Hartswood Priory - Introduction
by Pink Panther
Introduction
It's another warm, sunny day in late September. We're having s real Indian summer this year; the weather's been like this since the start of the new term. Today being Tuesday, it's my turn to do lunch break duty. As I work every other lunchtime taking the choir or the wind-band, walking around the school making sure that the boys aren't getting into mischief is almost like relaxation, particularly on a day like today.
I've taught here at Hartswood Priory Boys' Preparatory School for just over fifteen years, ever since I graduated. It's not a priory at all, of course. It was built as a private house back in the early nineteenth century by a wealthy industrialist with delusions of grandeur. He had it built in the Gothic revivalist style, as though that might suggest some sort of long and noble ancestry. Needless to say he had nothing of the sort; he was a self-made man, just like most of his fellows. It became a school about a hundred years later. These days we have one hundred and fifty boys aged from eight to thirteen, most of whom move on to some of the best, most famous schools in the country. The fees here are not cheap; all the parents of our boys are all well-to-do, mainly successful professionals, lawyers, doctors, senior civil servants, that sort of thing.
It suits me perfectly. The atmosphere is calm and relaxed, insulated from the hustle and bustle of the world outside, and the sheer grubbiness of it all. Things have changed so fast over these fifteen years, what with the explosion in pop music and fashion, the so-called sexual revolution, free love, flower power and student riots, all of which would have been unthinkable when I was growing up. Here, though, life goes on much as it ever did. Oh, there is one other thing. I like boys. I like their energy and enthusiasm, their mischievousness, their loyalty to each other. It goes further than that, of course. In my eyes, some of the boys we have here are among the sexiest, most beautiful creatures in creation.
Now don't misunderstand; while sexual activity among the boys is very common, most of it goes no further than mutual masturbation, Sex between boys and masters does happen, but it is far from being the norm. Don't get the idea that I can have sex with any boy who takes my fancy; that is not the case at all. This is not like one of those schools for wayward boys where the staff can do almost as they please. Our boys are, for the most part, self-confident and articulate. Any unwanted advances are certain to be rebuffed, with dire consequences to follow. Not consequences of the legal sort, the school would not want the publicity, but one would be asked to leave, and would find it virtually impossible to obtain a similar post elsewhere.
But there are boys who welcome a liaison with one of their teachers; for me it is very much a matter of reading the signals and acting with discretion. I've had a series of wonderful relationships during my time here with some of sexiest, most beautiful boys I could ever hope to meet. As long as it's what the boy wants and you both keep quiet about it, there's no problem. People know what's going on, of course; they simply look the other way. My most recent relationship ended in July when Leo Johnston left. He'd won a music scholarship to Sherborne, a superb achievement. What a delightful boy he was! Tall and slim, with intense blue eyes, long, straw-coloured hair and a most beautiful smile; an excellent musician too, better than I could ever have been. He played the trumpet like an angel. He had an infectious curiosity about everything to do with the instrument. It was Leo that introduced me to the music of some of the great jazz trumpeters, such as Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis. I didn't discourage him; I would never do that. My job is to open minds, not close them.
I could give him the time, the attention, the affection he was so woefully starved of at home. It was only a short time before we both discovered that he loved sex. He loved to be kissed; he loved to be stroked and fondled; he loved to have his penis sucked, but most of all he loved to be fucked. Specifically, he loved to be fucked by me. It was what we both wanted, so it is what we did. We cried a little when he said goodbye, but life moves on. At his senior school there will be no shortage of senior boys more than happy to meet his needs as far as sex is concerned, maybe a few of the masters too.
I spot him almost as soon as I round the corner, Peter Cranham, age twelve years and a few days, with a cigarette between his fingers. He rather theatrically drops it on the floor as I approach him.
"Well Peter, what did you have there?" I ask sharply.
"Nothing, sir."
"Really? Then my eyes must be playing tricks on me. Turn out your pockets."
He empties the pockets of his shorts; a handkerchief, a few coins and two more cigarettes. I take them from him.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Peter," I tell him. You're an intelligent young man who ought to know better. Go and stand outside the music room; I'll deal with you shortly."
He heads off in the direction of my little empire as I continue my patrol. I might easily dismiss this incident as just another minor infraction, but I don't. There is something odd going on; it's almost as though he wanted me to catch him. He knows what will happen next; I'll give him three strokes of the cane, the same as we do with all minor miscreants. Is that what he wants? Perhaps he enjoys being caned. It's a possibility, but I've no knowledge of him being in trouble like this before, so I'm guessing there may be more to it than that. Maybe it's something else he's looking for. It's an unusual line of approach, but all my previous liaisons have been with musicians of one sort or another. Peter doesn't play an instrument and his voice can barely hold a tune. There would have been no opportunity for us to just gravitate towards each other, which is the way all my previous relationships have started.
It's not an unwelcome possibility though; I've never paid him that much attention before, but he is very cute, just under five feet tall, slim without being skinny, and light brown hair worn fashionably, but not excessively long. I indulged myself in the Far East during the long summer holiday, but after several weeks without anything, sex with Peter is a most appealing prospect. It will create one problem though, if it is to be more than an occasional occurrence. I'll need to find a reason for him to be around the music room on his own at different points during the week; otherwise it would be too blatant, which would never do. It's that word discretion again; you can do what you like as long as you keep it quiet. Remember the eleventh commandment: "Thou shalt not be found out." These days it's the only one that seems to matter. I complete my patrol and stride off towards the music room, trying to keep my hormones in check. After all, I might have got this completely wrong.
He's standing exactly where I told him to be. I unlock the door an usher him inside.
"Well, young man," I say sternly. "You know the punishment for being caught smoking."
"Yes sir."
"Right! Bend over the music stand!"
He does as I've told him. I select a cane from my cupboard, not an onerous task as I only have two. I move into position.
"Perhaps this will give you a little more respect for the rules and a little more respect for your own health," I tell him.
I give him the first stroke, making sure not to make it too hard. He barely flinches. I make the second one a good bit harder.
"Ohh!" he whimpers.
That seems about right; I make the third stroke just about the same as the second, producing another audible reaction.
"Right! You can stand up now!" I say, trying to sound as businesslike as possible.
He stands upright and turns towards me. The boy is sporting a raging erection that he is not making the slightest attempt to hide. I smile at him.
"Well, Peter, it seems that you have something else that needs taking care of. You'd better bend over again!"
He resumes his previous position over the music stand.
"Move back a little!" I tell him. He shuffles backwards.
I take a good look at my prize. One recent development that I do not regret is the passing of the unattractive, knee-length shorts that were the norm when I was Peter's age. Our boys wear shorts that extend only a few inches below the crotch, exposing a considerable expanse of thigh, and when the thighs in question belong to someone as cute as Peter Cranham, that is a beautiful sight indeed. I reach around his waist, undo the clip at the top of his shorts and pull down the zip. I ease my fingers inside the waistband; the shorts fall around his ankles, exposing the compulsory white briefs.
I examine them carefully. There's a tell-tale stain; somebody else has been where I'm expecting to go. Not my colleague Jim Cooper, the games master; the stain is too small and pale. In any case Jim's been fucking William Lawrence for over a year, William, a slender blond boy with impossibly long legs who occasionally plays on the wing in the rugby team, sprinter, hurdler, high jumper, all-round star athlete. I've envied Jim these past few weeks having such a beautiful boy to fuck. Not today though; today Peter Cranham is all mine. So not Jim Cooper and probably not any of my other colleagues either. One of the older boys then, but who?
I reach around and feel Peter's slim penis throbbing inside the soft material. I hook my thumbs inside the waistband and gently pull them down so that they're just below his knees. His bottom is glowing red where I've just caned him. I pull his cheeks apart. The area to on either side of his anus is red too; a sure sign of the attention it's been getting. As if to make certain, he relaxes the sphincter which opens up invitingly. I take the tube of lubricant from its hiding place in my desk and work some into him.
"Ooh sir!" he gasps. "Are you going to bum me? I like being bummed!"
"Yes Peter," I reply quietly, "that's exactly what I'm going to do."
I apply some lubricant to my thick six and a half inch penis and move into position. With one well-practised thrust I'm right inside him.
"Ooh sir!" Peter gasps again. "Your thing's so big!"
"But it's not the first one you've had up there, is it Peter?" I ask. "So who else has been fucking you?"
He doesn't answer.
"I'm going to find out, so you might as well tell me. Don't worry, he won't be in any trouble; I just want to know."
"Robert Shearsby, sir."
Hmmmm! So the school Rugby captain like to fuck younger boys, does he? Well, well, well! Robert's a good looking boy, outgoing and self-confident, a good student and an outstanding athlete. He's hardly what most people would think of as the obvious candidate, except I know better. So the youngest son of Her Majesty's ambassador to Mexico is being fucked by the son of a Colonel in the British Army. The newspapers would have a field day if they found out. They won't, of course.
I pull back so that just the glans remains inside him then thrust forward again, penetrating him a little further than I did the first time.
"Ooh sir!" he whimpers.
"Do you like having my penis inside you, Peter?"
"Oh yes, sir!" he responds eagerly.
"So what about the cigarettes?" I ask.
"Robert gave them to me; he got them from Toby. Toby likes bumming too."
That is no surprise. I know exactly who Toby is; Toby Redman, currently the school's chief rebel and number one troublemaker; highly intelligent and an excellent student in some areas but extremely troublesome. Very cute in his way, though.
"So does Toby fuck you as well?"
"Sometimes, but he's got his own boy."
"And who's that?"
"Ian."
"Ian?"
"Ian Scott-Wilson."
Now that is a total surprise. Ian is only ten, no more than average height for his age, slim and very cute. He's a really sweet-natured boy too, an absolute picture of boyhood innocence. Only he's not; he's getting fucked by the school's biggest troublemaker. It's been an eye-opening couple of minutes. Not only is the son of an army colonel fucking the son of our ambassador in Mexico, the son of a High Court judge is being fucked by the reprobate son of an eminent heart surgeon. What would the lower orders make of that? It's as well that they don't know. And what happens to these boys when they grow up? Most of them put all this behind them, marry girls from good families and have kids of their own. Most but not all; a few of us become schoolmasters and the like. We go back to work in the environment that produced us, and so the cycle continues.
"Ian loves getting bummed," Peter tells me, jolting me back to the present. "He loves to suck too."
"Really?"
"Yes sir. Last week we got together, all four of us. I bummed him first, then he sucked Robert off while Toby bummed him. Toby spunked inside him; Robert spunked in his mouth and he swallowed it."
"Hmmm! It sounds like you boys know more than you should at your age!" I say, smiling broadly, imagining the scene he's just been describing. I certainly can't fault Robert and Toby's taste in boys. Peter and Ian are two of the cutest you could ever meet.
"So are you ready to have my spunk inside you?" I ask.
"Oh yes sir!"
I set to work. Despite all the attention Robert and Toby have been giving him, Peter is still beautifully tight. I work up to a nice rhythm, in, out, in, out, fucking him deeper and harder with every stroke, his quiet moaning spurring me on to even greater efforts. I reach down and take hold of his penis, a fraction under four inches long, uncut and extremely hard. His breathing shortens noticeably.
"Oh sir! My spunk's going to squirt!"
I continue to fondle him as his body is overtaken by powerful muscle spasms, his bottom clamping my erection even tighter. A moment later his penis comes to life between my fingers, little jets of sticky fluid spurting into my hand. I massage it into his groin.
I'm rapidly building towards my own climax, the intensity increasing with every second. I shudder violently, gripping the boy around the thighs in order to stay upright. My balls tighten; instinctively I thrust my penis fully into him. In an instant it swells and jerks wildly inside his beautiful young body. My semen surges powerfully through, flooding out into Peter's anus in a series of thick wads. I am completely exhausted. It's the first really satisfying orgasm I've had since my holiday, and it beats any that I had there by miles. I feel totally at peace with the world. The prospect of being able to have sex with Peter on a regular basis for most of the next two years makes life seem very sweet indeed.
After a few moments to recover my composure I carefully withdraw. Peter's anus is twitching uncontrollably. A small amount of semen escapes and trickles down between his legs.
"Did you enjoy that, Peter?" I enquire.
"Oh yes sir!"
The enthusiasm in his voice is all I need to hear. We'll do this again; there's no doubt about that. The problem remains though.
"So you'd like to do this again?"
"Yes sir!"
"That's wonderful!" I tell him. "We'll have to be careful though; you're not a musician; people might wonder why you're coming here in your own time."
"Oh we don't need to do it here," he responds brightly. "There's a place that Toby and Robert use. Toby's got a key; he'll let me borrow it if I ask him."
I guess that alarm bells must be ringing in my head, but I'm so enamoured of this beautiful, sexy boy I simply don't hear them.
"Okay, so where's that, then?"
"Will you be here tomorrow evening, sir?"
"I can be; I've nothing much else to do."
"Meet me after supper, about half past seven, by the art room."
"Very well, I'll be there. Now you'd better get yourself cleaned up before you go to your afternoon lessons."
He grins at me. "Okay sir! But I've got to mess my pants a bit, so they'll know you've done it. Toby and Robert had a bet. Toby said you'd do it; Robert said you wouldn't, so Toby's won."
He pulls up his briefs and his shorts and heads off to the boys' room just a few yards away. The thought of Toby and Robert placing bets on whether I'd fuck the boy or not ought to be rather unsettling, but I'm so elated after what just happened I completely dismiss it.
After band practice I spend an hour marking books, a job I normally do at home. It's time for supper. I wander through to the refectory. I spend the time chatting to colleagues. I make an excuse that after band practice there were some things I needed to sort out ready for tomorrow. Total rubbish, of course, but it serves its purpose.
Supper concludes and the room empties. It's seven o'clock. I've got half an hour to kill before my meeting with Peter. I head back to the music room. I'm so excited that I can't concentrate on anything, not that there's anything I really need to be doing. Excited because this is new territory; sure I've had plenty of sexual liaisons with boys during my time here, but never like this. This is risky, letting the boy take the lead in this way, but it's an opportunity I simply cannot turn down. I'd been expecting to have to work for months at developing a new relationship, instead of which it's been handed to me on a plate.
The time drags; my stomach is in a knot, I'm pacing round the room hardly knowing where to put myself. I check my watch one more time. It's seven twenty six, time to go. I stroll along towards the art room, trying to appear as casual as possible. Inside, my heart is pounding so loud that it's a wonder the whole school can't hear it. I turn the corner and reach the entrance to the art room. There's nobody to be seen. I stand there, feeling conspicuous and vulnerable, a thousand 'what ifs' flying through my brain. Less than a minute later Peter appears, smiling broadly. He is beautiful!
"Hi sir!" he whispers. "I was worried that you wouldn't come."
"Well, Peter," I tell him. "It's not the sort of opportunity I get every day."
He grins at me then heads off down the corridor towards the far end of the art room, beckoning for me to follow him. We reach the door of the Lower School trunk store. He fishes a key from the pocket of his shorts and looks around to make sure that there's nobody about. This is quite alarming; there are only supposed to be three keys to this room; the Head, the Deputy and the caretaker have one each. How Toby got hold of one I can't imagine, but I dismiss it. What does it matter?
Everything is completely quiet. He quickly unlocks the door, and makeshis way inside. I follow close behind. He flicks a switch, bathing the room in light. I close the door and he locks it behind us. The younger boys' trunks are stacked untidily on one side of the room. A foldaway bed has been set up against the opposite wall, the mattress covered in a white sheet. It even has a pillow with a clean pillow case. I wonder where these young rascals got these things? They probably purloined them from Matron's storeroom. With Toby Redman involved, just about anything is possible. I can hear a quiet whirring noise; I'm not sure what it is, a ventilation fan maybe. That seems a little odd, but it's hardly important. It seems a little odd too that a room like this should be so brightly lit, but that's not important either.
What is important is to make the most of the time we have together. We can't stay here too long, maybe twenty minutes or so. That's quite long enough, as long as we don't hang around. The first thing I want is to see young Peter completely naked. I begin to undress him. He seems perfectly happy to go along with that. I remove his shirt. His skin is so smooth and pale it has an almost translucent quality to it. He grins up at me.
"You've got to strip naked too!"
This is going even better than I expected it would. I remove his briefs and allow him to remove mine. Naked he seems even more beautiful. We sit on the bed and I wrap my arm around him. He smiles up at me. Our lips meet. Just incredible! He accepts my tongue in his mouth without a moment's protest. He reaches across and fondles my penis; his touch is electrifying. His is so sensuous; quite amazing for one so young. We lie back on the bed, still kissing passionately, his tongue darting between my lips and licking my teeth. I fondle his genitals. He is perfection!
Our kiss ends. I lick my way down his sexy body until I reach my prize. I take him fully into my mouth, sucking his throbbing penis slowly and gently, my tongue flicking out to slash at his balls. I retrieve the tube of KY from the pocket of my trousers and work some into his anus. He's squirming around on the bed, clearly enjoying every second of it. I remove my fingers and let him go. Without any prompting he goes down on me. His technique is unbelievable; pushing further and further down till his cute little nose is buried in my pubic hair, his tongue licking up and down the shaft and all over the exposed glans. If he keeps this up I'll ejaculate sooner than I want to.
"Oh, you'd better stop that now," I whisper. "I don't want to cum yet!"
He lets me go and snuggles up with me.
"I thought you said it was Ian who loved sucking," I whisper, ruffling his hair.
"He does!" he responds, eyes shining. "But I do too!" He give me another mischievous grin. "So are you going to bum me again, sir?"
"Would you like that?"
"Oh yes please!"
"So how can I say no?"
"Can we do it doggy, with me on all fours, I love that!"
"Of course we can!"
He gets into position, knees wide apart, his shoulders almost touching the mattress. I move in behind and penetrate him.
"Ooh sir! Ooh that's brilliant! Bum me sir, do it hard like you did yesterday!"
It's what he wants and it's what he's going to get. I fuck him with long, powerful thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in again. Gradually I increase the pace.
"Ooh sir! Ooh, I want to spunk!"
I reach down and fondle his penis. His whole body jerks and shudders like I just plugged his penis into the power socket. I keep playing with it as his boy-semen squirts onto the mattress. I'm completely taken over by lust, not even thinking any more. I grab the pillow, place it under him and push him down on top of it. Peter whimpers quietly as I fuck him unmercifully. A few more thrusts and I achieve the longest, most violent orgasm I've had for months, the semen surging through my penis and exploding repeatedly into Peter's rectum like it's never going to stop. Then finally it does stop. I'm even more drained than I was yesterday, gasping for breath, quite unable to move. Literally drained too; I've ejaculated so much my balls ache. Slowly I regain my senses and lift myself off him.
"Did you like that, Peter?" I whisper, still trying to get my breath back.
"Oh yes sir!" he gasps. "That was brilliant!"
He pushes back up onto all fours, turning to face the side wall as he does so. He farts loudly; semen splutters out and runs down between his thighs. Suddenly the whirring noise stops. I hear movement. Shit! There's someone else in here with us! I'm almost panic stricken, grabbing my clothes which are strewn on the floor. A figure emerges from behind the packing cases. It's Toby; I should have known.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, totally incapable of thinking of anything else to say.
"I've just been making a record of your activities, sir," he responds, smirking at me. "A most impressive performance if I may say so."
Shit and double shit! The whirring wasn't a fan, it was a movie camera!"
He grins at me, clearly amused by my obvious alarm.
"There's nothing to worry about," he says disarmingly. He indicates a trunk that's been placed in front of the others. "Please take a seat, I want to show you something." I sit down in a total daze as he disappears behind the packing cases. A louder whirring begins and a large rectangular image appears on the wall by the bed. Toby re-appears and sits down next to me, with Peter on his other side.
I ought to take charge of this situation, but my position is so precarious that I can see little alternative to going along with whatever Toby has in mind, for the moment anyway. The image starts to change. Robert and Peter are sitting on the bed, the same one I've just been using. They're dressed in white gym shorts and navy blue rugby tops. They undress each other then begin kissing and fondling. The pictures are excellent, and in full colour too. After a couple of minutes, Peter begins to suck Robert's penis. This is amazing! I know another music teacher, a man I met in the Far East a few years ago, who has some movies like this, but this one is better, the images much clearer. I glance to my left. Peter has undone the top of Toby's shorts and is fondling his erect penis, around five inches long and quite thick, a very fair specimen for a boy who is not quite thirteen.
"I wanted you to see this just so that you know I'm not bluffing," Toby says calmly. "This was a film I made last term. You notice that it's in colour. I can't process colour film; the equipment required to do that is difficult to use and very expensive. The processing was done by a Danish firm that I got in contact with. They buy the negative, process the film and sell copies. They sent me a print. They're very pleased with this one. They paid us six hundred pounds for the negative, that's two hundred pounds each, and their processing costs would be roughly the same. So far they've sold nearly two hundred copies, with a total sales value of over three thousand pounds. They think it will become one of their biggest sellers. They're so pleased that I was able to negotiate a higher price for the one we made last week."
"Last week? So what was that?"
"Peter and Ian; you remember Peter told you about all four of us coming here? I guess he forgot to tell you that I filmed the first part. Well now I have another film to sell. If you want it, it will cost you two hundred pounds."
Two hundred pounds! That's a whole month's salary!
"That, young man, is blackmail!" I say sharply.
"Not at all," Toby responds calmly. "It's a simple business proposition. I have an item that I wish to sell. I can sell it to my usual buyer in Denmark. It wouldn't command as high as price as the others because I couldn't get all the camera angles I would have liked, but I'd get at least four hundred for it. Alternatively, I'm prepared to sell it to you at a generous discount." He pauses. "Oh, you'll be able to see who it is and what you're doing; Peter hit his marks perfectly, especially at the end."
The sheer audacity of it is absolutely breathtaking. On my left Peter has buried his head in Toby's lap, eagerly sucking the older boy's erection. My eyes are drawn back to the moving image on the wall. Robert is pushing his penis into Peter's bottom. You can see it perfectly. Toby knows all about camera angles, there's no doubt about it.
"And how do I know you won't be coming back asking for more later on?" I ask.
"Because I won't be able to. There's one copy of this film. Once you have it you can do what you want with it. I can hardly say anything afterwards, can I? And it's not that you can't afford it, sir. You have a beautiful house, nice car, and a flat in town, so I hear. You're well loaded, sir."
He's right about that too. When my grandparents died I inherited their house, their London flat and a considerable sum of money. I'm not rich, but I'll be able to retire within ten years if I want to.
"Okay, I don't seem to have much choice. Two hundred it is. It will take me a couple of days to get it though."
Toby shrugs. "That's fine. We'll seal up the film so you know I can't tamper with it. Meet me here Friday evening, half past seven; we'll make the swap then. And there'll be no problem if you want to go with Peter again.
I'm almost speechless. "You mean ..."
"Like I told you, there's nothing to worry about. Peter certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. You like big ones, don't you Peter?"
I glance across. Peter nods enthusiastically, his mouth still full of Toby's penis. Toby groans quietly. I look down as he ejaculates in Peter's mouth. A small amount of semen escapes and runs down the younger boy's chin. Having released Toby's glistening penis, Peter wipes it up with his finger and licks it clean.
"It's Robert's turn to sleep with William tonight, so I needed that," Toby says, smiling up at me. "Mr. Cooper's not the only one that's fucking him, you know. Robert and I take it in turns. Will can't get enough of it."
I'd really never thought about it, but after everything that's happened it's hardly a surprise.
"There's no chance I'd be able to use this place?" I enquire. "Peter isn't a musician; his presence around the music room might arouse suspicions.
"Unfortunately not," Toby says. "We only use this place on special occasions; we don't want to risk other people finding out about it. But you shouldn't have a problem; I wouldn't have thought there would be anyone around the music room at this time of day."
"No there isn't," I tell him. "but I usually go home when prep starts."
"But you don't live far away," he counters. "You could easily drive back while we're having supper; wait for Peter in the music room. You'll find that afterwards the teachers that are still here are far too busy to take any interest in what you're doing. They probably won't even notice that you've been back."
Well, he's got it taped, I have to admit. I simply hadn't thought of doing that.
"So what will you do with the money?" I ask.
"Buy a new lens for my stills camera; don't know what Peter will do with his half." Toby looks at me intently. "You probably think I'm just a troublemaker, sir, but I'm not. One day I'm going to be an important film maker. I'm studying the work of all the great film directors; I want to learn everything I can about what they do. But that's not enough. To get a film made you have to be able to raise the money. You have to be really determined, ruthless even, particularly when you're first starting out. So in ten years time you may find me coming to see you to ask you to invest in my first feature film."
How I've misjudged this boy so completely I shall never know. His methods might be pretty questionable, but his enterprise, initiative and attention to detail are simply staggering. He could achieve anything. I put my arm round his shoulder.
"You know what?" I say, smiling at him. "I might just agree."
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