THE LAST CHANCE.....Part 2

Author: John Crouch sixbest675@aol.com

Charles has flunked his final school exams and returned to the house of his guardian in disgrace. Observed by said guardian, he has received a thrashing from the coachman. With his inheritance dependant upon gaining a place at university, he has been enrolled by his guardian at a peculiar academy in Pimlico and there found himself teamed with Edward, Howard and the hapless and hopeless Bertie. Under the strange rules of collective responsibility this unfortunate team have already received a severe group birching with the other two more competent syndicates either assisting or observing the grim ritual :-

"You mean you know him?" Howard seemed incredulous.

"Well I couldn’t see him properly from that position obviously" Charles replied "but I began to think it was him. Then when he spoke to me I recognised his voice immediately." Bertie looked on, puzzled as ever. The four had stopped of at a small steamy café near Victoria station at the conclusion of another intense day at the crammer. At least now, a full week after their ordeal, they could all sit without a wince or without squirming in their seats. Bertie’s work was no better but despite the obvious threat that that represented, he seemed to have been forgiven. Bertie seemed to have formed a thought.

"My pa would have dealt with me himself not left it to the servants. Anyway why is your guardian’s coachman dishing out punishment for the three wise men as well as at home?" Charles had been pondering this since about an hour after it had happened and had, as yet, no answer. No clue to it had emerged at the grim house in Blackheath either, nor from the coachman himself. The group’s main anxiety was that within about three weeks at the end of another accounting period, history would repeat itself. Only Edward seemed sanguine about this, setting great store by a discussion he had with his father, Sir Felix Penrose. But Sir Felix, as a diplomat, was abroad a great deal and Charles doubted that he would be much help.

Back at the academy Bertie was once again under personal pressure and history was indeed repeating itself. He was hardly surprised when the call came to leave his colleagues once again for the lonely trip to the attic study. As had occurred before, his work was reviewed and found wanting. There was no need for any dramatic build up this time for the outcome was already clear to him. As before, he found himself lowering his clothing and reaching out for the far side of the desk. As before his friends attempted concentration in their lower classroom whilst awaiting the inevitable sounds.

Bertie braced himself thrusting out his broad backside in the hope that more spread of contact would mean less pain. The heavy malacca rod rose, hesitated and then with swishing vigour flew down and bit. Bertie hissed in his breath. A sharp red weal jumped instantly from the pale flesh. Determined, Bertie thrust back and upward again. THWISHH……THWACK……an expert shot perfectly parallel to and within a fraction of the first. THWISHHHHH…..THWACK…..the third just so again. Now three perfect bright lines starting at the exact centre point and descending a small degree each time. The pace so regular, the pause just sufficient to take in every last drop of pain before the next. THWISHHHH….CRACK and Bertie twisted his head and strained to look at his tormentor but saw only the stick, hand and arm and the billowing musty black gown. He tried to guess the number to come and realised in panic that he hadn’t counted to date even. THWISHHHHH ……CRACK…… OOOUUGHHHHH. The latest had reached that most tender spot where the buttock turns last to the upper thigh. Bertie didn’t dare hope that his ordeal was over and in that he was wise for once. A longer pause had ensued. And then from just above the middle of his rump where the first shot had landed the cane began it’s relentless journey upward. THWISH …… CRACK …..THWISH ….. CRACK…

Bertie was quite beside himself now. No more thrusting his backside outward. He had just crumpled. The only tension now was the involuntary clenching of his cheeks as each shot lit a fresh devilish fire and bolted the news of it to his brain. Finally he had risen dragged up his trousers, his pain and humiliation total. His unsteady legs carried him out to the landing where he had stood for a time back to the wall, trembling uncontrollably. He knew then that he couldn’t go on and would have to see his father and beg for a release. He knew too, that it would stop him bringing down the others and give them a chance.

At the café later amid a lot of sympathy he told the others of his plan. None put up any case that he should continue.

They waited several days with bated breath and at last received the welcome news that Bertie’s father had agreed that he should leave and return home to assist with the management of the family estate.

And thus the oddly named Larkin, came into their lives as Bertie’s replacement. They needn’t have worried. He was without doubt the brightest and most diligent young man that the academy had ever known. Returning from abroad he had simply been following the ‘wrong’ curriculum and was now filling in the gaps.

At Blackheath his guardian made no enquiry concerning Charles’s new found cheerfulness. In fact that usually dour gentleman seemed in high spirits himself and even muttered of something new afoot. This slight lifting of the usual mournful place was even added to by the fact the coachman seemed once again able to meet Charles, eye to eye.

The month end drew close and caused no anxiety among Charles or his group. But they had noticed an increasing anxiety among one of the other two syndicates.

"I would" said Howard, as they sat again, in accordance with their habit, at the café.

"Me too" said Edward. Larkin looked over his cup from one to the other. He frowned perplexed.

"Would what?" he asked. They explained to Larkin what had happened to them and how the other students had variously assisted in their restraint or formed an audience.

"Do the same to them" Charles concluded. Larkin could hardly imagine the scene that had been described. He half expected that it was a leg-pull or at the least, hugely exaggerated. But he also couldn’t ignore the curious and almost unhealthy tension that ran like a current between the other three. This obvious enjoyment at the prospect of some sort of revenge was not a pretty sight. Larkin, from a more dispassionate view, also thought that all of the pupils were potential victims and that it was the academy that merited some scrutiny. They all knew though, that Sir Felix Penrose was, once again, on her majesty’s business abroad and not pursuing his son’s problems.

And so the end of the month arrived and with it the results announcement. Ahead, the torture for just four of the gentlemen, of a weekend to get through, before Armageddon.

As before the whole academy were seated in the double reception rooms to the first floor of the building. As before the begowned masters sat facing them from behind their long desk. As before the large cleared space between the two groups awaited events.

"A new group has fallen foul of our regulations" Richardson looked at each strained face in his audience as he spoke.. "as those of you who have troubled to read my notice of Friday will already know".

A shifting of chairs and nervous sideways glances at the forthcoming victims. Edward almost smiled at Charles but thought better of it. He remembered that only moments before he had heard one of the unfortunates being physically sick at the prospect in store.

But that hadn’t been Perkins who now proved the point by starting to loosen his collar stud and undo his shirt even as he strode to the wide space before the master’s table. His every line and movement spoke arrogance. Even the old sadist Lendrum seemed surprised that no instructions or orders where needed. The other three Davis, Peters and Hodge followed lamely behind, their hang dog expressions, even at this late stage, seemed to show some forlorn hope that they would somehow escape the same thrashing that had been dealt out just a month before. But a curt wave from Richardson dashed any such hope and indicated only that they should follow the example of Perkins, who by now stood stripped, tall and seemingly unembarrassed. They hurried to comply and within the room and above the air of tension there was also a slightly sickly smell of fear. Unbidden but again copying the procedure they had so recently witnessed they now formed a line each rigid at attention facing the masters table. Charles found himself gazing from one firm backside to the next wondering how they would each bear up and was disturbed to find that sensations other than any sympathy for these four were all that he registered.

He had also realised that he would need to calm himself if, as he hoped, he was called upon as a volunteer in the forthcoming punishment of these young men. He had sat to the front making himself available and was not so surprised when nominated among four other "volunteers" to wait instructions.

This time there was no uncertainty since Charles was almost face to face with Grover when he arrived, two fresh birches to hand to perform his work.

Charles glanced over toward the remaining seated scholars and registered the shock upon Larkin’s face as he realised that the tale told him was certainly no leg pull.

"Bend and be ready". This from Richardson, once again taking up his role as a sort of grim master of ceremonies.

Grover had laid down one birch as reserve and now walked solemnly along the row of upturned backsides. Idly he swished the birch as if limbering up for the work ahead. At the end of the row Peters, the unfortunate who had been sick at this prospect, now quivered so uncontrollably that Grover signalled to his minder, standing nervously at his head, that he should restrain and support him even before things began.

Charles, standing beside the head of his own charge and imagining that he would have little to do, for it was the defiant Perkins, watched Grover. Something rang a sharp chord with him as he noticed that Grover appeared to be almost killing time. Further he did not seem to be seeking any signal from Richardson or Lendrum, that he should begin. Charles thought suddenly of that moment at the Blackheath house when he had become aware of his guardians presence, unseen upon the landing above, but directing Grover! He determined to watch Grover like a hawk as some instinct told him that in this way he might intercept and discover the source of this strange delay. Just when he had decided the idea was a flight of fantasy and just as he had been on the point of looking about the room once more, to Larkin and to the naked young men poised and in position around him, he had seen it. No more than a glance to the side almost a reflex, certainly not to have been seen by anyone not looking hard for it, but Grover had shot a glance to the far wall. Charles did now look about him as casually as he could but in any direction but toward that wall. Instinct told him not to look hard and direct at whatever Grover may have been able to see there and thus risk detection by Grover or by someone unseen.

Now Grover moved sharply to his first target. Hodge, unable to see Grover behind him but aware that his keeper had shifted to attention, gritted his teeth and heard the almost gentle woosh of the descending birch. SSSSPPPPPLLLAAT the sap filled shoots collided with the tensed buttocks, spread across and around the contours, found tender spots that would have eluded any cane and the dreadful heat and pain scorched through the anguished young man. Then Davis, whose reddish copper hair gave him also that palest of cream white almost translucent skin tone and WOOOOSSSSHHH…… .SSHHHPPPLAATT an intake of breath sharp with the shock of such unimagined pain, an angry red centre across both cheeks feathering away to a spiders web of vivid red lines where the tips had thinned and spread and finally bitten. His attendant, lightly grasped his shoulders and steadied him. Charles was increasingly disturbed by the mounting tension within him as Grover moved on to Perkins here beside him.

Charles looked down at the long lean back, the wide shoulders slightly rounded where they reached forward for balance, the vertebrae just visible through the skin, the taper of the back, the thin waist the sudden high mound of each rounded buttock and so… SSWWWOOOOSH and SSSHHHHHPLAAATTT….. and horror of horrors Perkins screamed and stood and before Charles could react in any way Perkins was performing some wild dance, clutching his flaming arse and howling and rolling his eyes like a mad man.

"Restrain that man NOW!" Richardson has risen from his seat, eyes ablaze. He roared the instuction.

"You boy" this to Larkin, gentle horrified Larkin "Help him NOW!" Larkin dashed forward.

It might have, no would have indeed, taken both of them and maybe more, to restrain Perkins as he was, but now like a man waking from a dream he realised that all his bravado was gone in that instant. That he had disgraced himself in front of every member of the academy. That however bizarre and unfair this torment might be others had contained themselves and he had not.

But Charles and even Larkin, though it was patently unnecessary, took hold of Perkins more roughly than they needed and forced him back into position. Grover watched balefully, delaying yet more the torment of Peters who had yet to receive his first shot. Now Perkins was fully restrained, his head gripped between Charles’ thighs, Larkin holding his hands back at the level of his shoulder blades in a sort of double nelson hold.

"Again". Wheezily from Richardson who now sank back into his seat as if exhausted by actions he had only seen. Charles and Larkin tensed as did Perkins and again the birch flew down…SSSSPPPPLLLLAAAATTT.. and again, despite himself, Perkins howled like a banshee.

Grover moved on to Peters. Peters who had been physically ill at this prospect, Peters who by ill luck was last in the row. Peters who had suffered delay after delay. Peters whose minder now dithhered about nervously not sure what to do. WWWWWOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHH Peters whose moment of truth had arrived. SSSSSPPPPLLLLLAAAATTTT. The room held it’s collective breath, the red streaks and blotches jumped up out of the tortured backside. Just audible, a grunt no more.

So Grover worked back and fro along the line in his practised way.

Charles had not been so caught up in all that had been going on around him not to have remembered that look of Grover’s Without making it obvious he had been looking toward the wall where Grover had seemed to look. His patience had been rewarded. For among the stained and peeling paper upon the wall and for just an instant he had caught a twinkle of light. He had had to contain himself then for to look again would reveal his knowledge. There was a spy hole cut through the wall and some observation point behind. It couldn’t have been large and whoever was there had only moved away for an instant to produce the bright light that caught Charles’ eye.

By now Perkins was making a low whining , animal sound even when Grover was attending elsewhere to the flaring upturned bottoms of the others. As he reached Perkins on each trip along the line this miserable howl gave way to further yelps, but he no longer struggled against the restraint provided by Charles and Larkin. Charles has noted a change in Larkin even in this short time. His previously placid features were now flushed with an eerie excitement.

Then it had happened. An almighty crash somewhere downstairs and the heavy hammering of booted feet running up the stairs. The door flew open and two constables ran in and stopped dead at the extraordinary sight within the room. Everyone froze in this tableau and remained so until the arrival of an officer closely followed by Sir Felix Penrose, no less.

All of the pupils were sent back to their study rooms, most immediately. Larkin, returning to his normal ways, waited whilst Perkins recovered himself and dressed. He then helped the hapless young man to make his way down the stairs to the others. Charles stayed only to show the constables the whereabouts of the spy-hole in the wall. To his not very great surprise, it was his guardian who was dragged out from his hide by a burly policeman.

Richardson, Lendrum and Charles’ guardian all faced charges and trial. Amazingly the academy continued with only one former master and two new recruits. Larkin and Charles both secured their places at University. No more group punishments were meted out under the new, firm but kindly Headmaster..

All of them, Charles, Larkin, Howard, Edward, farmer Bertie and even Perkins met up from time to time for reunions. Their friendship, so oddly made, continued long after the trial and the jailing of Charles’ guardian who had been revealed, not only as a voyeur but also as a fraudster on a giant scale, who had used his clients money and a lot of Charles’ inheritance on setting up the academy and several other peculiar businesses where he could indulge his sadistic tastes.

The Villa at Blackheath came to Charles, it’s rightful owner, and he retained Grover as coachman. He enjoyed to the full it’s freedom on his vacations from Oxford and kept open house for his chums.

The events of Pimlico had often been discussed but it was Larkin who broached the possibility of actually re-enacting them. Later, on the very day that he did so, fortified by an agreeable evening meal and copious port, the six young gentlemen found themselves, trouserless, assembled before a happy Grover –

"Only to happy, young Sirs, to continue furthering your education….now Mr Howard, you first I think, step forward if you please…"