| Re-united friends |
| 1st visit Jim was sitting in the bar on his own. He looked down at his nearly finished beer, picked up the glass and drank it down in one. Perhaps this hadn�t been a good idea after all. He�d already waited 15 minutes longer than the time he�d agreed to meet Bill and had doubted as to whether it was a good idea right from the beginning considering the trouble the two had been in at school. Things had been great for most of the time at school, almost inseparable until the incident that had ended their friendship, but that was more than thirty years ago now. Surely they could be friends again. They�d neither written nor even spoken to each other since that day but when Jim had looked at that web site that reunited school friends and found Bill�s e-mail address he just knew he had to do make contact. Bill was now 20 minutes late. Jim looked at his empty glass, checked his watch one more time then stood up to leave. �Buggar me you haven�t changed in 30 years� said a quiet voice. Jim looked up and saw Bill walking towards him. �Christ and neither have you,� Jim replied � except for your hair.� �Yes that�s changed and I supposed my stomachs a bit bigger. What you drinking?� �Another bitter please,� Jim replied and the two of them walked over to the bar together for the drinks then took them to an empty table and sat down. No-one spoke for a while until Jim said �I�d like to apologise for what happened in the past.� �Yes, so would I� added Bill �and I think it�s best if we don�t mention it again.� �Agreed,� said Jim. �What things are you up to now?� The two pals soon got talking about things they had been doing since their school days but eventually they started recalling things they had done together at school. Remembering events as if it had been only yesterday with only a few minor arguments about some of the minor details. Then Jim invited Bill round to his house for �one more drink�. �Remember that afternoon when we got caught running down the corridor and were sent to the head for the cane,� said Bill �Yes. We only got two strokes on each hand yet you cried,� answered Jim �No I didn�t,� shouted Bill, �I never cried when punished.� �God you often ended up in tears,� laughed Jim �you were a real crier.� �Like hell I was. You were the one shedding the tears.� �You�re memory is failing you after all. You were frightened of any punishment, a real softy, a cry baby,� continued Jim at which point Bill jumped up and walked out of the front door and into the front garden. Jim stood up and followed after him. �Where the hell are you going,� shouted Jim after him. �Come back.� But Bill strode across Jim�s front garden to a flowering Dahlia and pulled out a wooden cane supporting the flower then turned around and strode back into the house. �What on earth are you doing? Look at my flower,� gasped a bewildered Jim. �Right,� shouted a breathless Bill. �Who says I can�t take punishment without crying. You are the teacher and I am the badly behaved pupil that needs punishing. Take this cane and use it on me.� Bill stood there holding out the cane towards Jim and his own right hand extended and awaiting punishment.� Jim stood still. �Come on! Get on with it,� bellowed Bill. �I�ll show you that I can take punishment.� �Look let�s have another drink and sit down,� said Jim in a quiet voice. �Use the fucking cane will you,� shouted the excited Bill. Jim looked at his old school friend. He was tiring of Bill�s stupid attitude and wanted to end the scene. Suddenly Jim exploded. �OK,� he yelled �if that�s what you want let�s get on with it. Give me the cane.� He grabbed the cane from Bill. �Hold your hand out straight.� Bill straightened his arm. �Higher,� ordered Jim. Jim brought the cane down across the centre of the palm of Bill�s hand. �Again� shouted Bill. �Don�t worry,� replied Jim �you�re getting six of the best, at least.� Jim had lost his control now and brought the cane down as hard as he could five more times. Each time Bill winced with the pain but continued holding out his hand. He was determined not to show any signs of discomfort.� After six stokes Jim stopped. Sweat was running down his face and both hands shook nervously Bill smiled at Jim and quietly said, �see, no problem. I didn�t feel a thing.� A long spell of silence followed between the two men. Then Jim spoke. �All right, my turn now.� He handed the cane towards Bill and held out his right hand. Bill took the cane and looked at Jim�s hand. Without a sound Bill raised the cane and brought it down. It hurt, but then he hadn�t received the cane for thirty years. He didn�t make a sound. The silence was eventually broken by the swish of the cane as it came down again. Bill was certainly putting everything into it. Four more strokes followed then Bill walked across to the chair he had occupied earlier and sat down again. Jim, his hand hurting but his pride maintained, sat back in his chair. Bill eventually broke the silence. �Thirty years ago we were both mad buggars at school and I don�t think we�ve grown up yet,� and the two of them broke out laughing. �Do you fancy another drink?� asked Jim through the laughter. �No. I better get off home now,� answered Bill, �But I must say that I�ve enjoyed myself more than I expected. Do you fancy meeting up again for another drink?� �Yes, great idea� replied Jim, relieved that Bill had enjoyed himself and that he seemed to have forgotten about the past. Before long a second meeting had been arranged. 2nd visit Two weeks later they met again in the same pub, had a few drinks, talked about the �old days� then went back to Jim�s house for a �last drink�. The stories where never ending. Remember when Smithy tied that new kids shoe laces to his seat, and Jonesy put your football kit down the toilet, and Ginger was sick down the teachers back and Rocco pissed himself in class. �And remember when we were throwing Harry�s bag across the room and everything fell out just as that teacher Groucho came in,� said Jim �Yes and we got the cane from him,� added Bill �the hardest I think we ever got as he was really angry.� �I think we both had tears in our eyes that day,� continued Jim slowly. Neither spoke until Bill slowly added �I bet it wouldn�t hurt us now.� Jim walked into the kitchen to return with the cane that two weeks ago had been supporting the dahlias. �I�ve still not put this cane back where it was. Who�s going first?� Bill held out his hand. �How hard?� asked Jim. �As hard as possible� came Bill�s reply. Jim took a deep breath then down came the first stroke. Bill jumped with the impact but held his hand out for the second stroke followed by the third, fourth and fifth. Jim relaxed but Bill still held out his hand. His hand was stinging from the blows but he was determined not to show any pain in his face. �Do it all again� said Bill quietly �and try and make it harder.� Jim said nothing but repositioned his feet and brought the cane down as hard as he could across Bills hand. The second stroke was even harder. Jim was determined to show that he could hurt Bill. There had always been a rivalry between the two of them as boys, both trying to outshine the other and it was still there thirty years later. Jim finished off the ten strokes then sat back in his chair. Bill remained stationary with his hand held out despite the strokes having come to an end. He stood motionless still feeling the pain. After several minutes of silence Jim stood up and held out his hand. Bill picked up the cane and without either of them saying a word he walked over and adopted a comfortable position facing Jim�s outstretched hand. The cane came down with a crack. He looked at Jim�s face for any sign of pain. Nothing. Bill tried even harder. Four more strokes. Bill waited. Jim remained motionless with his hand held out. Bill continued with the strokes desperate to see some re-action but Jim remained motionless. Jim remained as solid as he could. The pain shot across his hand with each crack making him worry that the next might be even more painful than the last but desperate not to show any emotion. Bill might not have said anything about what had happened when they were schoolboys but Jim could feel that it was in his mind. By the ninth stroke Bill must have been tiring as the pain was not as sharp as previously. Jim felt pleased that he had proved to himself that he could take Bill�s effort. �You know,� said Jim after a few minutes rest �I don�t think that boys today could take the punishments that we took.� �Too right� said Bill. 3rd visit A few weeks later the two friends met again except this time Bill went directly to Jim�s house. He rang the doorbell and waited for Jim to open the door. Eventually the door opened. �My God!� exclaimed Bill and stood still looking at his friend. Jim was wearing grey trousers, white shirt, school tie, cap and black blazer. He looked the same as when they�d been at school together. Only the wearer was nearly 40 years older. �You�re even wearing the school tie and cap.� �Yes,� said Jim. �I�ve had them in a draw for years never expecting to wear them again.� The two men talked excitedly about memories they had of their school uniform recalling classmates who lost items of clothing at games lessons or tales of throwing someone else�s cap over a fence or of school ties being tied to door handles. Suddenly Bill jumped up. �I remember the day a football was kicked onto the canteen roof and you climbed up a drain pipe onto the roof to get it back,� said Bill slowly. �So can I,� replied Jim �and coming down my shirt caught on a nail and tore it nearly in half.� �And you fastened your jacket to try and hide it,� continued Bill �But the headteacher came into our class and saw me and made me stand in front of the class�� added Jim in a quiet voice, talking slower and slower. �And he told you to bend over�� �then he picked up a gym slipper�� On the floor under the table in the middle of the room Bill noticed a slipper similar to the one that the headteacher had used. He walked across and picked it up. Jim fastened his jacket and bent over so that his hands were on his knees. Bill positioned himself behind Jim�s rounded arse then brought the slipper down just as the headteacher had done so many years ago. Jim gave a slight jump as the slipper hit his arse. Bill repeated the stroke. Jim was looking down at the floor so could not see when the blows were coming and each one surprised him. He waited nervously for the next blow. The sharpness of each blow increased as Bill built up a rhythm. The slipper was starting to feel more like a knife that was getting sharper as it cut into his arse. He was sure that the headteacher had only slippered him twice but, as he felt the slipper�s sharp pain again he knew that if Bill was thinking about the headteacher it was not the day when the football was kicked on the canteen room but would be that day when they were caught under the stage. That was the day when they really felt pain. The pain that day had felt like ten knives not one. He tried hard to concentrated on the floral pattern on the carpet as the next stroke came instantly followed by the sharp cutting pain. Then again! and again! and again! Each stroke slicing across his arse. After ten strokes it stopped. The knife had been put away. Even though his arse felt on fire, he felt somewhat disappointed that the blows had stopped. �That hurt� said Jim as he slowly stood upright. �Good� whispered Bill to himself, and a smile crossed his face. �You�ve got some power in that right arm of yours. Have a rest,� Jim said smiling �then we can do it again.� �Piss off� said Bill, �it�s your turn to work next with the slipper. You weren�t the only one in the class to be punished.� Jim went upstairs then, when he returned he looked straight at Bill. �Stand up boy,� he shouted like a colonel on the parade ground. �Where is your school uniform? School uniform must be worn at all times. You are a disgrace. Stand facing that wall.� Bill joined in the playacting and walked towards the wall. �Both hands on the wall,� commanded Jim. Bill obeyed. Jim picked up the gym slipper and stood alongside Bill, shuffled his feet then brought the slipper down hard across Bills arse. Bill was surprised at how sharp the pain was. It was followed quickly by a second even sharper pain. He looked down towards the floor as the third and fourth strokes followed remembering being slippered at school but he was sure that it had not been as painful as this. Jim was putting more effort into the punishment than any teacher. The fifth stroke knocked Bill forward so that his hands came off the wall as he fell forward. His arse stung as if he�d been hit by a red hot iron not a slipper. The heat increased as the strokes continued but Bill was desperately trying not to move or show any sign of pain. After ten strokes Jim stopped. Bill felt as if his arse was well on fire but he was determined not to show any pain. �Carry on,� said Bill �you can�t stop now whilst I�m enjoying it.� �My arm needs a rest� said Jim quietly then sat down on the settee. The two men sat down in silence at first but then started talking about various memories. Eventually Jim stood up and removed his school cap and blazer. Immediately Bill jumped up. �What, boy, do you think you are doing?� he said adopting a commanding school teachers voice. �Your jacket is part of your school uniform which must be worn at all times. Replace it at once.� Jim, taken aback by his friend�s sudden outburst, took his jacket from the back of the chair and slowly pulled it back on. �Quicker boy.� continued Bill �Smarten yourself up and be proud of your uniform.� Jim fastened the three buttons then looked at Bill. �That�s smarter. Now go stand behind the settee.� Jim walked behind the settee wondering what was coming next. He was then told to bend over the back of the settee as Bill picked up the slipper and followed him. �Anyone who misbehaves will be punished,� said Bill then quietly whispered �even if they have to wait forty years for it.� �What was that you said?� asked Jim �Nothing,� smiled Bill but he was already planning revenge on Jim for past events. The first blow was crisp and it hurt. Bill was in full flow and the pain had not yet subsided from Jim�s first round of punishments. It felt as if his arse was continually being cut with each blow but, whilst the pain was bad, it was not getting worse. Bill had built up a steady rhythm with his blows so that Jim knew just when the next one was coming. He realised he could take this and had started to look forward to the rhythmic stab of pain when it suddenly stopped. �Let that be a lesson to you boy. Wear your school uniform with pride.� Bill put the slipper down on the table then left the room to go to the toilet. When he returned Jim was standing with the slipper in his hand. �You boy stand there.� Jim pointed to the wall underneath a picture of an old ship at sea. �Who gave you permission to leave the room? No pupil walks out of a classroom without asking permission. Go stand where your friend has just been,� and he pointed to the back of the settee. Bill happily bent over the settee. He knew that he had hurt Jim and now wanted to show that he could take whatever came his way. Jim started the punishment, the slipper slapping hard into the round trousers on Bill�s arse and was soon into a rhythm similar to that which Bill had achieved. Both men were surprisingly happy. Jim found the rhythmic swing easy to maintain and was enjoying the crash each time the slipper hit Bill�s arse and Bill, just as Jim had before him, enjoyed the rhythmic stab of pain. His arse felt on fire but each stab of pain gave him an excited glow of pleasure knowing that he could take whatever Jim gave him. The front of his trousers bulged with his swelling fiery cock. 4th visit Jim was ready for Bill to arrive and opened the door before the bell had even been rung. They went into the living room and Jim stood in front of the turned-off television. He was again dressed in school uniform but also wore black rubber wellington boots. Bill stood still without saying a word. His eyes fixed on the black boots. �I don�t think it�s very funny wearing the boots� he said in an angry tone. �You want to remember that incident do you. Our afternoon under the stage.� �No� said Jim quickly �No forget under the stage. Remember all the other fun times we had wearing our boots. Think of little Pete Smithson. Remember Smithson and his wellies� �O yes,� replied Bill quietly �He took his wellies off one day, and left them beside his coat in the cloackroom.� �Yes and when he came back at the end of school what had someone done?� �They were only filled up with piss.� Said Bill. �Anyone else would have just emptied it down the bog and laughed about it but not him.� �And who got the blame?� Together they answered �We did� �Yes� continued Jim �we were both taken to the Headteacher�s office and had to stand for ages waiting for him to come.� �I know� said Bill �because I was dying for a piss and was about to fill my own boots when in came the Head. He didn�t waste much time though. He got that long, hard wooden ruler he used, told us to bend over and then started.� �I had my hands on my knees looking down at my black boots and the first stroke hit me so hard I fell forward two steps. Boy did that hurt.� The two men stood in silence thinking about the beating they had taken that day. As Jim was wearing his black wellies it meant that he was now dressed in clothes looking the same as on that day. Without saying a word he walked behind the settee and produced a long, thin piece of wood similar to that used by the headteacher. �Where did that come from?� asked Bill quietly. �It�s a wooden slat from underneath an old easy chair I�ve got. It should hurt, just like the head�s caning did that day.� He handed the wooden slat to Bill then turned around and put his hands on his knees, as he had done in the Headteacher�s office. He looked down at the black toes of his boots. �How many?� asked Bill �A lot,� he answered. Bill moved himself into a comfortable position beside Jim�s arse with its trousers stretched tightly over it. Bill took a step forward and smoothed out a ripple in the material, settled himself again then brought down the first stroke followed by the second, the third and onwards. The first crack across his arse made Jim wince. It hurt. So did the next and the next. Jim had expected pain but not quite so sharp and so quickly. He kept his eyes on his black boots. He could see a dirty mark near the tow on his right boot and wanted to bend down and lick it off but now was not the time. Another crack came across his tight arse followed by the sharp cutting pain which spread throughout his body. He tried to concentrate on his boots as he had done all those years ago in the heads study but it didn�t lessen the pain. When would Bill stop, surely soon. But Jim didn�t want him to stop. The pain was like a fire burning up his arse but he could take it. He wanted each stroke to be even harder to show that he could take that everything but the pain was not as sharp now as it had been. He had beaten the pain. Bill stopped the beating but Jim stayed with his head looking at his boots. �That was fifty,� said Bill quietly. �I need a rest,� and he went and sat down on the settee. Jim walked slowly and silently around the room wishing that Bill could have continued beyond 50. The pain had hurt but he had taken it without problems and knew that he could easily take it again and even more. He was pleased with his idea of using the wooden strut but he was bursting for more. He walked to the toilet and started rubbing his enlarged cock. It soon relieved the tension by shooting its load. Jim wandered back into the sitting room. �Ready?� he asked Bill. Bill said nothing. Jim waited. Then Bill spoke softly and slowly. �How about lending me your boots?� he said. Bill was not sure if he was doing the correct thing. He was remembering the incident under the stage that Jim had mentioned earlier. That had been the last occasion on which he had worn wellington boots and after that day, probably the worst day of his life he had never spoken to Jim again, despite being in the same class at school. His parents had thrown his boots straight into the rubbish bin and he�d never wanted to even look at a pair again. But now he wanted to feel his feet inside rubber again. Without a sound Jim pulled them off his feet releasing a strong smell of sweaty feet into the room. Still in silence Bill pulled the boots on his feet, turned away from Jim, bent over, placed his hands on his knees then stared down at the black boots. The first blow crashed across Bill�s arse with a crack followed by a second then a third. Jim wielded the wooden slat with real determination. Bill kept his eyes glued to the boots on his feet. They were warm and snug around his legs. They made his whole body tingle. The blows on his arse sent reverberations through his body. At first Bill felt that Jim was using too much force as the blows were in danger of knocking him over but Bill soon tightened his muscles to combat the blows and concentrated on the black boots. The pain was sharp and it started to feel as if Jim was using a red hot poker straight out of the fire. Bill could feel sweat running down his face. He wanted to shout out to Jim to stop but his voice had gone. He moved his toes inside the boots looking down to see any movement in the black rubber but the constant stabbing of pain throughout his body kept taking over his thoughts. The rhythm of the wood across his arse continued as did the pain but Bill was determined to overcome it. He recalled the times he had taken a caning in front of his classmates without showing pain and was not going to show it now, forty years later. He knew the worst was over now. The pain was not stinging as it had before and he tried to relax his muscles to help absorb each blow. He could take this. He wanted Jim to keep going to see just how many blows he could take. But Jim stopped. Saying that he�d dealt Bill fifty blows and needed a rest. 5th visit �Fuck me� said Jim as he stood looking at Bill. �Where in hells name did you get those clothes?� �What�s wrong?� asked Bill somewhat disheartened. �I once dressed exactly like this.� �When?� Said Jim. �When?� repeated Bill �Think back to the first month of our first year.� �So that�s why your wearing short trousers.� Said Jim thoughtfully. �You would only be eleven at the time. I must say I�m impressed with your clean white shirt and blazer. Your ties wrong but it�s not far off.� Jim stopped then slowly and quietly added �and black wellies on your feet. Great.� Bill ignored Jim�s comments. �Remember the trip we went on in our first month at school? Where did we go?� �Christ I remember now.� Exclaimed an excited Jim. �The farm trip. Yes. We all had to wear wellies because of the mud with our school uniforms.� �Good and remember the farmer?� �Yes of course I can. He kept referring to us as little buggars which we thought was great and embarrassed the teachers.� �So we went round all day calling each other �little buggars�� �But why wellies with the tops turned down?� asked Jim �Because some of us turned our tops down to look like the farmer and we also called each other little buggars. But remember what happened when we got back to school?� �No.� said Jim �Nothing happened to me.� �Well it did to me,� said Bill. �A group of us got sent to the headteacher for bad behaviour and swearing.� �I never knew that,� said Jim calmly �I can�t remember what he used but I remember it hurt.� Bill slowly added. Jim smiled and walked out of the room. He returned several minutes later carrying a thick leather belt. �Stand with your hands against the door frame� he said. Bill walked slowly across and held onto the frame of the open kitchen door. �Open your legs wider,� Jim added gently taping the inside of Bill�s boots with his own. He then positioned his own booted feet carefully, raised the belt high and brought it down across Bill�s arse. The sound of the crack of the belt across arse was surprisingly loud. Bill fixed his eye on his black boots. They were new. It had been difficult for him to go out and buy them remembering what had happened in the past. He still had the occasional nightmare because of what had happened under the stage with his black boots but, last time he�d been at Jim�s house and worn Jim�s boots it felt like a release from the pressure. Perhaps if he could wear boots again it would release him from the nightmares. He knew he had to try. As soon as he�d had the idea of wearing wellies again his whole body had started tingling with excitement. When he�d first got them home and pulled them on his cock immediately hardened as if it realised that something special was happening. When he�d started rolling down the tops his cock had nearly exploded and he�d dressed to leave home for Jim�s house two hours before necessary and during that time had barely been able to sit down on a chair such was his excitement. Now, with his arms pushing hard against the door post, he looked down at the clean, shiny, black rubber surface of his boots. He wanted to bend down and lick the rubber cleaner than it already was when he felt the belt across his arse. His body juddered with the force of the blow followed immediately by a sharp, stabbing pain which shot up his spine. A second blow followed. Bill�s head was lifted up with the force of the blow. He tried to look down again at his boots but another crack of the belt forced his head upwards. The pain hurt, as he had expected, yet he felt proud of what was taking place. He tried to think of that occasion in the Head�s study when, as an eleven year old boy, he had dressed in similar clothes. He was sure that that boy would be proud of what he was doing now and also of what he planned to carry out soon. The blows continued as did the shooting pain. Occasionally one blow would be sharper than the rest which pleased Bill. He wanted more pain. He wanted to feel how much pain he could take. He could take everything being offered now and wanted more. His arse felt hot now with the constant blows but the blows were also numbing his arse, taking away the sharp pain of each blow. He wanted more. Instead Jim stopped. �I�m knackered� whispered Jim. �I�ve belted you about 80 times. I need a rest.� And he collapsed on the settee. 6th visit The two grown men stood looking at each other. Both were dressed like 11 year old school boys from forty years ago. Both wore white shirts, ties and black blazers with all three buttons fastened. Bill wore short grey trousers whilst Jim wore long and both wore black wellington boots. Bill had the tops turned down but not Jim. �What do we do tonight?� asked Jim. �Well there were plenty of times when we were punished that we�ve not thought about yet,� answered Bill. �Remember when Dixon caned us for throwing that water bomb.� Said Jim �Or when Smithy went mad because we both farted in class.� �Or when we got caught in the bogs smoking during lesson time,� �Or,� started Bill quietly �underneath the stage.� There was silence. The two men looked at each other. �I didn�t want to mention that� said Jim quietly. �Why not?� asked Bill �after all we spent quite a bit of time under the stage, missing lessons. It nearly became a second home to us. Fancy missing a lesson? Good. Meet you under the stage.� They remembered their meeting place in silence then Jim gently said. �It was warm and quiet and we were always on our own. � The two men sat in silence remembering the times they had missed lessons and hid under the stage. Jim stood up and walked across to a table and picked up a leather belt. �Going under the stage is against the school rules� he said in his teacher�s voice. �You must be punished.� Bill stood up and walked behind the settee, lean over it and waited. Jim positioned his feet and looked down at the lovely shiny black boots on Bills feet and the clean white tops turned over. It gave him strength for the task ahead. The belt cracked across Bills arse. Bill felt a sharp pain. Christ that was good for the first blow. The second was just as sharp as was the third, fourth and fifth. Jim was on form today. Bills arse was soon on fire with each blow feeling like a cut from a butchers heavy cleaver. Bill, for the first time, could feel tears in his eyes. His whole body was glowing with the pain though the blows were loosing the sharp sting they had at first. Bill felt that he was winning. He felt excited with the pain but also the knowledge that he could beat it. �Don�t stop, don�t stop,� he said to himself though he really wanted to say the words out aloud to Jim. Eventually it did stop. No-one spoke. Neither man could sit down as they were both so excited with what was happening. They walked slowly round and round the room enjoying the moment and preparing for the next. Jim eventually moved across the room and, without saying a word, learnt over the back of the settee. Bill picked up the belt and stood next to Jim. He looked down at his shiny new wellies. He wanted to bend down and rub them gently with his hands but now was not the time to do that. He raised the belt and brought it down with a loud crack across Jim�s arse. The loud cracks continued for some time. Jim had never felt so much pain. Twice he nearly asked Bill to stop but he found that he couldn�t move. The pain was shooting around his body. At times it felt as if Bill was using a broken bottle across his arse. He felt something trickling down his leg. Was he peeing himself or was it just sweat? The cracks of the strap continued but Jim did not move. They were still sharp but he could accept the pain now. Was Bill weakening? Jim wanted to ask him to try harder. He wanted to take these blows for ever. Eventually the strappings came to an end but neither man wanted to sit. They both stood looking absentmindedly at the wall paper then down at their rubber boots, their hearts beating fast and their bodies glowing. Jim broke the silence, �you know we�d never have been caught under the stage if you hadn�t told that friend of yours.� Bill said nothing for a moment then added �It was you making the noise. If we�d been quiet no-one would have known we were there.� �It was your friend who told the stupid teacher where we where.� �and it was you shouting �I�m coming I�m coming�.� The two stood looking at the wall in silence both remembering that day when they�d decided to miss a physics lesson and go under the stage. It was just after it had snowed so both boys had been wearing clothes similar to those that they were wearing now except Bill had been wearing long trousers. They had both been fifteen years old. Both wore black wellington boots because of the snow. Jim had his at full height but Bill had his tops turned down, as they were now. They had enjoyed missing the lesson and talked about various things until, as often happened, they talked about sex. They discussed how good they thought their friends in class were at wanking. Who did it the most. Who had never done it. Both Bill and Jim bragged that they did it �all the time�. Eventually they talked themselves into �doing it� under the stage. Bill said that when he did it at home he was careful where the spunk went so that his parents would not find any evidence. �So were do you do it?� asked Jim �Well,� said a clearly excited Bill �the other night I wanked into one of my new welly boots.� Jim had then pulled off his right boot and stood up. Bill had copied. Jim had pulled down the zip of his trousers and pulled out his cock. Bill had copied. The two boys had simultaneously pushed their enlarged cocks inside their boots, taken a firm grip on the outside of their boots and slowly started pulling back wards and forwards. The only noise had been the gentle squeak from the rubber boots moving backwards and forwards. Slowly at first then gradually getting faster. The sound of heavy breathing had soon joined the squeaking rubber followed by Jim�s voice gently whispering �I�m coming�. The breathing had been getting faster and Jim was obviously enjoying himself as his whisper got louder till eventually his big voice had shouted �Oh Christ I�m coming I�m coming, I�ve come.� �Now isn�t that interesting� another voice had said from near the door. Standing near the door was a teacher. �I think it best if we go pay a visit on the Headmaster. Don�t touch anything just pick your boots off the floor and follow me,� he had said. They had entered the Headmasters room with one boot on a foot and the other boot being carried. The flies on their trousers were both open though their, now shrunken, penises could only just be seen. What followed during the following months developed into a nightmare for both boys. Neither had spoken to the other from that day for nearly forty years until Jim had sent the e-mail to Bill just two months ago arranging for the two to meet up in the pub. The two men still stood in Jims living room looking at the wall in silence both remembering that day when they�d decided to miss a physics lesson and go under the stage. Bill broke the silence. �I remember my father came up to school and the headmaster told him what had happened. We walked home in silence. I don�t think I�d ever been so terrified. We arrived home and he took me into the garage and tied my hands to some hooks in the roof then he got a thick leather strap and started using it across my backside. I screamed for mercy but he ignored me saying that he�d never been so disgraced in all his life and that I had to learn a lesson. Eventually he stopped because he was exhausted but he left me tied up. An hour or so later he came back and started again then again an hour later. I was so frightened that I peed myself and he saw the wet marks. He was so disgusted that he pulled down my trousers and used his strap across my bare arse. He only stopped when my arse started bleeding.� �There were times after that when he punished me for other mistakes by using his belt across my arse but he couldn�t frighten me any more. No belting can ever be as bad as that one. Nothing you do to me can worry me now.� There was a long silence. Bill broke the silence. �I want you to give me the hiding of my life. My father could not beat me into submission and I don�t think you can. I�ve enjoyed all the beatings you have given me and now I want you to go even further. Beat me and keep beating me until I say stop. Do that to me then I�ll do anything in the world that you want me to.� Bill walked over to the back of the settee then lent over with his hands reaching down onto the cushions. He waited. Jim stood still undecided on what to do next. �You arranged for us to meet up again,� said Bill quietly �If you really want us to be friends then show it by picking up that belt.� Jim walked across to the belt, looked then slowly picked it up. He walked to stand behind Bill. �Start whenever you�re ready� said Bill �and keep going until I say stop.� Bill shuffled his rubber booted feet, rubbing them together to make them squeak. That made him smile. With his head looking down towards the floor he hung his hands either side of his head so that they nearly touched the floor. Bill relaxed his body waiting for the first blow. Jim stood standing next to Bill�s smooth arse. He rubbed it gently with his right hand. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his cock so solid that it was pressed hard against the front of his trousers. He wanted to use the belt on Jim�s arse, he really did. Sometimes Bill was too big headed. He had been as a boy at school and he hadn�t changed. Christ he even had brand new rubber boots on his feet. Perhaps he needed to be taught a lesson and Jim had the opportunity to do it now. He�d soon have Bill begging for the belting to be stop. He shuffled his beat, looked at the brown belt in his hand then swung it hard across Bill�s rounded arse. There was a beautiful crisp smack from the belt. Then a second, a third, a fourth. When the first crack came Bill was caught by surprise. He�d waited so long that he was starting to think of other things but that first crack made him think again of all those strappings from his father so many years ago. He wondered what had happened to Jim when his parents had taken him home but his thoughts were on the pain being inflicted now. Suddenly Bill, without a sound, stood upright between strokes. He opened the front of his short trousers so that they dropped and rested on the tops of his turnover wellies. Still without a word having been spoken he lent back over the settee into the position he�d been in before. Jim looked at Bill�s naked arse. He rubbed it gently with his right hand. He was not pleased. Bill was trying to make him feel that he was unable to give him a proper beating, that his strokes were not hard enough and that he didn�t feel any pain through the material. Well Jim knew just what to do. The belt came down sharply across Bill�s naked arse. What a crisp noise it made. The second stroke quickly followed. Bill was so determined to prove that he could take any beating that he hardly felt the first two strokes but the pain soon shot through his body. It hurt, it really did hurt him. A lot more than he had expected. He would tell Jim to stop. God that was worse than any knife cut. Time to stop it now. Christ another cut. Oh please God stop now. Bill opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was being cut to ribbons. He must stop it now. He opened his mouth again but still no sound emerged. His head felt fuzzy. He was sweating, so hot. The pain so vicious. Jim had sweat running down his face. He looked at Bill�s naked arse. It was so bright red. How could Bill take this? Jim thought about stopping but that would look as if he wasn�t capable of carrying out the beating. Bill had said that he would say stop when he wanted it to stop. Perhaps Jim should try even harder. He couldn�t. He was starting to tire already. Another stroke of the belt and this time Jim noticed a thin dark red line appear. Blood. Bill was hot. His whole body was burning. He had to stop Jim. His voice wouldn�t work. No sound came out. He needed Jim to stop. Try and stand up yes that�s what he needed to do. No good he couldn�t move. He moved his left boot. Good. Jim looked at Bill�s arse as each stroke of the belt produced a line of blood. The lines were starting to flow into one another. Surely Bill must give in now. Surely he can�t take any more of this. Jim felt something move next to his foot. It was Bill moving his boot. What was he trying to do? Jim stood on Bills foot trying not to interrupt the continuous strokes. Bill needed help. He�d moved his foot but Jim had stood on it. Bill tried to move the other one as well but he felt so tired. He just wanted to go to sleep. He could feel something running down his leg. He wanted to sleep. He couldn�t move his leg. His whole body was on fire. He couldn�t bare any more pain. He could feel something running down his leg. He wanted to go to sleep. Jim looked at the blood flowing down Bill�s right leg. Down into his welly boot. He should do something but he felt exhausted. He must keep using the belt. Bill had told him not to stop. He must not stop. He must keep using the belt. He looked at the blood. No need to worry about that as it will collect in Bill�s boot and not spoil the carpet. Jim must have a rest. He was tired, exhausted. What happens when the boot is full of blood? It might stain the carpet. Jim�s eyes wanted to close. He was so tired he must sleep. Now. Sleep. Now. |
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