Stories From Boarding School Part 1

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You’ll have heard many tales of the goings-on at English boarding schools. I’m here to tell you there’s a lot of truth to those tales. I went to an all-male boarding school many years ago. It was okay most of the time, but life got a lot more interesting when I turned sixteen, and moved up to the Senior House, a separate boarding house for the older three years of school life, where 100 hormone-drenched teenagers lived in a world of locker rooms, communal showers, and dormitories. As well as the dormitories, there were four single ‘study bedrooms’ in the attic, once servants’ rooms, for this was an old house. These rooms were occupied by school prefects, older boys in their last year of school who were supposed to impose some sort of order on the rest of us.The possibilities for erotic discovery were endless, and I thought you might like to hear my own ‘growing up’ story.This is part one, and I might have called it The Awakening; you’ll see why. This all happened not long after my sixteenth birthday and my move to the world of the Senior House, and a few weeks before the end of the summer term.By way of background, the school has a simple system of discipline. If anything happened that bahis siteleri shouldn’t have, the oldest boy present took the punishment. In my case one afternoon I happened on a couple of boys fighting and making a mess, knocking over a chair and breaking a lamp. I stopped to pick up the chair, and at that moment the Housemaster came into view. It took moments to discover I was the oldest of the three (by two weeks!). The other boys got sent to do the washing up, I was told to expect to hear from the headmaster for my punishment as since I was the oldest in the room it fell to me to be disciplined.Well, that was that and I was beginning to think maybe nothing would come of it when…I was in the shower one evening, idly admiring the way bubbles of soapy water were cascading over the taut buttocks of my sixteen-year-old companions when I heard my name called. It was one of the prefects, a good-looking eighteen-year-old who would be leaving school in a few weeks. If I had to have someone looking for me, I was happy it was him. He’d always been friendly which is more than I can say for some! I never knew him by any other name than his surname, Roberts. He told me to dry off and get in canlı bahis siteleri my pyjamas as he’d been sent to take me to the headmaster’s study. I asked him if I shouldn’t get properly dressed, he said that wasn’t necessary, and he had an odd expression on his face for a moment.As we walked along the corridor, me now in pyjamas and dressing gown, he said, quietly, “A word of advice. Admit whatever it is, and don’t argue. If you protest at all he’ll just make it twice as hard.”When we got there, he knocked on the door and we went in I was surprised Roberts came into the room, it seemed he was there to witness what came next.I was told to hand my dressing gown to Roberts, to loosen the drawstring on my pyjama pants, and stand facing a plain chair. As I stood there my pyjamas dropped to the floor leaving my ass barely covered by my pyjama jacket. I was told I was guilty (!) of damaging school property and did I have anything to say? Taking Robert’s advice, I apologized for my errors, “I’m very sorry sir.”I was told to bend over the chair, holding onto the seat – of course, my jacket fell about my shoulders, and I was naked from ankles to armpits.I could hear movement behind me, canlı bahis a long pause, a sharp intake of breath and a swish of the cane. Fuck! A searing burning pain flared over my butt cheeks, a pain that roared and penetrated, pain beyond anything I’d ever felt. I gasped, clamped my mouth to hold it in, gripped the chair tight – Crack! Oh Fuck, this hurt, and the bastard was waiting a good while between strokes to give me the full impact. Again and again, the cane slashed into my bare flesh, sending a firestorm of pain through my ass. After five strokes he paused, then came a bigger grunt of effort and the final shocking impact, that had me gasping, barely containing myself, the last stroke low down on my buttocks and perilously close to my exposed balls, making me writhe and moan with the pain.I managed to stand, pulling my pants up and flinching as the fabric rubbed over my ravaged butt. Roberts silently handed me my dressing gown and I just about made it outside the room and staggered to a stop.Roberts, of course, as a prefect was one of the privileged with one of the study-bedrooms on the top floor, and after he waited a few minutes for me to catch my breath and get some control over myself he suggested we go there while I recover. He said he had some lotion that would help if I’d like to try it. I sure wasn’t ready to go back to the dorm, and all the questions I’d get so I was happy to go along with the idea.

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