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Dreading Eton - Lent Half - Chapter Nine

by PJ Franklin

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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: 05 Jan 2018

Lent Half – Chapter Nine

Of all the customs, that which appears to me the most absurd, is the one that condemns the Colleger to live on mutton, during the whole of the seven or eight years which he passes in those venerable halls – Eton College Magazine, by Sir John Wikens, June – November 1832

Come along down to Sally Harrowell’s; that’s our School-house tuck shop – she bakes such stunning murphies – Tom Brown’s Schooldays, 1857, Rugby School.

* * * * *

Camps, can we talk, please? Daws said with Corby at his side. I sighed. The look on Daws’ face just then signaled what I had expected for a few weeks now, so knew that it was coming and dreaded it nonetheless, Sure, now what is on your mind, Dawson? I faked a smile, It’s about Kevin, he said.

Right. I sighed a little now knowing that it wasn’t something more serious, but it was still a concern. Kevin had made a huge show of wanting to join into the fray with the rest of us in-so-far as being spanked and fucked and such just like he was one of the boys as they say.

I truly did appreciate my husband’s willingness to, if not change his stripes, at least learn to enjoy the other side of the coin. And he had, brilliantly so I thought, Corby and I don’t wish to make any more of it than it really is, but we almost think that ... well, that he wishes that we never came over to be here with you both.

My eyebrows shot up. Now I was very concerned, Do you mind me asking why you think so? I asked Daws. Corby spoke, He seems to be avoiding us lately. I know he’s busy at work. But when he looks at either of us, it’s almost with a ... well, I hate to assume, but with a bit of dread, maybe? As if we remind him of something unpleasant, Corbin explained.

I thought I understood what they meant. It had been two weeks’ worth of some changes of living among the four of us that very recently certainly was not the same excitement as when we first met. It was a kind of end of the honeymoon type of feeling. Granted, Kevin was into a stage of his professional development recently that was distracting to him and he was spending even less time with all of us including me.

That is when the light turned on, I wonder if he is envious. He’s been so busy, I mused out loud, Daws was wondering the same, actually. Do you think Daws and I should kind of disappear for a few days? It would be OK and fun for us to tour a bit on our own, and I was about to blurt back a swift, No! but then I stopped to think,

Let me do some research, but all the same. Why don’t you boys plan what you suggested? No harm in it, I smiled and everyone seemed OK with my conclusion. Dawson and Corbin by then were well trusted with using one of our vehicles to gad about geography well away from home on their own and I proceeded.

I waited a good hour, however, before I hunted Kevin down. He was hunkered down in his office as usual and just as I appeared in the doorway, sighed and threw a pen across the room and then looked up at me, Oh. Sorry. Didn’t see you, he said looking aggravated.

I walked over to where he sat at his desk, leaned over and pecked his temple, Have you erged today? I asked meaning had he done some erg-machine training in our garage. Corbin and Dawson had joined us in the erg-training effort to eventually form up a jaunty quad crew among us and enjoy some river rowing and at first it spurred both Kevin and I on to train a bit harder, but not so much lately.

No. Too wound up in all of this crap, scowling a bit of several piles of papers and documents, I think something to do with his thesis. Something to do with an arcane sub-field of adolescent psychology, their brains or some such, Where are the boys then? he asked, but his asking was more suspicious sounding than an ordinary inquiry to me.

Out and about. Say, Daws and Corby did mention to me today that they are interested in taking off for a few days on their own. You know, out of town. Hotel and everything like ordinary tourists, I launched my own research. Kevin sat there a moment, Nonsense. Why should they spend money on a hotel? They can stay here nights as usual. Why? Where did they want to go? Kevin asked. Again, it seemed a defensive toned question and not merely an inquiry.

I’ve no idea Kev. They know their way around. I mean, if it’s the car, I’m sure they can find other transportation, I replied, The car? Why would I care about that? and this was not going well at all. I sighed, walked over and kneeled on the floor right beside him and looked up at him ready to tell the truth,

The truth is. You’ve not been yourself the last few weeks and they came to me today wondering ... wondering if their presence is disturbing and that they should leave altogether, then steeled myself for his reply. Kevin sighed and closed his eyes, pursed his lips and then sat back in his chair, rubbed his temples before opening his eyes,

I’ve been a bear lately. This ... this abomination called my thesis is becoming a shit-hole worthless piece of crap. My advisor won’t say it. He thinks it’s just jolly fine. But I’m not happy with it and it is important, he explained.

I could breathe now. Kevin had a very rational explanation that made sense. I lay my head on his knee sideways and his fingers slowly raked through my hair, I ... I should find them and apologize when they get back, and I lifted my head, No. You’ve no cause to apologize. The boys will understand. I say we let them out of the nest for a few days and get some time truly alone, just you and I, please? I asked.

He smiled and nodded, OK. I just don’t want them thinking I don’t love having them here. I do, very much, he said and now I stood, leaned over and said, I’m going to dress down and head to the garage to erg. Join me if you can, Kev. If you cannot, I’ll understand, I said.

He nodded. I padded out of his office feeling like that I had not dodged a bullet so much as made sure that there were no bullets to be dodged and there had been none. I did not expect to be joined by Kev in the garage, but to my surprise just as I had started my erg routine he walked in and plopped down onto the machine next to mine.

I looked at him, smiled and nodded. He did the same sans any verbal response and we went at our exercise side-by-side just as we had well before our OE gap year boys had arrived on the scene. That evening the four of us sat down together after dinner and had a heart-to-heart.

Kevin openly admitted that he had harbored just the beginnings of what turned out to be worry that he would be somehow left out of our sexy scrum for no other reason than his thesis work had provided him bad energy that he did not wish spreading about. The boys understood and regaled us with tales of the travails of the English public school pupil struggling through to be successful with their various complex levels of educational competency testing complete.

They explained the fairly intense and negative emotional reactions that the process can sometimes cause that affected their interpersonal relationships. I could relate as my years at Eton College had felt similar, though not quite as intense as my British counterparts resultant that I headed back to the USA for university sans any need to satisfy British requirements after my B-block year.

The boys then outlined their carefully constructed plan to be gone for four days and three nights up and down the Eastern seaboard. It sound exciting and the boys looked eager to explore on their own. Kevin made some suggestions of sights to be seen and visited and then we four hugged and pecked kisses and retired, they to our spare bedroom and Kevin and me to ours.

It felt odd at first. We had, the four of us, been so damned thick as thieves that not having Dawson and Corbin in our bed or close at hand for the first time since they arrived seemed new. Actually, exciting. The boys were planning on departure on their away-from-home adventure early the next morning.

In fact, Kevin and I slept in just a little and by the time we got up out of bed the next morning, the boys were gone, a written message left taped to our bedroom door: We are off on our mini-holiday! Don’t have too much fun you two! Lots of spanks and good hard buggering now! Details later, please! and it was signed by both.

Kevin found the note, smiled and brought it to me. I smiled and then just let it drop to the floor and hugged my husband, rubbing my hands up and down the bare skin on his back to his arse and then grabbed up two handfuls of my husband’s buttocks to see if there was any physical or sexual interest on his part this early on.

His body did relax as I did some sensual massage of his arse cheeks. And he did gently moan a bit, so I thought that I might continue to try and interest him in further activity; but then he reached back, grabbed my wrists and brought them up to hug into his chest, No. Not your job right now. You have been a miracle, Barrett. Taking the bull by the horns. Not only trying, but finding ways to enliven and enrich our relationship while I have passively sat back enjoying your singular efforts.

But Kev, you’ve been busy and all with important things, I protested besides that I was embarrassed him listing my efforts out loud as he was, Shhhh little man, his finger came to my lips, It’s my turn to talk and you WILL listen, his hand reached down and placed two spanks, one on each of my cheeks, still bare from sleep and then hugged me even tighter.

The spanks and the tight hug changed everything. His tight hug upon my body felt like I was being swallowed up into Kevin and now the two palm prints burning right where they’re supposed to burn, You were singularly responsible for Caleb’s presence and now Dawson and Corbin’s while I have continued to be locked up in my private little world of academic words and phrases. Yes, it’s important, but nothing is more important than you, my sweet school boy.

Kevin not only had my attention, but my eyes were watering with emotion a little now. I had to admit that to garner praise and recognition from the man who you most love in the universe is much more important to me than I wish to admit even to myself. And I loved being his sweet school boy and missed how we were before Caleb, Dawson and Corbin no matter how fun it has been having others around us.

Kev then turned me around my back to his front and hugged me back into himself. I felt Kev’s soft naughty bits and reveled that even soft, his cock feels big and I cuddled it between my naked bottom cheeks even as I felt his hand slide forward and grab my balls and cock at their base. As I gently squeezed his flaccid member with my cheeks he gently squeezed my scrotum, Tempting the tiger are you? Naughty boy, Kevin’s hot breath wafted my right ear.

I luridly took advantage and humped my junk a bit in his fist’s tight hold and tried to tighten my buttock cheeks’ grip on his somewhat stiffer feeling penis, And naughty boys are spanked and hided in this family, I said out loud, Over the back of the chair and over the knee, he followed up and it sent a shiver through my body,

Over the back of the chair up on tip-toes and over the knee like a naughty F-Blocker pulled across his House Captain’s strong lap, I added, Or a naughty fag pulled across his fagmaster’s knee, Kevin enhanced and the effect on me was like a stinging slap across my face, the realization that though I loved Daws and Corby, I had missed the way Kevin and I were alone before them and before Caleb.

Right then I felt unbalanced like the child who yearns for meat, candy and cake all the time when he must always also have vegetables. Kev had said fagmaster’s knee and suddenly there I was in my mind back during my first Eton College year with my old fagmaster, Nathan Fisher,

Kev, did I ever tell you about the time that I was sent to Fisher for correction because Wickers (fellow F-Blocker Chadwick Latham Burke) and I were caught rough-housing in the CVH common room and knocked over a rather old and valuable table lamp? smiling at the recollection,

No! That’s new one. Tell me all about it, Kev continued to hug me close in as well as nuzzling my neck. I began, It was early November of my F-Block first Michaelmas half. Wickers and I were thick as thieves by then. If I wasn’t in his room at CVH, he was in mine or when able we would hang out in the house common room. Anyway, ...

Stop it, you’re being pest, I pouted at Wickers as we sat side-by-side on the old, long Chesterfield playing checkers. Neither of us was very good at the game, but I was besting Wickers so I at least I could be happy about that. Wickers was not happy about not doing as well so he was trying to distract me by poking me in the ribs again and again.

I’ll be a pest if I want, Wickers replied with his usual jaunty cheek, so I started to poke him back. Back and forth we traded pokes and finally the poking became a wrestling tussle on the couch which moved to the floor knocking the checkers board off the small table and scattering the red and black round wooden pieces to here and there.

We rolled about giggling up a storm and unaware that we were rolling right into the side table by the couch to our left. Bang! We gave it a good knock ... CRASH! ... The lamp that had been on the top of the side table was now on the floor, the rather delicate decorative porcelain main body shattered into dozens of pieces, ruined.

All but two of the other boys in the room grew silent and gawked as House Captain, Howard Dickson, as well a as my new fagmaster, Nathan Fisher were right there. I had not even seen Fisher enter the room until the horse play that broke the lamp.

Campion! Burke! Dickson’s voice boomed. He and Fisher came right over to the mess and glared down at it and then at us, Have you any idea who that lamp belongs to? Dickson berated us. This was not good. Mr. Henderson’s house, Timbralls, was like most if not all of the Eton College boarding facilities, hundreds of years old and some with valuable antique furnishings and decorations.

That lamp is ... make that was two hundred years old! Dickson’s voice sounding more like a judge and jury than a House Captain, It belongs to Ms. Forrester! our house mum or dame. Oh, shit. I looked at Wickers feeling a bit broken hearted of the accident and my participation in it.

I could see the look on Wickers’ face, something akin to If it was that old and valued by Ms. Forrester, what the bloody hell is it doing in the common room? and I was even thinking a bit of the same, but fortunately both of us wisely kept that kind of thinking unspoken and just to ourselves,

Sorry Dickson, Fisher, Wickers instead decided wisely to verbally turtle, Yes, sorry, I followed, Oh, you both will be sorry. You know horse play in the common room is forbidden for exactly the reasons you have just demonstrated. After you clean this mess up and then confess what you’ve done to our mum, Burke, you will report to me for punishment and you Campion will report to your fagmaster to be punished!

I certainly was OK reporting to Fisher for punishment, it was confessing our misdeed to our mum that bothered me. Ms. Forrester was a very kind lady and was ever patient with us, her boys. I hated to be one of the boys who would now have to disappoint her by reporting that the lamp was destroyed. I felt awful about it.

Kevin turned me around in his arms so that we were now chest-to-chest, the hug warm and cuddly but not tight or controlling feeling. I stopped my story feeling oddly sad, You must have felt very badly about it, Kev observed noticing my somber mood, I did, more than I would have thought. I was very fond of Ms. Forrester. It felt a lot like disappointing your own mum, I added with a sigh.

The hug tightened just a little but his hands caressed my head and brought it to his shoulder, My tender little man, so what happened next? Kevin asked, Well, Wickers and I did our little death march to find Ms. Forrester. Telling her about her destroyed lamp felt nearly akin to saying, sorry, but we’ve accidentally killed your dear pet dog or something like that, I said softly, I’ll never forget her reaction, I said feeling like it had happened just yesterday ...

Oh dear, well. Are you boys OK? Did you get hurt, either of you? her hands swiftly on both of us, turning us, inspecting us, No mum. We’re fine and ever so sorry. It was wrong of us to fool about and cost you the lamp, Wickers said for us both and I nodded, my face down-turned,

Nonsense. It was my fault. I have a number of them, I collect them. I admit that I probably should not have put it there in the first place. No worries. It’s just a lamp, She smiled seeming unperturbed. I should have felt instantly relieved of guilt, but I didn’t. I looked at Wickers to see if he looked or felt better. Neither did he look any better off than I felt.

Run along now. Thank you for telling me, Ms. Forrester said next, Yes mum, thank you mum, I said for Wickers and I as Ms. Forrester disappeared behind her apartment door, Why don’t I feel better? I asked Wickers, I don’t either and I don’t know the answer. I must find Dickson. Good luck with Fisher, Wickers’ shoulders slumped.

It would be one of the few times that we were not punished together for having gotten into trouble for the same thing, but guessed that Dickson judged it was better somehow for us that way. At any rate, I sighed and walked back upstairs to find my fagmaster and did straight away. I already had permission by then to just walk into Fisher’s room of course and did.

There he was sitting behind his study desk. He closed the book he was reading and stood up and moving around to the front of the desk sat on the edge, arms folded. I walked right up to him. I felt horrible still, Well, what did she say? Nathan asked,

To not worry about the lamp. She tried to deflect responsibility to herself that she should not have put the lamp in the common room. She was more concerned that Wickers and I may have been injured. It was like she didn’t care at all about the lamp, just about us, and my head dipped low having verbalized how it felt to be cared about like that.

Fisher’s palm lifted my chin, Because that is what a good mum does, Campion. We have rules, but they are meant to keep us safe from harm and not to protect objects. She knows this, and I nodded and felt a strange warmth just then and all because Fisher was not sounding angry with me. It meant a lot. It was like he was reflecting our mum’s attitude.

Are you going to punish me? I heard my voice ask Fisher. I winced a little. I should not be asking that sort of thing right out, but I had and prepared to be yelled at for insolence. He just sat there a moment before answering,

What do you think? Should I just forget about it, then? Fisher asked back. Damn. I didn’t want to have to make that decision on my own. Would he let me off if I said he should? Was this a trick question? May as well ask if this is Eton College. It was not a trick. Later I would understand that it was an early lesson about dignity and integrity, just scaled down to a young pupil’s point of view.

Still. Now I felt compelled to test Fisher, test myself, Yes, you should. May I go now? I asked with a little cheek, my heart pounding with anxiety as that sounded defiant; but I felt it a fair question.

I heard a chuckle, Kevin’s, Wait, wait. Let me guess. He said yes. That you can go, free of charge, Kevin smugly smiled. I sighed, Yes, he did. I didn’t believe him at first and then he looks at me and says, go on, get out of here, shoo! He waved his hand at me towards the door.

Wait, wait ... let me, Kevin said next and I could not prevent a grin from spreading over my face, You tried to go, but you could not. You just stood there like a lamp post, and then Kevin giggled, Sorry. Badly timed pun, but once again, Kevin knows me and he had guessed right.

And when I didn’t move he looks at me with annoyance, What’s this then? You demand to be released and then when I agree, you just stand there. You’ve big bollocks, Campion. You can’t have it both ways you know. That’s not how life works. You make a decision rightly or wrongly and then you live with it. Changing our minds are we?

Kevin roared, laughed out loud at this, Perfect! I love it. I must meet him some day. My kind of person, and just then I missed Nathan so much and nodded, I can still feel his eyes boring down on me. Forcing me to say and do the right thing all on my own. It was very Eton thing for him to do, that much was certain, and Kev gave me a hair ruffle, So? ...

I feel awful, Fisher. Please punish me. I deserve ... I mean. I need a beating. I won’t feel better until you punish me and get it over with, I said to him and as soon as I did, I felt so much better, A beating? No. You will not get a beating, not this time anyway. But you will be spanked over my knee as a caution to be careful that when you make poor decisions or forget that we have rules for good reasons, there’s a price to pay when they are broken and that price is not always going to be easy and especially when you must do the right thing by yourself and for yourself, Camps, OK?

I nodded, Yes Fisher, thank you Fisher, and then watched as Nathan slid to the floor and to in back of his study desk, lifted up the chair and moved it to the center of the room. He sat knees spread and patted his knee expecting me to do the rest and I did.

I felt mesmerized now by my telling Kevin of what happened next and continued, I marched to stand between his knees, hands on my head. His hands swiftly divested me of my trousers and underwear, turned me sideways and then he pulled me across his knees, bare bottom up. Then he spanked me with his palm, hard and fast and very thoroughly. I don’t recall crying or doing anything really. Just taking it. Each slap making me feel more normal and making things right again.

What did he do after? Kevin asked next, his hands slowly rubbing me up and down, but not touching my arse or soft naughty bits out front, He made me stand in the corner, hands on head, displaying my very red and sore arse. Boys came in and out of the room and nobody made any remarks about me as if that was a part of the punishment.

And then? Kevin asked, After he released me he simply said to go and sin no more and shooed me out of the room and that was that, I paused just a short moment, I went and found Wickers. Wickers got the cane from Dickson. When I told him that I had not but got a lecture and a spanking he just shrugged. He didn’t really mind that he had gotten a bit more punishment than I had and we never talked about it again.

That is a good story, Camps. Thank you, Kevin’s hug tightened into a harder squeeze for a moment, You’re welcome. Sorry if it wasn’t the sexual frenzied kind of story, I said feeling oddly apologetic and then had to wince as two hard spanks blistered my backside, Ou! I yelped and moved a hand back to pretend to cover the new palm prints.

Did I at any time indicate any disappointment with your story young man? Kevin’s voice stern and rightly so. I felt rightfully chastised, No sir, I replied succinctly and the two more hard spanks, one on each cheek; but this time they were expected, I rather think Fisher had the right idea with you, come here!

Well, by now I knew where this was going as Kevin took me by my hand out of that room, down the long hallway and directly into his office where he did all of his work. He took us over to his work desk and it became a virtual déjà vu of Nathan Fisher’s action towards me of decades gone past.

The only difference really was that the chair he grabbed to place into the middle of the room was sitting off to the side of the desk. The chair he sat upon to work was a very expensive office desk unsuitable for taking naughty school boys across his lap to be spanked.

Kev sat and pulled my already naked body across his knees face down. I did the rest and gratefully so. I would never say anything to Kevin about it later, but just telling him the story about the lamp from so long ago had still managed to ignite tender feelings about Nathan Fisher, indeed about my school on the whole. I still felt oddly guilty that Ms. Forrester had not made a bigger fuss about the lamp. It was just how I was, and still am.

Kevin then righted my ship for me. He spanked me like I was a very naughty young man, his palm rising and falling and said nothing as he did. He just spanked and it really hurt and I took it feeling better with each hard, painful slap placed as always, so very thoroughly all over my needful bared backside and tops of thighs.

The worst (best) part was that after, Kevin made me stand in a corner of the room, red bottom still bare and hands on head for a period of time just as Nathan Fisher had. We had no boys coming in and out of the room to observe or comment.

They were presently out on tour in reality, but for me just then I felt the ghosts from the past. Nathan sitting behind me instead of Kevin, Eton College surrounds instead of our home. Older Eton pupils streaming in and out, spirits from the past. My past at school.

* * * * *

Fellow public school Shiplake College is located as is my Eton College, snuggled right up to the banks of the river Thames. It is but twelve or so miles west of Windsor at Henley-On-Thames so very close, merely two and a half miles upstream from the site of the annual and very world famous Henley Royal Regatta.

Not so close has been Shiplake’s history of existence. Whereas my school, Eton College, is presently some six-hundred years old, Shiplake did not open its doors for its very first group of boys until 1959. In many ways it is an infant program in the region as there are public schools in the United Kingdom well over a thousand years in existence.

The crew program at Shiplake shall not achieve much success in any kind of national crew racing for years to come, much less in international competition. (Shiplake’s 1989 2nd place Henley finish in the PEC cup the best it would ever achieve with an international result to present times, actually); but that shall never mean that they are not presently very passionate about their school’s participation in crew. School boy racing is still a small society of special boys and when not embroiled in a sanctioned test or battle with consequences, schools often buddy up with like-minded efforts during various times of any school year to train and make each other better.

It was now day five of my F-Block year Summer leave. I had slept soundly in the arms of Eton first VIII oarsman, Isaac Patterson. Isaac was a bit enamored of me and me of him. The prior day had been epic and so very enjoyable in that way. Each day before that had also brought me fresh experience with my older fellows, the kind you cannot buy with money no matter how much money you could ever have.

Up and at ’em! Shiplake is in town, Isaac stood out of bed, stretched his long, lean body and arms up and to the sides like a giant bird. I looked up at him. I had rather featured that my long leave would bring me long hours of sleeping in. Eating, watching T.V. and just lying about like a lazy good-for-nothing. That is what I would have done back home in America, I am sure of it.

Bugger it, I sighed up to him. That little comment bought me Patterson’s large paw swooping down, turning me over from supine to prone and then he sat at the bedside and pulled me bare bottom up over his knee. You guessed it, the harmless paw turned into a palm-weapon for spanking, I’ll show you buggering, he said and then I had to endure a good, hard twenty spanks to my upturned posterior.

Who’s Shiplake? I finally got my bearings, brought on I was sure by the fact of my stinging backside, A school, silly. They’re relatively new to crew, but have a decent program and they’re coming along side today to train and practice racing and YOU, and then he gave me five more hard spanks, Shall meet them and participate when you are told, he chastised me with a wink.

I got up on my elbows and did not move a muscle. Why should I? I could crane my head around to look and see the results of my daring cheek on my reddened backside. Just then Patterson reached under my hips and felt up my hardened willy, Slut! he grinned and gave it a few nice wanks, Slut? Is that you Camps? the voice quite familiar.

Ollie Herford then strode into the room, hands on hips and looked down at us, Redder, Patterson. Put the boy in his place properly where he belongs. Then get him and yourself ready to train. We’re hosting the lads from Shiplake. And NO hanky-panky other than spanking. Save THAT for Shiplake! and then he strode from the room like a smug authority.

Save what for Shiplake? I asked and Patterson just grinned with evil intent and raised his palm, Never mind that. Spanking for you boy! Orders from the top! he said and all I could do was to push up my hips, wrap my arms tightly about Patterson’s strong hips and endure.

My lot after was to waddle a bit uncomfortably out of the room wincing and trying like hell to rub out the throbbing soreness that Patterson had put into my arse end with nearly no effort on his part. I was, of course, roundly teased and poked fun at by my toweringly tall flat-mates, my sore and still exposed red arse slapped at too adding more insult to injury, the kind that mere weeks later I would give an arm or leg to enjoy anew.

My arse still hurts, I bitched up at Isaac shortly after in the mini-van ride from the Fulham flat over to the boat club training facility. I was seated as I usually was for the transport wedged like a small afterthought between giants, Isaac on my left and Ellie (David Naimby-Ellison) on my right, Oh, stop complaining, Ollie gave me the business from his front passenger seat, Hendy driving of course.

Isaac leaned over and pecked my temple with a chaste kiss, It’s good for you, and all I could do was sigh. Hell, even I knew it was good for me and turning my head, lay my head against Isaac’s shoulder and was rewarded with a soft affectionate hair ruffle.

Shortly after, standing in the erg-training center in the midst of a sea of crew, both our Eton eight as well now of the newly arrived Shiplake crew eight, nobody had to encourage me to volunteer future intimacies with the Shiplake boys.

I was instead surprised that Herf or Patterson did not swat my backside and say, Stop drooling and looking at our Shiplake guests like they are sexual objects, Camps. It’s unseemly, but they most certainly did not. In fact both Ollie and Patterson were standing over a bit away from me with what seemed to be the Shiplake coxswain and one of their tall, dreamy oarsmen all of them grinning and whispering and all of it in my direction. Scheming were they?

I waited, Camps. Get your arse over here, right now! Herfs snapped at me. I jumped over like a lolly-gagging puppy into their midst and Herfs swiftly launched his introductions, Camps, this is Miles Lakeside, cox and that is Tristan Barksdale, the Shiplake stroke. Boys, this here is our very own boy toy, Barrett Campion!

Boy toy is it? Well. What objections could I have over that? I blushed nonetheless, You said nothing about a boy toy, Herf. What a very nice surprise. I’m for one glad that we are staying the night, aren’t you Tris? Lakeside or Lakes winked at the second coming of Isaac Patterson for me just then.

Very, was all Barksdale could say and then looked at me as I had been looking at him, with nothing but sexual desire, Well. Let’s get to it, shall we Lakes? TRAINING! Ollie shouted and then looked at me, Oh. I didn’t tell you, Camps; but you are to train alongside the Shiplake boys this morning. Do you good. Get your feet wet and diversified with somebody other than Eton college boys. You are to obey Mr. Lakeside here. If you get out of line in any fashion, Lakeside knows what to do, don’t you Lakes? Ollie patted the similarly sized boy on the shoulder, I sure do, Lakes gave me a wicked smile.

I shivered. Ollie was loaning me out. I never thought I would ever like such a thing, but here I was standing there barely holding on from rudely tenting my shorts just then. I was then whisked away with my new Shiplake friends to do my best imitation of watt farming, as the erg machines started to whir away around us.

Erg-rowing is erg-rowing. Not imaginative. It’s hard work if you do it right. I was not expected to exactly compete next to older, larger, more experienced and far better motivated rowers than I that is until the Shiplake coxswain, Lakes, leaned over and whispered into my ear, Let’s have a bit more pace shall we, Camps? Your reward shall be a quick shag with Barksdale. He has his eye, that his mouth set on eating you out, OK then?

I said nothing as my eyes suddenly bulged with what he had just suggested on the sly. Suddenly I became a driven maniac, my erg-time quickly improving even if not for long. I would make whatever mark it took to get my reward if it killed me and it nearly did or felt so.

A tap on my shoulder and I looked up and back. It had done it. My lungs were burning, but I had apparently satisfied Lakes. There was Mr. Barksdale wagging his finger at me, Come with me, Camps, he said. I nodded, stood, got some breath back and followed Barksdale towards the bathroom facility.

The facility was old and small, but larger than that in the Fulham flat. And, it was out of way. Nobody would interfere or so I was told and then believed it as Lakes was close behind us and apparently guarded the door. As soon as we got inside, Barksdale’s hands were all over me, Please tell me that you like oral-anal, he huffed excitedly.

I looked down. If Barksdale’s sports shorts were any more tented forward they would rip out from their captivity, It’s my favorite, I said and then he did all of the work. Down came my shorts. Down came my undies, both garments kicked to the side. Up my body came effortlessly into his strong arm and then he perched me face down over his knee.

I dangled helplessly, but the feeling was incredible as his fingers parted my cheeks and then pried them far apart, Lord have mercy on my soul, and that was all he said with words. The rest were huffs and grunts and moaning that joined my moaning as apparently Barksdale was intent on giving my rectum the most thorough oral cleansing of all time.

He was so strong and in such full control of my smaller body and lighter weight class that all I had to do was to hold onto him with both hands pitched so far over as I was as his tongue leapt in and then out of my arse hole like a small, wet penis. With his other fist, he was plundering my balls and cock together in such a way that I was sure that I would rapture without having any say in it. Every so often he would sit up, pant for air and then plunge back down.

That tongue of his seemed like an erg-trained entity all by itself. In and out. In and out it raped me of any notion that I should ever want to do anything else for days, weeks or months to come. No fingers. No mention of actual penises, just tongue.

But even a strong, agile and well erg-trained oarsman has his eventual limits. He slowly finally stood me back onto my feet panting and wiping thick drool from his mouth, Tell me what you want. I cannot come until after training today, but I want anything else for you, His offer given politely and especially so given that he had just finished being a fucking lunatic madman of sexual need upon my anus.

I nearly begged him to anally rape me, no matter I would be giving up my virginal cherry to him. The temptation was awful, but thankfully I kept my wits about me, My hole belongs to another, but after training, if you will give me a hard beating any way you like and then force your cock down my throat, I would be grateful, I said with as much dignity that a boy toy can offer.

Whoever that another is, is one bloody lucky man. No worries. I love spanking younger lads. I will give you a sound tanning later and you will get mouth-fucked very roughly, and I smiled, Well then, the rest of me is yours. You can jam a finger or two up my arse and suck me off, perhaps? I ventured.

Barksdale did not hesitate and sprang into action. I stood, he kneeled, inhaled my erection like it was an afterthought and jammed one of this rather thick fingers so far up my boy twat that I thought I might be able to put teeth marks onto it.

Barksdale’s finger raped me or that was how I thought of its burning in and out of me, stopping its fiery path every once in a while to tease my boy gland just right; but even if it had not, what chance did I have against his nearly mechanical sucking action on my penis? I thought he might suck the skin off from my prick it was so strong and my pubes might get sore of his face slamming into them time and time again.

As I said, I was standing or rather now I was bent over holding onto him entirely helpless, literally skewered of my own erection in his mouth and that drilling digit on the other end of it. Let’s just say that when my rapture exploded, I felt the need to cover my own mouth. I screamed, the orgasm so painful as to feel like a punishment and if so, I could stand to be punished like that until I died of the pleasure of it.

He slowly stood up and smacked his lips, Delicious! So then ... after we train today, I shall perhaps treat you to my skills. I am a senior prefect at my school, he said and I grinned ear-to-ear, Perfect. I want to be punished as if I am a naughty Shiplake school boy in deep shit trouble with you, Barksdale. Deal? I asked, Deal, he said and then tilted his head, One other thing.

The other thing was him leaning over and (without having asked permission, despite that I might have attempted it if had he not) thrusting his tongue into my mouth into a passionate kiss that nearly sucked my tongue out of my mouth. Jesus! Do all public school boy British oarsmen behave like sex obsessed Viking Neanderthal brutes? God, I hope so!

* * * * *

Corner time lasted longer than I thought it would. My arms tired, but just about then, Hands down now and come over here to me sweet man, Kevin’s voice. I turned and hurried over to between his knees. He pulled my head down to his lips and we kissed and then I sat on his knee.

Fancy a trip to the club to scull about for a while? he asked. I nodded enthusiastically and that is what we did. Randal, the man who had introduced us to Caleb seemingly weeks ago was attending at the Tidewater’s rental counter as usual.

Randal greeted us affably and filled us in on the latest news that Caleb was flourishing out in California and for that Kev and I were glad. We rented a pairs scull that afternoon, one oar each and had a very good row that lasted nearly ninety minutes from taking it out of the shell barn to putting it back up on its rack after.

After downing the usual many ounces of replenishing water Kevin drove us back home. As soon as he parked the car in front of our double door garage I turned my head, So, what’s next? I smiled reaching for his hand and kissed the back of it, Come on, we must clean up, take a bit of a nap and then we’re going to dine out this evening, Kevin quickly replied, Where? I asked and he rattled off several giving me the choice and I chose our favorite steak house.

Exercise such as we had just done always wears me out for a bit and then I have a resurgence of energy and sometimes that makes me a bit frisky for some hot lovemaking, I don’t think I want a nap, I said a bit smugly as I preceded Kevin in the house ... SMACK! ... His palm spanked my backside, You’ll do as you’re told young man, Kevin said, brushed past me and grabbing my hand took us down the hallway to our bedroom, me rubbing on Kev’s smack-spot.

Hands up! he said inside the bedroom intending to undress me likely for a shower as we usually did. I threw my hands up, I’m serious. I’m not sleepy, Kev, I repeated as he pulled my T-shirt up and off my torso, So am I, he said calmly not taking the bait, You can’t make me, I feigned a pout starting to feel feisty, Oh, can’t I? he said, his hands pulling down my gym shorts and jock-strap all in one swoosh and then I watched him unclothe himself.

I must say, erg-training and river sculling was starting to slim both Kevin and I down some. I now looked at Kevin’s waistline. Kevin had started to develop the beginnings of love-handles about his waist and now they seemed to be gone, What are you looking at? he said just then tracking my head and eye movements, Nothing, I grinned kind of embarrassed that he caught me.

Nothing? My, but exercise has made you very rambunctious today. I won’t do this, I’m not answering that, he mocked and mildly chastised me in a way that stirred my libido. He lurched forward, grabbed me and twirling me about hugged me back into his chest pressing his (so far anyway) soft naughty bits into my arse. Then his hand fisted up my bits and not softly, Is someone forgetting his place? his hot breath wafting my right ear.

I slid my palms back and digging my fingertips deeply into his admittedly firmer than I had recalled buttock sides hugged us together just a bit tighter, And what if I am? I asked, my heart starting to pound. I was poking the tiger and in our house, that usually results in a very sore and red bare bottom and much more!

Oh, I think you know the answer already. You’re doing this to get attention, he accused me, Am I? I grinned into a small giggle. His lips drew closer to my ear, Naughty, naughty school boys are given the stick as well as a spanking and made to sit on his sore rump later at the steak house, he threatened.

By now our erotic chatter and that fist of his had my prick hard as nails and then my bared buttock cheeks gave his hard prick a nice cuddling squeeze just as he spoke the words which instantly triggered my best recollection about a certain naughty F-Block school boy, me, that was made to sit on his sore rump in Eton College’s community snack facility, Rowland’s tuck shop many years before.

I giggled again, What? Kevin asked, Just thinking about that time at Rowland’s, I replied. Kevin hugged me tighter, I love that story, tell it again. Don’t leave anything out, Kevin asked totally disarming me of any pushback.

It was now about three months after the Christmas holidays of my F-Block term, barely two weeks after my fourteenth birthday. I had razzed Wickers (Chadwick Burke) just after the beginning of Lent half over the fact that he had celebrated his fourteen birthday over the Christmas holidays sans any hazing at school with an American-style birthday spanking, something not native to British lads.

It was not difficult at all to convince Wickers to comply with American standards on that occasion and I did the honors with enthusiasm. Wickers and Aaron Connaught then surprised me right after Lent half long leave and just after midnight of my new fourteenth year with birthday spanks. Later that day my fagmaster, Nathan Fisher, did the same.

Nathan gave me yet another birthday spanking accompanied by a very nice and unexpected but eagerly longed-for first time with Nathan, his fist masturbating my cock as he spanked me. That’s something that is never forgotten by a boy like me and for the next few weeks afterwards the temptation to go back to his room nearly every evening and do or say something to earn one bare bottom spanking and masturbation after another was annoying and very distracting to me.

The last thing I wanted was to seem overly eager or to seem to be bothering him in an inappropriate manner. What I didn’t know for a while was that Fisher was just as distracted as I was over wanting to do it to me again and again, only his position with me caused him great restraint.

I was his fag. Technically or at least traditionally a fag could be given a beating any time a fagmaster wished with or without cause in some cases. If after that beating a fag must do other things with his fagmaster, well, so be it.

But Fisher was not like a traditional fagmaster, worse luck, and never would be. Hence the need for all that would happen during my final F-Block days and nights later during Summer long leave and especially until just before I would return home to America for summer holidays, but that’s a digression.

It was awkward for over a week after my birthday. I walked around Nathan and him around me, saying nothing. I was masturbating up a storm inside of my own room in fact reliving the first time with Nathan. I was even self-spanking myself like a birthday spanking complete with pinching myself and then jerking off pretending that it was Fisher doing it. I know, what a waste!

Finally, one afternoon I had enough. I was so annoyed with my own reluctance to just ask him to do it all over again that I barged into his room without knocking. That was not unusual. I was Fisher’s fag and had open door access at any time.

Fortunately he was alone, but in the mood I was in it likely would have made no difference. He looked up from his study desk, his nose having been buried in a book, Camps? he said surprised. I would not be deterred from my goal and felt lucky just then to have spied a small table next to his big comfy lounge chair that had a stack of what turned out to be library books on top of it.

I walked over to said stack, pursed my lips and then forcefully pushed them all off onto the floor into a disheveled heap with my hand, Campion! he yelped and stood up racing around to the front of his study desk in a flash, What on earth did you do that for? he kind of shouted at me as he approached the mess.

Hell, I would have shouted at me as well. I froze. It was like I had done it and now I was shocked that I had, I’m sorry! I’m not myself! I blurted, my annoyance with a week’s worth of ruminations suddenly gone into base humiliation.

I knelt next to Fisher and we quickly replaced the books to back on top of the table. Then I stood and he stood hands on hips right with me, Care to explain that? he said pointing to the books very rightfully aggrieved with me.

I ... I, is all I could stammer, my face blushing so hard that I might feint away. Most boys, and certainly all fagmasters would have simply taken my arm over to a chair, taken my trousers and underwear down and pointing to the back of the chair simply said, Over! and then given me the bare arse thrashing I had just well-earned.

Not Fisher. His big hand settled softly onto my shoulder, What’s wrong? he asked and was sincere. That kind of sincere inquiry and especially from Nathan softened me to the point of wanting to just slither away unnoticed to avoid feeling like I did just then.

I give myself credit. I knew that I was dead to rights so I bravely looked up at him and told the truth, I’ve been wanting ... another spanking with a wank like you did with me on my birthday, but I didn’t want to seem a whiny bother, and that was the truth of it.

I caught him as the corner of his mouth turned up just a tad before he caught himself and suppressed the obvious empathetic reaction and instead leaned over at the waste and gave me a rather enhanced (and sexy) purse-lipped scowl, So instead you come into my room like an undisciplined little tit disturbing my reading and make a mess like this? he said with unnerving calm.

I quickly nodded my agreement with his conclusion, but said nothing more. He stood up tall now, almost looming actually or so it felt, I see. Well. You have my attention now, don’t you! Six-of-the-best, Campion. Then a good hard spanking over my knee. Bare you bottom! his next words and then he swiveled and headed for where he kept his canes.

I bared my bottom so fast that I could not wait to get over the chair back and in fact by the time he finished choosing a cane and swishing it about, I was over it, my hands clutching the seat sides and ready. I could just feel Fisher staring at me as he slowly walked around and got into position to my left.

My cock was soft, I was so nervous and upset with myself. Had I gone too far with him? Had I assumed wrongly and without thinking that he might be as anxious as I was to be sexual with me again? Might he even excuse me from being his fag altogether telling me that I was indeed too much a bother?

Feet wider, he said. I obeyed, but it felt odd. I thought Fisher liked knees together for canings, More, he said and I did more and then Fisher did something that burned into my memory for all times. He reached between my spread thighs and fisted up my naked genitals, especially my cock and started to masturbate it.

Have you been wanking over this since your birthday spanking with me? he probed. Talk about distracting. The first time with Nathan had been something to behold, but this. This was another level, Yes Fisher! I replied as I could not help but rise up onto my tip-toes and even sluttily angled up my arse as if begging for his hand to ravage me. His hand really then yanked on my hardening peter and I even tried to hump it some.

Then the hand disappeared, Don’t move, he said with a low sexy growl, stepped back, wound up and gave my presented arse the first cut. A beauty right at the center. It stung like the devil was feeling grouchy that day, Wasted effort, he said and I instantly knew he was referring to my masturbating myself.

The next cut followed below the first. I yelped. It stung like a fury and my right knee drew up for a short moment and then I settled it as the tramline burned its way onto my arse-skin, Depriving your fagmaster of pleasuring us both, he growled his judgement again and before I could reply if that was even needed ... the third cane cut lanced just on top of the first.

I hissed and winced along with writhing and biting my lips. God those higher ones hurt! Yes, Fisher! I yelped and then he reached between my quivering thighs and grabbed up my softened junk again and started to stimulate me again. I fucking moaned, it was that good and made rock-solid sure that my cock was rock hard this time before removing his hand away.

The fourth cane cut, as hard as or harder than the first three, took my breath away because it seared across the first two re-igniting their fiery paths some as well as adding its own new torture. More writhing, hissing and even a soft curse from my lips which he ignored,

Next time, spare the bloody library books the potential damage, march into my room and ask me nicely for a hiding and wanking. Is that so bloody difficult? his sarcasm making me smile, but that smile would be swiftly replaced by yet another yelping wince as the fifth cane cut interrupted. I deserved it.

Yes, Fisher, I said sans sorry which I knew better to say by then. His hand rubbed over the five stick marks and as it did, I relaxed some. Then he slipped it between my thighs and hardened me up again, OK. I will spare you the last cut and instead wear my hand out on your arse over my knee. Get up, Fisher said and helped me.

I stood there with my erection ready to bid it farewell as he turned the chair, sat and patted his knee, Over, Fisher said and I flopped across his knees and positioned my caned arse at the apex center. I felt his fist slip under my hips and he grasped my erection in it, You will be spanked and wanked until you come, boy! Fisher’s voice adamant and then I felt his erection tenting his trousers.

I proudly kept my arse up high for him as he give me one hell of a fast and hard spanking, his other fist working as hard to get me off. I didn’t care if he brought me to tears now in the process. I would not shrink from my duty to please my fagmaster; but sometimes luck intervenes, Fisher!! I screeched just then as I raptured,
That’s it Camps, empty those lovely bollocks! I heard him say, but by now I was paralyzed with orgasm.

I settled and then slipped off of his knees to the floor. He looked down at me and now the corner of his mouth slipped up and stayed slipped up. He looked down at his still tented trousers and I looked at the tent and then up at him, May I? I asked and nodding, he pulled it out for me. I sidled up to his side and reaching between his strong thighs fisted up his big, hard cock and started to wank it.

Didn’t take long. He shot out ropes and ropes of semen making me giggle that I had drawn it out of him. Only then did I realize just how sore my arse was from my punishment. I thought he would send me away from the room but he did not, Get clean. Get dressed. I’m taking you to Rowlands for a treat, he said.

I said nothing, but I did blush thinking that he must like me or something. Not the wanking or spanking me. That he wanted to spend time like that at Rowlands felt special and I adored him for it.

Kev hugged me tight and finished the tale on his own, Then he made you sit on a pillow at Rowlands, Kevin chuckled, Well, sort of. He actually took off his school jacket and folded it up and I sat on it, I amended, Now, you will keep busy until I call you into my office before it’s time to go to dinner, Kevin said.

Why? and that earned me a fast two spanked, Because I said so! Kevin replied as I rubbed on the fresh spanks. I did wait, but was so curious and nervous and come to think about it, it felt much like I had way back then before I finally acted out with Nathan.

Get in here now! Kevin finally told me nearly two hours later as I was hovering about the hallway by then. I rushed inside his office and there, on a small table near to his desk was a small pile of books I had not thought I noticed before.

Kevin just stood there, saying nothing except he looked from me to the stack of books and then back at me again. Oh my God! I finally got it. I rushed over and knocked the books onto the floor. Kevin rushed over to me, took me by the arm, snatched a chair and turned its back to me, Bare your bottom. Over! he said and swiftly retrieved one of our canes he kept in the room.

I went over. Kevin felt me up to hardness and then gave me six cane cuts, keeping my cock hard the entire time just as Nathan Fisher had done. Six and not five as Nathan had done that afternoon. He took us to shower after that and only after the shower softened up my arse, he drew me over his knees back in the bedroom and spanked me, good and hard and completely getting me off with his fist as he did.

I did not give Kevin a wank as Nathan had let me that afternoon years before, no. I sucked Kevin off instead, no choice in the matter. We got dressed and Kevin drove us to the restaurant and I had to sit on my still sore arse in the car. Then once arrived and seated for dinner I felt like that school boy at Eton so very long ago in my F-Block year with my beloved fagmaster, Nathan Fisher, sitting on Nathan’s folded up jacket at Rowlands.

Kevin folded up his jacket so that I had to sit on it all during dinner. I really wasn’t sore by then, but all the same it felt wonderful to be treated as I had all that afternoon and now evening. Later after we returned home and after watching some T.V. together in our family room, Kev bedded me to the max after yet another hand spanking. It reminded me that, in the end, I’m still just a school boy at heart and that even here at my home as an adult, I have my own personal fagmaster, Kevin, who helps me to keep the fires from the past alive and well.

Colleger Stories-Dreading Eton-Lent Half-Chapter Nine, © Copyright PJ Franklin, November 17, 2017.

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