Chapter 08

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 08

(***, M/m12, Intense, Teen caning)

Erin witnesses boys being caned. (Approximately 1,154 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

Lest you think that my time at St. Esther's was all work and no play, think again. By the end of my first month I was becoming much more accustomed to the run of things, and soon I settled down into my old mischievious roles. By this time I knew the run of things and had discovered what one could and couldn't get away with. One practice which I had heard stories about was "visiting" the boys' school. This was extremely forbidden and the horrible consequences of being caught were legendary, but from the first time I heard of this I wanted to do it.

One day Heather, the girl I'd met during my first caning from the head, came to me. She had heard that I was game and wanted to find out if it was true. The rumor was that she had a boyfriend over at St. Andrew's and visited him whenever she could, but she would not confirm or deny this story.

Heather was putting together an "expedition" to watch the boys during soccer practice. While this in itself didn't sound particularly exciting, Heather promised a surprise. Though it frightened me, I was in. There were four of us: Heather, myself, Mary, and a slightly older blonde named Jessica I didn't know very well.

We arrived during "tail end" of the boys' soccer practice. This was a perfect time, I discovered, and the timing was not accidental--I was with experienced spy masters. Mr. Masters, the coach, was even more strict with the boys than he was with us. I cringed the moment I saw him, tall and grim, striding up the field and waving a long whippy cane. It seeemed the slipper was too light for the boys.

Along the edge of the road is a slight ditch and then there's a grove of trees and bushes that runs parallel to the road and the playing field. Within these trees we hid and watched as Mr. Masters called a halt to the practice. I saw the boys did not seem happy about stopping, but obediently lined up in a wide row in front of the coach. He growled and scolded them, telling them how lousy they had played and how even "the girls of St. Esther could whip your butts!"

Then Mr. Masters began to selectively name certain lads he felt hadn't been playing up with their "full potential" and one by one boys reluctantly stepped out in front of their companions until about half of the large group had been selected. We watched with rigid fascination as these boys stood nervously, hands in front of their crotches, shivering in the cool evening breeze. They were wearing soccer shorts and light t-shirts. Though minutes before they had been sweating with exertion now they were chilled with fear.

Mr. Masters approached the first boy, a small lad about my age, I supposed. He was cute but rather scrawny, but when the coach ordered him to turn and drop his shorts he didn't hesitate, but quickly bared his bottom for the cane. I almost gasped aloud seeing his nakedness. I glanced at the other girls but no one else appeared too surprised--apparently this was par for the course. Unfortunately we were too far away to really see anything in detail--but the sight certainly stirred the imagination. As the cane whipped down with fearsome cracks I felt very sorry for the poor boy, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel excited by his pain. It was thrillingly forbidden and exotic to watch what we were watching--naked boys getting six or a dozen of the best. I felt myself growing hot with lust and desire.

Mr. Masters was moving down the line, caning each boy in turn. The first boy stood stiffly, shorts around his ankles, hands in front, his naked buttocks crisscrossed with crisp red lines I could see even from my twenty-five yards away. The second boy was receiving a more thorough caning--I counted at least a dozen strokes--but he was heavier and seemed to bear it better. During his caning I watched some of the other boys, both those waiting their turn and those whose play had been satisfactory. Those who weren't waiting for the stick seemed amused and triumphant, not the least bit sympathetic, and the waiting ones appeared suitably cowed and worried, though I noticed a few that seemed rather bored by the whole proceedings. One boy in particular I saw had almost a smirk on his face. His expression seemed to say, "It's just a whacking--why all the fuss?" I grinned at him and felt rather jolly inside--I liked him. I hoped he'd get at least a dozen crackers--see if that would wipe that smirk off his face.

When he indeed received a dozen of the best I felt rather guilty, as though my greedy wish had been granted. For a moment I thought I deserved to be bending over for the cane more than the boy, but then he stood up and thanked Mr. Masters with a cheeky, "Thanks for going easy on me, sir!" and the coach promptly bent him over and gave him another four strokes!

"Who's that boy?" I asked Mary. "Isn't he just the toast?"

"That's Eric Wyler!" grinned Mary as she whispered to me.

"Bloody fool," I said grimly. "Masters ought to have given him an extra dozen for such cheek." But though I sounded stern, inside my heart fluttered and I couldn't help but admire the boy. I watched him standing tall and proud, with his arms folded on his chest, not caring in the least that he was naked from the waist down.

The other boys were watching him with admiring but cautious eyes and timid expressions--as though they feared Eric's behavior would bring doom upon them all.

When the coach had finished caning the remaining boys and dismissed those exempted from punishment, he walked along the line admiring the marked bottoms. After examining each boy he would dismiss him, occasionally adding an extra stroke or two for a reason he kept well hidden.

There was a scurrying near me and I saw Heather was retreating from our position in preparation of a return to the school. My heart dropped with a sudden sadness when I realized we needed to leave. If we were late for dinner we'd surely be marked down. Reluctantly, we all turned to go.

"Was it worth it?" Jessica asked me, grinning impishly.

I nodded, my mind filled with the image of a certain naked boy standing tall and proud, his buttocks laced with scarlet stripes. "I wouldn't have missed this for the Queen's jewels!" I said boldly. "It'd be worth a dozen of the cane to see that again!"

Famous last words.

More to come next week!

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