Mateo had managed to navigate his way through his first year and year two without too many problems, he had melded into school life and learnt a lot about how to conduct himself. Not only did he understand how things were, but he was beginning to grasp the art of manipulation, how you might turn things to your advantage. Because it was never prudent to fight the system, try to do that and life would be uncomfortable and painful. His best friend Pascoal had learned that lesson and so had Duante. Both boys, Mateo reflected, took longer to adapt than he did.
The fast looming end of the year marked a turning point in life at the Escola Secundaria de Sao Bartolomeu. The next school year would see him waving goodbye to short trousers and a cap. In year three, the boys took a step further towards adulthood. It also meant that he could express his preference for room mates and he would be sharing a dorm with only three other boys. He had discussed all this with Pascoal and their other best friend Duante. The three had been sharing a room with four others since almost the beginning, and had become close friends. But there was no guarantee that you would get to share with the boy or boys you listed as the ones you'd like in your room. You also needed to give a reason for your choice.
Most boys had best friends and Mateo knew a lot would name their best friend, and as a reason say because we are best friends. When he discussed his strategy with Pascoal and Duante, he explained that they needed to be a bit more clever. "If I put Pascoal and he puts me, that is not likely to work. They might even decided that it's better to split up that sort of relationship."
"So what do we do?" Pascoal was thinking. So was Duante, "How about you," he turned to Pascoal, "put me, Mateo puts you, and I put Mateo."
"That's close to what I was figuring," Mateo told them. "But I don't think, Duante, that you should name me. It looks too much like a circle of three friends, if anyone looks closely."
"Okay," Duante nodded, "You put Pascoal, he puts me, and who do I name as a preference?"
"Well, unless you got a suggestion, maybe no one. You don't have to make a choice. Besides, if you named someone you could end up sharing with him and not us."
"Yeah, I think Mateo's right. If it's just his preference for me, me for you, there are only two links," Pascoal said.
"Yeah, it's a plan," Duante agreed, but he was not sure it would work.
"I'm gonna say I want to share with you, Pascoal, because you help me with maths and you know how Father Benedito is always getting on at me in maths classes."
"That's good," Pascoal told Mateo. "But I wouldn't put it's because of Father Benedito."
Mateo smiled, "No, of course not. I wasn't gonna put that part."
"And I'll say that Duante and me play sports together. It's not a great reason, but it's true, and better than saying we're friends."
"That's it then. Agreed." All three stuck their arms out and bumped fists, "Agreed," the other two echoed.
Mateo also had another plan to make sure they got to share a room, or at least he would be with Pascoal, because he didn't want to end up with three other boys he didn't know so well. That evening after supper he decided to seek the help of Father Thomas, and he thought he knew just how he could get it. It would involve a small sacrifice on his part, but it would be worth it.
He walked over to the big house and up the stairs to Father Thomas's rooms. Standing outside the familiar door, he took a deep breath, then knocked. Then he heard the sound of the leather strap striking its target. He should not have been surprised, but he wasn't actually thinking in that direction. The loud thwack of the leather strap was followed by a muffled cry. He had no difficulty picturing the scene taking place the other side of the door.
"Enter," Father Thomas's voice startled him. Mateo opened the door, stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He looked over at the boy bent over the back of the old armchair, and he noted his red bottom and heard his bawling. "Ah, Master Pereira, don't tell me you're here with a slip?"
"No, Father. I wanted to ask you something."
Father Thomas smiled, returning his attention to the boy. "Get up lad, and get dressed." Mateo watched the youngster stand up and move to pick up his clothes. He thought he'd seen the boy about, of course it was a first year, he didn't know his name. The boy was still crying as he got dressed and turned to leave. Mateo thought the kid was unlucky to get strapped just before the end of term. He wondered if it was his first time. The boy briefly glanced up at Mateo as he walked past, opened the door, and left. There was a hint of some kind of recognition in that instant, but Mateo didn't know of what. Nevertheless, something passed between them.
"Well, Mateo, why did you want to see me?" Father Thomas was standing facing him, and Mateo noticed immediately the slight tenting of the father's habit. He knew how much Father Thomas enjoyed his job, especially when he had the task of disciplining boys. Ignoring this for the moment he looked at Father Thomas and replied. "As you know father we have to give a preference for who we share with next year." Father Thomas nodded. It was a little unnerving seeing him standing there with the leather strap still in his hands. "And, well, I want to share with Pascoal because he really helps me with Maths. I'm not too great at that. But, well, the thing is," Mateo looked away, studying the floor. "Yes, come on. The thing is what?"
Mateo continued, "Father Benedito takes us for Maths and he told us he would be there next year."
"Yes, that's right. Father Benedito is taking both years two and three. But what's your point?"
"He's, I mean Father Benedito, Father, is always getting on at me in class. Not that I don't deserve it, but a good few times he's slapped my legs."
"Yes, well, that is to wake you up and get your attention."
"But next year won't be quite the same father, because we won't be in shorts."
"Ah, yes. I think I see where this is heading, but spell it out boy."
"I've heard that in year three if you get called out in class by Father Benedito, he smacks you across the bottom with a ruler."
"Exactly, I do that too. When you reach thirteen my boy, then little smacks on the backs of your legs don't work. So yes, you're correct. And?"
"I wanted to ask if you could perhaps see if I couldn't share with Pascoal, so I don't get hit by Father Bendict because I'll get better at Maths."
"Hmm, well, perhaps I can. But I believe one good service deserves another, don't you?"
"Yes Father," Mateo knew where this was leading, but he was prepared for it, it wouldn't be the first time.
"Now what do I get in return?" Father Thomas gave the boy a mischievous grin.
Mateo took the hint and without replying he walked over to the little wooden chair and removed his blazer, hanging it carefully over the back. Father Thomas watched him as he then untied and removed his shoes. Next came the top button of his shorts, the zipper, and he pulled those off along with his underpants. This was exactly the same routine boys followed before getting their arse whacked, but both he and Father Thomas knew this was different.
Mateo walked back across the room to the old armchair and bending over the back he moved to position himself so as to give Father Thomas a perfect target. Now in the same place as that not long since vacated by the first former, he waited. He heard Father Thomas walk over to the door and turn the key in the lock. Then he heard the rustle of clothing, but as always he stayed waiting, stealing himself for what would follow.
Father Thomas, as he nearly always did, got an erection when punishing a boy. But it had been more exquisite whilst disciplining this first year boy, because it was the first time the lad had been given a strapping. The sight of the boy bent over, with his bare buttocks exposed, excited him. Knowing how the boy was scared, waiting, aware he was about to get the strap, all this was a sort of intoxication. The idea that the boy knew what was coming, but at the same time had no idea what it would actually feel like. Then after the leather strap had smacked across his bottom the pain that followed. Watching that reaction when the boy wriggled and hopped about, trying desperately to ease the sting, it was beautiful, he thought. How the mood changed when the boy knowing a second stroke was due and he was now fully aware of just how much it would hurt, excited him. Being thrown into such a state, the arrival of Mateo served only to compound his excitement and pique his desire. Watching the boy move and undress, preparing himself, then taking that same position as the other boy, it was, Father Thomas decided, a fine end to the term
Father Thomas came to stand behind the boy. "It's nearly the end of term so I am not going to be mean to you." Mateo felt Father Thomas brush the leather strap across his bottom. "But still, all boys need reminding." Need reminding of what? Mateo thought to himself. He knew Father Thomas's perverted tastes. The man was somewhat of a sadist, that was the label, he'd looked it up. But, whatever, he knew before the good father took his pleasure, which Mateo was freely offering, he'd inflict pain. He only hoped the pain would not be too much. He was used to Father Thomas taking him and he usually got hard and even liked it a bit. But no one, he thought, liked to get strapped. He knew just how much that could hurt.
Before he could contemplate further the strap cut through the air and the leather cracked across his buttocks. He cried out and juggled about on his legs, hopping from one to the other, but he stayed bent over the armchair. As he came down from the shock of the strap and the pain eased a bit, he felt Father Thomas smear a cool gel between his buttocks. Then, quite suddenly, the man was up close behind him with his hard tool poking at the boy's secret entrance. Finding its target Father Thomas pushed into him and he did indeed take his pleasure.
Mateo struggled to relax, he spread his legs wide and took deep breaths. He found his little dick getting hard as Father Thomas repeatedly banged into him. Pain and pleasure is a strange brew, he didn't know which won out. When it was over Mateo stood up and got dressed. "You will have a word, won't you Father?" He said before leaving.
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you Father," Mateo turned to unlock the door, "For everything," he added enigmatically.
"Giving and receiving," Father Thomas smiled with satisfaction. But Mateo didn't see it, he'd opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind him. The boy rubbed his arse and oddly the image of the first former there when he arrived, popped into his head.