe had never been skiing before but had always wanted to try it. He also decided to write a begging letter to his parents.
As it happened, Simon and Jason's father, Timothy, happened to meet Christopher's father, Bernard, at a drinks party in London. They were some way into their conversation when they discovered that their sons were at the same school and in the same form. Having discussed the merits of the school and the progress their sons were making, Bernard casually asked how the Jenkinses would be spending Christmas.
"Actually, we're thinking of going skiing."
"Oh, I think I know about that", said Bernard, "we had a letter from Christopher the other day saying that one of his friends was going skiing for Christmas and begging us to do the same."
"Oh dear, I'm sorry if our plans have caused a family dispute", said Timothy with a chuckle.
"As it happens, I'm not really opposed to the idea of a family skiing holiday. Don't tell my wife, but I really wouldn't mind a Christmas away from the in-laws."
As the discussion continued the possibility of both families going skiing together was raised. No definite plans were made, but Timothy said he would make some enquiries of the travel company they were thinking of using. And so, if you will excuse the pun, the venture began to snowball. The boys, on learning of the possibility of going skiing, not only with their parents, but with their friends as well, talked excitedly together of how wonderful it would be if it came to fruition. Others heard the conversations and started writing to parents suggesting that they be included as well. Only two weeks after the drinks party, four other families had expressed a firm interest in joining in. Toby (a twelve year old) and Martin (sixteen) Woodward had persuaded their parents. Jack Timpson (who was fourteen) had had to write five letters to his parents before they gave in. Hugo and George Rolands were twelve year old twins. Their task was not so difficult. Both their parents were very keen skiers and they jumped at the idea. Finally, Joe Lackman's parents also agreed.
The next problem, of course, was to find somewhere where nine boys and twelve adults could be accommodated in a skiing resort at Christmas. Timothy's travel company came up trumps. There was a chalet available in Courchevel 1650. There was a main building, with comfortable accommodation for twelve in six double rooms. But the chalet also had an annexe which had been kitted out especially for parties of school children. It had one large dormitory with ten beds and a large sitting playing room, together with separate accommodation, on the top floor, for the two chalet girls who did the catering. The dining room in the main chalet was large enough to sit at least twenty two people. It was only another week before the holiday was booked.
On 22nd December twelve parents and their nine sons arrived, at the crack of dawn, at Gatwick Airport for their charter flight. It was raining and cold, but no one in the party minded about that. They were all, even the adults, excited about the holiday. Suitcases bulging with Christmas presents were checked in. All then headed for one of the airport cafes to eat a hearty breakfast.
The flight, of course, was delayed. When they arrived at Geneva Airport it took an hour to find the coach which was to take them to Courchevel. But, eventually, all arrived safely at about six in the evening. The chalet was all they could have hoped for. The main building was incredibly comfortable. There was one enormous sitting room with two roaring fires, one at each end, and a gigantic Christmas tree. The dining room was just as big. The bedrooms were all a decent size and, amazingly, each had en suite baths or showers. They were met by the two chalet girls, Samantha and Julia, who showed them round the main building and then poured them all glasses of Champagne (even the twelve year olds were allowed half a glass each). Once all had slaked their thirst, the boys and their fathers went with the chalet girls to look round the annexe.
The standard of comfort was, not surprisingly, not so high in the annexe as in the main building. But it was warm and spacious. The rather worn sofas and chairs in the sitting room were all comfortable. There was a large television and video. There was a table tennis table and an enormous store of board games. The dormitory was huge, with ample space between the beds (five along each of the two long walls). There was a large communal shower room with five shower heads. There were four lavatories. Samantha assured the boys that the sound-proofing between the main floor (where they were to be) and the staff accommodation above, was very efficient, so the boys need not worry too much about disturbing the girls. Everything, to the boys anyway, looked perfect.
There had been some discussion between the fathers about how to maintain discipline in the annexe. It had been agreed that the younger boys should be firmly told that Martin Woodward, the sixteen year old, was in charge. If he had any trouble with them he was to inform the adults immediately. Timothy Evans had been chosen as spokesman, to lay down the law. The other fathers left him to his task. All the boys sat on chairs and sofas in the sitting room and he stood with his back to the fire to address them.
"OK, lads, I have to be serious for a moment. We all hope that this is going to be the holiday of a lifetime for all of us. But it won't be if there is any foolish horseplay from you lot. We grown ups have all agreed that any serious mischief should be firmly dealt with. When you are with us, I trust that there will be no problems. If there are, we should be able to deal with them promptly. But you are not to think that you can do whatever you like when you're alone here. We have agreed that Martin, whom we understand to be likely to be made a prefect next year, should be in charge. That means you do everything he says, without question. We have already made it clear to him that we expect him to have no hesitation in reporting any misbehaviour to the fathers of the boys concerned. And I warn you that we will have not the slightest hesitation in punishing such misbehaviour. Jason, Joe, Toby, Hugo and George, just so you don't labour under any misapprehensions, let me make it clear to you that there is total agreement amongst your parents that you are definitely not too old to be spanked, and spanked very hard, if you need it. Simon, Christopher and Jack, any nonsense from you is likely to be dealt with by your being banned from skiing for one or more days. So let's all agree that behaviour will be exemplary. Does that seem sensible to you?"
The boys all nodded in agreement and Timothy, satisfied that he had made the position clear to them, left to have another drink in the main building.
Jason was the first to speak. He was a slim boy, tall for his age, with dark brown hair, a face like a choir boy's and an impishly mischievous character. "I thought it was a bit much for Dad to say that about spanking us. I mean, that sort of thing should be just between fathers and sons, not broadcast to the whole world like that. It's not as if we're at school now. I mean, no one minds their friends knowing about school whackings, but home ones are different."
I should explain that Hillhead School was one of a handful of private schools which continued to use corporal punishment right up to its abolition. That explains the reference to "school whackings" in 1997 (which was when these events took place).
Simon then chirped in. At 5' 9" he, like his brother, was a tall lad. He also shared his brother's athletic build, brown hair and mischievous nature. Unlike Jason, however, his voice revealed that puberty was upon him. "Well, at least you don't face skiing bans. Granted, Dad's spankings are not exactly fun, but I'd rather have a whacking any day than have my holiday destroyed."
There was a murmur of agreement from the other fourteen year olds.
Then Toby, another slim and good-looking boy, spoke for the twelve year olds. "I just think it's gross for our dads even to think of spanking us on a Christmas holiday. Obviously it would be different if this was a school skiing trip and there was a housemaster in charge of us. Then we'd expect to get the slipper for mucking around. I don't see why they can't think of something else, like making us do the washing up or something."
"They can't do that", this was Jack, "that's what those gorgeous chicks are paid to do".
Christopher, who had been just as upset as Simon at the prospect of skiing bans, had been thinking hard. Finally, he put his thoughts into words.
"Look lads, you know how the prefects are always going on about the good old days when prefects were allowed to use the cane?". Everyone nodded. "Well, I vote that Martin can whack us, like an old fashioned prefect, rather than sneak on us to our dads. Obviously it wouldn't be the cane, but I bet he could whack hard enough with a slipper."
Hugo, who, despite being only twelve and having the outward appearance of an angel, had the dubious distinction of having been slippered more in the previous term than any other boy in the school (he had grabbed the record from his twin on the last day of term), jumped up and exclaimed excitedly. "Your brilliant Chaplin, I mean Christopher", he was not the only boy having difficulties in remembering that it was not necessary to address the others by their surnames, "that's the coolest idea ever. We're absolutely bound to get into trouble at some time over the next two weeks. I don't know about the rest of you, but I can see that we might need to be punished. I don't mind that, but I certainly do not want my dad putting me over his knee and smacking my bare bum and all our mums knowing what's going on. If Martin punishes us, he can do it in here and none of the grown ups need know anything about it."
There was a buzz of chatter as all the other twelve and fourteen year olds expressed their agreement with Hugo's analysis.
Martin, who was still young enough not to like the idea of telling on other boys but who had reluctantly accepted that he would have to do so in order to ensure that a modicum of discipline was kept, was also inclined to be in favour of Christopher's plan. Indeed, if the truth be told, he was very much in favour of it. Not only was he firmly convinced that most boys benefited enormously from the occasional use of moderate but painful corporal punishment, but he also, secretly, got considerable pleasure from thinking about such punishment. You must not get me wrong. He had a healthy interest in girls and, being a remarkably good-looking boy, had not been without success in his relations with them. But, for some years, he had found himself becoming aroused by the thought of his friends being slippered at school (Hillhead had stopped using the cane in 1990). In fact, one of his greatest pleasures at school was to shower at the same time as recently punished boys. Of course, he was far from being alone in his fascination with the subject of physical punishment, but, like many others at the school, he preferred to keep it secret. Accordingly, despite his great excitement at the prospect of actually being able to use a slipper on boys himself, he thought he had better appear reluctant to do so.
"Come on lads, you can't really be serious. I'm only sixteen. For goodness sake, I had the slipper twice last term myself. I can hardly start whacking you lot. Anyway, it couldn't be right for me to whack my own bro. You'd hate it, wouldn't you Toby?
"I don't see why I should", said Toby, "it's not as if you haven't seen my bum being reddened by Dad often enough. It's not a big deal. I know I sometimes need to be whacked, I'd much rather it was you doing it, even if it's with a slipper, than Dad doing it and then telling Mum (and everyone else's mum too)."
George now spoke for the first time. "I agree with Toby. And I can't see why it matters that you're only sixteen and get the whack at school. Sixteen's certainly old enough for you to be able to do it properly. Anyway, the fact that you get the slipper at school means that you know exactly how to do it."
This was all that Martin needed. He had known enough about the schoolboy's mentality to realise that his protestations would not lead the younger boys to change their minds. But, having made them, he was not going to risk repeating them again.
"OK, if everyone really agrees, I'll go along with it."
"You're great Martin", this was Joe, "I'm not looking forward to getting the slipper from you. I bet it'll hurt like anything, but I'd rather get the whack from you any day than having it from my dad. Hey everyone, let's choose the best whacking slipper for him to use. Mine are no good, they're too soft."
Martin reassured them. "I found a pair of Dad's old plimsolls in a cupboard at home and I brought them here so as not to ruin my trainers in the snow. They're size 11, so they ought to be big enough and, if any of you've been whacked by Mr Robinson, you'll know how effective plimsolls are."
Not surprisingly, Hugo had indeed been slippered by Mr Robinson and he readily agreed that a plimsoll was "wicked" for whacking.
"OK everyone", Simon again, "let's make the rules. I vote that whenever one of us needs to be whacked it should be done in front of all of us. That way we can all see what'll happen to us if we're naughty. Anyway, it's meant to be a holiday so if there's any whacking we might as well get to see it." I fear that the second reason was his real one for making the proposal. It will not surprise anyone who knows anything about boys that everyone agreed wholeheartedly that any slipperings should be witnessed by them all.
Joe then asked what the victims should wear for their punishments. Martin suggested that, as they did not have games shorts with them (the regulation clothing for school slipperings) they might agree to drop their trousers and just wear underpants.
"I vote", said George, "that we might as well get it bare. It won't hurt any more than over boxers. It's not as if any grown ups will see and we've all seen each other nude in the showers often enough. And anyway, if everyone's going to be watching, it'll be more interesting to see how our bums change colour with each whack."
The other twelve year olds, every one of whom objected most strongly to having bare bottom spankings at home, heartily agreed with George's plan. Their willingness to contemplate taking their trousers and pants down to be walloped by Martin may appear to have been illogical. But it wasn't really. Martin was one of them. He was older, of course, but he was still a boy, and one who got into a fair amount of trouble himself. When he slippered them he would no doubt do it in earnest. But he wouldn't be bad tempered and cross like their fathers would. They all thought it would be very interesting to watch another boy's bottom turning red during a beating and it seemed to them that there was no reason why Martin, too, should not enjoy the spectacle.
As for the fourteen year olds, as it happened, all three of them shared Martin's special interest in corporal punishment. They were not obsessed by it (and neither was he), but they had all found that the teenage boy's normal night-time exercise was considerably enhanced by having recently looked at a pal's freshly whacked bottom. As far as they were concerned, the prospect of being able to see some bare bottoms getting the slipper was not an unpleasant one.
Martin then said that it would be sensible to set the maximum and minimum numbers of strokes. For the fourteen year olds, he suggested a maximum of six and a minimum of three. For the others, a maximum of four and a minimum of two. Although there was no written rule on the point at school, it was generally accepted that second form boys did not get more than four and no one ever got more than six. They all agreed.
Having decided all that, the boys set about unpacking their cases. Once that had been done, it was time to go to the main building for dinner. The adults were having drinks in the sitting room. The boys joined them. Cocoa Colas were provided for the twelve year olds, shandies for the fourteen year olds and Martin was allowed a beer. The talk was all of the plans for the next morning's skiing. Everyone was enrolled in morning ski school (at various levels of ability) and it was proposed that they should all meet at a mountain-side restaurant for lunch. They would then, having eaten their meals, do some skiing together.
Dinner was served at 8 o'clock. It was a lavish affair. There were four courses, all cooked by the talented chalet girls. There was a limitless supply of wine. Once again, the younger boys were allowed half a glass each, the fourteen year olds were given a whole glass each and Martin was allowed two.
Once the meal had been cleared away, Julia explained that it was her turn to do the washing up and Samantha would be going out clubbing. Both girls were highly attractive. All the fathers could be detected casting admiring glances their way. Even the younger boys were not unaffected by their obvious charms. As for Martin, he had decided that he was head over heels in love with Julia. Samantha was exceptionally attractive, but, at twenty two, she was, he thought, beyond his reach. Julia, on the other hand, was only seventeen. To Martin's eyes, she had a figure to die for. She was slim, with long legs, small but firm looking breasts and a pert little bottom of perfect proportions. When she smiled at him, as she did several times during the evening, his heart would miss a beat or two. Not surprisingly, therefore, he was quick to offer his help with the washing up. She readily accepted. He was in heaven. Until Bernard Chaplin, risking an inevitable rebuke from his wife later, offered to lend a hand as well. Fortunately for Martin, Julia was as keen to be alone with him as he was to be alone with her. She assured Bernard that there would not be enough room in the kitchen for three of them. Bernard, who had seen the kitchen earlier, was well aware that it was of considerable size. He was about to protest when he caught his wife's eye. The expression on her face spoke volumes. Discretion, he decided, might be prudent and he did not pursue the point.
In the kitchen, Julia started the conversation.
"I gather you've got to try and keep all the boys in the annexe in order. Rather you than me. I've got two younger brothers and their enough of a handful for me. I'd never be able to cope with eight of them. Anyway, it's a bit hard on you, isn't it, making you tell tales on them."
"Oh, they're not too bad. We're all at the same boarding school, so I know them quite well. Course, they're all on for a bit of horseplay, but they generally know when to stop. If not, I'll soon put them right. And I won't have to tell any tales to do that."
"Why, what else can you do?"
"The lads and I have an agreement, but I'm afraid it's a secret. Don't worry though, they'll behave themselves."
"Come on, you can tell me. We're practically the same age. I promise I'll keep the secret."
He did not give in until they had got onto the pudding plates. By then, he could not withstand her charms any more. But, before he revealed anything, he had to satisfy himself that it would not shock her too much.
"How old are your brothers?"
"Nine and eleven. They're absolute terrors. Only Dad can keep them in order."
"How does he do that?"
"Simple, any trouble from them and they're over his knee, trousers and pants round their ankles and given _d_a_m_n_ good spankings. It's the only thing that works for them."
"Same with Jason. And I suppose it was the same with me when I was younger."
"You know", Julia continued, "I reckon I'm lucky to have brothers. It'll mean that I'll know how to cope with any sons I might have when I'm older. There's this girl at school", this was a holiday job for Julia, "who I was telling about something my brothers did and how they got spanked for it. Anyway, she said she thought it was really cruel and shouldn't be allowed. I can't think she'd say that if she had brothers of her own."
She then pressed Martin, yet again, to tell her about his secret agreement with the boys. That is when he gave in.
"OK, but it really has to be a complete secret."
"Don't worry, it'll be safe with me."
"Well, they've all asked that, instead of telling on them to their parents, I should whack their bums instead."
"What, even Simon, Christopher and Jack? They're a bit old to have their bottoms smacked aren't they?"
"Yes, but that's not the plan. I'm going to be using a plimsoll. Our school still uses corporal punishment and they all get the slipper there, so they know what they're letting themselves in for."
Julia found this information strangely exciting. She pressed Martin for more.
"Did you ever get the slipper when you were younger?"
"Sure did. In fact, I got it twice last term. They go on using it till you're seventeen."
He was putting some plates away in a cupboard as he said this and his back was to Julia. She found herself looking down at the outline of his slim round bottom which was clad in delightfully tight blue jeans. She had admired it several times during the evening. It had struck her as being one of the best boy's bottoms she had had the pleasure of seeing (even if only in jeans), and she was very much a bottom girl when it came to boys. She was surprised to find that the news that it was still subject to corporal punishment was strangely arousing.
"How many whacks do they give you?"
"By the time you're my age you always get six, but the youngest ones get two or three, or sometimes four."
"Crikey, I bet six hurts. The last time I was smacked it was four. I was fourteen at the time and it really made my bum sore."
It was now Martin's turn to cast a furtive glance at her bottom. She was wearing very tight white cotton trousers. They hugged her small round buttocks wonderfully. He found himself wondering what it would be like to be pulling them down, putting her across his knee, slipping her knickers down and smacking her bottom. The thought made him far too excited. He desperately tried to think of something less arousing in the hope that she would not notice what effect the conversation was having on him. Little did he realise that she, too, was imagining what it would like to be spanked by him. She didn't like the idea of a really severe spanking, but she did think it might be fun to have a few fairly gentle smacks. Just enough to warm her bottom and turn it pink.
While Martin and Julia were doing the washing up, the other boys had gone back to the annexe. Hugo and George were playing table tennis. Some of the others were watching a video. Jack and Toby were sitting by the fire reading. After a while, Jack looked up from his book and spoke to Toby.
"Toby, sorry to disturb you, but I was just wondering something about your bro."
"What was that?"
"Well, I mean, I remember when I was in Blue dorm", that was the second form dormitory, "and, well, most of us had started, you know, um, well, I mean most of us sometimes, you know, after lights out ..." his voice trailed off. The subject was one which was common in Red dorm and he recalled that it had arisen frequently in Blue dorm two years earlier. But it was still rather embarrassing raising it with a twelve year old who might, after all, not be as advanced as he was at that age. Fortunately for him, Toby knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Do you mean wanking?"
"Yeah. Well, I was just wondering. Is Martin going to object if we wank when we're in bed? It's just that Julia and Samantha are so _s_e_x_y that it's going to be practically impossible to hold off."
"You needn't worry. I've shared a room with Martin on holidays before. He wanks like there's no tomorrow. He's even given me some tips on technique."
"Cool. I guessed he probably still did, but you never know. God, he's a lucky bastard getting to be alone with Julia all this time. I bet he tries to get off with her before the end of the holiday."
"I wouldn't take that bet on myself. Every time she came into the dining room he couldn't get his eyes off her."
"Yeah, but looking and doing something about it are two different things. Do you think he's brave enough to have a go?"
"No doubt about it. He had a girlfriend last holidays, Susie she was called. Anyway, she was a real stunner. Not quite in Julia's league and only fifteen, but still really _s_e_x_y. Anyway, one day they were in his room, allegedly looking at his old stamp collection. I crept upstairs and peeked through the keyhole. I couldn't see that much, but it was quite obvious that she was jerking him off. I teased him about it afterwards and he said it wasn't the first time and that he had got two other girls to do it to him before."
"Wow, I always thought he was cool, but I never dreamt he'd got that far."
Julia had arranged to meet Samantha and a few of their friends in a club, once she had finished washing up. She was sorely tempted to ask Martin to come too. The problem was that there was a young man, Mike Knighton, who would be there and to whom she had been giving some encouragement recently. She thought it might not be wise to let Martin see that he had competition at quite such an early stage in their relationship. She decided to go alone this time, but she determined to do her best to ensure that she introduced Martin to the night life of Courchevel later in the holiday.
"I've arranged to meet some people in one of the clubs. I so wish I could bring you along as well, but there's no way I can. Two of the other chalet girls are really silly about bringing chalet guests with us. But, if you wanted to, we might be able to go somewhere tomorrow."
Martin was not offended by the lack of an invitation for that night. He had not expected to progress any further than he already had. In fact, he was overjoyed at the suggestion that he and Julia might have a date on the next day.
"That would be really cool Jules", he had discovered her pet name and been encouraged to use it, "I bet you know all the best apres ski places."
"Well, I've only been here a week, but I've certainly found some cool places. I'd better go and get my stuff from my room. Are you coming over to the annexe now?"
"Yeah, I'd better see how the boys are getting on."
They went into the sitting room, said their goodnights to the assembled parents and then walked across the drive to the annexe. They opened the door and went into the small hall. On the right were the stairs up to the girls' accommodation, straight ahead was the door into the boys' sitting room.
"Well, I suppose I'd better say goodnight here", said Julia, "it was really kind of you to help with the washing up. Most guests never lift a finger to help". And she leant towards him and gave him a light kiss on his lips. He blushed slightly and mumbled something about washing up being no problem. She turned and walked up the stairs. With one last longing look at her gorgeous bottom, he turned and went into the sitting room.
All the boys were still up. Martin knew that the younger ones really ought to have been in bed ages ago.
"OK, Jason, Joe, Toby, Hugo and George, time for bed. Do you want a shower first?"
They all said they did. Anything to put off going to bed. He shooed them into the dormitory to get undressed and returned to Simon, Christopher and Jack.
"You're a lucky bastard Martin", said Jack, "how far did you get with her?"
"Well, put it this way, she's going to be showing me some of the apres ski joints after dinner tomorrow."
"Blimey, that's quick work", said Christopher, "do you reckon you'll get her in the sack before the end of the holiday?"
"Don't be disrespectful", Martin said with a smile, "I'm sure she's not that kind of girl. Anyway, my intentions are entirely honourable."
"Just like I'm the King of Siam" said Simon, dodging a playful punch in the stomach from the older boy.
After some more banter had been exchanged, Martin returned to see how the younger boys were getting on. They were all in the showers, splashing playfully. He couldn't help looking at the five small bottoms. All, save Hugo's, which still showed the faded marks of his end of term slippering, were white and unmarked. He wondered how long they would remain like that (and secretly hoped it would not be too long).
"All right, that's enough now. Out you come, get dried and go to bed."
There was no sign of any movement, so he made for the master tap and turned it off. The boys came out and grabbed their towels. As is the way with boys, however, their instinctive reaction was not to dry themselves, but to start flicking their towels at each other's bottoms.
"End of games", said Martin, "unless anyone wants his bum warmed before bed".
The boys stopped their towel flicking and started to dry themselves. When they were all dry, Martin herded them into the dormitory where they put on their pyjamas and reluctantly climbed into bed.
"Right, lights will go out when the rest of us are in bed, which will be very soon. No one gets out of bed int the meantime, or there'll be trouble."
When they were all quiet and settled, he returned to the sitting room to get the others.
"I don't know about you, but I'm certainly ready for bed now. Come on, we've got an early start tomorrow."
Simon, Christopher and Jack were also ready for bed and made no fuss about retiring. Martin turned the lights off and the four boys went into the dormitory. They undressed quickly and went into the shower room. Martin was now able to assess the three other potential targets for his slipper. All, like the younger ones, were slim and firm looking. There was no doubt in his mind that they would be perfect for punishment. I should make it clear that, though he was undoubtedly hoping to be able to wallop every one of those bottoms at some time during the holiday, he was absolutely determined only to do so when it was needed. He would never for one moment have dreamt of beating any boy unless it was deserved. But that didn't stop him hoping that boyish high spirits would give him the opportunity to test his skill with the slipper soon.
Simon had reverted to the subject of the charms of Julia and Samantha.
"Do you think they're virgins?" he asked the others.
Jack was confident of his answer. "There's no way Samantha could be. No girl as _s_e_x_y as her could get to twenty two without having it off".
"Agreed", said Christopher, "but what about Julia? God, did you see that bum? I've never seen anything so _s_e_x_y in my life. Just imagine what it would be like undressed."
"My bet", said Simon, "is that she's still a virgin, but won't be after two weeks of being chased by Martin".
Martin smiled as the boys continued to talk in the same vein. After a few minutes, he could see that the fourteen year olds were beginning to be aroused by their chosen topic of conversation. There was nothing too dramatic yet, but they were all, he noticed, well equipped for their age and a definite stiffening was beginning to be apparent. He also suspected that the hardening of his own, rather more developed, organ would soon become obvious.
"All right, that's enough fantasy for now", he said, as he turned off the water, "let's go to bed".
They dried, went back to the dormitory and, having put on pyjamas, got into bed. Martin went to turn off the light.
"OK, here are the rules. Once the lights are off, no talking. It's not fair on those who want to get to sleep. Also, I've told Julia that you will all make your beds in the morning, but remember that they will have to change the sheets on Saturday, so anyone who wants to wank should make sure he doesn't stain them. Good night all".
The boys all said good night and he turned the light off. He lay back in his bed and reflected on how well the holiday had started. The curtains were drawn back and the moon shone in through the frosty windows. Gradually, his eyes became accustomed to the light and he was amused to see that a slight but regular movement had started under Jack's bedclothes. A few minutes later, Christopher and Simon started. Then, he was proud to note, his own younger brother was off. By the time he had started himself, five of the other eight occupants of the room were doing it. Whether the other three got going that night, he never knew. His own thoughts were distracting him. They were a strange mixture of boys removing their trousers and pants and bending over for the slipper, Julia lying across his knee, bottom bare, and his smacking her and he and Julia doing "it" in a haystack. When he had finished (and the end had been out of this world) he drifted off to a most contented sleep.
Amazingly, not one of the large party sustained any injury at all in a full day's skiing. That is not to say that there were no tumbles or bruised egos. But, all in all, a great day was had by all. The whole party got back to the chalet at five o'clock. Because it was Samantha's turn to do the washing up that night, Julia was getting the large after ski tea ready. Martin, of course, volunteered to help her while the other boys went off to shower.
When all the cakes were on the table Julia thanked Martin for his help and asked whether he was still on for a little light clubbing after dinner "I thought that, rather than introducing you to masses of new people, it might be fun if we just went off on our own."
Martin took no persuading. It was agreed that they would set off as soon as the plates were cleared. Martin decided to go and have a shower before having tea.
"OK, see you in a few minutes. Oh, by the way, thanks very much for getting the boys to make their own beds. It was amazing to have only one bed to make in the annexe."
"Who's was it?" Martin asked instantly.
"Oh God, I didn't mean to get him into trouble. I'm sure he was just late for ski school or something. Honestly, it doesn't matter. We are, after all, paid to make the beds."
Martin pressed her to tell him who the culprit was. She refused to sneak. But he was determined to find out. He headed straight for the annexe. Most of the boys were now showered and dressed in their evening uniform of jeans and sweat shirts. He called them into the sitting room.
"Right, boys, someone's going to own up. Julia tells me that she had to make a bed in here this morning. She refused to say who it was, but you are all Hillhead boys and I expect the culprit to own up.
It only took Hugo a moment to reflect.
"Sorry, Martin", it was me. "I just clean forgot".
"OK, I'd better give you something to help your memory tomorrow. You can take your jeans down while I get the plimsoll." And he went to his bedside table to get it.
"Just my luck", said Hugo as he undid his jeans, "still, it'll give you lot something to enjoy". He pulled his jeans down as Martin came back in. "Where do you want me to be for it Martin?"
"I'd have thought over the arm of that chair would be as good a place as any", he replied, pointing at a large armchair by the fire.
Hugo shuffled, jeans round his knees, towards the chair. Then he pulled his boxer shorts down and smartly bent over the arm, burying his head in the seat.
The other boys moved back a few paces, to allow Martin space to swing, and he looked at his first target. The old slipper marks were now even more faded than they had been in the showers the previous evening. The bottom was delightfully firm and slim. He good see that Hugo was tensing himself for the first blow. He stepped forward and tapped the shoe on the cheeks. Then he twisted round as he pulled the plimsoll behind his shoulders. Finally, he swung it forward again, putting the whole weight of his body behind the stroke. The sound of rubber on boy's bottom echoed round the room. As Martin pulled the plimsoll back again, there was an audible gasp from some of the audience as they saw Hugo's bottom turning from pink to red. As for him, he was in agony, but he was used to that, and he stayed perfectly still and silent. A moment later he felt the crash of the second stroke. He bit his lip and wondered whether he was going to get the full four. He suspected he would, because his crime had inconvenienced Julia and that was likely to have made Martin very cross. It was with considerable relief, therefore, that he heard the next words.
"That's your lot Hugo. But it'll be three if it happens again."
"You needn't worry", Hugo replied as he rose clutching his exceptionally sore bottom with both hands, "I'm hardly likely to forget again after that. Christ my bum's sore. I reckon you're even harder than Mr Robinson, and that's saying something."
"It certainly looked wicked", said George, not very sympathetically, "I'm not looking forward to my first dose." He was not the only onlooker who contemplatively stroked his own bottom at the thought of what might be to come.
The watching boys had viewed the beating with mixed emotions. All, not surprisingly, had been fascinated to see how the marks appeared on Hugo's bottom. Most had felt a slight stirring in the loins as the blows had struck. But all had also felt a certain amount of apprehension about their own likely fates as the holiday proceeded.
Martin, happy that he had performed well, went into the dormitory to undress for his shower. As he stood under the steaming hot water, it took all his will power to avoid gripping his stiffening penis. Eventually, in an effort to calm down, he turned the shower to cold. That had the desired effect and, by the time he was dressed in his jeans and back in the sitting room, there was no outward sign of the effect that the slippering had had on him..
It was now, of course, Christmas Eve. The girls had prepared a special dinner of succulently rare roast beef, preceded by soup and then smoked salmon.. There was then a large cheese board followed by a wonderfully creamy chocolate mousse. The main Christmas meal would, of course, be served on the following day, but Samantha and Julia had thought that Christmas Eve ought also to be marked properly. Their guests were highly, and duly, appreciative. Some of the boys helped to clear the plates away when it was over and Christopher, who shared his father's eye for the ladies, offered to help Samantha with the washing up. He realised that she was way beyond his reach, but he nevertheless liked the idea of spending half an hour or so alone with her.
Martin and Julia, not without having to put up with some playful teasing from boys and adults alike, announced their intention to go out clubbing. Samantha agreed to be responsible for ensuring that the younger boys went to bed at a reasonable hour before she, too, went out clubbing. Martin's father, Colin, took his son aside and made him promise to be back by midnight, because of the need for him to ensure that the other boys got some sleep during the night. I am afraid, cynics that they were, none of the boys any longer believed in Father Christmas. That had not stopped them, in previous years, from putting out stockings at the ends of their beds on Christmas Eve. This year, however, they had been told that there would be no stockings. That was a small price to pay for such a wonderful holiday and there had been no complaints. Unbeknown to them, however, their parents had decided to give them a surprise and, with the exception of Martin, all were going to wake in the morning to find the usual bulging stockings on their beds. Colin said he would like Martin's help when it came to putting them in place. Then, with a knowing wink, he said: "OK Martin, have a good time, but don't do anything I wouldn't do".
Samantha was grateful for Christopher's help. She was also aware that the boy found her an attractive companion. She was happy to humour him.
"So, Chris, can I call you that?", she asked.
"Of course" said Christopher who had actually been known to knock other boys down if they dared to shorten his name.
"OK, Chris, tell me what you get up to in the school holidays. I bet a good-looking boy like you has no problem choosing girl friends."
Christopher blushed a delightful pink colour as he heard these words from such a goddess. He decided to try a combination of being both macho and modest.
"Well, I reckon I'm a bit young to get committed. You know, I play the field a bit. I have to admit that there are one or two girls in our village who don't seem to mind going out with me."
"I'm not surprised. If I were younger I'd definitely be on for a few dates with you."
It was a pity about the "if I were younger" bit. But, on the whole, Christopher liked the way the conversation was going.
"Do you get a chance to see any girls during term time?"
"Well, we're not supposed to, but some of us do sometimes break bounds and meet up with girls from the sister school. Of course, we'd get into awful trouble if we were caught. But it's worth the risk."
Samantha smiled at him. "I've always liked a naughty boy. What do you think they'd do if they caught you?"
"No question about that. It would be six of the best with the hardest slipper in the school."
"Wow, do they still whack at your school?"
"Yeah. But it's not too bad. Of course, it hurts like anything when you're getting it (although we absolutely never cry), but it's much better getting a punishment over and done with."
She put down her drying up cloth (Christopher was doing the washing) and went to stand by his side.
"Well, Chris, I think you're terribly brave. I really don't like to think of that great little bum of yours getting hurt". And then, wonder of wonders, he felt her hand gently patting the seat of his jeans. "I remember, when I was just a bit younger than you, getting three with the back of a hairbrush from my dad. I yelled like a three year old and my bum was incredibly sore for ages. I just can't imagine what it would be like getting six."
Christopher was very tempted to reciprocate by patting her bottom. But, sensibly, he decided that might be going a bit far. It didn't stop him looking at that wonderful object, however, and wishing he were a few years older.
Samantha, I am afraid, was deliberately setting out to excite the boy. To be frank about it, she actually rather enjoyed the thought that this young and good-looking boy would almost certainly think of her in his bed that night. But she did have the decency to realise that she shouldn't go too far. She changed the subject by asking about Christopher's day on the slopes. Although part of him was disappointed about the change of tack, he was also conscious that he was becoming aroused and that it might not be "cool" for Samantha to notice. He therefore embarked on the typical skiers's tale of mountainous moguls and daring off piste exploits.
Once all the washing up was done, Samantha and Christopher walked over to the annexe. Before going into the sitting room, she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and thanked him again for his help. He blushed with pleasure yet again. All the boys were still up and playing in the sitting room. Samantha called for quiet and gave her orders.
"All right, all except Simon, Christopher and Jack, straight to bed. I'm going upstairs for ten minutes. When I come down again I expect you to be tucked up quiet, otherwise there'll be trouble. Simon, Christopher and Jack, you can stay up for another half an hour, but then you must go to bed too."
Inevitably, the twelve year olds did not rush to comply with her instructions. But, gradually, they drifted off to the dormitory. When she came back, fifteen rather than ten minutes later, she was not enormously surprised to find that only Jason and Joe were in bed. Toby, Hugo and George, although in their pyjamas, were indulging in a playful pillow fight.
"Right boys, you were meant to be in bed five minutes ago. I said there'd be trouble if you weren't, last one in bed faces the music".
Fearing a report being made to Martin, the three boys dashed to their beds. Toby, by a split second was the last to make it. Samantha strode to his bed.
"Oh dear Toby, looks like you're in trouble doesn't it?"
"Please, Samantha, don't tell Martin. I'll do anything you want, honestly."
"And why wouldn't you want Martin to be told? What do you think he'd do about it?." She sat on the side of Toby's bed as she spoke.
"He'd probably give me a really hard whacking."
"Don't you think you deserve a whacking? After all, you were given fair warning, weren't you?"
"I suppose so, but it is Christmas Eve after all."
Samantha pondered for a moment.
"Well, perhaps I could handle this myself".
"What do you mean? How?"
"Let's see. Get out of bed for a moment."
Toby pushed the bed clothes back and stood beside her, wondering what was going to happen next.
Slowly, she patted her knees.
"I think you'd better put yourself over these, don't you?"
Toby's eyes widened. He had been genuinely afraid that he would be Martin's second victim of the holiday. He assumed, as all the boys did, that he was likely to be slippered at least once during the fortnight, but he was in no hurry to get a sore bottom. But being walloped by such a beautiful girl was quite another thing. Pausing only a moment or two as he took in what was happening, he proceeded to lay himself across her long slim legs. The other boys looked on in amazement at this scene. Hugo and George were kicking themselves for not being the last into bed. The room was absolutely silent as Samantha gently lay her right hand on Toby's pyjama clad bottom. She felt the warmth of his firm flesh. He felt a delightful tingle of anticipation.
"How many do you think you deserve?", she asked, hand still resting on the slim round buttocks.
"Oh, six I should think. But you need to pull my pyjama bottoms down first. That's always how I get it at home."
"I think six would be a bit much. No, I'll give you three. But maybe you're right about your pyjamas". And she moved her hand up to the waistband and slowly slid it between cotton and flesh. She smiled as she felt him beginning to harden against her thigh. Then, very gently, she eased the pyjamas clear of his bottom. She looked down and found herself thinking that his buttocks were wonderfully firm and slim. One day, she thought, this is going to be a very _s_e_x_y young man. She raised her hand to just above her shoulder and waited a second. Then she brought it down smartly. There was a gratifyingly loud slapping sound, although the blow was nowhere near as hard as he was used to. Still, there was a definite stinging feel and the faint beginnings of a nice warm glow. She looked to see what effect the smack had had. There was a faint pink hand mark across the middle of his bottom. He was now very hard. She realised that she had better get on with it before anything embarrassing happened. She raised her hand again and delivered the second smack with the same moderate force as she had used for the first. His bottom became slightly pinker.
"Do you think you deserve a harder smack for the last one?"
"I'm afraid I do", he gasped.
She obliged. It was still not as hard as his father could do, but it definitely produced a more pronounced soreness. His bottom was a much deeper pink now, not the scarlet colour that he was used to, but still a definitely spanked bottom. The soreness faded almost immediately, but it still felt marvellously warm. She eased the pyjamas back over his bottom and told him to get up. Normally, after a walloping, his hands flew straight to his bottom. This time, however, in an effort to hide his excitement from Samantha, he placed them in front of his flies and he quickly jumped back into bed, under the sheet and blankets.
"Let that be a lesson to you young man", she said, "we don't want to have to do that again, do we?"
As far as Toby was concerned, she could do it as often as she wanted. But he played along with her.
"No Samantha, I won't be a naughty boy again."
The other boys were also in various stages of excitement. But that didn't stop George.
"Samantha, I've been thinking, I was really just as naughty as Toby. I don't think it's fair on him to be the only one to be punished. I think you'd better spank me as well."
"Well, if you really think you deserve to be punished, I'll have a word with Martin for you."
George didn't take long to answer that suggestion.
"Well, I suppose you were right. You did only say that the last boy in bed would get into trouble."
She rose from Toby's bed and went to the door.
"I'll be back in about quarter of an hour, when the others are in bed, to turn the lights off. Only quiet talking till then. Any nonsense and I really will leave it to Martin to deal with you."
The second the door was closed there was a buzz of excited conversation.
"You're a lucky bastard Toby", said Hugo, "that must have been wicked".
"I'd give absolutely anything to be spanked by Samantha", said Hugo, "God, you're _c_o_c_k_ must have been against her thigh. Did you get a hard on?"
"What do you think?" replied Toby, "It was so hard I was afraid I was going to erupt all over her. I'm desperate for a wank now, but I'd better wait till after lights out. It wouldn't exactly be cool if I was doing it when she came back in."
In the sitting room Samantha was telling the older boys that she expected them to be in bed in a quarter of an hour.
"And I mean it", she said, "don't imagine I'm a soft touch for one moment."
Then she went back upstairs, reflecting on the undoubted pleasure she had just given to a very excited boy.
Ten minutes after her departure Jack suggested that they had better get ready for bed.
"I don't know if she was serious", he said, "but I don't want to risk being reported to Martin".
The others agreed and they went into the dormitory. They had been entirely oblivious of what had gone on in there a short while before, but now they discovered.
"You missed the coolest thing ever", said Hugo, "Samantha spanked Toby on the bare bum for being last into bed."
"You can't be serious", said Christopher.
"Come and look" said Toby, and he pushed the bed clothes back, turned on his tummy and hiked his pyjama bottoms down. The older boys went over to his bed. Sure enough, his bottom was decidedly pink. The punishment had obviously not been in the slightest bit severe, but they knew that bottoms didn't turn that colour unless they had been whacked.
"Wow", gasped Simon, "wicked. What was it like?"
"Out of this world. Course, the spanking wasn't very hard, but my _c_o_c_k_ definitely was. She must have felt it, but she didn't say anything".
"You didn't get it over her knee did you?" Jack asked in astonishment.
"Certainly did."
"Well, I'm definitely not going to be in bed when she comes down again" said Jack.
"Me neither" the other two echoed.
"You'd better be careful", said George, "I owned up when I saw what happened to Toby and she said that if I thought I deserved to be punished, she'd report me to Martin".
"That's a risk I'm prepared to take", said Jack, "if there's half a chance of getting over her knee I'm going to take it".
Christopher and Simon wholeheartedly agreed.
Samantha would have bet a hundred pounds that all three fourteen year olds would be out of bed when she came down. She'd have won her bet. But she knew who she was going to reward and she had worked out how to do it.
"Right you three. You were told to be in bed and you're not. I ought to report you to Martin for disobedience. But I'm prepared to be lenient. Only one of you will be punished and that will be the last one into bed."
The three stayed stock still, as she had expected.
"It's only fair to warn you what will happen", she went on, "Simon and Jack, since neither of you helped me with the washing up, there can be no doubt that if either of you is the last into bed, you will be having a painful meeting with Martin later on. As for you Chris, if you're last I'm afraid I won't be able to let you off completely. You'll still have to be punished, but I daresay I can think of something myself rather than telling Martin."
The result was just as she intended. Simon and Jack ran for their beds. Christopher started a slow amble towards his. When he got there she told him not to get in yet and went over to sit on the side of his bed. He stood beside her. The look on his face, I am afraid, was not that of a naughty boy about to be given a well earned hiding. Indeed, he had the decided appearance of the cat who had got the cream.
"I'm very sorry about this Chris", she said, "but I can hardly let you off after giving you such a clear warning. I'll give you a choice. I can report you to Martin for disobedience, or I can give you a spanking myself, here and now."
"I'd rather get it over and done with. I'll take a spanking now".
"A sensible decision. OK, over my knee". And he lay across her knee.
He felt her hand resting on the thin material of his pyjama trousers. It was warm on his flesh. His heart was pounding. His hands were sweating. These were familiar feelings when punishment was imminent. But they were normally due to apprehension about the pain he would soon suffer. It was quite different this time. He was not in the slightest bit afraid of the pain. Indeed, he suspected it was not going to be very painful at all (although he secretly hoped there would be something of a sting). No, his rapid heart beat and clammy palms were due to extreme excitement at the prospect of an experience which could only accurately be described as erotic. He suddenly became concerned that she might think it wrong to remove the pyjamas of a fourteen year old boy. He raised his hands, lifted his body clear of her legs and pulled down the pyjama bottoms.
"I know I deserve it properly Samantha, and that means bare."
She smiled. She knew enough about boys to know that she was about to give him one of the most pleasurable experiences of his young life. She had been quietly amused by the spanking she had given Toby. She was slightly surprised to find that looking down on the older boys' slight, round and firm buttocks was actually giving her something of a thrill herself. She allowed her hand gently to caress his flesh. Then she pressed more strongly and felt the firmness of the two mounds. She could tell he was becoming aroused (and it was pleasantly larger than Toby's), but he was by no means fully erect yet. She suspected she could draw this one out longer without running the risk of embarrassment.
"You are probably not aware", she said, knowing that he was fully aware, "but I regrettably had to spank Toby earlier for the same offence. I gave him three. Unfortunately for you, in view of your age, I have decided to give you four."
He longed to call out "oh please give me more", but he realised that it was going to be more fun to play along with this game.
"I know I deserve it. I can't complain."
The other boys were again transfixed. They longed for the first smack to connect. So did Christopher. Slowly, very slowly, she raised her hand high. She knew that he was used to very painful punishment. She was sure that he would not only be able to take as hard as she could give, but that that was what he would want. She slammed her hand down with as much force as she could muster. The thwack was startlingly loud. The stinging across his bottom was nothing compared to his usual punishments, but it was there. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he felt it. She lifted her hand again. Her own pleasure at what she was doing gave her a wonderful feeling of inner warmth. She looked down on the pink mark left by her hand. She waited a second or two to see if it would become a deeper colour. It did, but only slightly. Then she smacked him again, with equal force. His hardness was now pushing strongly against her thigh. What a delight, she thought, to be able to give this splendid boy such immense pleasure so easily. The pink splodge was now definitely colouring more. She waited a little longer this time. He moaned slightly, longing for another slap. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and felt his hard penis rubbing against her leg, which was warm through the thin trousers. Then it came, as hard as the previous two. He was now impressed. The stinging was almost reaching the level of a genuine, if relatively mild, punishment. As she waited again, she was rewarded by seeing that his bottom was now becoming red rather than pink. The last, she decided, should be the hardest of the lot. She pulled her hand up as high as she could. Then, with as much force as she could muster, she slammed it down into the beautifully firm flesh. She sat still, resting her hand on the now very warm young buttocks. Then she stroked them gently. Finally, and, it has to be said, reluctantly, she lifted her hand and told him to get up. He didn't respond immediately. He wanted to stay, pressed again! st her legs as long as possible. Then, with an audible sigh, he lifted his bottom, pulled his pyjama trousers back over his rock hard organ and, like Toby before him, stood immediately placing his hands over the flies in a vain attempt to hide his pleasure. As he slid beneath the bedclothes, he slipped his hands through the waistband of the pyjamas and stroked his warm bottom.
"I hope that's taught you a lesson Chris."
"It certainly has Samantha. I don't think I'll ever be naughty again after that."
She rose to her feet and walked to the door. Before switching off the lights, she turned to the watching boys to say goodnight.
"Well boys, I am off for a bit of entertainment now. Your on your honour to behave well. No horseplay, just get to sleep. Happy Christmas" and she was off.
Now, while the three older boys had been in the sitting room and the twelve year olds had been getting ready for bed, a plan had been hatched. It had been Simon's idea. None of them was aware that Martin had been told to be back by midnight. Bearing in mind that he had not gone out until 10.30, they were confident that he and Julia would not be back until one at the earliest. Accordingly, it had seemed to them that there would be no great risks to be run in their making their own trip into the village. They did not intend to go into any of the clubs, but they thought it would be fun to soak in the atmosphere by mingling with the late night revellers in the streets. The three of them had agreed that, once Samantha left for the night, they would quietly dress again and slip out into the cold night air. Now was the time for action. It was 11.30. If they hurried, they could be sure, they thought, of at least an hour's fun.
"Christopher", whispered Simon, "are you still on for it?"
"Yeah, I don't mind telling you that I'm really desperate for a wank after that, but if we wank first that won't leave us much time for any fun. I'll just have to hold off till later. What about you two?"
Simon and Jack were almost as aroused as Christopher, but neither wanted to be thought a spoil sport. They both said they would come too. Hugo, in typical fashion, said he would like to come as well when he worked out what was going on. But the older boys said that they had decided to go on their own and he reluctantly accepted their decision.
Within five minutes, the trio were slipping out of the annexe and heading for the busy main street. That left Jason, Joe, Toby, Hugo and George alone, and with no adult (or older) supervision. If you imagine that they had any intention of going quietly to sleep, you can have no real knowledge of boys. Jason made the suggestion.
"Hey lads, we're entirely alone. What about a late night video?"
"Good idea", said Toby. The others all agreed and they climbed out of bed and went into the sitting room.
Christopher's evening on the town with Julia had been a great success. They had started in a small, dimly lit club where the music had been excellent (to their young ears) and the crush immense. Indeed, so immense was the crush that, whether they wanted to or not, they had to dance very closely together. Fortunately, that suited them both admirably. Hands roamed in a most pleasurable fashion. They danced almost non-stop, his hand pushing her bottom towards him and hers doing the same to his. After about three quarters of an hour they moved to a quieter and, if anything, even darker club. There they settled themselves in a small alcove and became entwined in each other's arms. Martin found himself enjoying the longest kiss of his life, his left hand round her left buttock and his right hand fondling her right breast. She was gently caressing his right buttock with her right hand and, about five minutes before it had to come to an end, her left hand found its way towards the bulging tent at the front of his jeans. But they both knew they had to leave. They reluctantly rose and, he rather awkwardly, walked out into the street.
Neither Martin nor Julia had eyes for anyone but themselves. That was fortunate for the trio of fourteen year olds who passed them as they headed up the main street.
"Blimey, that was a close thing", said Simon, "they must be heading off to another club."
The three watched the disappearing couple. When they were about a hundred yards apart they suddenly realised, with considerable shock, that Martin and Julia had passed the last club and were on the road to the chalet.
"Bloody hell", cried Christopher, "they're going back to the chalet. We're done for now".
"Not necessarily", said Jack, "they're probably going back cos they know that Samantha's out and they can have a private session in the girls' room. With any luck, they'll just go straight upstairs. Come on, let's follow them and slip in when they've had enough time to get up stairs."
So, furtively, the three trailed the two.
When Martin and Julia got to the chalet, they went to the main building and opened the door.
"Great, with any luck they'll go in for a chat with the adults and we can get past them and into the annexe". This was Simon.
The three waited to see what would happen. Then, to their dismay, they saw Colin in the hall. He was handing what looked like a large sack to Martin, who said something and then, with Samantha headed to the annexe. Still, the trio thought, there was still the very good chance that they would go straight upstairs. They waited again.
As they entered the hall of the annexe Martin handed the sack to Samantha.
"Would you mind taking that upstairs with you while I just check that they're all asleep. If they are, I'll come up and get it and distribute the stockings. If not, we can have some fun in your room while we wait for them to go to sleep."
Samantha took the sack and walked up the stairs. Martin opened the door of the sitting room!
The lights were on. The television was on. Jason, Joe, Toby, Hugo and George were huddled in front of it. At first they didn't hear Martin's entry. It was only when Hugo felt the cool air from the open door that he looked round. He couldn't help his language. The shock was too great.
"Oh _s_h_i_t_", he exclaimed. The others also turned and saw Martin staring calmly at them.
All he said was "wait here" and he went into the dormitory to collect the slipper. They didn't have to be told what he was doing.
"How many do you think we'll get?" asked Toby.
"Well, it's obviously not going to be two", said George, "the best we can hope for is three, but my bet's on four."
"Bloody hell", said Jason looking at his watch, "and on Christmas day too."
Martin immediately noticed that the three fourteen year olds were not in their beds. He went to his bedside table, retrieved the plimsoll, and walked back into the sitting room.
"OK, where are Christopher, Simon and Jack?"
The twelve year olds weren't going to sneak. They were now standing facing Martin. They all looked down at their feet and remained silent.
"Very well, we will sit and wait for them."
As he spoke, the door opened again and the three miscreants peered in.
"We're done for" whispered Simon to the others and, sheepishly, they walked in.
"Explanation please lads", said Martin.
"Sorry, Martin, we thought you'd be out later", said Christopher.
"You thought wrong, didn't you?"
"Yes".
"I'm still waiting for an explanation."
Jack answered: "we just thought it would be fun to go for a walk down the main street."
"Which clubs did you go into?"
"We didn't go into any, honestly Martin", said Simon.
"You're lucky it's Christmas and I'm feeling generous", said Martin. "I'll deal with you three first. I should give you six, but I'll only give you five. You lot", he turned to the twelve year olds, "will get three each. Jack, you can be first".
There were no complaints or arguments. They all knew they had been caught fair and square. Jack stepped forward.
"Over the chair or a touching toes job?" he asked as he undid his jeans.
"I think you're old enough to manage without a chair. Touch your toes."
Jack faced the fire. He lowered his jeans. Then, putting both hands inside the waist band of his boxers so as to be able to give one last stroke to his as yet pain free bottom, he pulled them down as well. He placed his feet about six inches apart and bent over. His finger tips touched his toes. His legs were straight. His bottom was a perfect shape, thought Martin, as he too stepped forward.
"Right, let's get on with it. I'm going to do this in double quick time. So the rest of you, drop your trousers and get ready". Then, with a sudden rush, and without even pausing to tap Jack's bottom first, he let fly with a tremendous swing of his right arm. The crash was resounding. He pulled back, only pausing a split second to admire the red outline of the sole of the plimsoll. Then the second, third, fourth and fifth. The waiting boys winced with each blow. Jack held firm, but was in enormous pain. At the end, his small round bottom was the deepest scarlet any of them had seen for a very long time.
"OK, up, next Christopher".
Jack jumped up grabbing his burning cheeks with both hands and rubbed furiously. He stood back with the other boys as Christopher stepped forward and took up the required position. Martin was just about to swing when he started at the still just pink bottom.
"Looks like you've already been in trouble. When did you get that?" he asked.
"Samantha smacked my bum for being last into bed", the boy replied.
"Some people get all the luck", said Martin, "were you just wearing pyjamas".
"No, bare".
"Wow, that must have been great. Anyway, here goes with the real thing". And the first stinging blow was delivered. As with Jack, Martin wasted no time in raining down the strokes on the slim buttocks. As with Jack, everyone else winced. As with Jack, Christopher jumped at the end and grabbed his burning bottom.
Simon didn't have to be told. He instantly took his place and the performance was repeated. By now, Jack's pain, though still great, had eased sufficiently to enable him to follow the proceedings with more interest. He marvelled at the older boy's ability with the slipper. And, yet again that night, he felt the familiar stirring between his legs as Simon's bottom turned scarlet and, punishment over, he rubbed it vigorously."
"Jason, Joe, Toby, Hugo and George", said Martin, "do you think you're up to a toes touching whacking, or do you need a chair?"
The five boys, having just seen Martin's handiwork, were far from convinced that they would be able to remain in place without support, but none was prepared to admit it. They all said they would touch their toes.
"Right, this is the order, Jason, Joe, Hugo, George then Toby. Into position Jason".
Toby was not happy to be going last, but he could see that, as the punisher's brother, he should perhaps give way to the others. One after the other they stepped forward, bent and had their small slim bottoms thrashed harder than ever before. When it came to Hugo's turn, Martin, on seeing the already bruised bottom from his earlier beating, was tempted to go easy on the boy. Then he remembered that this was one of the most experienced victims of corporal punishment in the school. His slippering was as hard as his friends'. As Toby took his place, he spoke to his brother.
"It's probably faded, cos it wasn't quite as hard as Christopher's, but if you look closely you might be able to see that I got a bare bum spanking from Samantha too".
"You really have started early, haven't you Tobes", said Martin as he planted the first agonising stoke across his brother's small bottom. Just as the others had, Toby managed to stay in place for all three. His bottom was hot, sore and throbbing at the end. But he'd taken it well.
By now, the three fourteen year olds were fully aroused. The younger boys were all getting there as well. None needed any prompting to head for bed.
"I'll be coming to bed myself soon" said Martin. Anyone who mucks around again will get a repeat dose. Goodnight lads."
"Goodnight" they chorused in turn as they filed into the dormitory.
As they climbed into their beds they whispered of their admiration for Martin. None of them chose to lie on his back. All were stroking their burning bottoms as they lay on their sides. The talk stopped. The rhythmic squeaking of bed springs started. I am sorry to have to report that not one of those boys managed to resist the temptation. But what a spectacular start to Christmas day it was. Despite their pain, they all eventually drifted off to a most contented sleep.
Upstairs, Martin gave Julia a full report of what had kept him so long. She chuckled when she heard what Samantha had done to Toby and Christopher.
"The little minx" she said, "I bet she enjoyed it."
"What, do girls enjoy spanking boys?" asked Martin incredulously.
"Why not come her and find out?" she said. She stood up from the bed on which she had been sitting and beckoned the handsome sixteen year old towards her. With a shiver of anticipation, he walked forwards. When he was standing just in front of her she spoke again. "Turn round, you naughty boy". He turned, and felt her arms circling his waist and pulling him towards her. Then her hands were undoing his jeans. The zip was slowly lowered. He was, of course, fully erect. She gently stroked it as she eased his boxers over it. Then she released him and told him to face her. He turned, by now not in the least bit embarrassed by his state of arousal. She looked down.
"You certainly are a naughty boy, aren't you. I think six of the best is called for" and she sat on the bed and patted her knees to indicate what she required of him. He slowly lowered himself. She felt his hard manhood against her thigh. She gazed in unbounded admiration at the bottom she had so far only seen in jeans. It was so strong looking. So firm, and yet so slim. She gently stroked it. She felt him rubbing against her. Then, with slow deliberation, she lifted her hand and then, much more rapidly, forced it down as hard as she could onto that perfect flesh. After six, he was moaning with unadulterated pleasure. She managed to turn his bottom a commendably red, if not scarlet, colour. There was a glorious sting to it and it was wonderfully warm.
As she gave another gentle stroke to the _s_e_x_iest boy's bottom she could imagine, she spoke again.
"I'm very much afraid that I enjoyed doing that rather too much. That was rather naughty of me, wasn't it. I suppose you'll think I need a spanking myself". He eased himself up. He was worried that he would come at any moment, but he could not resist an invitation like that. They both stood. This time she had her back to him and he was undoing her jeans. He slipped them down. Then he put his hands under the top of her knickers and they followed. He allowed his hand to stroke that most private part of a girl's body, and then gently turned her round. He sat back and pulled her across his knees. He knew it had to be quick and he knew, as she was not a boy, that it should not be too hard. But still, he gave her six fairly sharp slaps. Her bottom was not much fuller than his. It was almost like spanking a boy. But it was definitely more fun. When he finished, her buttocks were a wonderful pink colour. He felt the glow of warmth from them. Then, he lifted her up and lay back on the bed.
"Come here darling" he whispered. Of course, he wanted to go the whole way, but he realised that that was hoping for too much. He was happy enough when she lay beside him and took it firmly in her hand. Ever so slowly, she pumped it. Then, as he knew he could hold off not much longer he begged her. "Faster, faster, it's coming, it's coming". She suddenly increased the pace dramatically and a few seconds later was rewarded by the most magnificent throbbing between her fingers. She was amazed at the force with which the liquid spurted out. They both lay back exhausted.
They lay there, in the most harmonious silence, for about ten minutes. Then he turned to her.
"When will Samantha be back?" he whispered.
"She promised me we could have the room till two."
"What, you mean you always meant us to do this?"
"Well, I'm not sure about the spanking bit, but the rest ... of course. You're the _s_e_x_iest boy in Courchevel. There's no way I wasn't going to try."
He was now feeling the stirring again. She looked and saw what was happening. Her hands found his testicles and stroked them beautifully. It rose and rose. This time it was almost better. It was slow and long. He closed his eyes and pictured the day's events. He thought of what he had done to the boys. He thought of what he had done to Julia. He thought of what she had done to him. Then came the climax.
Between ten past midnight and two in the morning they did it four times all told. Although he felt more drained than ever before, he knew he had the best night of his life. She was lying beside him, asleep, but with a beautiful smile on her lips. He bent down and gently kissed them. The he eased himself up. By now, they were both completely naked. He gently picked her sleeping body up in his arms and put her under the bedclothes. Then, stopping to pick up the sack of bulging stockings and his own clothes, he crept out of the room, down the stairs, into the sitting room and through to the dormitory.
They were all asleep. He wondered whether any of them had done it more than once. He suspected they might have done. He tiptoed between the beds, gently laying the stockings out and then climbed into his own bed. He was asleep in seconds.
Martin was the last to wake in the morning, but not long after the others. He smiled as he saw them excitedly, like five year olds, unpacking their stockings. Cries of "wicked" and cool" followed fast upon each other. Then he slowly pushed back his own bedclothes and sat up. At the end of his bed there was another stocking. He could not think how it had got there. He leant forward and grabbed it. It was packed with the most wonderful Christmassy things. There were all the usual tangerines and nuts, chocolate money and so on. There was a pair of cuff links. There were CDs and tapes. Then, right at the end, there was a plain white envelope with the words "maybe next time!!!" written on it. He opened it and found a small packet of condoms. He looked up and saw the boys beginning to get out of their pyjamas. They were all admiring the bruising on each other's bottoms. None had noticed the condoms. Strangely, perhaps he was growing up, he was pleased about that. Maybe the days of boasting about his successes with girls were past. Maybe the successes were now going to be so great that boasting would no longer be necessary. Maybe, he thought, looking at the small packet in his hand, there is a Father Christmas after all.