Date: Sun,  7 May 2000 13:41:20 +0900
From: noughteboy@yahoo.com
Subject: Night Class At St Barnabas (M/m, M/t, Anal Spank)

Author: Naughteboy

(Dear reader: this story is not meant to be taken seriously. It
 was fun to write! noughteboy@yahoo.com)

The year was 2010. The old stone buildings of St Barnabas were
shrouded in darkness for it was night time. Boys were asleep in
their dormitories. There were lights still shining from a few rooms
where teachers marked essays or prepared for the next day's
classes.

A solitary light could be seen coming from the gardner's cottage.
Behind the thick curtains, in the bedroom, Rod McKenzie was
pummelling his huge penis into the tight anus of the slightly built
male under him. Rod was a ruggedly handsome man. His naked
body glistened with sweat.  His partner was Jonathon Player the
school's male nurse. He enjoyed being joined to his lover in the
most intimate way any two men can ever be together but Rod's
staying power was great and his beercan thick penis was starting
to really hurt Jonathon.

A muted beep and the 100" television screen suddenly switched
to a picture of the headmaster, Toby Giles. Jonathon liked it better
when people communicated by telephone or email. Rod extended a
foot and yanked out the cord without missing a stroke. The picture
faded to a pindrop. The thrusts became harder almost brutal until
the gardener finally shot his load up Jonathon's chute.  Rod lay
for a moment on top of his friend before pulling out and rolling off
him.

Jonathon got out of the queen-size bed, wrapping a towel around
his middle. "I'll just get us a bite to eat".

Rod grumbled: "Why are you always hungry after we do it?
I'm the one who does all the work - besides I just gave  you
an injection of healthy protein - right up your bum".

"And you used a very big 'needle', the nurse replied with feeling.
He was hungry because he usually self-administered a douche
before sex so as to be clean for Rod. He quickly nuked two
dinners in the multi-wave cooker and then took the dishes
through to the bedroom.

Rod now had another companion in bed with him, Mangler the
school cat. He was a big old tom whose sexual prowess was
something of a legend among the local felines. He sat between the
two men and watched them eat their curry.

"Wonder what the headmaster wanted?" Jonathon asked.

Rod sighed. "Better play the message. It will be stored in the DVD
hard-drive".

Jonathon slurped up the the exotic dish and gave Mangler the left
overs. The cat turned up his nose at them. The nurse pushed the
plug back into the television set and hit the 'stored messages
button' on the DVD menu. In a second an image of Toby Giles the
headmaster filled the screen. He coughed, an amazingly lifelike
sound, thanks to the nicam quadro stereo system.

"Er, Mr McKenzie, Can you please come to my study tomorrow
after assembly? I need to see Mr Player as well. He appears to be
out so I left a message. Goodbye". The picture of the Headmaster
faded.

"Wonder what the old boy wants?" said Jonathon. "It has to be
something to do with corporal punishment because that's the only
thing we do together".

"Oh yes?" said Rod. "And what do you call t-h-i-s?" He pushed
the nurse face down on the bed and rogered him again.
Mangler had the good taste to leave the bedroom at that point,
and so shall we.

Readers familiar with this chronicle will know that the government
in 2010 had reintroduced corporal punishment into schools. This
had proven very successful. Boys attended classes instead of
being given the holiday of 'suspension'. Thus, their one chance at
 getting an education was not lost. In accordance with the St
Barnabas tradition, beatings were administered by the gardener.
The nurse supervised the ritual. When the stick first returned there
was a queue of a dozen or more boys waiting for punishment. Now
 there were only one or two. School morale was much improved
and the performance in external exams the best for 50 years.

The headmaster looked at the two men seated in front of his desk
and smiled. "The reason I asked you to come and see me is the
government wants to extend the use of corporal punishment into
homes. Their concern is that fathers who themselves were never
beaten have no idea how to go about it". The headmaster patted
his jacket pocket, forgetting nicotine was now a banned substance.
"We can't have any boy being brutally thrashed and badly hurt
because of his father's ignorance. This is where YOU come in".

Jonathon shifted from one cheek to the other. Rod looked
impassive. Mangler the cat, occupying the most comfortable seat,
ignored them all.

The nurse spoke: "Headmaster, how can we help?"

"Well", Toby Giles replied, "The government is prepared to
generously fund night classes. I had hoped you two gentlemen,
being so intimately  acquainted ...." Rod and Jonathon looked at
each other "...with the corporal punishment at St Barnabas", the
headmaster continued: "..would be the ideal men to take the class".
He walked over to a curtained alcove. "The government has
issued us with this teaching aid". Toby Giles who had a sense of
the dramatic, pulled back the curtain.

Rod and Jonathon gasped out loud at a truly amazing sight. A
lifelike mannequin of a teenage boy was bent over a chair. The
men got up and inspected the thing. Rod promptly pulled its pants
down revealing two remarkably realistic looking fleshy mounds. In
its buttocks' crease was an open orifice. Jonathon looked at the
thing's front and saw two tiny balls and a fleshy penis which he
touched. "Forbidden! Take hand off now. Illegal. Call police!" - a
disembodied voice demanded. Jonathon turned scarlet with
embarassment.

"We have to give it a name", said the headmaster. The men
thought for a moment.

"Well", said Rod. "The first boy to be beaten under the new order
was the Head Boy. Remember how he offered his bum for me to
try the cane out on? Right here in this very room. Dropped his
pants, bent over and took six of the best".

"Indeed he did. We will call the dummy 'Adrian'".

A cane was propped against the chair. The headmaster picked it
up and flogged the artificial buttocks. Amazingly, a red stripe
appeared across the twin orbs. Its voice said: "Thank you daddy,
please can I have another?" After the sixth stroke, Adrian said:
"You have really hurt my bottom. I know you hated having to
cane me. Sorry I was a naughty boy. You have punished me well.
I love you daddy!"

"Pity Adrian has an American accent" said the headmaster who
was a stickler for accuracy. The cane was mostly used in
Commonwealth countries, after all.

A screen above the model lit up. Text appeared: "Strokes too low.
Dangerously close to wounding upper thighs. Score 1(10)".

Rod picked up the stick and administered six perfectly placed
strokes. His performance rated 10 out of 10.

And so, Monday evenings at St Barnabas were never the same
again. Alongside classes in Computer Science, Applied Psychology
was 'Beating Your Boy'. Every week 12 fathers thrashed the
non-living daylights out of Adrian the mannequin, under Rod's
guidance. The nurse had a role to play as well.

"Sometimes, a post-pubescent boy will develop an erection while
being beaten. This is perfectly normal but can be un-nerving for
the father and also embarrass the boy. There is a detumescence
medication available without prescription. It comes in the form of a
suppository".

The class which had gasped after the dummy sprouted an erection,
 watched, mouths open, while Jonathon, wearing a disposable
glove, lubricated Adrian's anus before skillfully inserting the
suppository. The erection promptly subsided.

"I recommend you always give your son the Diagra before a
beating", the nurse concluded. He then supervised each father in
turn. From the tent-poles which grew in the front of most of the
men's trousers while thrashing Adrian, Jonathon thought that the
government had chosen to medicate the wrong participant.

The course ran for six weeks. On the last night the fathers had
the bonus of thrashing a real boy. Adrian, the Head Boy had
volunteered for this assignment. Each dad penetrating Adrian's
live anus was surprised at how easy it was to get a finger through
the Head Boy's sphincter. The reason for this was Adrian had
moved into the Gile's marital bed, after the headmaster's wife had
run off with Ms Fracque, the French language tutor.

Each father administered one stroke to Adrian's youthful buttocks.
Unlike the dummy, Adrian reacted to each stroke and by the time
the twelfth dad had thrashed him he was sobbing out loud, so
severe was the hurt to his bare backside. He had recovered
enough in time for the headmaste's speech followed by the
presentation to each faher of a certificate, a sample of
suppositories - courtesy of the drug company, and a rattan cane.

All over the town boys were kept in order with the age-old method.
Their fathers were confident in applying the stick which each boy
respected for its awesome power to inflict serious hurt. Once again
the school which had stood on the same ground for more than a
century had met the ever-changing needs of the community it so
proudly served.