The White Rat – Chapter Three

The White Rat – Chapter Three

In this chapter David puts his plan to get rid of Dhif into operation, while Fielding finds a couple more unfortunate victims.

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On Friday morning David managed to intercept the shopping list before Mrs Devlin picked it up, and he carefully added "two bottles Woodpecker cider" in something as close to his mother's handwriting as he could manage. That'll be a nice surprise for Sambo on Monday, he thought.

Sure enough the bottles were in the kitchen cupboard when he got home, so he quickly redeployed them to his bedroom, putting one in his games bag ready for Monday morning and the other in his hidey-hole under the floorboards in his bedroom cupboard.

On Monday morning he took the first bottle to school, still in his games bag. The problem was going to be getting it into Dhif's possession: he could hardly just march across the yard carrying it, and even walking about carrying his games bag would look a bit suspicious. But there was a path that led from the second-year form rooms to the bike sheds, and there was a point where one of the sheds backed up almost against the perimeter wall, leaving a space just about big enough for a bottle. If he left the bottle there, he would be able to get from there to the second-year rooms without being seen. The last bit might still be a problem, but he was sure he could find a way round it. So he stashed the bottle and headed off to registration.

By the start of break he had worked out what to do: he would wait until the second-years were at lunch and then sneak the bottle into their cloakroom. Then it would just be a question of finding Dhif's coat and parking the evidence in a pocket, ready to be "found" as soon as the second-formers got back from lunch.

And at lunch time everything seemed to go smoothly. Once the second years had gone to lunch their block seemed quiet, and David was able to get the bottle into the cloakroom area unseen. It took him a while to find Dhif's coat - under school rules everyone had to wear a similar dark blue raincoat, so they all looked the same, but the good old label rule came to his rescue, and eventually he was able to park the bottle in the correct garment.

Once the second years got back from lunch David waited five minutes and then marched openly - and visibly empty-handedly - into their cloakroom area.

"I've been told someone's hiding fags in his coat pocket," he told the couple of boys in the cloakroom. "I'm sure nobody will mind me having a look, will they?"

Quite possibly they all minded, but nobody was going to say that to the Rat's face, so they just stood and watched him ferreting about in coat pockets, working his way up the row towards Dhif's coat. By the time he got there his audience had grown quite a bit, which suited him just fine.

"Hello, what have we here?" he asked, as he reached the garment in question. He drew the bottle out and held it up for them all to see. "Whose coat is this?"

He made a point of searching for the label, and then asked "Which of you is Dhif?" although he knew perfectly well that Dhif was not in the audience.

Someone stuck his head into 2B's room and yelled, "Brahim! You're in the shit!" and Dhif came out.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Is this your coat?" asked David.

"Well... yes, it looks like it. Why?"

"What's this doing in the pocket, then?" asked David, holding up the bottle.

"Don't ask me. I certainly didn't put it there."

"Of course you didn't. I expect it fell off a passing lorry and just happened to bounce into your pocket. OK, come with me - you can explain it to Garrett."

By the time he'd marched Dhif across the yard to Garrett's office Fielding, with a perfect nose for trouble, had spotted them and joined the procession. Two or three of Dhif's friends trailed along as well, and so did a couple of boys from the other second forms, keen to find out what was going on. David directed Dhif and Fielding into Garrett's office and closed the door in everyone else's face.

"I found this bottle of cider in this boy's coat pocket," reported David. "Bringing alcohol into school is a serious offence, isn't it?"

"Alcohol?" queried Dhif. "Well, that proves it isn't mine."

"Really?" said Garrett. "I'd have thought that the fact that it was in your pocket suggests otherwise, but by all means feel free to convince me otherwise."

"I'm a Muslim," said Dhif. "Muslims are forbidden alcohol - it's completely against our religion. I'd never even touch a bottle, far less bring one into school."

"That's true," agreed Garrett, who'd done a bit of religious study on his way up the school. "I seem to remember that Muslims don't touch booze."

"That just proves he's a bad Muslim, as well as breaking school rules," said David, determined not to let this bloody nig-nog sneak out of his proper punishment.

"Maybe," said Garrett. "Or maybe he brought it in for someone else."

"Someone put it there to get me into trouble," said Dhif. "I swear I've never seen that bottle before."

"Tell us who, and we'll happily look into it," said Garrett. "Otherwise I'm afraid I'm going to have to assume it's yours. Well?"

Dhif couldn't think of anyone - he got on well with pretty much everyone in his form

"There you go, then" said Garrett, when no answer was forthcoming.

"Alcohol's serious, isn't it?" said David. "I reckon you should take him to the head, Garrett."

"Well... normally I'd agree with you," said Garrett. "But he does make a good point about his religion, and it is possible that someone's set him up. I think it'd be a bit unfair to wheel him off to Noddy without a bit more proof. So... what's your name?"

"Dhif", said Dhif, spelling it for him.

"Okay, Dhif. I'll deal with this myself here and now, so it won't go any higher. And if you do find out that someone stitched you up, I'll be quite happy to turn a blind eye while you sort it out for yourself, understand?"

Garrett, for all his faults, was no racist, and had a certain respect for those who follow other religions. He thought maybe the boy was telling the truth, though he wasn't going to let it prevent him administering punishment.

"So," he went on, "we'll settle for a caning - and because I'm half inclined to believe you, you're only getting three. So if you'd just take your clothes off, we can get it over and done with."

Only three? David was outraged - he'd wanted the little coon expelled, not getting off this lightly. Mind you, Dhif wasn't too happy, either.

"Take my clothes off? Why?"

"So you can be beaten. You have to be naked, because it embarrasses the hell out of you and helps to make sure you don't ever want to come here again."

"But... I can't! It wouldn't be seemly!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked David.

"I can't reveal myself - it's against my religion."

"So is alcohol, but you're still being punished for that," Garrett pointed out. "I'm going to have to insist, Dhif, unless you'd prefer to go to the head?"

"No, but... look, I can't do it while she's in the room." And Dhif pointed at Pattison, who was dutifully cleaning Garrett's rugby boots in the corner of the study.

"Oh, is that it?" said Garrett, grinning. "Well, you've nothing to worry about there. She's a he. Show him, Patty."

Blushing, Pattison stood up and lifted his skirt. As usual he was wearing nothing beneath it, which left Dhif in no doubt that he was not going to have to expose himself in front of a member of the opposite sex.

"Why are you wearing those clothes?" he asked. "Men should not wear the clothes of a female."

"They should if the alternative is getting expelled," Garrett pointed out. "Our Patty is a persistent smoker; and volunteering to be my chambermaid is the only way out of a short visit to Noddy and a long walk home. Anyway, that's his problem. Yours is that if you're not undressed inside a minute you'll be taking the same long walk."

Reluctantly Dhif undressed, hesitating for a long time before removing his underpants, after which he kept his hands clasped over his groin. Garrett directed him to the chair and made him bend over it, at which point he had to move his hands to take hold of the chair in the approved way, thus allowing his audience an unrestricted view. Fielding stared excitedly at the older boy's groin, fascinated by the way in which the end of the penis was not covered by skin. There was no proper hair, though the first signs of a dark peach-down were visible at the base of his penis. David was unsurprised to see that the boy's penis and testicles were larger than his own.

"Would you do the honours, Jordan?" asked Garrett.

"Bloody hell, yes!" cried Fielding enthusiastically.

Jordan? thought David. It was the first time he'd heard Fielding's first name, and it suggested that Garrett was taking a shine to the apprentice. Just as long as he doesn't forget I was here first, he thought.

Fielding took up the cane and swished it a couple of times, and then landed the first proper blow on Dhif's buttocks. Dhif gasped and twitched, but managed to hold still. Fielding hit him again, and Dhif gave a louder gasp and a bigger twitch, and then Fielding took careful aim at the two marks he had already left and delivered the third one as hard as he could, and Dhif gave a yell of pain and jerked upright, clutching at his buttocks and hopping up and down, making his half-grown genitals bobble about comically. Fielding stared at them excitedly, still swishing the cane.

"Okay, that's it," said Garrett, once Dhif had stopped jumping about. "Get dressed. I'm not putting this in the book, either, so officially you've still got a clean record here. But I don't want to see you here again, or you will be in trouble, understand?"

Dhif nodded as he pulled his clothes back on. David was less than satisfied, but he felt sure he could get Dhif for something else before too long: there was no way he was going to let some little jungle-bunny get the better of him...

When Dhif got back to his form room he found a sympathetic welcome from most of his form-mates, none of whom could believe that he'd really been stupid enough to bring a bottle of cider into school, especially when it went against his religious beliefs. But as he emerged again to head for the first lesson after lunch he found Little Collins waiting for him.

Little Collins was in 2C, whose classroom was next to 2B's. He was called Little Collins both in honour of the famous series of pocket multilingual dictionaries produced by Collins the publishers, and because he had an older brother in the lower sixth (who was usually just called Collins, rather than Big Collins).

"There's something you should know," Little Collins told him. "See, I have packed lunches, and I prefer to eat them in our form room instead of going to the dining hall like most of the other packed lunch boys do... anyway, I was sitting in our room at the start of the lunch break, eating my sandwiches and trying to learn my French vocab, when I heard a noise outside. I stuck my head outside the door to see what it was, and I saw the White Rat with a bottle in his hand.

"I kept dead quiet and watched, and after a bit he seemed to find the coat he was looking for and stuck the bottle in a pocket. I ducked back into our room before he could see me, and when I looked out again he'd gone. But it means he was the one who set you up."

"But... why would he do that?" asked Dhif. "I've never even spoken to him. How can he even know who I am?"

Little Collins shrugged. "Beats me," he said. "But I heard a rumour that the kid he brought round to clean our blackboards dressed as a girl hadn't done anything wrong, either, except to annoy the Rat somehow. I've been feeling a bit bad about that - I helped Pope to... well, do some bad stuff to him."

"But I can't have upset the Rat - like I said, I've never even spoken to him."

"Well, he's obviously got it in for you," said Little Collins, shrugging again. "Anyway, I just thought you ought to know."

"'Kay, thanks," said Dhif, bewilderment starting to give way to anger. Why should he have been made a target? There was absolutely no reason for it that he could see - he never for a moment considered that his colour had anything to do with it: after all, it didn't seem to be an issue for anyone in the school. But he was determined to do something about it - and Garrett had more or less said he was free to sort it out for himself, even if he hadn't known who the perpetrator had been. He didn't yet know how, but somehow he was going to get his revenge...

The following morning Osterley was ambushed before he even managed to reach his form room. The mockery from the lower school was starting to die down a little, but he still preferred to spend the breaks out of the public eye if he could. He almost flinched when he saw who it was that had accosted him, even though the boy in question was smaller than he was.

"Can I talk to you, please?" asked Little Collins, who had gone home the previous evening thinking about what had happened to Dhif.

"What do you want?"

"Well... mainly I want to say sorry. We all got a bit carried away, and... I really shouldn't have done that to you. I'm sorry..."

"Oh," said Osterley, who hadn't been expecting an apology. "Well, okay - but I don't think an apology really helps much."

"I know, but I still wanted to say it. It's just... I couldn't stop myself: your thing looked really good, sticking up like it was, and I just wanted to see what it would feel like - and then once I got hold of it I just had to give it a rub, and once I started I couldn't stop. But I've been thinking about it, and it must have been horrible having everyone looking at you. I mean, I like the feeling it gives you when you rub it, but I'd hate to have people looking at me while I was doing it."

"It was horrible - it's the worst I've ever felt in my life."

Little Collins looked at his shoes. "I really am sorry," was all he could say.

"Well, okay - if you're really sorry, how about getting the rest of your year off of my back?"

"I don't know if I can do that. I mean, I'll try, but most of them just thought it was funny. I think it'll take time before they leave it alone."

"That's what I reckon, too. I'll just have to keep hanging about in my form room every break, I suppose. Trouble is, even some of my own lot have found out about it, so I'm getting jokes made there, too."

"Then why don't you use one of the music practice rooms? Nobody will bother you there, and they never get used at break, and hardly ever during the lunch breaks, either."

"I suppose that's not a bad idea, provided nobody finds out about it. But it's going to be really boring just hiding out on my own every break."

"Well... I wouldn't mind coming and keeping you company sometimes. At least that way you won't be stuck on your own."

"Really? Do that, and I'll believe you really are sorry."

"Okay. I'll meet you in the music block at break, then."

Little Collins meeting Osterley in the music practice rooms was not, as it turned out, the only thing that happened at break. David was on one of his usual patrols around the most likely haunts of smokers and other sinners when Fielding came running up to him.

"You'd better come with me," he said. "I think I've found something you ought to see. This way."

He trotted off, and David caught up with him and ran alongside.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well, I was looking for smokers, like you told me, and I thought the old toilet block beside School House might be a good place. Almost everyone uses the main block toilets, or the ones in the sixth form wing, because they're closer to the yard."

"That's true, and you're right, not many people use the old ones. I've caught smokers there once or twice before."

"Yes, but this time... I was looking under the cubicle doors to see if any were occupied, when... shh! come and see."

They had reached the old toilet block, and Fielding went in at an exaggerated tiptoe. David followed him, already thinking that Garrett would be well pleased with another smoker in the net: smokers would agree to pretty much anything to escape a visit to the head, who liked smokers almost as little as he liked bullies.

Fielding dropped to his knees and bent down so that he could see under the partitions: there was a gap of about six inches between the bottom of the walls and doors and the floor. David knelt down beside him and looked for himself, and saw that the fifth cubicle along was occupied... by two pairs of shoes. Cheapskates, he thought: they can't even afford to buy a packet of fags each. But there was something not quite right about the way the shoes were placed, and when he looked again he saw that they were facing each other, and that one pair had a pair of trousers puddled over them. OK, one smoker might pull his trousers down to make it look to the casual inspector as if the cubicle was being used for its legitimate purpose, but with two people in there...

He crept quietly into the fourth cubicle along, and Fielding followed him in. They climbed up onto the bowl and peered cautiously over the partition - Fielding could only just see over it, and even David was having to stretch - and they saw two boys, but no cigarettes. David recognised the boy with his trousers round his ankles straight away: his name was Larkin, and he was in his own form. The other boy he didn't know, but he didn't really need to at this point. All he needed to know was what they were doing, and he could see that easily enough: the other boy was holding Larkin's penis and stroking it slowly.

"You perverts!" exclaimed David in disgust, making them both jump about a foot into the air and then leap apart guiltily. Larkin tried to pull his trousers up, but they got caught up because he was inadvertently standing on his belt, and he stumbled against the other boy, who fell back against the partition.

"Cover yourself, you filthy queer," ordered David, "and then get yourself over to Garrett's study. You - what's your name?"

"Baker," said the other boy, who looked absolutely terrified. "I'm in 3A"

"OK, you, too. You'd both better start thinking what you're going to tell your parents, because I doubt if either of you will be at this school by tomorrow."

He had good reason to think that: this was the third mortal sin as far as Noddy was concerned: smoking, bullying and what he called "moral degeneracy", which in translation meant homosexuality.

"Look, come on, Villiers-Gore," pleaded Larkin, as he finally managed to get his trousers back up, "you don't have to tell Garrett, do you? I mean, we're in the same form..."

"Not for much longer, you filth," said David, with feeling.

"Well, alright - but you don't have to drag Baker into it," persisted Larkin. "I mean, I'm older than he is, so it's down to me. Let him go."

"No chance. I want all you poofs out of this school. Now move."

He escorted them to Garrett's office. He could tell that Larkin was thinking of disobeying him and simply running for it, and maybe if Fielding hadn't been there he'd have risked denying the whole thing and calling David a liar. But with a witness there he knew he couldn't do that, and after a moment's hesitation his shoulders slumped and he headed for Garrett's office without further protest.

"Wait out here," David told them when they reached the hall outside Garrett's study. "We'll call you in when we're ready."

He and Fielding went inside. Garrett was working on something, and when David got close enough he was that it was an essay on one of the English set books. Pattison was cleaning the window, dressed in his usual feminine attire.

"We've got you a present," David told Garrett. "Couple of perverts - they were touching each other up in the old toilet block. Actually, it was Jordan who caught them." If Fielding hadn't actually been standing next to him David would have taken the credit himself, but he knew that Fielding would certainly comment if he tried doing that now.

"Oh, dear, Noddy's least favourite people," said Garrett, grinning. "Let's have them in, then."

Fielding went to the door and called the two boys in, enjoying being able to give orders to older boys. Larkin and Baker trudged into the room.

"Okay, then, let's hear it," invited Garrett. "Tell me all about it - and don't tell lies. How long have you been queering each other off?"

"This was the first time," said Larkin, provoking a chorus of disbelief from his audience - including Pattison, who was glad not to be the centre of attention for once.

"It's true!" declared Baker. "Look, it's my fault - I've been on at him to let me see for ages. He's always said no before."

"Bet he wishes he had this time, too," commented Garrett. "So what were you doing, then? Fucking each other, or were you just blowing each other?"

The two boys looked totally lost - it was obvious that they hadn't a clue what Garrett was talking about.

"I just wanted to see, and then maybe to find out what it felt like," said Baker. "See, we catch the same bus home, and one day I noticed that his trousers were sort of bulging. The same thing happens to me sometimes, only I didn't know why, so - as there was nobody else close - I asked him about it. He explained about erections, and I asked him if I could see what his looks like. He said no, but I've asked a few times since - I just want to know more about it. And this morning on the bus he said he'd let me look at it, if it would shut me up..."

"That's a beautiful story," said Garrett. "I wonder if Noddy will believe it? Actually, I don't think it'll matter either way: once you admit touching another boy like that you'll be expelled whatever sob-story you come up with. And you..."

"Larkin," supplied David. "He's in 4A. The other one's Baker, 3A."

"Larkin, then - you've got no chance. Corrupting a younger boy, that's what the head will call it. You'll be lucky to find a Secondary Modern that'll take you after that."

Larkin hung his head, and Baker started to cry softly.

"On the other hand..." said Garrett, and their heads came up.

"Maybe I could be persuaded not to go to Noddy. But you might prefer it if I did, because if we deal with it instead, you'll hate every second - won't they, V-G?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

"So - Noddy, or us?"

"You!" they both cried, without hesitation. Larkin knew Garrett was right about what such a reason for expulsion would mean for his future, and Baker was desperate not to shame his parents.

"OK - but no changing your mind," warned Garrett. "OK, what are we going to do with them - Jordan?"

"Let me cane them - please, Garrett?"

"OK. V-G, got any nice ideas?"

"Plenty. How about a tug of war to start with? Loser gets double the canings."

"Yes, okay. And I'm sure Jordan would welcome a chance to hand out a double caning... right, you two, get undressed."

There was the usual hesitation at this point, but Larkin quickly realised that there wasn't much of a choice here, and so he began to get undressed, and once he started it didn't take long for Baker to decide to follow his example.

Again, once they were naked they followed the usual pattern of standing hunched up with their hands over their groins, but David wasn't allowing that. He made them put their hands behind their backs and tied each boy's wrists together using their ties. Then he made them stand facing each other in the middle of the room.

Fielding stared happily at the exposed boys: Larkin was of average development for a fourteen-year-old, with quite large balls, a medium-sized penis and curls of brown hair around the base of it; Baker was smaller, and his hair had barely started, just a few wisps at the bottom of his pale penis.

"Now we get to the entertaining bit," said David, pulling from his blazer pocket a piece of string that was about two feet long and had a slip knot at each end. Before Larkin realised what he was doing he had slipped the loop at one end over Larkin's penis and pulled hard, tightening the knot so that it dug into the flesh. Then he attached the other end to Baker in the same way.

"Now, when I say 'go' you pull," he instructed them. "The one whose shoulders touch the wall behind him wins, and will only get four strokes. The loser gets eight. Oh, and if I don't think you're both really trying to win, you'll get twelve each - that's just in case one of you gets all noble and decides to let the other one win. OK, ready? One..."

"This isn't fair," protested Baker. "He's older and bigger than me, so he's bound to win."

"No, he isn't. This isn't really about strength: this is about who can stand pain better, especially pain in sensitive places. Maybe having a bigger one will make it easier for his to hurt. Anyway, we're going to find out. One, two... three!"

They pulled, and immediately realised how much this hurt: both let out cries of pain as their penises were stretched, and as the slip knots dug in yet tighter. The audience laughed appreciatively: Pattison thanked God that he'd got off as lightly as he had, just being caned, humiliated and made to suck Garrett's cock on demand - at least he hadn't had his knob tortured as well. Fielding's face was shining with excitement, and the tent in his shorts told its own story. And Garrett leaned back in his chair with his feet on the desk and a huge grin on his face.

It was obvious that they were both trying their hardest, staggering forwards and back as each tug was returned: and steadily Baker was getting closer to his wall - apparently he could handle the pain better. Larkin struggled, gasping and sweating and uttering cries of pain at each new tug on his sore cock, and Baker, although obviously also suffering agonies, dragged him slowly closer and closer to the wall.

Finally, with a last desperate lunge that made both cry out in pain, Baker managed to touch the study wall.

"Right, we have a winner," declared David. "Stand still and I'll get the string off, Baker."

It took a few seconds: the knot had slipped really tight and didn't want to come loose, but eventually David managed to slide the string off Baker's penis, which now sported a painful-looking red line around it. Larkin thrust his groin forward, and David pushed him away.

'Wait your turn," he said, instead untying Baker's wrists. The third-former reached for his sore cock, but David swatted his hands away.

"Stop being a pervert and trying to touch yourself up," he said. "If you touch it before you've been beaten you'll get an extra ten. Go and lean over the chair."

Fielding, who was quite the expert by now, showed Baker how to position himself and then picked up the cane, swishing it eagerly through the air. David noticed that Fielding's shorts were still tented out: obviously he was still having a really good time.

The cane hissed down, and Baker squealed and clutched at himself. David opened his mouth, but Fielding beat him to it.

"Keep hold of the chair," he ordered. "If you don't, that hit won't count."

Trembling, Baker took hold of the chair once more, steeling himself as Fielding beat him again. Again he was unable to suppress a cry, but he did manage to keep his grip on the chair. Fielding gave him two more, and somehow he clung on.

"OK, that's it," said David. "If you want to fiddle with yourself now, you can. But you can't get dressed until we've finished with your pervy friend. Just wait over there. Larkin, come and bend over."

"Please can you take this string off me?" begged Larkin. "It really hurts."

"Not yet," said David, enjoying himself. "Maybe after you've been beaten. Maybe. Bend over, and I'll untie your hands."

He untied Larkin's wrists and then handed over to Fielding, who put Larkin in the required position, took aim and brought the cane down as hard as he could. The result was everything he could have wished for: Larkin, who had never received so much as a mild swat in his life, gave a shriek of agony and leapt upright, clutching at his bum and hopping about.

"Bend down!" commanded Fielding, sternly. "This is your last warning: next time you move I'll start adding extra ones."

Stifling a sob, Larkin bent over again, and Fielding grinned at the audience and swung lustily once more. Somehow Larkin managed not to move, but he yelled in pain, a cry that was repeated on each of the next two blows. By now Fielding had a good target of red lines to aim at, and the fifth, which exactly covered one of the earlier ones, was too much for Larkin, who shrieked and jerked upright once more.

"Oops! That one doesn't count," said Fielding, merrily. He paused to adjust his shorts, which indicated an extremely stiff penis trapped inside them, and then delivered another highly accurate blow.

Larkin shrieked again and began to sob and beg for it to stop, but he might as well have asked for the moon: Fielding was in his element, and wouldn't have stopped for anything. He delivered the last three, and was mildly disappointed when Larkin survived them without moving his hands from the chair, but the tears and the sobbing were compensation enough.

"Stand still, you baby," demanded David, as Larkin jumped about, clutching at his aching bum. "Or would you rather keep that string on for the rest of the day?"

That got through to Larkin: the end of his knob was aching, even though the pain in his buttocks had temporarily overwhelmed it, and the interruption to the blood flow had left it a darker colour than the rest of the shaft. He held still while David tugged at the knot, uttering little cries of pain when David's first efforts were unsuccessful. Finally the knot gave up the struggle and David was able to pull the string away. Larkin cupped it in his hand, and David slapped his hand away, telling him to stop acting like a pervert.

"Please can we go now?" asked Baker, who had by now brought himself back under control.

"What, you think that's it?" asked David. "Think again, queerboy: we've barely started teaching you and your poofy friend a lesson. There isn't time now - come back here at the start of the lunch break and we'll explain how the rest of term is going to go.. OK, get dressed and get lost."

They dressed hurriedly and left.

"What else have you got in mind, then?" asked Garrett.

"I want the whole school to see what happens to queers," said David. "And I expect you'd like to give Patty a break from his, er, oral duties now and again - well, I'm sure those two would love a chance to take over from him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Fielding.

"Oh, that's right, you haven't seen what else our Patty is good for, have you?" asked Garrett. "Well, the bell's about to go, so there isn't time now, but I expect we can find time to show you at lunchtime."

So at the start of the lunch break they all reconvened in Garrett's study. Larkin and Baker were made to strip once more, and to display their bums, which carried an impressive collection of horizontal marks.

"Still sore?" asked David, though without any trace of sympathy; and when they both nodded, he went on, "Good. Now, if we want to, we can do that again every day for the rest of term - and that's what I'd like to do, really: I hate perverts. On the other hand, if you accept the rest of your punishment, you won't have to be beaten so much."

He produced two short lengths of pink ribbon, and started to tie the first one in a bow around Larkin's penis.

"These stay on until the end of term," he said, moving on to Baker. "You wear them from leaving home in the morning until you get back at night. I'd say you have to wear them at home, too, but we'd have no way of checking. But at school we can check: any time any one of us tells you we want to check, you have to show us that it's still on. If you refuse, or if we find it's not there, you'll get twelve with the cane. You'll wear it while you get changed for games, and you'll wear it in the shower, so everyone can see what you are."

He picked up each boy's socks and trousers, checked the waist sizes and then emptied the pockets onto Garrett's desk. Then he went to the cupboard and pulled out two pairs of shorts with equivalent waist sizes and two pairs of long socks.

"You'll both wear shorts for the rest of term," he said. "Queers aren't proper boys, so you don't deserve to dress like normal boys of your age. If people ask why you're wearing shorts, you can tell them it's because you don't deserve to be treated like normal boys. You'll walk through the school gates every day in shorts, and you'll wear them until you've left school premises at the end of the day - so you'll have to find somewhere to change in town, or do it on the bus, or something.

"Next, you'll do whatever we tell you for the rest of term, whatever that is. But I've got a pretty good idea of one thing that Garrett would like you to do... over to you, chief."

"Yes... well, as he says, maybe I should give Patty a day off now and again - but I can't let this place turn into a pigsty, so I'll need a replacement. You can both have a turn - I'm sure V-G's wardrobe has some girls clothes that will fit. And there's one other duty that the chambermaid has to perform - as you're both bent, you'll probably love it. Patty, demonstration, if you'd be so good."

He stood up and undid his trousers, and Pattison, his heart sinking at the thought of having to do this disgusting thing in front of an even bigger audience, dropped to his knees in front of Garrett's chair.

David, of course, had seen this before, but the other three hadn't, and they stared at what was happening with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

"Eurrrghhh, how can you do that?" asked Larkin.

"Because it's better than being expelled," said Pattison, pausing long enough to answer the question.

David could almost see the thoughts raging their way through Larkin's mind: was this really better than getting expelled, or not? David knew that if he was in this position, he wouldn't hesitate; he'd be off to Noddy's office and expulsion as fast as he could run. But then these two were queers, so maybe they wouldn't mind doing this, although the expression on Larkin's face suggested otherwise.

"Yes, but what's the point?" asked Fielding. "Why make him put it in his mouth - so you can pee down his throat?"

"No - though that idea does have its attractions," said Garrett. "No, it's because it feels really good. I can't really describe it - you'd have top find out for yourself. Which, by the way, you certainly can if you like - after all, we've got enough girlies here now for us to have one each."

"Well... does it really feel good?" asked Fielding.

"It's brilliant. Look, try it, and you'll see. Patty, go and do it for young Fielding. You can always finish me off later on."

Fielding looked doubtful, but then he shrugged. Why not try it, he thought. I can always tell him to stop if I don't like it...

He undid his belt and pulled his shorts and pants down, revealing a still eagerly stiff penis. It was hairless and quite thin, but very long for a first-year, at least double the length of David's. David experienced a moment of overwhelming jealousy, and just for a second he hated Fielding almost as intensely as he hated the two queers. But then reason returned, and he realised that it was hardly fair to blame Fielding for something that was completely outside his control.

Fielding sat on the punishment chair, and Pattison dropped to his knees in front of him and set to work. At first Fielding found this strange, but as Pattison got into a rhythm he changed his mind and decided it felt really good.

"What do you think?" asked Garrett.

"I see what you mean - but I think he'd better keep going for a bit: I don't want to make up my mind too quickly."

So Pattison kept going, and Fielding kept putting off the moment when he would finally make up his mind, until slowly an amazing feeling started to grow inside him... it went on and on growing until he felt he was going to explode, and then it swept over and through him, and he was overwhelmed by his first orgasm.

Pattison knew the signs, and slowed to a stop, finally letting Fielding's still hard penis slip from his mouth.

"Okay, I've decided," said Fielding, when he got his breath back. "You're right, Garrett: that feels truly amazing. We'll definitely have to teach these two how to do that."

"Help yourself," said Garrett, magnanimously. "Got that, you two? Any time Fielding wants you to do that for him, you do it, okay? Otherwise it'll be a serious caning. Same goes for V-G, if he changes his mind. Okay, you two, get your clothes on - and that means the shorts - and then go and show your friends how pretty your legs look."

So, reluctantly, Larkin and Baker dressed in the humiliating junior boys clothing and went out, vainly trying to think of a decent way to explain their appearance to their friends.

"We might as well go and see if we can find anyone else deserving a change of costume," said David. "That way you and Patty can have a bit of privacy..." And he ushered Fielding outside and closed the door after them.

Fielding looked around: there was nobody in sight, so he turned to David and said, "That was the most amazing thing I've ever felt. Look... thanks for letting me help you, Villiers-Gore - I really mean it. I've never had so much fun as I've had since you said I could help. It's brilliant being able to strip older kids and beat them, and now I'm going to make that Larkin kid strip and suck on my thing loads of times... you've been brilliant to me, and I won't ever forget it...

"Okay, I'll go and see what's happening in the old toilet block, shall I?"

David nodded, and Fielding trotted off happily.

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Well, David’s not happy that he failed to get rid of Dhif, and in fact he’s just made a bad enemy. But Fielding’s having a lot of fun, anyway, and in the next chapter he’ll be having even more, trying stuff out on Larkin and stumbling into another situation he can exploit to the full.

If you want to write and tell me what you think, please do – I’ll try to answer everyone. The address is gothmog@nyms.net

Copyright 2009 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke