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by Plagosus

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: 11 Feb 2018

There were many things Fosbury liked. One of them was smoking and the other was having his bare bottom thrashed by the handsome Cromarty, the head prefect. The former was a double pleasure as it led to the latter. For the record, Fosbury liked it when anyone thrashed his bare bottom, but he particularly liked it when Cromarty was doing the thrashing.

There were many things Cromarty liked. One of them was Fosbury smoking and the other was thrashing Fosbury’s bare bottom. The former was not a pleasure but he liked it because it led to the latter. For the record, Cromarty liked thrashing bare male adolescent bottoms other than Fosbury’s, but he particularly liked it when he thrashed Fosbury’s bare bottom.

Jefferson, Calder and Fosbury had all been caught in an illicit liaison with Milady Nicotine, Fosbury, it has to be said, being totally reckless about taking any precautions against getting caught. Cromarty decided to save the best to last and cane Jefferson and Calder before Fosbury.

Jefferson’s bottom approached perfection. Regrettably, Jefferson did not appreciate the qualities of his bottom and always failed to present it properly for the cane.

Calder’s bottom, whilst not approaching perfection, was still a fine thrashable bottom. Calder made up the lack of perfection by presenting his bottom very pertly indeed.

What with the one presenting a near perfect bottom improperly and the other presenting a not too imperfect bottom properly, Jefferson and Calder were the ideal lead in to Fosbury who had a perfect bottom which he would present properly.

You know the procedure, Cromarty said to Fosbury.

Fosbury knew it well. He approached the small table in Cromarty’s study and took off his blazer and laid it on the table. Without hurrying, he undid his trousers and let them down. He then hitched up his shirt and bent over the table.

I think you’re forgetting something, said Cromarty.

I haven’t forgotten my pants need to come down. I just thought that for a change you might want to take them down for me.

Cromarty certainly wanted to, but was not sure he should. He thought about it for a moment. It seemed clear Fosbury was keen for him to bare his bottom. He would go for it. In fact he would go one better.

If I take your pants down I’ll have them off and thrash your bum to exaltation.

For answer, Fosbury pushed up his bottom.

Cromarty laid down his cane and crouched down behind Fosbury. He undid and slipped off first one shoe and then the other. Taking hold of Fosbury’s trousers by the turn-ups he pulled them slowly off. He stood up and took hold of the waistband of Fosbury’s pants. He pulled down slowly and steadily. Once he had revealed Fosbury’s bottom he paused to admire what he had revealed.

Did you know, Fosbury, that your bum is a cliché?

A cliché? I am mortally offended!

No need to be. It is just that the only apt thing to say about your bum is that it is like two waxy apples.

So apples are your favourite fruit?

They certainly are.

Mind you don’t take a bite out of my bum.

Only with the cane.

Fosbury wriggled his bottom and Cromarty hurried to pull the pants right off. Cromarty stood back to take in the view. First he contemplated the firm roundness of Fosbury’s bottom and then he considered its round firmness.

A question for you, Fosbury. Does your bum invite the cane to hug its curves wickedly (a) yes, (b) yes, or (c) yes?

That’s a tricky one. Yes?

Correct, said Cromarty picking up his cane. Next question: Do you want the first devilish stroke to whip into your sit-on spot or do you want to save that for last?

Choices! Choices! I think I’ll go for you starting in the middle and working your way down.

Good decision. The intensity will increase as we proceed.

The intensity always increases as we proceed.

I mean the increase will be more intense.

Got you. Would you mind getting on please?

These things cannot be rushed.

I need to get to a bassoon lesson.

We could postpone the cane.

Too much of an anti-climax. I just hate anti-climaxes.

Cromarty laid his cane across the middle of Fosbury’s bottom. Fosbury thrust his bottom up. Cromarty just loved it when Fosbury thrust his bottom up. On the whole, Jefferson being a notable exception, Cromarty found that at some stage in proceedings a boy would thrust his bottom up. There was though something special about the way Fosbury thrust his bottom up. It was, considered Cromarty, as near as a thrust-up bottom could get to the perfect thrust-up bottom in the Realm of Ideas. That was more than good enough for Cromarty.

Cromarty drew the cane back. Fosbury’s bottom twitched. Fosbury’s bottom always twitched when the cane was drawn back. Cromarty drew the cane back a little further than usual as he had promised to thrash to exaltation. It was just a turn of phrase as Cromarty always thrashed Fosbury (not to mention everyone else he had occasion to thrash) very thoroughly. Still, he felt a little extra vim was called for. He swept the cane down and, as promised, the cane hugged the curves of Fosbury’s bottom wickedly. The bottom considered the stroke for a moment before tensing to absorb the sting. Fosbury took a sharp intake of breath and then let out a sigh – a clear indication that he was definitely experiencing both pain and pleasure. He sagged a little but only so he could push his bottom up to invite the next stroke.

Needless to say, Cromarty did not fail to accept the invitation. He zipped the cane down again landing it a little lower. Fosbury’s intake of breath and sigh were a little more intense and he thrust his bottom up a fraction higher. And so it continued with Cromarty working his way down Fosbury’s bottom and Fosbury’s reactions increasing in intensity.

Cromarty paused before the last stroke. Last stroke coming up, he reminded Fosbury in case he had lost count. Fosbury pulled himself further over the table to make sure that Cromarty could cane his sit-on spot. Cromarty laid the cane across the line where he wanted it to land, drawing the cane back and forth until he was satisfied that the tip would land where it would be most effective. The cane rose and fell and the tip was very effective indeed. So effective was it that Fosbury quite forgot to sigh.

Fosbury lay quite still and Cromarty stood quite still. Fosbury contemplated the smart raging across his bottom while Cromarty simply contemplated Fosbury’s bottom.

Actually, said Fosbury at last, I think I need to be getting on. Bassoon lesson.

I suppose so, said Cromarty. It was his turn to sigh. Good job it’s not a piano lesson because you’d have to sit down.

Fosbury stood up slowly. Cromarty sighed again when Fosbury’s shirt tumbled down to cover his bottom.


Two weeks later Fosbury found himself in a queue outside Mr Bairstowe’s study. All the boys waiting were mystified. Whispered exchanges confirmed that none could think of any reason why he had been summoned.

Fosbury was called in first.

I expect you’re wondering why you are here, said Mr Bairstowe.

Yes, sir, said Fosbury.

Having a few spare moments, I took the opportunity to consult the prefects’ punishment records. You are one of several repeat offenders. Mr Bairstowe put his glasses on and consulted a paper on his desk. Caned four times for smoking. He looked at Fosbury over the top of his glasses.

Yes, sir.

It seems that two strokes on a clothed bottom is not an effective deterrent in your case.

Fosbury chose not to mention that it was always six on a definitely unclothed bottom and that he was not in the business of being deterred from smoking.

Do you think that seven strokes with your trousers and pants down will be a more effective deterrent?

Yes, sir, said Fosbury, conceding that if the cane was a deterrent a boy was more likely to be deterred by seven bare than two on his trousers.

Have you ever been caned with your trousers and pants down?

Yes, sir, said Fosbury, hoping that Mr Bairstowe would not ask by whom as Cromarty was the only person who had caned him bare.

In that case you will be somewhat prepared for the experience ahead.

Whilst Mr Bairstowe had not expressly said so, Fosbury assumed the experience was going to be seven bare. Mr Bairstowe reached back, took the cushion off his chair and placed it at the front of his desk.

Trousers and pants down, please. No half measures – right down.

Fosbury did not delay and soon had his trousers and pants down round his ankles. Mr Bairstowe fetched his cane and took up a caning position. So far as Fosbury could judge the cane looked a lot like the one Cromarty used.

Move up to the desk and bend over the cushion.

Fosbury shuffled up to the desk and eased himself over the cushion. Mr Bairstowe took hold of the hem of Fosbury’s shirt tail and tucked it well into his shirt collar.

That’ll make sure my bum keeps bare, thought Fosbury.

Oblige me by moving a good few inches further across the table, said Mr Bairstowe.

Fosbury moved forward what he judged to be a good few inches.

That should have got my bare bum up nicely, thought Fosbury.

If you haven’t learned what it’s like to thrashed properly, trousers and pants down, you soon will, said Mr Bairstowe, flexing his cane.

Fosbury was confident that he had had several excellent lessons in being thrashed bare by Cromarty and that Mr Bairstowe had little to teach him. Mr Bairstowe laid the cane across Fosbury’s sit-on spot. Fosbury had never had the cane start there and thought it was going to be interesting. Mr Bairstowe raised the cane and whipped it down. Fosbury found it rather more than interesting. For a start the cane was more cracky than whippy. Mr Bairstowe’s cane may have looked the same as Cromarty’s, but its effect was galvanic. Mr Bairstowe’s technique was clearly superior to Cromarty’s. Fosbury took a very sharp intake of breath but let out no sigh. He did not sag so he could rise, but involuntarily thrust his bottom up and let out an Oh, sir!

I see that got your attention. Did you find it very sharp?

Yes, sir!

Sharpest ever?

Yes, sir! Definitely!

I told you it would be a proper thrashing.

Fosbury did not disagree. He felt that that one stroke was equal to two from Cromarty. Mr Bairstowe took aim again, resting the cane just above the red line which had appeared. The cane rose and fell again. Fosbury was sure it landed in the same place, but Mr Bairstowe’s aim was true. Once again Fosbury found it necessary to exclaim out loud and push his bottom up. Mr Bairstowe continued in the same way taking aim just above where the last stroke had landed. Fosbury’s reactions became more urgent. Whilst he did not go so far as to kick, he did find it necessary to raise first one foot and then the other off the ground.

Mr Bairstowe took his time for the last stroke. Contrary to Fosbury’s expectation Mr Bairstowe took aim by placing the cane just under the first red line he had raised rather than the last. Fosbury just knew that it was going to be the worst of all. He was not wrong. It summed up the previous strokes admirably. Fosbury raised both feet off the ground.

What did you make of a proper trousers and pants down thrashing? asked Mr Bairstowe.

It was frightful, sir! said Fosbury who in fact was wondering what to make of it.

I shall be informing all prefects that from now on any boy caught smoking is to be referred to me. Just remember that before you light up again.

There was no doubt that Fosbury would bear the experience in mind if he fancied a cigarette. As he pulled his pants up he decided that the next time he wanted Cromarty to cane him he would just ask. He was bound to oblige. He would also have to mention that his caning technique was woefully inadequate.

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