Falconsmere:
The Chosen Ones
by
Pink Panther
This
story includes instances of underage boys having sex, both with adult males and
with each other. If this is not what you want to read, please leave this page
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Chapter Nine
Towards
the end of March, the Easter Holiday began. When the boys returned for the
summer term, there was a very positive vibe around the school. The excellent
Common Entrance results sent out a very strong message, especially to the boys
in their penultimate year. If they worked hard and did what the school asked of
them, they could expect to achieve a similar level of success.
Eager
to win a place at Wellington College, the school his father had attended, James
was greatly encouraged by the results that the older boys in the rugby team had
achieved, all but one of them having been offered a place at the top school of
their choice. He was confident that if he worked as hard as they had, he could
succeed too.
0
o 0 o 0 o 0
Following
James Ashcombe's most recent visit to his room, Marcus Johnstone parked himself
on his sofa, plagued by niggling doubts. Although Ashcombe had done everything
that he'd asked of him, the headmaster was painfully
aware that the boy had shown absolutely no enthusiasm, and had simply been
going through the motions.
To
Mr Johnstone's way of thinking, it didn't make sense. Ashcombe
had clearly derived sexual pleasure from their encounter. He'd
been aroused throughout, and had finished by shooting his boy-juice into the
headmaster's mouth.
Even
so, the harsh reality was that given the choice, Ashcombe wouldn't
have been there. He'd only shown up, Mr Johnstone surmised,
because that was what he was expected to do, the carrot of being named as the
captain of the school rugby team still dangling before him.
This
was not what the headmaster had intended. He had only talked about the
possibility of the boy becoming captain of the rugby team as a way of oiling
the wheels. He'd hoped that once Ashcombe had learned
how pleasurable sex could be, he'd have become as enthusiastic about it as
Peter and Danny. But this, as Marcus now understood, was not how things had panned
out.
Nor
was Ashcombe the only one to be afflicted in this way. Matthew Wainwright was blowing
hot and cold. While at times he was wonderfully affectionate and seemed totally
into what he and the headmaster did together, at other times he was cool and
distant, as though some part of him was not fully engaged. Marcus found this
very disappointing.
Despite
his best efforts, he couldn't escape the thought that
he'd been here before. Each year, he picked two boys in their penultimate year
for special attention. Of course, they had to be nice-looking. There was no
point in selecting boys that didn't turn him on.
Occasionally,
there'd be a cute-looking boy who'd welcome his
advances right from the get-go, as both Peter and Danny had. The problem was
that there weren't enough boys like that to keep
satisfied. Given that he needed sex with good-looking preteens, what was
he to do?
His
answer had been to select boys that he particularly liked, and to use his
position and his charisma to seduce them. On a couple of occasions, it had
worked beautifully. Two boys who'd initially been
quite wary had become very enthusiastic about taking the headmaster's cock up
their cute little bottoms.
Most
of the time, however, his efforts had been rather less successful. While his
powers of persuasion had always been sufficient to ensure that the boy would go
along with what he wanted, most of them had been reluctant participants.
Each
time this happened, Marcus would tell himself that the following year things
would work better. He'd avoid the mistakes he'd made,
allow the boys more time to get used to things, and so on. In practice, however,
such changes made little difference.
0
o 0 o 0 o 0
As
it was a Thursday evening, Mr Price was due to provide extra tuition to Simon
Rowe. As always, he was really looking forward to it. Unlike Lockwood and
Bennett, Rowe always gave him some push-back. Mr Price liked that; it was a
challenge to be overcome. In fact, the more resistance the boy put up, the hornier
it made him.
By
contrast, Lockwood and Bennett were so passive, he might as well have fucked a
couple of dolls. In the case of Christopher Bennett, it would have been a very
pretty doll with a wonderfully tight hole. Even so, for Mr Price, the slightly-built
boy's refusal to react to being raped had been a major disappointment.
As
always, Simon Rowe arrived a few seconds before half past eight. By ten to
nine, they'd completed the formal part of their
tutorial.
"Okay!
Stand up and take your dressing gown off!" Mr Price ordered.
Scowling,
Simon did as he was told, allowing the deputy head to divest him of his pyjamas
and underpants.
Sitting
back in his chair, Mr Price admired the twelve-year old's arrow-straight penis,
11cm long with around half the head sticking out beyond his foreskin. Although
the boy had never cum on their previous encounters, he looked like he should be
able to.
"Can
you cum yet?"
"Dunno,"
Simon replied casually. "I guess you'll have to find out."
Licking
his lips, Mr Price leaned forwards, determined that in a few minutes' time, the
boy would pay for his insolent manner. Having taken Rowe's prick into his
mouth, he sucked it steadily. He could hardly wait to get spunk out of it! At
the same time, he reached around, kneading the youngster's bum-cheeks and
stimulating his boy-hole. Finally, he eased himself away.
"Now
don't tell me you didn't like that!" he challenged. "Now get on your knees! You
know what to do!"
"Fuck
you!" Simon muttered as he knelt on the floor.
Seething,
he undid Mr Price's trousers before reaching inside to extract the man's penis.
"Now
suck it, you little slut!"
With
his brain filled with murderous thoughts, Simon did as he was told. It seemed
to him that it really didn't matter where he was.
While he was at school, he was forced to let Pervy Price have sex with him.
When he went home, his parents were so busy living their lives two blocks from
the edge, they didn't give a shit. They just palmed
him off onto his pervy uncle, who treated him in much the same way that Mr
Price did. They even both talked dirty to him while they were fucking his arse.
"You
really ought to show a little more respect," Mr Price said, holding the back of
the boy's head. He pushed the lad further down on his cock, making him gag. "Mouthing
obscenities at me wasn't one of your better ideas."
After
a few seconds, he relaxed his grip, allowing Rowe, red-faced and spluttering,
to come up for air.
"Now
just keep going. I'll tell you when to stop."
At
that moment, there was nothing that Simon would have liked better than sink his
teeth into the man's dick, but he knew that would have got him a serious
beating. So thinking better of it, he did as he was
told.
"Okay
you can stop now."
As
the twelve-year old pulled away, Mr Price placed his pillows in the middle of
the bed, one on top of the other.
"Usual
position," he instructed, "face-down, legs apart!"
As
Rowe got into position, Mr Price cursorily worked some K-Y into the lad's bum,
before squeezing out some more and smearing it over his cock. Kneeling between
youngster's legs, he lowered himself down, guiding his dick onto the
twelve-year old's rosebud. After taking a deep breath, he forced it in, fully
impaling the boy with a single thrust.
"Oh,
fuck!" Simon protested, the searing pain making his head swim.
"That's
exactly what I'm going to do, you little slut!" Mr Price retorted,
unceremoniously stuffing Rowe's underpants into the boy's mouth. "I'm going to
give you a good, hard fucking because that's what you need!"
Gripping
the boy's shoulders, he pulled well back and got to work, his penis
remorselessly pounding in and out of the boy's arse. This was what he wanted!
All the indications were that Rowe hated being fucked, but the pathetic little
slut couldn't do anything to stop it. For Mr Price,
that was the biggest turn-on of all!
With
the deputy head's cock pinning him to the bed, Simon bit on his underpants, trying
desperately to dull the pain. But what bothered him even more was that with Mr
Price's dick stimulating that sensitive spot deep inside him, his own prick,
rubbing backwards and forwards against the pillow, was getting harder with
every thrust.
Suddenly,
he began shaking like a leaf and gasping for air, the tingling sensations
spreading all over his body. A moment later, as his prick started jerking
against the pillow, he could feel something warm and wet squirting onto his
stomach. Fuck! In spite of everything, he'd cum!
Mr
Price noticed immediately that Rowe's anal contractions had been by far the
most violent he'd ever produced. At the very least,
the boy had experienced an especially powerful dry-cum, and possibly more.
"Oh
yes!" he rasped, thrusting his cock in as deep as he could. "Now I'm going to
fill your slutty little bum!"
Tightening
his grip on Rowe's shoulders, he unloaded repeatedly, pumping his hot, creamy
spunk deep into the preteen's arse. Finally, it was all over. For a good few
seconds, he lay exactly where he was, gradually bringing his breathing under
control.
Having
regained his composure, he slowly pulled out. Dragging Rowe up onto all-fours,
he felt the pillow. It was warm and damp.
"What
a little slut you are!" he mocked triumphantly. "You shot your spunk while I
was fucking you!"
He
raised his right arm.
"That's
for making a mess on the pillow!" he growled, administering three hard smacks
to Rowe's bottom. "I'll have to put a towel there next
time!"
After
pulling the underpants from the boy's mouth, he marched him into the bathroom.
"Now
get yourself cleaned up!" he barked, "and be quick about it!"
0
o 0 o 0 o 0
For
the boys about to leave Falconsmere, the academic
pressure was finally off. However, they were not allowed to rest on the
laurels. During the course of the summer term, every
boy was expected to complete two projects. The first of these required them to
set out the history and traditions of the school where they would start at in
September.
For
Matthew Wainwright, this represented something of a problem. Most of his
classmates would be going to schools that had been in existence for hundreds of
years, with all the history that goes with that. Even Wellington College, a
popular choice among Falconsmere boys, was over one
hundred years old.
By
contrast, The Purcell School had been in operation for a mere eight years.
However, it was named in honour of Henry Purcell, the leading English composer
of the early Baroque period at the end of the seventeenth century. In addition,
he could write about how the school came to be founded and how it was run. All
in all, there would be plenty for him to get his teeth into.
Their
other project could be on any subject of their choosing, as
long as it had been approved by an appropriate member of staff. With Mr
Johnstone's approval, Matthew had decided to write about the history and
development of the cello. Between these two projects, he would have plenty to
keep him busy.
0
o 0 o 0 o 0
For
the summer term, the main sport was not rugby but cricket. Although James made
the team, he batted at number eight and was not required to bowl. He was picked
mainly for his fielding. Quick to the ball, he had a safe pair of hands and he
could throw quite accurately, although his arm was not especially powerful.
After
the intensity of the rugby season, and with lots of studying to do, being a
`bit-player' suited him well. He also represented the school at athletics,
mainly the high jump, at which he could beat all the older boys.
In
between, James kept up his twice-weekly visits to Mr Johnstone's room. Shortly
before the end of term, all the rugby players would gather for a reception,
where awards would be given out and the name of the new captain would be
announced. Until that had happened, he wasn't going to
take anything for granted.
0
o 0 o 0 o 0
Early
in July, the day of the rugby players' reception finally arrived. When classes
finished for the day, James headed to the assembly hall, to join the other
rugby players and the teachers who had helped to coach them.
Having
played twenty matches, the Falconsmere team had won fifteen,
losing only to three grammar schools with far more boys to choose from than they
had, plus two away matches at similarly-sized prep schools. Following such a
successful season, the reception was mainly a celebration. After everyone had
enjoyed some very tasty refreshments. Mr Johnstone called them to order.
"First
of all, I'd like to congratulate all the boys who
represented the school during the season for the work that they put in and the
results they achieved. I would also like to thank my colleagues who have
assisted, not just in coaching the school team, but in developing the skills of
our younger players so that they will be ready to meet the challenge when their
time comes. May I ask all you boys to show your appreciation in the usual way."
The
boys gave the coaches an enthusiastic round of applause.
"In
recognition of their outstanding performances," the headmaster continued, "I
would now like to award school colours to two boys that joined the team this
year. They are James Ashcombe and Timothy Pearson! Please come and collect your
awards!
To
generous applause from both teammates and coaches, James and Tim stepped
forwards, each of them receiving an engraved medal, an illuminated certificate,
and a flash to be sewn onto their school blazer. For both boys, it was a proud
moment.
"The
one remaining award is for player of the season. There were so many excellent
performances throughout the season, this was a very difficult decision, but
after lengthy discussions with my colleagues, I can announce that the player of
the year award goes to Stephen Wood!"
This
was not a complete surprise. Although Luke Tomlinson had been an outstanding
team captain, it had been Stephen Wood who had produced the moments of magic
that had frequently turned matches in the team's favour.
After
Stephen had received his award, Mr Johnstone moved onto his closing remarks.
"To
those of you who will be leaving us this term, let me encourage you to keep
working hard and believing in yourselves. If you do, I'm
sure you will do very well! Finally, for those of you who will still be with
us, I'd like to announce that the team captain for
next season will be James Ashcombe. I'm confident that
you will all give him your full support!"
Following
another round of applause, the reception was over. As the boys prepared to
leave, many of them, including all James's dorm-mates, made a point of
congratulating him personally.
However,
James had mixed feelings. At one level, he was relieved to hear his appointment
as captain had finally been confirmed. He'd done well
as a new member of the team, so nobody was going to say that he didn't deserve it.
On
the other hand, he was less than happy with the way Mr Johnstone had pressured him
into having sex to ensure that he'd be appointed. How
would the other boys react if they knew? He didn't
want to think about it.
But
he'd made a decision. He was due to see Mr Johnstone
once more before the end of term. He would go along as usual, but it would be
the last time that he'd allow the man to have sex with
him. When they returned to school after the holidays, he'd
immediately put a stop to it.