The Hogan Series
|by Simon Caine|
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 19 Jan 2010
“Just like old times!”
Anticipation and Expectation
It was quite like old times. His bag was in the back of the car and he was excited at the prospect of going back to Sixth form. No; it was not the prospect of hour long lessons and double periods in the physics Lab., nor the prospect of 17th Century history. It certainly was not the weekly dance with the sister college for girls across the park. The thoughts going through Sam's head were the illicit trips into town for a quick drink round the back of the Rose and Crown, with the prospect of getting caught and the inevitable six or twelve of the best, now he was in sixth form.
Other boys schools had “progressed” to a situation where 6th formers and Prefects were not caned or beaten in any way but at Sam Hogan's college the Head of House was just as likely to get his backside striped as any errant 4th or 5th former.
But Sam had left school a good few years ago and was now in the world of work. An Old Boys reunion was giving him the chance to relive those heady days of late adolescence. He had packed his uniform which still fitted like the day it was made for him at the exclusive menswear shop in town. He had his rugby kit and his favourite cotton shorts that fitted like a second skin. A keen sportsman, usually in front of the TV, Sam still kept his body in trim and was quite used to having guys comment on the physique, he was not averse to displaying on his website.
He arrived late, as always and when he burst into the old common room, he was met with about twenty pairs of eyes but at the front of the room was his old Headmaster, Dr. Henry Jayson.
“AH! Hogan! Fifteen minutes late! See me in my study after you have put your luggage in your room. You are sharing with McBride, your former room mate. You will be wearing your football strip but trainers, not boots!”
A murmur went round the room. Hogan was to receive a beating on the first evening.
“Gentlemen, that concludes our welcome meeting but I would like you all, back here in one hour at seven forty-five sharp. AND DO NOT BE LATE. You know the college policy on tardiness!”
The First Fifteen
The old long case clock in the corridor was striking the quarter hour as Sam knocked on the Head's door. He was freshly showered and as instructed was wearing the black and white shirt of the football first eleven and the nylon shorts which were now the school's away kit. The kit had been laid out on his bed when he went to his room. It fitted well. The shorts were only slightly loose and a touch longer than his favourite “Cotton Traders” whites.
He entered and was not surprised to see Dr. Jayson seated at his desk, which now had a laptop computer where the old Olivetti typewriter used to have pride of place.
He swallowed hard; he recognised the gold tooled red leather of the punishment book or “Record of Corporal Correction”.
“Well Hogan! Fifteen minutes late; that means fifteen strokes. Bend over!”
No “How are you?” “Are you well?” “How is the job?” No, just a curt and businesslike “Bend over!”
Sam bent over the arm of the red leather Chesterfield in the bay window. Any person passing would see him being punished. “Just like the old days!” Sam thought.
He was aware that the thin nylon shorts were chill against his warm backside. The seam was right up the crease of his arse and he knew the Head would be eyeing up the pert firm target. They would be scant protection against the strokes he was about to receive.
The sudden searing pain through his arse cheeks gave witness to the first heavy stroke which had hit the crease of his butt cheeks and his thighs.
“Oh fuck!” he cried out. He had expected it to hurt but this was .....Thwack!! Thwack!!! The second and third strokes had already hit their target just above the first.
“We will start again! Mr. Hogan, you seem to have forgotten that you have to count the strokes.”
So it was that Sam took eighteen scorchers on the first night of his reunion.
He had dreamt of being caned again by his old head master. He waited to be told to stand. He was not risking a further dose of the heavy senior cane. He could feel the swollen ridges covering his arse cheeks.
His arse burnt red hot, JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS! He had not expected what would happen next.
Dr. Jayson had not lost his talent for seizing the moment to emphasize his authority.
“Do not get changed Hogan! Follow me to the common room.”
Sam wondered what the hell was going to happen now. Then he smiled to himself.
“Of course the bastard is going to get me to show my arse to the lads!” he thought.
He would rather fancy showing his stripes at this early stage of the game.
Second and Third Fifteen
The common room was buzzing but fell silent when they saw Hogan and the Head enter. Dr. Jayson was carrying the senior cane. Was Hogan to get further punishment in front of the whole reunion? He most certainly was.
With his backside still throbbing from his eighteen strokes, Sam bent over a conveniently located desk to receive a second fifteen on his shorts ... and then a third fifteen on the bare backside.
What a reunion! He had been there less than two hours and had already taken forty eight of the heavy senior rattan. It really was just like old times!
The Head dismissed the gathering with the following words. “I hope this evening has not disappointed any of you gentlemen. Unlike the old days, I presume that all of you look forward to being reminded of the standards I expect in the way to which you were accustomed.
Dawns the new day
Saturday morning started early with the school bell sounding at 07.30 am. Sam hit the showers and was shocked, if not surprised by the temperature of the water. Fit naked bodies surrounded him and many admiring sympathetic pairs of eyes were fixed on his rounded striped bum cheeks. Inevitably his fellow students were in various stages of sexual arousal as each soaped and massaged the parts of the body that interest all healthy fit males. Hogan renewed his interest in those who had stimulated his urges in earlier years. He noticed that his room mate, Patrick McBride had not lost any of his allure. A little hairier than he had been at eighteen, the compactly built 5'8“Patrick maintained his toned six pack, broad swimmers shoulders, muscular back leading Sam's eyes to the protruding rounded butt, which had given Sam satisfaction in more ways than one.”A butt you could stack bottles on... if not crates!“Sam thought to himself. He was lusting once more for one his former”playmates“. He knew Paddy lived with his model girlfriend but perhaps he still was flexible in his sexual choices. Sam was soon to find out.
At breakfast there was the usual banter.
“Hi Sam how's your arse?” from Johnny Grayson.
“Morning all!” and looking straight at Sam, “If we all sitting comfortably, I'll begin with today's schedule,” from Mike Harrison-Jones, Sam's old head prefect. “The weekend is going to be filmed or rather videoed so all will have a visual record of the events we hope you are to enjoy. It starts with the welcome assembly, so we all know who the star act was last night and hope Sam will entertain us further this weekend. Your groups are on the notice board and can I draw your attention to item one of the Head's bulletins?” Mike coughed, “er..It seems rather soon but there is a punishment parade at Midday. Right gents. Have a good day.”
The last reference to punishment parade had caused an excited buzz of anticipation among the group.
Sure enough the usual line up was listed on the board for all to see.
“Memorandum from the Head Master's office
The under-mentioned students will report to my study at Midday for punishment.
1) Grayson JT
2) McBride PJM
3) McLaren RJ
4) Hogan SM
5) Jameson AK
6) Jameson CP
Regulation PE or Rugby Shorts are to be worn with no underwear.
(Athletic supports may be worn.)
H. Jayson. MA. M ED. PhD. OBE.
Head Master “
Paddy looked at Sam and, with an all knowing look of dread saying,
“Fuck! I knew some one was outside the common room when we were watching that porno movie”
“Nah! No way! It must have been the empty whisky bottle I left in the kitchen.” said Robbie Mclaren.
“Or both, knowing our luck” rejoined Paddy, unconsciously feeling his backside.
Johnny Grayson knew he and the Jameson twins had been seen smoking and drinking in the librarian's room after lights out.
Sam's comment brought them all to earth. “Whatever the reason and does the Doc need a reason, you are all joining me in the Sore Arse group!”
The morning dragged on. All were concentrating on the midday event which would spoil the lunch of six of their assembly
At eleven fifty-five, the best six arses on the course were on for probably more than six of the best. It would be more like twelve or even eighteen painful strokes.
The gang dutifully assembled outside the Doc's study at two minutes to twelve. Dressed as instructed in the tight butt hugging Cotton Traders rugby shorts that were close fitting enough to show a guy's religion! If there was anything witty to say at this time, it came from Sam, trying to lighten the moment. “My don't we all look HOT!! Shorts by the latest Swedish fashion designer PERT BOTHOM !”
At one minute to the hour, Dr. Jayson swept past them, as in the old days. He was wearing his academic gown and mortar board.
He had three heavy senior weight canes under his arm. Nothing was said but the colour drained from Hogan's Six as they waited to be summoned in to receive their painful reminder of the old days.
“Over!” and done with?
Let's jump forward a few minutes, foregoing the predictable lecture about standards of behaviour etc.etc.etc... which the Doc gave before announcing the doses of “Correction” he was to prescribe.
Yes! It was the whisky bottle and the porno movie. The whisky was “borrowed from the drinks cabinet in the Doc's office. Punishment for that would be twelve for Paddy and Sam but an extra three for the luckless Robbie who”borrowed“it.
For Johnny, Alex and Clive it would another twelve each.
“Gentlemen! It has come to my knowledge that all of you are still occasionally receiving the kiss of the cane. Therefore, since this is the first of such reunions in a formal situation, I shall take this opportunity of assessing your caning skills, by allowing you to display your ability to give and take punishment.” The guys looked at each other. Sam allowed himself a little smirk. Was he going to get to cane Paddy's bubble butt after such a long time dreaming about it?
“McBride. You will cane Hogan and he will cane you”
“Fuck! No” was Paddy's response. Sam stopped short of shouting “Yessssssss!” and punching the air.
“Grayson and McLaren. You will give the Jamesons their twelve strokes. They will give you twelve of the very best and I will be underscoring your dozen, McLaren, with your final three. Lets get on with it. To save time Hogan cane McBride over the desk. Grayson cane Alex over the Chesterfield. McLaren cane Clive over the leather armchair I used to use for the juniors' canings
Thus it was that for the next fifteen minutes, there was a triple echo of the canings that were giving both pain pleasure and exciting satisfaction to the gang of six.
Paddy stretched over the leather topped desk. His beautiful rounded arse causing Sam's shorts to fit even closer!
Alex Jameson's full rounded arse cheeks were presented for his kiss of the cane.
His brother Clive lowered his head to the seat of the armchair and took his body weight on his elbows, as he bent over and cheekily wiggled his butt cheeks until he was ready for the onslaught of pain that would bring him to an adrenalin high as his caning progressed.
Hogan, Grayson and Mclaren raised the their canes, as one, to shoulder height awaiting the sign from Doctor Jayson to begin.
Paddy had a growing problem of tension in the front of his jock that Sam would later release.
Paddy winced at the sudden fire in his arse cheeks. Eleven more like that one and he would really give Sam Hogan a memorable sore arse.
Alex closed his eyes and waited for his next stroke. This was why he was here.
Clive enjoyed the smell of the ancient leather as he too was lashed by the first of his strokes. This is what reunions were about. He tensed his bubble butt for the rest of his ecstatic thrashing. Revenge would be sweet.
Like ricocheting bullets. The first three wicked strokes rebounded off their throbbing targets.
Thwackkk! Thwaacckkk! Thwaaaacccckkkk!
Thirtythree painful, stinging strokes later and with roles reversed, events moved onward to an inevitable climax of pain and pleasure.
The ancient long case clock in the echoing corridor, ticked in time with the rhythmic percussion of admonishment being performed in the Headmaster's study. As the last strokes punished their receptive targets, the clock struck the half hour. The reunion was only half way through. What else could happen?
This most certainly was not like old times.
Copyright Simon Caine MMX
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