Date: Mon, 24 Jun 2002 23:41:34 -0700 (PDT)
From: Knightspanked <unclegreg_1999@yahoo.com>
Subject: 'School Chaplain' by Knightspanked (Historical. M/t, M/M Spank, Anal)

Usual disclaimers apply.

The chaplain peered through a hole in a wall of
the ablutions block. He watched intently for some
minutes while 15-year-old Adam Pringle fisted his
erect penis until his balls drained, splattering
his seed onto the floor of the toilet cubicle.

"Tsk!" muttered the chaplain under his breath and
hurried off to see the headmaster.

At the age of 35, Dominic Sunderland, B.A., was
young to be headmaster of St Cuthberts. The year
was 1947 and the Board of Governors, faced with a
shortage of experienced men as a result of the
war, had turned to Sunderland to lead the school.
He was more than equal to the task.

The headmaster gazed with disfavour at the Rev
Sid Hedges. The unworldly chaplain was in his
early twenties, slim and still a bit boyish
whereas the headmaster was a masculine, ruggedly
handsome looking man.

"But headmaster, I insist you do something about
it! The boy was committing the sin of onanism. He
allowed his seed to fall onto the ground!"

The headmaster had no time for religious zealots.

"Where was this? In the quadrangle? On the steps
of the Great Hall?" he asked, sharply.

"No. In the latrines".

"Pringle was standing in full view of every other
boy using them?", the headmaster challenged the
chaplain.

"No, Headmaster". The Rev. Hedges was forced to
admit. "He was in a locked cubicle".

"Were you in there with him?"

"Of course not!" The chaplain blushed brick-red
at the implication. "I happened to be looking
through a small hole in the wall and saw Pringle
spill his seed".

"This is a very serious matter". The headmaster
made a church steeple with his long fingers.

"I knew you'd understand", the chaplain said,
pleased.

"I am not talking about an adolescent boy seeking
release in the privacy of a toilet cubicle". The
Head said, sternly. "What concerns me greatly is
a man in the employ of the school spying on a boy
in that manner".

The chaplain shuffled his feet.

"Tell me", the headmaster continued, "If I had
gone along with your absurd notion, what penalty
should I have imposed on young Pringle?"

"A thrashing", replied the chaplain. "Beat the
devil out of him".

The headmaster stood up and gathered his black
academic gown around him. His imposing figure
towered over the chaplain.

"I have a good mind to ask the Board of Governors
to dismiss you. However, if you are prepared to
take the penalty you wanted me to inflict on
young Pringle, come to my study at 8.00pm. Until
then, no more spying on the boys in our care".

The chaplain found himself forcefully propelled
into the corridor. The headmaster returned to his
room and slammed the door shut. He badly wanted
rid of the man but the chaplain had a powerful
friend, the chairman of the Board of Governors.
What was he to do?

The Head strode over to the open window and
shouted to Hoskins the caretaker who was busy
replacing a broken window.

"Whan you've finished doing that would you please
repair any spy-holes you can find in the walls of
the ablutions block".

"Right you are, Guv'nor", said Hoskins.

Adam Pringle came along  bouncing a ball on the
footpath.

"Here!" shouted the caretaker with righteous
anger. "That's the little bleeder who smashed
this glass".

"Pringle!" the Head bellowed at the boy. "My
study, now!"

A few minutes later the boy stood in front of his
headmaster. He admitted breaking the window.

"Unbutton and bend", instructed the Head, not
unkindly. The man selected a thin whippy cane.
When he turned around, young Pringle was bent
over the desk, his flawless pink buttocks bared
and ready for punishment.

Thud!

The cane left a white line in the boy's squirming
flesh. Immediately it bloated into a fat,
painful-looking, purplish-red weal.

"Ow!"

The cane struck Pringle's firm bottom three more
times. The noise carried outside, delighting the
caretaker.

'Serve the little blighter right', he thought
with a grin. 'He'll have a really sore little
arse. No more than he deserves'.

Afterwards, Pringle slowly pulled his underpants
and trousers up over his battered behind. He was
no stranger to the Head's study. 'The Old Man
hasn't lost his touch', he thought ruefully,
wincing as he accidently touched fiery flesh.

"Next time it will be six", the Head said amiably
as he let the boy out the door.

The caretaker walked over to the ablutions block
where he soon found the chaplain's spy-hole. He
looked through at a red-faced junior boy who was
straining on the toilet.

'Stodgy school food", thought the caretaker
sympathetically. He then made so much noise
mending the hole it greatly frightened the boy
and gave nature a helping hand.

The school clock had just chimed 8 o'clock when
the chaplain entered the headmaster's study. The
Head picked up a cane.

"Unbutton and bend".

The chaplain's fingers clumsily undid his trouser
buttons.

"Across the desk. Legs apart".

The Head inspected the cleft in the man's soft
white buttocks and felt a familiar stirring in
his groin. He retrieved a tub of petroleum jelly
and greased the middle finger of his left hand.

The chaplain who was expecting the cane to bite
his fleshy bottom was very surprised to instead
feel a finger penetrate his virgin anus. He hated
the uncomfortable, bloated feeling until the tip
of the invading finger began gently massaging his
prostate. Then his penis responded by becoming
rock hard.

"You might like to bite your knuckle", the Head
suggested, companionably. Then the big man rammed
his six inch flesh-poker up the chaplain's
incredibly tight fundament. It felt like a big
log was taking posession of the cleric's fleshy
chute. He bit his finger. The man reached under
and squeezed that still hard penis. The 'log'
started thrusting into the chaplain's warm, moist
tunnel until the submissive man felt wetness
splatter his rectum. Simultaneously, his own
weapon discharged into the palm of the
headmaster's big hand.

Afterwards, the man cleaned them both up and they
got dressed again.

"Now you can add 'sodomy' to your vocabulary",
the Head said equably.

The little chaplain had never known a sin could
be so pleasurable and longed for the headmaster
to do it to him again. Instead, he found his
cleric's voice and threatened: "I'll have you for
that".

The following morning there was a most
distressing scene in the headmaster's study. The
chairman of the Board of Governors, a big burly
man of Commerce, listened to the chaplain's
complaint. Incredulous, he looked at the big,
masculine headmaster and then back at the little
chaplain.

"Sodomy? Him? You have to be stark, raving mad",
the chairman told the cleric. After a bit. the
little man REALLY did go mad. An ambulance was
called and he was taken away, practically
frothing at the mouth.

"It's always the quiet ones", the chairman
observed. Both men watched as the ambulance
disappeared down the long drive. "To make such
accusations against YOU, of all men". The
chairman shook his head again. "Mad. Quite mad".

The headmaster escorted the chairman to his
Jaguar motor car and waved as it purred down the
drive. 'It's all turned out rather well', he
thought. As he walked towards the school he heard
the sound of breaking glass. Pringle, ball in
hand, was caught red-handed.

"You better have an asbestos backside", the Head
told the trembling youth. "My study. Now!"

(Plot idea 'borrowed' from the immortal American
writer Jsmes Thurber. I hope his wonderful
stories are still required reading in all
schools).

title: School Chaplain

author: Knightspanked

sender_url: nil

author_email: moonspender2@yahoo.com