Dr. Atkins Penis is being saved

thresa@______.com · 2005-12-01T16:11:35+00:00

Dr. Atkins Penis is being saved to retain his sperm. Atkins is considered a genius and his semen is very valuable. Someday you can have his child if you have enough money.

Pat said:
Is it boring at this time of year in Oregon? Go outside and play with your
toys little boy.

First off, I am not a boy, I'm female. Obviously you are an idiot
who cant read.

Second, I'll go outside as soon as you upload a picture of your lips
sucking on Atkins [censored]. I can see you are the official sperm sucker
they use to impregnate women with his stale cum.

The Atkins Penis
Lots of meat, no fat, no carbs and everyone who's heard about it wants
to try it

This morning I was treated to a new and slightly unusual facet of spam
mail: "Atkins Penis Enlargement Pills"

----

This morning I was treated to a new and slightly unusual facet of spam
mail: "Atkins Penis Enlargement Pills"

So I wonder, do they take the fat off your ass and move to your [censored]?
This could be dangerous, people! Our planet will be populated by a
bunch of skinny guys with 3 foot long, girthsome members, damaged
livers and chronic back problems.

Not exactly a race of Supermen.

Still not as disturbing as this one:

-----

http://www.100cigarettes.com/?id=hihat&action=comment&post=1085078613
Home of the official Atkins penis enlargement pills.

-----
The Perverted story of Atkins as a Boy. (See below)

Tales From Thistletop School - End Game - Part 09
by Pettigrew

from
http://www.malespank.net/stories/story-7386.html

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original
author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The
original date of posting to the MMSA was: 30 Dec 04

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Dr de Ville said "In a moment the boys to be punished shall be brought
here. I remind you that this is a sad day for Thistletop. This is a
very serious matter. Any boy observed viewing this occasion with
levity or any other kind of disrespect will be brought on to the stage
today to share the punishment of the others. There will be silence
until you are dismissed."

The Headmaster waited until he was sure his strictures had sunk in.
Then he said "Standish, fetch the boys who are to be punished if you
please."

Standish hurried out.

A little while before, the glum youths standing outside Wilkins' study
door were interrupted from their grim reveries by Wilkins and Standish
exiting the room and walking off without so much as a glance at the
birch fodder.

A minute later Fanshaw came out and addressed the boys. "OK, its not
long now," he said "it will soon be over for you all."

The boys managed to look even glummer on hearing that cheery
prognostication.

Fanshaw continued "I want you in line thus: Smith, Dobson, Thorpe,
Melrose, Petreson, Drummond, Atkins."

The boys got into order keeping their hands on their heads all the
time.

Atkins worked out that he had drawn the short straw: he was to be
first. Perhaps, though it was the long straw, his ordeal would be over
soonest. The other youths, each according to his innate rate of
cognition, rapidly worked out their own positions in the thrashing
order.

"When I give the word you will follow me and Smith will head your
line" said Fanshaw. "When we arrive in the Assembly Hall all you need
to do is obey each instruction as it is given to you. You are not
required to think. Also, because the proceedings will take a long time
Dr de Ville has decided that only the boy waiting his turn as next for
birching need put his hands on his head. Don't worry you will be
reminded when." He paused while the boys assimilated this then
continued "Atkins, you will keep your hands on your head until it
becomes time to kneel on the birching stool." Atkins blanched. Fanshaw
addressed the others "When not required to have your hands on your
head you will stand to attention. Got it?"

"Yes Fanshaw" all the boys mumbled.

A couple of minutes later Standish appeared. He was slightly out of
breathe. Smith, who had become slightly detached again, thought wryly
that Standish needn't have bothered hurrying.

Standish addressed Fanshaw, "A couple of things I should have told you
earlier. First, the boys will remove their plimsolls before they enter
the hall. This will look less disorganized than them doing so on the
stage and the gangway to the stage has been checked for tacks and
other sharp objects. Second, each boy when he is due for birching will
have his shorts taken down by one of the prefects. This will be done
from behind with the boy standing facing the audience. The boy will be
expected to step out of them, pick them up, and hand them to the
prefect who will then toss them into a pile in the corner.
Incidentally, the boy will be expected to replace his hands on his
head and wait while the Headmaster says what ever he feels necessary
to say."

"Yes" said Fanshaw looking puzzled, "that was not how it was done for
Hetherington. Who choreographed this?"

"Not Dr de Ville" said Standish. "He left the details to Wilkins and
Aubrey but he said he wanted the offenders to be fully humiliated and
for there to be a sense of occasion and gravitas to impress on the
on-looking boys what a serious affair a birching is. He wants a real
"example" to be made."

Six out of the seven waiting boys didn't like the new arrangement at
all, one was too numb to care either way. Johann would have preferred
being allowed to take down his own shorts and certainly didn't like
the idea of definite full frontal exposure to those looking on. None
of them knew that Miss Hodkins would be present and would shortly be
in a kind of spinsters' heaven.

The punishment detail were swiftly ushered to the hall. Again there
was a difference from Hetherington's experience, the party were taken
to the main entrance rather than the stage entrance. After the boys
had removed their plimsolls Standish opened the door and signalled
Wilkins. Wilkins nodded at Dr de Ville and then stepped to the front
of the stage. Wilkins boomed out "Smith, at the double come up on to
the stage!"

Smith was taken aback but obeyed immediately. He trotted barefoot down
the gangway leading to steps at the bottom of the stage. He knew all
eyes were upon him and reddened. Suddenly a thought occurred – was he
to be first after all? He ascended the steps and faced Wilkins who
directed him to stand at the far end of the wall to the right of the
stage, where he had an excellent view of the birching stool, and
facing outwards to the audience. Smith did as bidden and stood to
attention. He felt very uneasy.

"Dobson!"

"Thorpe!"

"Melrose!"

"Petreson!"

Johann's heart sank when his name was called. Immediately he started
trotting toward the stage. The distance seemed immense. He knew that
the hall was packed. He couldn't see all the faces but he was aware of
those lining the aisle watching him intently. He like all those before
him had reddened. He took his place next to Melrose.

"Drummond!

"Atkins!"

Before Atkins set out Standish whispered "Put your hands on your head
and keep them there until told otherwise." Atkins complied. Some of
the boys he passed were puzzled why Atkins was the only one with his
hands on his head. Atkins didnt know this. The boys concerned would
work out the underlying logic soon enough.

Standish and Fanshaw followed Atkins at a dignified pace and joined
the party on the platform.

Dr de Ville had been seated on the left side of the stage whilst these
preliminaries took place. He rose and walked to the centre of the
front of the stage.

Meanwhile, Miss Hodkins had been staring through her opera glasses at
the steadily increasing number of half naked youths assembling on the
right hand side of the stage. She was thrilled and anticipated much
greater delights. Her position at the back of the right hand side of
the balcony was ideal for viewing the occupant of the birching stool
since the business end of it was angled toward her.

She watched Dr de Ville rise and hunched down a little in her seat
lest he spot her. He stood for a while saying nothing. The total
silence in the hall held an urgent expectancy.

The Headmaster spoke: "You all know why these dreadful proceedings
have to take place. I shall not reiterate. However, I shall give you a
brief reminder of each delinquent's sins before he receives his much
deserved punishment." The Headmaster nodded to Standish.

Standish led Atkins to near the front of the stage a few feet to the
left (right from Miss Hodkins' view) and a little behind Dr de Ville.
He stepped behind Atkins, grasped the waistband of Atkins' shorts with
two hands and slowly pulled them down. (Incidentally, the slow descent
was not primarily to enhance humiliation. Standish was aware that
Atkins might have an erection, to pull his shorts down suddenly might
catch his member and cause pain. By doing it slowly he would become
aware of anything being caught and would be able to ease the shorts
forward before continuing.) There was a muted gasp from the audience.
Gradually, every facet of the front of Atkins was revealed and, soon,
when he walked toward the "stool", the rear would be viewed too.
Atkins was by now red in the face, neck and chest. He stepped out of
his shorts and, when told, bent over, picked them up and handed them
to Standish. Atkins replaced his hands on his head and Standish tossed
Atkins' shorts to the corner of the stage near Smith.

Miss Hodkins stared with delight as the assets of the youth before her
were revealed. Her hands trembled so much that she had difficulty
keeping her opera glasses in position. Never before had she seen a
naked potent male in the flesh. True, she had seen her nephews naked
when they were aged about five but that wasn't, definitely wasn't, the
same thing. Once she had seen a photograph of Michelangelo's statue of
David and been vaguely disappointed. This was the real thing.
Admittedly this was an adolescent boy mid way to becoming a man but
the view was breathtaking. Of course, if Miss Hodkins had been a half
way respectable spinster she would by now have blushed deeply,
possibly screamed and, certainly, run out of the hall. Miss Hodkins,
restless though she was, sat as quietly as she could manage.

Before Miss Hodkins, and the rest of the audience, of whom Miss
Hodkins was now unaware, stood a figure of fascination (to say the
least). Previously in this tale Atkins has been described thus:

"Atkins was quite tall for his age but not remarkably so. He was
slender but not skinny. There was sign of muscular development in his
arms and legs and indication of abdominal musculature. His countenance
was pleasant, eyes blue, and hair blondish (and a bit too long by
Thistletop standards so a cut was due soon). His arms, legs and chest
where seemingly devoid of hair though if one looked very closely there
were tiny blond extrusions on his skin. Apart from his head and
underarms the only hairs to been seen were pubic ones. These were
blond and surrounded a, for his age, respectably sized flaccid penis,
and a scrotum in which the testes were dangling at their full extend,
the room was warm. The pubic hairs on his lower abdomen ended in a
neat line, as if cut but they weren't, well below his navel and there
was no trace of straggling hairs reaching toward the navel. His body
still bore a slight tan acquired during the summer holidays and the
skin that his bathers had covered was distinctly lighter."

That description was the Atkins of a few months ago. Some changes have
taken place, all for the better. Atkins' musculature is better defined
but still consistent with mid-teens rather than manhood. His pubic
hairs form a thicker growth though this does not depart from the
boundaries already defined. His penis, still flaccid, is markedly more
adult but still has a little way to go. His scrotum is a bit fuller
though its occupants will soon fly upwards as a consequence of the
cool breeze crossing the stage.

Miss Hodkins was not the only admirer of the naked form on display.
Quite a few of the boys, particularly the more senior ones, were
enjoying the vista. They fell into three categories: those who felt
self disgust or guilt at admiring (lusting after) a male figure but
did so nonetheless, those who would prefer to ogle a female but given
the constraints of a boys' school would take what comes, and those, a
small minority even by English public school standards, who dreamt
about fondling a body such as this but never dared admit it (these
latter sublimated their desires in manly games such as rugby, talking
incessantly about women, and masturbating to mental images of boys in
the fourth form.) In addition to the spinster and the unrestrained
adolescent boys at least three masters, one of whom was married, were
having unsettling thoughts too.

Dr de Ville, who, though he dare not admit it, got more of a thrill
from reading Ovid than from sex, was unaware of the interesting
chemistry and pheromones (unknown at that time) that his theatrical
event was invoking. He looked toward the naked form of Atkins, as
sexually uninteresting to him as the carcass of a sheep, and said
"Atkins is being punished mainly for his part, admittedly a
subordinate one, in the deception that led to the wrongful expulsion
of Wilkins. His crime was mendacity through a sin of omission. He
shall receive six strokes of the birch laid on hard."

Dr de Ville turned toward Wilkins and said "Get him into position if
you please."

Wilkins stepped forward and stood beside Atkins. He noticed, as had
Miss Hodkins through her opera glasses, that Atkins' eyes were very
moist. He placed his right arm across Atkins bare shoulder and
whispered "Come, it will soon be over". He gently turned Atkins and
led him toward the dreaded birching stool. To Atkins the journey
seemed almost infinite, yet it was just a few steps.

The assembled throng had a view of Atkins from the rear. Previously it
was noted that Atkins' bottom "was muscular and very well rounded".
The passage of time had done nothing to diminish this asset. If
anything, Atkins' bottom protruded a little more and the upwards and
downwards motions of his buttocks as he approached the "stool"
delighted the aficionados in the audience. Quite a few boys in the
audience, and one master, had felt a stirring in their trousers. So
too, did Drummond, Petreson, Melrose and Smith. Fanshaw, whose
interests were genuinely towards girls, was not immune on this
occasion either.

Atkins was a foot away from the "stool" with Fanshaw on one side and
Wilkins the other. Wilkins placed a hand on Atkins' shoulder and bade
him kneel. Atkins did so and leant forward a little so that he was
touching the upward curve of the "stool". Fanshaw immediately realised
that the base of the stool was too low. He asked Atkins to stand again
and adjusted the base of the stool upward. Atkins resumed his
position.

Fanshaw and Wilkins exchanged glances. The covert message was "Do you
do it or do I?" Wilkins' message somehow conveyed the idea that he was
the senior and that the unpleasant task was being delegated to the
junior. Fanshaw nodded but managed to convey "You do it next time."
The prefects knelt beside Atkins. Fanshaw insinuated his hand to where
Atkins' penis and balls dangled. Gently he grasped Atkins equipment
and made sure it was safely stowed in the crevice in the "stool".
Atkins gasped, his member stiffened.

While Fanshaw was tucking away Atkins' crown jewels Wilkins was easing
Atkins body up and over the top of the "stool". Finally, Atkins was
positioned such that his crotch was in intimate contact with the front
of the apparatus and his belly and chest were on the downward slope.
Fanshaw and Wilkins moved to the front and guided Atkins' hands to the
bar that he was to grip. Atkins was sobbing softly. Wilkins placed his
hand gently on Atkins back and whispered "You can bear it." Then he
and Fanshaw place their hands gently on Atkins' left and right
shoulders respectively. Each was ready to tighten his grip
considerably as the blows rained down.

While Atkins was being positioned the PE master had risen from his
seat and walked over to the barrel. The barrel was in Atkins' line of
vision. He saw the master look at the labels on the protruding rods.
The master selected one and withdrew it. Atkins had sight of a
monstrous birch, a birch dripping saline (Atkins thought it was
water). Still within Atkins' sight the master flicked the birch
vigorously in order to throw off excess liquid. Atkins experienced
true fear.

Dr de Ville had decided that he must share the burden. Although his
shoulder seemed fully recovered he did not wish to risk a relapse.
Thus he had concluded that he would give only the last two strokes in
each case except for Smith who would be dealt with differently. The
other two masters on the stage would give the majority of strokes.
There were further advantages to this tactic: the other masters were
younger and thus could apply brute force better than he, yet with his
batting skill and extensive experience of administering corporal
punishment he could employ finesse in making the last two strokes
particularly painful. So it would be.

Atkins heard the master walk round behind him. He felt the grip on his
shoulders by the prefects increase slightly. He grasped the bar before
him more tightly. He felt sweat break out on his back. He felt his
penis, which had enlarged when handled (gently it must be said) by
Fanshaw go rapidly fully erect: so erect that it was rubbing
potentially painfully and certainly erotically against its confining
walls. His breathing almost stopped. He waited.

"Proceed please" said Dr de Ville.

He waited.

Footsteps as of someone walking away from him.

The footsteps stopped.

The slight squeal of leather as someone turned around rapidly.

Silence.

Suddenly he became fully aware of his taught, well spread, buttocks,
his vulnerable buttocks. Perhaps it was a breath of cool air caressing
them that brought about this realisation. Immediately, he felt immense
shame and embarrassment. Here he was with his bum, and probably his
[censored] hole, fully exposed to an audience. Since assuming this position
he had not been aware of his audience. The audience was silent, too
silent.

From behind he heard someone take in a great gasp of air. He hear
motion, footfalls, a scuffing sound as of someone running who had
suddenly stopped.

Brief silence.

A swish. Getting louder. Oh no!

Contact.

Miss Hodkins had been enthralled as she watched Atkins being led into
position. She had watched his buttocks rise and fall as he was taken
to the "stool". They were so pale, so untouched. When they moved she
saw them ripple, the ripple of active young muscle, little of fat.

He had bent and then knelt at the foot of the idol that was to consume
him in pain. When he knelt his legs had spread and his buttocks had
parted and expanded in volume. The lively young haunches had diverged,
within the view of her opera glasses, to reveal the portal to his
ultimate degradation. Yet that portal was not to be explored today.
Rather, it was the fleshy mounds that surrounded it that were to be
laced by fire. Miss Hodkins had not understood the latter observations
in an intellectual sense but at a deeper, visceral level, she absorbed
their import.

But, the boy had been bidden to rise. Yet satisfyingly soon he was
down again and his position was somehow yet more pleasing. Now he was
truly embracing the idol. His buttocks were raised high and tight, his
chest and abdomen were pressed firmly against the smooth woody flesh
of his seductress. The acolytes of this goddess of pain were gently
holding his shoulders. The boy seemed content and waiting.

Yet, whilst these thoughts were passing through her mind the spinster
saw the harbinger of pain pick a rod of agony from amongst, what
seemed to her fevered brain to be, a barrel of spitting vipers, flex
it and then withdraw behind the body of the sacrificial victim. Oh,
how she yearned for the boy to rear up in pain. Oh, how she wanted to
be the bearer of his suffering. Oh, how she wanted to bring the wrath
of a thousand gods upon all the members of the sex that had spurned
her.

(Author's note: I am finding it exceedingly difficult keeping up with
the overheated imagination of Miss Hodkins. I admit that I created
this character but she is getting out of hand; I shall turn to a
different camera angle; perhaps I shall come back to the spinster
later but I need to cool my now feverish brow before trying to enter
her head again.)

Hetherington was sitting a third of the way back from the stage. He
had a clear view of the proceedings without having to crane his neck
uncomfortably. He and one other were the only participants who knew
what being birched was like. He unlike the other, Wilkins, was the
only one who knew what it was like to be birched in public. His
viewpoint was detached, perhaps clinical is the better word. He took
an almost professional interest. He had seen Atkins led into position.
He had observed the hiccup when it was obvious that Atkins' position
was incorrect. He had seen Atkins' position adjusted. He had seen the
apparent fumbling as Atkins was finally put in place. He knew what
Fanshaw had been required to do. He knew how Atkins felt about what
Fanshaw had been required to do. He surmised what the effect on Atkins
of Fanshaw's manipulations had been. He watched with bated breath as
the master, birch in hand, had stepped back, had turned, had raised
the birch high and then taken quick steps forward with the birch
arcing swiftly toward its target. He knew what Atkins felt as he heard
the awful swish before the birch made contact. He knew what contact
meant.

At that instant Atkins too knew what contact meant: initially nothing.
The force of the blow swept him bodily forward despite the fact that
he had little freedom of movement. His first sensation was not in his
bum. The initial pain was from the tip of his erect penis, the
foreskin having fully retracted, as it was thrust hard against the end
of the cleft in the "stool" that housed the organs of his pudenda. It
was only after his body had rebounded from the outward thrust that he
became aware that anything was amiss in his buttocks. That realisation
was sudden.

Smith, at the far end of the line of youths awaiting punishment, was
well placed to view Atkins' face. He saw the birch descend forcefully
upon Atkins' rear although he could not see the shapely bottom itself.
Smith heard a loud wet thwack. Briefly, after the moment of contact,
Atkins' wore a puzzled expression. Rapidly, even as the birch was
being lifted away from his rear after having rested there a few
instants, Atkins' face contorted. His arm, back and abdominal muscles
tensed as his body attempted to rise upwards but his movement was
restricted to a couple of inches by the now fierce pressure of the
prefects upon his shoulders. Atkins yelled once and then lapsed into
silence. His body, under the now gentler encouragement of the
prefects, subsided to its previous position. Atkins resumed a grip,
now tighter, of the wooden bar in front of him. His facial expression
relaxed somewhat but remained tense.

Johann had watched that first stroke rain down with terror in his
heart, almost as if he were at the receiving end. Perhaps the terror
was accentuated because he knew he would soon be a recipient, an
unwilling worshipper at the alter of pain. He saw contact made, he
heard the contact made (a sound that would remain with him for the
rest of his life), he saw the birch being withdrawn, he saw Atkins'
body tense, he heard the yell.

As the PE master slowly resumed his starting position changes to
Atkins' previously pristine bottom became apparent. A tracery of fine
red lines was forming across his mid and lower buttocks. They didn't
look much yet but Johann knew that if left to themselves they would
become more vivid. They were not to be left; they would be added to
and criss-crossed as more blows fell. Johann also knew that,
particularly at the points of crossing, overt bleeding was apt to
occur. It would be no dramatic flow of blood that needed staunching:
it would be a capillary ooze. Johann also knew that bits of twiglet
would be left embedded in the flesh and that their removal later by
Matron would be painful. Johann wanted to close his eyes, to see no
more. Yet he realised that the sounds on their own would be more
terrifying.

Although Atkins had witnessed a birching before and heard many tales
of it he had, until that first blow, no real understanding of how
painful it was, of how unbelievably more painful than routine
chastisement by Dr de Ville (or indeed by Smith). After the blow had
landed there had been an instant of no pain; Atkins' momentary worry
had been the discomfort in the end of his penis. The pain didn't
trickle in, it cascaded as in a flash flood. One moment nothing, the
next coruscating pain. Even though the pain came suddenly it did not
ease rapidly. Indeed, for a few moments agony crescendoed upwards from
a high starting point to reach an unthinkable pinnacle (a bit like a
crazy conductor at the loudest point of The Rite of Spring suddenly
ratchetting up his orchestra's volume fivefold from what would usually
be thought safe for the players' and audience's hearing.)

Atkins' yell was muted in comparison to the surprise and pain the blow
had elicited. It was as if his capacity to express his feelings had
been overwhelmed by those feelings. He wasn't trying to be brave, he
knew there was no point.

Atkins was vaguely aware of the damp twigs being lifted from his
behind and the footsteps of the master retreating to his spring-off
point. The pain had diminished sufficiently from its peak for Atkins'
cognition to switch in again. Akins had the capacity for fear returned
to him. He knew another blow would come, he knew it would be agony,
but he didn't know when. Obviously it would happen within the next few
seconds but Atkins would prefer to know exactly when; Atkins wanted to
prepare, to gather such fortitude as he might, to tense at the right
moment. Yet Atkins could not see what was happening behind him. For
knowledge he relied on sound (footsteps and the anticipatory swish)
and the tensing of the prefects grip upon his shoulders. In those
waiting moments he had time for an irrelevant thought: wouldn't it be
so much better if the master applying the birch were to ask his victim
to say when he was ready to receive each blow? Oddly, that thought
remained with Atkins when his ordeal was over.

Drummond, who now was first in line and had his hands on his head,
didn't feel at all well. Already there was sweat on his back. His
feelings were mixed as he watched the PE master raise the birch and
begin his hop-skip-and-jump like movement towards his friend's exposed
rear. On the one hand Drummond wanted it to end. On the other hand he
wanted it to go on forever so that his turn would never come.

The birch made very firm contact. The thwack sound was much less
squishy as the twigs had shed most of their saline. As before, Atkins
was pushed forcibly forward. As before, he tensed and vainly
attempted, in a reflex manner, to rear up. As before he yelled. Not as
before, the yell was shrill, loud and protracted. Atkins settled back
down but muffled sobs could be heard by those on the stage as the PE
master prepared for his next sortie.

Miss Hodkins was experiencing very strange feelings as the PE master
prepared and delivered his next stoke. The repressed maternal part of
her found it horrifying. The man-hating element found it fascinating.
Her virginal repressed sexuality found it delicious; indeed she was
feeling distinctly damp within her knickers; perhaps her true vocation
should have been dominatrix.

Adlington minor, a character whom we have not yet met and with whom we
shall be acquainted only briefly, was sitting a few seats down the row
from Miss Hodkins. He was thirteen and a three quarter years old and
in the most junior form. He and the other juniors had been excluded
from Hetherington's birching. Of course they had all heard the gory
details later but that was not the same as witnessing the event.
Adlington wasn't quite sure why they were being allowed to see this
one; he recollected something about the Headmaster saying that this
was to be an example of the consequences of "mendacity" but he wasn't
sure what mendacity was; presumably it was a much worse sin than
masturbation – a hobby that Adlington had recently taken up in a big
way. He was both intrigued by and fearful of the proceedings. He never
wanted to end up with his naked bum stuck in the air and beaten with
such a fearsome instrument. Yet, there might be some satisfaction in
being the wielder of the instrument. Adlington resolved to put being a
school master among his career options.

After the fourth blow Atkins let out a tremendous yell. It was
followed by loud racking sobs audible throughout the hall. His entire
bottom was visibly ablaze. From more than three feet away the
individual traceries were invisible: they merged into a general
lividity. The redness extended to his upper thighs and a little to the
side of Atkins' left hip where the tips of the most distal birch twigs
had curled round.

Atkins' pain was centred on his bottom but it seemed to encompass his
entire body. His flesh felt alive with dashing fires. The effects of
the saline had kicked in. Anyone near enough could see involuntary
ripples (accompanied, or rather prompted, by pain) running across
Atkins' gluteal structure.

Atkins' mind had numbed but not enough to diminish pain nor to dampen
all thought. Atkins was aware of a pause. There wasn't the sound of
the PE master returning, as on the previous three occasions, to his
starting position. Instead he seemed to be walking further away. For
an instant Atkins dreaded that this was in order to take a longer run
for a much more powerful swing. Then Atkins realised that the distance
walked would have resulted in the master falling off the stage. Then
he heard the PE master say "Headmaster".

Hope welled into Atkins' mind. Was it over? Had they decided that he
had had enough? Most surely he had.

Hope was dashed when he heard the Headmaster say "Thank you, I shall
take it from here." He heard footsteps approaching the spot behind his
rear where the PE master had stood before.

The audience had been utterly silent to this point. The Headmaster's
intervention in the drama had its usual effect of pushing silence into
negative decibels: sound was sucked from the room.

Dr de Ville, in his heyday, was an unusual cricketer in that he was
equally adept using left or right arm in batting and bowling. "Ambi
Ville", as he was known on the pitch and in the pavilion, caused
consternation among the opposing team by suddenly switching from left
to right hand. This was to be another such occasion though the
consternation, rather pain, would be felt by Atkins and those to
follow.

The PE master was wholly right handed. Thus Dr de Ville decided to
deliver his two blows left handed. In that way the birch would surely
reach parts which hadn't hitherto been explored with full force. This
was not an act of cruelty. It was merely a consequence of the
Headmaster's determination that these punishments would be soundly
administered and remembered by the school community. Indeed, if
mendacity and abuse of power were to be eradicated this day's events
must become integral to the Thistletop mythology of boys yet to attend
the school. Dr de Ville looked grim as he flexed the birch and
approached his starting point.

Meanwhile the cat was lying on its back in the school grounds having
its tummy tickled by Mr Pilchard. Said man had made many birches but
had never seen one used in anger. He didn't much care to. Though he
came from abominable genetic stock and was not too bright he was a
kindly man. He could not understand why the gentry treated their sons
so harshly. However, as already mentioned, no Pilchard had ever
extended the British Empire or done an act of derring-do.

Drummond was beyond unhappiness. Two strokes to go and it would be his
turn. He had heard each of Atkins' increasingly loud cries. He could
see the Technicolor (a format only recently on show in British
cinemas) effects of the birch on his friend's posterior and those were
after only four strokes. Somewhere in the deeper recesses of his mind
a brighter side was found: nothing had stirred in his shorts, though
it might had he been a dispassionate member of the audience, and he
would not embarrass himself in that respect. His primary emotion was
fear. His shoulders, though he was not aware, were slippery with
sweat, that would bring little joy to the prefects who were to hold
him down. Also, though nothing had stirred below there was plenty of
sweat on his wedding tackle and that would bring no pleasure to
Wilkins whose turn it would be to position them.

Dr de Ville's first (left handed) swing resulted in a mighty swish and
a resounding thwack. Atkins was thrust more forcibly into the embrace
of the "stool" than on previous occasions. The subsequent
constrictions of his muscles were much more marked. He let forth a
scream that slowly subsided into deep sobs. Between the sobs the
prefects restraining him heard him gasp "Please, no more!"

Drummond was feeling distinctly worse and had begun to tremble.
Johann's face became ashen. Melrose and Thorpe, looking on in horror,
each felt weak at the knees. Dobson had retreated into an internal
hell, his eyes moist and his lips moving in half formed soft sobs.
Only Smith appeared to possess poise. He alone had not adopted a
slouching stance at attention. He stood fully upright with his gaze
fixed, apparently dispassionately, on the awful work being wrought by
the birch. Although he couldn't see Atkins posterior, the yells, and
now scream, and the expression on Atkins' face told him all he needed
to know. Smith's demeanour was deceptive: he had already deduced the
torment that twelve, nay ultimately twenty four, strokes would bring;
he hoped fervently that no more than two strokes would be inflicted by
Dr de Ville; he almost begged God, the one who didn't exist for Smith,
that Dr De Ville's shoulders would give out again; had he so begged,
God would not have been listening – how could he if one does not exist
in Smith's cosmos?

The final blow resulted in a yet louder scream. There had been no
discomforting twinge in the Headmaster's left shoulder. Dr de Ville
handed the birch back to the PE master and returned to his seat. The
PE master placed the birch on the floor next to the barrel.

Wilkins and Fanshaw slowly eased a stiff and painful Atkins, who was
now blubbing without check, into standing position. Wilkins signalled
to two prefects sitting in the front row of the auditorium. They arose
and hurried up the steps to the stage. Atkins was given into the care
of the prefects who helped Atkins in a slow descent of the steps and
on the long walk to the doors at the far end of the hall. Neither
Atkins nor the others were to be spared, by egress through the doors
at the back of the stage, the long ignominious parade through the
audience.

Atkins was barely aware of the many faces that gazed upon him as he
stumbled down the aisle. Those closest to him as he passed could see
that Atkins' body was drenched in sweat. Atkins made no attempt to
cover his crotch; there was little to see as his organs, usually
impressive for his age, seemed to have shrivelled up. To the near
onlookers the tracery of birch twig marks was apparent all over
Atkins' rump and upper thighs; all that people further away could see
was an expanse of crimson. Those nearer were treated to the spectacle
of twitches and ripples on Atkins' behind. Also, many small beads, and
in places smears, of blood were visible on the ravaged buttocks and
thighs.

To be continued. (All commercial rights to the Thistletop stories are
retained by their author.)

This story is HOT
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