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Incredible but true: So, of home life I had absolutely none; I lived in an expensive institution and had to make the best of it. But it was not all bad, for I had some congenial schoolmates and overall, I was not unhappy: However, when I finally left Sheldon aged eighteen and a half, I had no clear idea what my future life would be. Chapter 2 The Sheldon Academy was run by an expatriate Brit, who himself was a product of the old style English public school system. He had run this establishment on the same lines for over thirty years and saw himself as a sort of God, to put fear into the hearts of his pupils.
He came, apparently, from a very upper, upper English background and rejoiced in the name of Ambrose Archibold Cedric Woodderowffe Pryce. That's a master's degree from the University of Cambridge, England, in case you did not know. Yes you've got it; that was his name, with that ridiculous collection of double letters, which was pronounced, so he drilled into us, Woodruff Priss. With typical English upper-class disdain for any pronunciation which bore even a vague resemblance to its spelling, even the simple name of Pryce, was, according to him, pronounced as Priss.
Of course, Price, spelt with an I instead of a Y is a common enough name, but Woody's version was with a Y. The upper class Brits were truly experts in the art of transmogrification! But I am sure you can image what we boys called him.
There were two versions of his nick name; one was Woody Piss and the other Woody Prick. Once one had got to know the man better, Woody Prick was the one that stuck, as this character really was a prick of the first water and most of us lads referred to him as 'the Prick', which led to the undoing of one of my close friends, but more of that in due time.. Life at Sheldon was not all that bad. Some of the teachers were great and really enjoyed their jobs, which they saw as their true vocation.
Others were just there to earn a living and were really indifferent about their work. One or two were downright awful in their treatment of their charges, among whom a man called Clarence Simmons, Slimy we called him, who was the PT and games master and was easily the worst. This character was a slimy little bastard, who loved to go around the gym classes, hitting his pupils across the arse with a short strap he always carried. We guessed he had some special arrangement with the Prick as, according to the school rules, only the Headmaster was allowed to administer corporal punishment, but somehow Slimy managed to get away with slapping all and sundry with his strap during the gym lessons.
And let me tell you that although I refer to it now as a slap, it really hurt! He was, moreover, an utter sneak and reported any misdemeanour as he saw it straight to the Prick. Now, at this time, corporal punishment in schools had not been abolished in the USA, but it was rarely used in the state schools. Not so with the Prick, who was running a private fee paying school. He was a great believer in the old school methods and was ready too ready, many thought to wield his cane across any miscreant's arse. By the time I was sixteen I had had my arse whacked by him three times, but this was par for the course, for there was a regular stream of pupils entering his office for punishment on Friday afternoons.go to link
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The Prick was a real martinet with a strong sadistic streak and he seized upon even the most minor misdemeanour to thrash the errant pupil's arse. Looking back on things now, I believe it was thrashing his pupils' naked arses that really made his day. Not a week went by but what some poor unfortunate lads had to drop their pants and let the Prick whack their naked butts.
This happened at what the Prick called Punishment Parade', a concept he had somehow picked up from the British army cadet schools. Masters who felt a boy needed correction for some misdemeanour, filled in a slip which the miscreant then handed to the school secretary, a dried up old trout called Miss Pimlott, who produced the weekly list of those who were to attend punishment parade. This was psychologically a horrible system, as instead of getting his arse beaten immediately, a boy who had received a slip, say on a Monday, had the mental agony of having to wait until Friday afternoon before receiving his punishment.
All of us, I am sure, would have much preferred to take an immediate beating and get the thing over with. But that was not the way things worked at Sheldon and come Friday afternoon there was usually a line of boys waiting at the door of the Headmaster's study to have their backsides beaten. Another feature of these beating sessions was that Slimy always seemed to be in attendance to assist the Prick in his ministrations.
I now have to turn to my own development.
By the time I was eighteen I realized that my sexual orientation was towards other boys and that I really had little interest in girls - not that any of us had much opportunity to fraternise with members of the opposite sex; there just were not any around. I was, in fact, in spite of being a keen athlete and a regular use of the school gym, at the end of the day a very timid character. I told no one of my sexual orientation, although some of my classmates must have guessed, as I never entered into their interminable discussions about girls and what they might do with them given half a chance, an event which never materialized, of course, as there were no girls around.
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As I mentioned earlier I was a keen athlete and made regular use of the gym and its facilities beyond the usual physical training classes supervised by Slimy. There is not great privacy for the pupils in a private school run on the British lines, and all of us showered together every morning and after every gym session so that we were all totally accustomed to seeing each other naked. As time passed and we all moved towards manhood, it became increasingly evident that I was developing a more muscular body than any of my class mates. But even more noteworthy was that my cock was growing at an enormous rate.
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We went back to his place and he was doing heroin while I went in the bathroom to douche myself. When I came back he was sitting on the couch doped up. I asked to what degree, and he jumped on me and began to choke me furiously for two minutes. I kicked my legs and tried to escape. Afterwards he immediately apologised and I ran without even trying to get the other half of the money. Are there any particularly pleasurable experiences you can recall?
What kinds of interactions turn you on? Physically it turns me off, but the instant gratification of the monetary aspect of it causes that rush I mentioned earlier.
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