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Five For The Birch
PJ Franklin <>


Compared to five of the shortest years in the history of time, the handful of days remaining until Leaver's Day seemed like mere hours now to the five upper sixth boys gathered in the Head Boy's dorm room. Four of the boys were each House prefects, Gil Willoughby, Bertram Kerns, Eli Curran and Jeremy Leeds. The fifth boy was the Head Boy, Ramsey. Thomas Ramsey.

"So, we are agreed? The Lark at Waterston Hills, this Sunday," Ramsey fixed each boy's eyes for a solemn moment, each now a longtime and lifetime bosom friend.

Though each boy knew in his heart that their friendships were golden, they would never, ever be like this again, thick as thieves teenage schoolboys at their beloved St. George's College. They had all started in Nordstrom Hall as wet-behind-the-ears fourth formers and together they moved up through the form year ranks to the top.

They had collectively and fairly suffered between them seemingly endless numbers of punishment and disciplinary spankings, slipperings, junior canings and the dreaded hairbrush over their first few years. Then as fifth and lower sixths, they suffered the addition of the senior cane and the dreaded tawse all delivered by their honored prefects, P.T. Master Gibbons and of course, Headmaster Dr. Aldon Spears.

They had collectively over the years shed enough tears, enjoyed laughter, endured failures and celebrated triumphs in sports and academics to write an encyclopedia. It was now all over, finished. All except The Lark.

The Lark, now in its twentieth year, was just that, a lark of time. A few not to be forgotten hours that the Head Boy and his merry band of St. George's House prefects spent away from the college doing something entirely amusing and quite frivolous at an inappropriate day and hour of a random school week close to Leaver's Day.

The Head, Dr. Spears, had unofficially approved of The Lark after the fourth year of its successful implementation simply because Aldon Spears was himself a St. George's old boy. In his day Spears and his mates had stepped out of bounds now and again and all harmless even if it had garnered a neat set of caning stripes on the bare.

Dr. Spears missed those days at St. George's and did not now begrudge each year's Head Boy and House prefects carrying about with their own treasured boy tradition. Yes, he would later learn of The Lark, gather the boys involved, give each a neat six of the best; but then shake hands and congratulate each boy on a St. George's career well done.

So, yes. It was agreed. The Lark would be as was tradition, hosted at the amusement park at Waterston Hills and implemented on a secret day of a certain week right around the corner.

The summons to the Head's office just a day later after the planning seemed nothing to Ramsey until upon being asked to sit across from Dr. Spears, the Head delivered the bad news,

"I must forbid you to host The Lark at Waterston Hills, Ramsey. You must take it somewhere else."

Thomas had been afraid of this. A roller coaster called the Viper had malfunctioned several months before at the amusement park causing a tragic fatality. The park was closed a few days and then reopened, the Viper shut down and unavailable.

Ramsey sat forward, "But Dr. Spears. The roller coaster has been shut down. Nobody can be hurt again. The Lark has been at Waterston for what, fifteen years now?" and it was true.

Dr. Spears tried to be empathetic, "If it was up to me Thomas, I'd allow it. The Board of Regents has told me to not allow any boy into that park until further notice. I must obey them, Thomas, I am sorry. You must find opportunity elsewhere. Am I clear?"

Thomas sat back, "Yes, Dr. Ramsey," but even as he exited the Head's office, Thomas dug in his heels. One thing was for sure now. This bad news would be his alone.

He would say nothing to his chums and especially not to Jeremy Leeds, his roommate, and they would still go to Waterston Hills. He would confess his crime to Dr. Spears after the fact, alone responsible.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Are you OK, Thomas? You seem … distracted," Jeremy sat next to his best friend, Thomas Ramsey, on the Waterston Hills amusement park bench. The Head Boy bit his bottom lip. Jeremy was not wrong, he never had been wrong concerning anything personal between them in their wonderful years together.

Since Prep School years before, they had been through it all, in a solitary fashion at first; but with each passing year they had discovered an uncommon companionship born of suffering. One does not take a few spankings, slipperings and finally junior canings side-by-side in Prep school and then at college and not find common ground of at least a non-intimate manner.

That common ground had finally found a more intimate voice at age fourteen, their first year at St. George's. Prefect Simmons had slippered both of them for passing notes during prep.

There was nothing uncommon about having a feel later of each other's hided bums soon thereafter. It was uncommon, however, when their penises decided to introduce each boy to a new level of "understanding." Fists on each other's stiff willies, that understanding became, shall we say, quite wet; but that was just the beginning.

For the next few years and especially during summer holidays spent together, their intimacies deepened. They would play spanking games, pretend games of prefects and boys, prefects and the Head, each taking turns hiding the other and after the hidings?

Well, sexual congress gradually developed over the following months and few years until by the summer holiday between their lower and upper sixth years, they had enjoyed mutual cock sucking and then buggering, each one equal in the endeavor.

"We're not supposed to be here," Thomas finally sat back feeling like a shit for not only having defied the Head, but withheld the Head's disapproval from all of them and especially so from Jeremy.

"What? What are you talking about?" Jeremy asked, but already suspected something harsh. Thomas explained. Jeremy sat back, anger welling, "You had no right! After all we've shared? Suffered? Why didn't you tell us, me so that we could share the blame?"

"I should have. I am sorry, Jeremy, I really am. I thought it best nobody knew until it was too late. I would not be lying to Dr. Spears when I tell him that it was my idea and nobody else knew."

"Well, you're wrong!" Jeremy snapped on the outside. On the inside Jeremy loved Thomas for his good intension, no matter how misplaced, "You're going to tell him after we return?" Jeremy then asked.

"Yes, of course. I never intended to hide my disobedience from him," Thomas sighed. Jeremy put his hand on his chum's shoulder, "He'll give you to Gibbons for the birch," Jeremy said. Thomas nodded, "Yes, I know. Just so long as it's only me," Thomas said softly.

Jeremy Leeds knew better, however. Yes, likely the Head would limit the punishment for The Lark for the rest of them to the usual light six of the best. Gibbons would birch Thomas, twelve strokes over the gym horse likely, but that would not be the end of it if Jeremy had his way. And no, he would not be telling Thomas what he was thinking. Not now.

The next day well before the usual planned walk of all of the four prefects and the Head Boy to Dr. Spears office to suffer the traditional punishment for that year's Lark, Thomas Ramsey found himself in front of Dr. Spears desk, not seated. He confessed what he and he alone had done and allowed to happen.

Aldon Spears was quite unhappy at his Head Boy's defiance. That he chose to take the fall alone and nobody else of the group was involved in the decision made him proud, however. It was "taking one for the team" was it not?

"Whereas I do not approve of what you decided to do Mr. Ramsey and defy me, I am nonetheless not angry with you. Thankfully, nothing happened, but I cannot let it stay there. Do the others know?"

"No sir, not yet. I was going to tell them when they presented themselves in an hour or so," Thomas replied.

"You will report yourself to Mr. Gibbons and ask for the birch, twelve strokes. I don't care that others observe. That is up to you and Gibbons. You are still an honorable boy and I will honor you in that manner."

Thomas sighed and smiled, "Thank you Dr. Spears. I knew you would understand," but Willoughby, Kerns, Curran and of course Mr. Leeds did not understand,

"That's not fair!" Gil complained as they all now stood in front of Dr. Spears, "You should have told us Ramsey, we deserved to know!" Bert was upset with his Head Boy, "I demand to be punished the same as Mr. Ramsey, Sir!" Eli tried to demand of his Headmaster. Jeremy simply looked angry with Thomas and said nothing.

Dr. Spears shook his head, "No. I will not allow it. Only Mr. Ramsey will suffer the birch. That will be the punishment for the rest of you to endure. Mr. Gibbons is forbidden from birching anyone but Ramsey, are we clear?"

What could they say except, "Yes sir," in five very upset voices, "Now bare your bottoms and collect the traditional six, all the rest of you. Not you Mr. Ramsey," Dr. Spears ordered.

The traditional canings were supposed to be light-hearted, a tribute to tradition and enjoyed, but that was not the case this year. Each boy save Ramsey took their six, faces down-cast and spirits low, they all left the Head's office feeling let down.

That evening, bid in person by Thomas Ramsey and his entourage of House prefects, Mr. Gibbons was all too happy to put the Head Boy's naked arse over the cylindrical gym horse and lay the birching rods solidly across Thomas Ramsey's very attractive arse a dozen hard strokes.

Ramsey's chums looked on helplessly, some still angry, others simply sad. Jeremy felt betrayed no matter than he knew that Thomas' heart had been in the right place, still. Each cut of the birch was fierce and when it was over, Ramsey's arse was a mass of angry, red, raised welts that all blended into one giant painful, aching, stinging welt.

"You may get up, Ramsey. You took that well, never mind why," Mr. Gibbons shook the boy's hand advancing his admiration to him.

"Please Mr. Gibbons, can't you lay the birch on all of us? We should have shared!" Jeremy pled for all of his House prefect fellows.

"No Mr. Leeds. I am forbidden by Dr. Spears. I am sorry though I admire your mettle," Gibbons answered.

"Yes, you cannot, but Thomas can," Gil piped up, "Yes, he can!" Jeremy agreed as Mr. Gibbons paled,

"But …" he started to protest, but then stopped himself and looked from boy to boy, "I cannot believe that I am saying this and if this ever gets out, I will deny it and hunt you both down Mr. Leeds and Mr. Ramsey. But I will turn my back on this effort if you go through with it."

"Thank you Mr. Gibbons, we'll take it from here," Jeremy said. Gibbons shook his head, but smiled and left the premises admiring the Head Boy and his gang of honorable prefects.

"You tell us what to do Thomas," Bert said solemnly. Thomas stood, still bare from the waist down, his cock erect, a fact of boy life with his chums that nobody paid any attention to by now. His arse was still achingly sore of course.

He looked at Jeremy's bulged trousers, "A bit anxious are we?" he teased his roommate and bosom companion of years now.

"Shut up and let's get on with it. Although I'm thinking that a dozen … is a bit much," Jeremy said sheepishly and there was no disagreement among the others.

"You are all pansies. Fine. Six and then I get to spank all of your hot sexy birched arses over my knee!" Thomas smiled. Gil, Bert, Eli and especially Jeremy all smiled and agreed. So that is what happened.

The Head Boy took up the birching rods and gave each of his House prefects six hard cuts of the severe instrument on the bare of each boy as he lay over the gym horse. Then, they were all stood before a chair as Thomas sat,

"Jeremy is going to get a special spanking later in private," Thomas announced.

Gil, Bert and Eli all knowingly grinned and after a few rude and bawdy comments, Jeremy suffered nothing worse than a deep blush of embarrassment as he then watched Thomas spank his chums bare hand to their bare birched arses.

After handshakes and a few hugs as well, Gil, Eli and Bert departed the gym to go and nurse their wounds and perhaps share a few manual enjoyments together. Jeremy and Thomas now left the gymnasium alone,

"So, what have you in mind for me Mr. Head Boy?" Jeremy asked, his trousers bulging with erotic anticipation as the pair walked back through the night to their rooms.

"This was more for me, actually. A bit of old times for both of us. I'll spank you and you spank me and then we'll see what fireworks remain," Thomas smiled a little.

Jeremy did not really smile, rather just sighed knowing that his days with his bosom friend, his lover at St. George's was soon coming to an end.

By the time they were behind the Head boy's closed study door, Jeremy decided on his own course of action. He rounded on Thomas, "I am still angry with you Thomas. You had no right to do this on your own. I demand satisfaction!"

Thomas did not take umbrage, rather chose to be humble, "I cannot disagree Jeremy. Do as you will," and Jeremy smirked,

"Prepare to be spanked Thomas, over my knee on the bare like a misbehaved fourth former!" and then sat down in a chair forming a spanking lap.

Oh to be a fourth former again and start all over, "Yes Jeremy," Thomas said a bit sheepishly and even felt a fourth's blush coming on as he disrobed and shuffled to Jeremy's side.

Jeremy reached up, fixed his fist on Thomas' arm and pulled him over. Thomas arranged himself perfectly, his still very red and still very sore arse cheeks upturned at the corner of Jeremy's thigh, his now erect penis grinding hard into Jeremy's thigh.

Jeremy frowned, emotionally on the verge of tears actually. Moved not by anger, but by love for his bosom friend and lover. There lay the beautiful red arse of a beautiful and sexy boy, their time at St. George's about to end.

Thomas' head, near to his own study floor where so many other boys' heads had been, bobbed up, eyes closed and he moaned gently as Jeremy's palm slowly rubbed over his already well hided arse cheeks. Jeremy even let a fingertip draw slowly down and then up over his arse hole, but then the palm raised high and the practiced House prefect paid no heed that the birching rods had well tenderized the raw flesh below.

Oh the blessed pain of a firmed palm slapping hard, down to the tender bottom cheeks below! Thomas' eyes flew open both in alarm as well as in admiration for Jeremy's ability to put him, the Head boy, in his place, rapidly and profusely spanked to perfection. Spanked to a crisp!

"Jeremy!" Thomas' voice was forced to warble out as if from the deep past of the fourth former Thomas Ramsey rather than from the present older Head Boy version. Jeremy stopped, shook his hand of its own soreness, the cliché "worn out," coming to mind of his hand's sore condition much less Thomas' newly seared buttocks.

Thomas did not move, not an inch. He said nothing and waited patiently, "It's enough," Jeremy said satisfied, "My arse is on fire. Well done Jeremy. I deserved that and a lot more," Thomas said softly.

"You can suck my cock later. It's my turn now," Jeremy said and helped his friend to standing.

Thomas did spank Jeremy, but did so more as a tribute to all they had been and meant to each other over their long years in Prep school and public college together. There was no anger now as lust had begun to intrude and then was welcomed.

The rest of the evening was pure unadulterated debauchery. None of it was new, not the cock sucking, mutual tongue and finger fucking nor finally the hard, pounding mutual buggering which would be a nearly anti-climactic ending to a rare night, but one school boy buggering another and then returning the favor could never be neither ordinary nor anti-climactic.

* * * * * * * * * *

Several weeks later, Leaver's Day found the five boys for the birch done with their schoolboy careers at St. George's College. Two years later, Dr. Spears having retired, the new St. George's College Headmaster put an end to The Lark forever, modern day concerns for security and safety cited as the reasons with no exceptions.

Nonetheless, for years after to honor The Lark and even to honor Dr. Spears and now Mr. Gibbins, also in retirement, the elderly pair were invited to the yearly gathering of the five now grown St. George's old boys. They would reenact The Lark, the forbidden day at Waterston Hills followed by five boys baring their bums, five boys for the birch.

© Copyright PJ Franklin October 2, 2016

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