Look Before You Leap
|by Jason Land|
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: 27 Feb 2018
Look Before You Leap
An Erotic Short Story
It was with that horrible sinking feeling in his stomach and with his heart in his mouth that Willie Wagstaff: William Henry Alexander Wagstaff to give him his full name, made his way haltingly towards the Headmaster’s Study. It was now a quarter to eight in the evening; his appointment with the Headmaster was at eight and Willie did not want to be late. It was bad enough as it was to have to report to the Headmaster for what every boy knew would be a very painful meeting – for the boy that is – and to be late might lead to an increase in the already severe penalty which Willie knew he faced. Willie was now twelve years old and in his penultimate year as a pupil at the prestigious preparatory school for boys, Frogmore Court situated in the City of York. Next year would be his final year at Frogmore Court before he transferred to the upper public school, Frogmore Academy for Boys, located in the village of Frogmore a few miles from the city itself.
The Headmaster, Mr. Barton: Mr Edward Barton to be precise: a youngish man of some thirty five or so years was a strict disciplinarian and believed fervently in the beneficial effects of the rattan cane when applied vigorously to to the naked buttocks of recalcitrant boys, which was the fate Willie was dreading. The Headmaster, generally known as Basher Barton, was usually referred to by the boys as The Basher, an epithet which was largely justified by the way he dispensed his percussive largesse with a well-applied rattan cane on the naked bottom of any boy who appeared before him. Justice, if that is the correct word for what happened in The Basher’s study, was dispensed starting at eight o’clock each evening Monday-Friday, when boys who had received a punishment slip from one or other of the masters, assembled in the corridor outside the Headmaster’s study; there under the eagle eye of a final year, thirteen year old monitor they were marshalled into shape, youngest first and oldest last and awaited their turn to be called in to the face the Headmaster and meet their doom.
As Willie rounded the corner and entered what might be described as the home-stretch leading to the Headmaster’s door, he saw that on this particular evening there was only one other boy waiting there under the autocratic gaze of the duty monitor: a boy called Jeremy Hallam. Apart from keeping the boys in order whilst they waited in turn in the corridor to be called in to face the Headmaster, the monitor was also responsible for seeing that all the boys to be punished were correctly dressed for the occasion. Along with many other public schools, Frogmore had adopted what was referred to as the appropriate attire which was what a boy who was slated to have his backside beaten by his headmaster had to wear. The appropriate attire consisted of a pair of cotton gym-shorts and a gym-vest; and nothing more. The shorts were easily removed giving immediate access to a lad’s bottom, bum or arse, as it was variously referred to depending on who was speaking. Mr. Barton, the Headmaster at Frogmore Court, invariably referred that part of a boy’s anatomy on which he was to lavish his attention, as his bottom; but when he was applying his cane to the lads nakedness, he secretly thought of in terms of a well beaten arse as his objective; though – but but never voiced! Bum was what the lads at prep school called their backsides; whilst the upper school pupils normally preferred the more vulgar designation: arse.
As Willie arrived before the Headmaster’s door, Hallam, the monitor in charge of what might best
be called the punishment platoon, quickly observed that Willie was not wearing the appropriate
attire but had arrived wearing his normal school uniform. Like many a lad invested with the minimum authority,
Hallam exercised his to the full, as he autocratically told Willie to go and get changed into his gym
Wagstaff, don’t you know anything about the way things are done in this place. When you are
going to get you bum beaten by the Headmaster, you must wear the appropriate attire: your gym strip and
nothing else. Now go and get changed immediately.
Willie was already very nervous about what was going to happen to him and very foolishly, without stopping to think dashed off down the corridor to return to his dormitory where he kept his clothes. Had he thought before setting of in a mad dash, he would have realised that there was plenty of time for him to get changed as it was only a quarter to eight. But he did not think; he panicked and in typical Willie fashion, leapt before he looked. Well as luck would have it – the bad variety alas – he ran slap into the Headmaster who was just on the way back to his study to deal with that evening’s miscreants. He attempted to explain to the Headmaster why he was running in the corridor; but to no avail.
Wagstaff, you are fully aware that running anywhere inside the school buildings is strictly forbidden
and if a boy is caught breaking that rule, there are severe penalties incurred. Now go and get yourself
changed into the appropriate attire for our meeting this evening and get back in line outside my study.
You Wagstaff, have a lot to answer for this evening.
When Willie came back dressed in just his gym strip, he saw that another boy had joined the line
waiting to see the Headmaster. Hallam, with a distinct lack of empathy, having observed what had happened
in the corridor between Willie and the Headmaster said with considerable relish:
I would hate to be
in your shoes tonight Wagstaff. When he gets you in there, he is going to take the skin of your bum; he’s
a real crack with the cane you know. He really beats the living daylights out of any boy who goes in there;
it’s not at all the same as a swishing any more; it’s really hard-core stuff he dishes out. I can tell
you Wagstaff, your bum is going to be so sore by the time he has finished with you; you won’t be able
to sit down for days. Anyway Wagstaff, you’ve got lots of time to think about what he’s going to do to
your bum; you’re the oldest of the three to be beateb tonight; so you’ll go in last; it’s youngest first,
eldest last; so he’ll be nicely warmed up by the time he gets to you. The Schadenfreude: pleasure
at the misfortunes of others, just dripped like venom from Hallam’s lips.
But how in the first place, did Willie Wagstaff find himself on the Headmaster’s list that evening anyway? Well Willie was note for his ability to disrupt any class with is inane but often amusing comments; and he never ever shut up; he was a constant chatterer, never paying attention to what the masters were saying; and so Willie Wagstaff’s bum and the light cane, wielded by a whole list of different teachers, were regular communicants. Willie probably had the doubtful distinction of possessing the most-often swished bum in the school. Willie was never ever rude to anyone and was liked by one and all – classmates and teachers included. And the extraordinary thing about Willie Wagstaff was that in spite of his apparent lack of attention during lessons, when exam time came, or in any impromptu test for that matter, he came top of the class in every subject except one: Latin; where he shared joint first place with another boy.
On the day where the action is now taking place, Willie finally got his comeuppance: had his Waterloo so to speak. The teacher in question, Mr Hawkins was, in general, a relatively unpopular figure with the boys and was in the middle of a rather boring lesson on Roman history. He had an aptitude for making his lessons boring and on top of that he had a very short fuse. So he was one of the teachers who regularly hauled away boys from his class to the library, where he made them drop their trousers and swished their bare bums for not paying attention. He had just uttered that trite phrase, known to all: Rome was not built in a day, when he noticed that Willie Wagstaff had apparently fallen asleep.
Wagstaff, wake up boy and pay attention to what I am saying.
Willie pulled himself to attention as he had actually been dosing as Mr Hawkins droned on:
I was not asleep; really sir, I wasn’t; I was just thinking about what you were saying.
I see, Wagstaff; well stand up boy and share the profundity of our thoughts with the rest of us,
if you please.
Willie heaved himself up and wondered what on earth to say. But before he opened his mouth, Mr. Hawkins
Perhaps Wagstaff, you would begin by repeating the last thing I said to the class and then we
will take it from there. We are all ears boy; the floor is yours.
Willie had only a hazy recollection of what he had just heard as he really had been on the verge
of dropping off to sleep with the utter boredom of the lesson, when suddenly it came to him like a miracle
out of his clouded recollection what Mr. Hawkins had just said; or rather what he thought Mr. Hawkins
had just said. So he brightened up and said:
Certainly sir; sir, what you just said was: Rome was
built in a day.
A loud titter went around the class as the boys all realised the mistake the Willie had made. By then Willie also knew he had boobed; but in typical Wagstaffian style, in for a penny, in for a pound, he leapt before he looked and suddenly found himself in very deep water. Lord knows from where he got the inspiration for what he now said, but it had the whole class– convulsed with laughter. Mr Hawkins, however, was clearly – to use a well-know phrase – was not amused.
Willie ploughed on regardless:
Well sir, you see I don’t think you were right sir, when you said
that Rome was built in a day. No one could have done it in a day, sir. But you know sir, I heard, from
a reliable source, that it was was built over the three day August Bank Holiday Weekend in BC 593.
Of course on hearing this piece of utter nonsense, the boys could not stop laughing. When the boys
finally quietened down, Mr Hawkins, who as everyone could see was by now seething with anger, said very
quietly but with considerable menace in his voice:
Well after that astounding revelation, shall we
continue with the lesson, And and you, Wagstaff, if you would kindly remain behind at the end of the lesson
when we break for lunch; you had I have some very pressing business we need to transact before you go
Willie thought immediately that he was in for another swishing, which frankly in view of his little
piece of theatre, he had just enacted, he thoroughly deserved. But when the class was dismissed, Mr. Hawkins
beckoned him to his desk and said:
Wagstaff; I have had enough of your disruptive inanities in my class.
I have swished you I don’t know how many times to no avail; you boy, are incorrigible; and so young man,
I am going to send you to the Headmaster this evening and let him deal with you in a more thorough manner.
Willie’s heart missed a beat and then started pounding in his chest as he realised the implications of what he had just heard. He was being sent the Headmaster: to the dreaded Basher Barton for a proper beating with a senior cane that very evening. Willie felt a cold shiver of fear run through him; he had never before ever been sent to see The Basher, who had a formidable reputation with the cane, which he apparently did not spare on any lad’s bum who was sent to him for punishment. Willie had seen the damage done by The Basher’s cane on the bum of one of his dormitory mate’s; it was a mess of deep welts turning red-blue and looked incredibly painful; it was in a different world to the swishings which he had experienced to date in his school career. Willie stood there trying to apologise to Mr. Hawkins for what he had done; he even suggested that Mr. Hawkins swish him right now, before lunch. But it was a plea which fell on deaf ears as Mr. Hawkins opened his desk and took out the dreaded book of punishment slips.
Willie had hitherto never seen this book, which in many ways was like a cheque book; it contained a space for the name of the boy to be punished; a space for the reason for his punishment and, like a cheque book a space for a number; but this number was not a sum of money but the recommended number of strokes of the cane to be inflicted on the bare bottom of unfortunate bearer of the note. Mr. Hawkins assiduously filled out the slip in full, tore it out the book and handed it to Willie, who in horror saw that Mr. Hawkins had recommended six-plus cuts of the cane to the Headmaster. Willie now had to take this missive and deposit it in the punishment-note box outside the Headmaster’s study; and then at the appointed hour of eight that evening, along with other unfortunate recipients of similar notes, present himself wearing only the appropriate attire of gym shorts and vest and wait in the corridor under the watchful eye of the monitor, to be summoned to enter the study and meet his fate. And so that is how Willie Wagstaff, wearing just his gym strip, came to be standing in the corridor outside the Headmaster’s study that evening, waiting his turn to be called in to face the dreaded Basher.
The green light on the door flashed on and a buzzer sounded. The monitor, Jeremy Hallam, knocked on the door entered and announced the first victim of the evening. The poor lad entered trembling and the monitor withdrew, his job completed for the moment. Whether by design or by accident the door was left partly ajar so that the two waiting lads, Willie and his younger companion could more or less hear what was happening inside the room. There was first a muffled conversation followed by a pause; then a few minutes later the inimitable sound of a cane mating with a boy’s naked bum was clearly heard; to be followed a split second later by the first howl of pain from the recipient. There was then a pause of some ten seconds or so, followed by another crack of rattan again meeting bare skin; and even louder cry of appreciation was emitted by the recipient.
And so at that slow pace, the beating continued. Willie by now almost petrified with fear, counted no less than a than another eight cuts before a few minutes silence, broken only by the sobbing of the poor lad who had just been beaten. Finally the door opened and the lad in question, sobbing uncontrollably and rubbing his bum vigorously in a vain attempt to alleviate the extreme pain which he clearly felt, was shown out by the Basher himself and the door was again closed. Then followed a wait of at least five minutes, which seemed like a lifetime to the two lads still shivering with fear in the corridor. The nervous tension in both lads had more or less built up to breaking point before the door was again opened and the monitor, Jeremy Hallam, ushered in the other lad to meet his fate at the hands of The Basher
Finally some twenty minutes after the first of the three boys had entered the Headmaster’s study,
Willie’s turn arrived; he was ushered in to face the Headmaster by Jeremy Hallam, who portentously said:
Wagstaff to see you Headmaster. Hallam then left and this time closed the door properly behind
himself, leaving Willie standing there shivering with fear, facing the formidable Basher.
Willie had never before been in the presence of his Headmaster; in fact, he had until now, never ever spoken to him; he knew him only by sight as a remote authoritarian figure with a formidably frightening reputation with the cane. However, Willie realised that he was now to see – and, in all probability, feel – for himself whether The Basher really lived up to his reputation. Willie quickly learned standing there, trembling like a leaf in front of The Basher sitting behind his huge desk, that his Headmaster knew much more about him then he did about the Headmaster.
Well Wagstaff, I have here your personal file and I have to tell you that in many ways it makes
very sad reading. Your teachers all report that you are regularly a disruptive force in class and in spite
of numerous swishing since the time you arrived her as a new boy several years ago, you have not found
it in yourself to reform your ways and stop making inane comments during the lessons. However, on the
positive side, you are a very bright boy; and I see that you have been regularly top your class since
you first arrived here several years ago. So as you can see, Wagstaff, there are two sides to your character
which seem to contradict one another; with the apparent lack of attention you apparently pay during class,
one would expect you to be that the bottom of the class but the converse is true; so Wagstaff, academically
speaking you appear to have a bright and successful future ahead of you.
Willie had listened intently to this discourse and when he heard what apparent amounted to praise of his academic achievements, he brightened up and momentarily thought that perhaps he was going to escape with just a verbal warning from his Headmaster and that he might emerge with his bum unscathed from this interview. Alas, as he now learned, nothing could have been further from the truth.
The question is, Wagstaff, what am I to do with you, one of our brightest boys ever, to make you
see that you cannot go on as you have been doing in the past. Things have got to change; being top of
your class is just not enough; you have to learn to behave correctly in the society in which you currently
live. Mr. Hawkins, to whom I have spoken, tells me that your remarks today were the final straw for him;
he felt that he could no longer control you and that punishments he had given you had proved ineffective,
as in spite of numerous swishing, you still went your own disruptive way. And that, Wagstaff, is why he
referred you to me and gave you a punishment note, recommending that I give you at least a six stroke
beating to try to set you n the straight and narrow. I say at least six strokes as Mr. Hawkins left it
to my discretion to the final level of punishment you should receive in that he indicated six plus.
Well Wagstaff, that was the situation before you decided to run in the corridor and ran
pell-mell into me personally, little over an hour ago. As you well know, running anywhere inside the school
buildings is strictly forbidden; and for very good reasons as you saw for yourself, for it can lead to
serious accidents; and that Wagstaff, is why anybody caught running is automatically referred to me for
a mandatory six stroke beating. And I do mean a beating, Wagstaff; not simply a light swishing. Willie’s
heart leapt to his mouth and he suddenly had a burning desire to pee, as he now saw where all this was
leading; his poor bum was to be completely shredded; but worse new was still to come.
So as you can
see Wagstaff, with a recommended six plus strokes by Mr. Hawkins and six mandatory cuts for your running
episode, we are already up to twelve plus cuts of the cane. And so, Wagstaff, I regret to have to tell
you that in view of our lamentable record in class over many years, I have decided that you do need to
be be taught a serious and regrettably very painful lesson. I have decided to give you an eighteen stroke
beating in the hope that it will finally bring home to you that you have to change your ways or face life
here at school with a permanently sore bottom. Now boy, step forward closer towards to my desk as I wish
to show you something before I beat you to make things absolutely clear to you as to what the future holds
for you if you do not reform you ways.
By now Willie was in a blind panic about what was about to happen to him, about which he could do nothing. What The Basher proposed to visit on him he had never crossed his mind; but eighteen strokes of a cane across his naked bum; he asked himself how he would he stand the pain? Willie did as ordered and approached the front of the desk where he saw for the first time with horror were lying three vicious-looking rattan canes, one of which was destined to mate with his bare bum. But it was not these which The Basher intended to show Willie, but the first page of a large atlas open at a full Map of the World.
Now Wagstaff, you see that on this Map of the World, there are many countries which are coloured
red. As you are probably aware, these countries together comprise the British Empire on which it is said
the sun never sets. Well Wagstaff, I would like you to think on this before I actually beat you.
In a short while, after I have finished attending to the pressing needs of your bottom, it will, in colour
at least, resemble a country of the British Empire; in a word, Wagstaff, if I have done my job satisfactorily,
as I have every intention of doing, your bottom will be bright red. So I would like you to start thinking
about this part of your anatomy as being, in spirit anyway, a small part of the British Empire. So let
me tell you, that unless you mend your ways, I shall have no hesitation at all in maintaining the honorary
status of your bottom as a minor member of the Empire, in colour at least. I shall I shall maintain the
bright red hue, which I intend to impart to it in a few minutes from now, by regular and judicious further
applications of the cane, to ensure that its original colour does not fade.
I trust I make myself clear, Wagstaff. As of now, all your teachers will refer you to me if there
is any further bad behaviour on your part. From today, if a master considers that you need correction,
then he will not swish you himself but you to me and I shall have the pleasure of beating you. Mild swishing
are for you Wagstaff, a thing of the past; so as you can see, I have every intention of maintaining the
the Empire status of your bottom for as long as it takes for you to come to your senses and learn to behave
correctly. Now enough of these words Wagstaff, as I am sure you are anxious as I am to get down to the
real business we have to conduct together to ensure you leave here properly inducted as – let
us call it – a Bum of the British Empire; a BBE for short.
The Headmaster now stood up from his desk, came round to where Willie was standing; he picked up the cane which was to stand-in for the sword of state when the monarch confers and honour on one of his subjects and with which he intended to raise Willie’s bum to the honorary status of BBE, which Willie, quick witted as ever, turned into the British Empire Bum: the BEB. It would all have been so amusing, had it not been that the BEB was to be created not by tapping on the candidate’s shoulder with a sword of state, but by an eighteen stroke, bare-bum engraving with a rattan cane; an event which even before it took place, Willie vowed to himself he would never repeat.
The moment had finally arrived as The Basher motioned to Willie to approach the beating horse standing
in the centre of the room.
Take of your shorts Wagstaff, and bend across the padded saddle of the horse.
Stick your bare bottom as high as you can into the air and grasp hold of one of the bars across he legs
with your hands. He then adjusted the height of the saddle of the horse, so that Willie’s bare bum
was tightly stretched across the saddle of the horse and his toes were only just touching the floor.
Now Wagstaff, keep perfectly still whilst I address your your buttocks with the cane. Do not clench
your buttock muscles at all; if you clench your muscles the cane will bounce and I shall be obliged to
begin again; is that clear?
Poor Willie; one really had to feel sorry for the lad; he deserved to be beaten; but did he deserve an eighteen stroke beating? Come on; he was an twelve-year-old boy, going on thirteen; big for his age, but nevertheless only twelve; and here he was about to have his backside shredded: a punishment more suited to a serious delinquent in his late teens who had committed some juvenile crime and had been sentenced by the court to a severe beating. Surely the time honoured six of the best on his bare bum would have taught Willie enough of a lesson. But this was life in the public school domain and such places were often a law unto themselves and well-known for their excessively severe use of the cane; and it has to be said Frogmore Court and Frogmore Academy both fell into this category. Both were institutions where the sound of the cane was rarely silent for long
That fatidic moment had finally arrived and Willie felt the first tap, tap, tapping of the cane across the middle of his bare buttocks; then suddenly the cane was gone; and then there was a split second as the cane swished down through the air; and then that awful moment when it landed on its target with that inimitable resounding crack which the rattan cane always makes as it mates with a boy’s naked buttocks. Then followed another split second during which Willie felt nothing; and then the agony of that first searing cut hit him. This was in a different league to the light swishings he had experienced many times from various masters; this was really serious stuff; hard-core punishment; really over-the-top for a boy aged twelve. Willie wondered how he would stand another seventeen strokes as he let out a cry of pain at the first stroke; and then as stroke followed stroke, his cries became ever louder. By the the time The Basher had finished addressing Willie’s bum, he had laid on sixteen neat parallel strokes pulled together by two cross– strokes. There was not one inch of poor Willie’s bum which was not the bright red colour which The Basher had aimed at to create a BIB.
Willie finally was allowed to leave The Basher’s study and limped painfully straight to his bed. His roommates were were staggered to see the mess that the Headmaster had made of Willie’s bum and he got a lot of real sympathy. But what was totally unexpected was that Mr. Hawkins, the instigator of Willie’s misfortunes, turned up at the dormitory just before lights-out time. He had somehow heard that Willie had really been put through the mill and felt somewhat guilty himself as the instigator of something which had turned into a dreadful nightmare for Willie. He brought with him some soothing ointment which he personally applied to Willie’s roasted bum, which made Willie feel a lot better physically as it eased the pain considerably. But Willie also felt better mentally as he saw that Mr. Hawkins had a human side to him and was not his enemy.
As for the sequel to this horrendous affair, Willie did in fact, reform and that first beating proved also to be his last. And Willie’s bum quickly retired as being a part of the British Empire.
And at the end of the day, Willie Wagstaff did learn that it was better to look before leaping.