Anonymous: Memoirs of a Voluptuary, or the Secret Life of an English Boarding School

“I don't think we shall hear any more of Davenport trying to 'come it' over the other chaps,” said Jimmy.

“He's had a proper setback. My eyes, what a figure he did cut – all green and red and blue; and what a sight his ugly, skinny cock was after the way you painted it, Bob. He's had such a take down he'll never get over it.”

We all laughed at the recollection and Bob said, “Yes, it was rather a joke, wasn't it? And it has done some good too, I think, for it has taught him his proper place.”

We dismissed the subject from our minds and turned to pleasanter themes.

We turned and made our way back inland, enjoying the beautiful scenery made more dramatic by the setting sun.

“Are we to have another yarn tonight, Blackie?” asked Bob when we had got to bed later that night.

Gaston de Beaupre would often take to regaling us with any one of his numerous affairs and adventures, most of which were of an extremely sensuous nature. Though he feigned annoyance, I sensed it gave him no small amount of pleasure recounting these tales as we gazed upon him with rapt attention. Quite often his words alone were enough to arouse us, and by tale's end, all of us had enormous cockstands which ached to be relieved. But Blackie never let us touch ourselves while he spoke, and I do believe he took some sadistic pleasure out of this. More than a few times, his stories would have me abed late after the lights were out, frigging myself and musing over his descriptions till I had sent a spending clear over my belly and onto the lower hem of my pushed up nightshirt. Hopefully, I thought, this night would be just a bit different.

“You chaps are playing me up pretty thick,” said Blackie. “Well, I don't mind obliging you, but I am not going to make it a long one this time. Let me see, what shall it be?

“You know I was telling you of that Russian man who was so fond of birching? Suppose I relate what I saw when I went to his place.”

“Yes, go on!” I said. “That will be fine.”

Well (Gaston related), one day my mother was going out and I had her permission to call and see Cecil. I felt sure I should find him at home as I knew that his general habit was not to go out till rather late in the afternoon. To my surprise however, I found the carriage at the door and he was fully dressed when I got to his room.

“I had no idea you would be here, Gaston,” he said after giving me a kiss. “I was going to call on the Prince Gourkadoff this afternoon. Would you like to come too?”

Of course I said “Yes” and we started off immediately.

Prince Gourkadoff lives close by in the Champs Elysees, and we weren't long in getting there. He has a very big place, as he was awfully rich you know, and the hall regularly swarmed with servants in wonderfully showy uniforms. A footman conducted us upstairs and handed us over to another one who led us along a corridor and through an anteroom into the presence of the Prince. He was a rather short man with dark hair, blazing black eyes and a slightly crooked nose. I could quite believe he was a terror when he got into a rage.

He had on an army uniform and was splendidly decorated – in fact, he looked exactly like one of those half civilized things that you see pictures of sometimes.

The room was a large one and furnished with a great display, but what struck me most was the number of people in attendance. As we entered, the curtains of the doorway were held aside by two good looking boys – Russians I presumed – in very handsome costumes, embroidered with beads and spangles. Two or three others were about the room, doing various things. One was engaged in fanning the Prince, for although it was not at all a cold day, the room was like a hot-house.

Cecil introduced me to the Prince, who smiled graciously but took no further notice of me for a time, occupying himself in close conversation with Cecil on some political questions, in which he appeared to take great interest.

While he talked, he smoked incessantly, a page doing nothing else beyond attending to his wants in that direction. He begged Cecil to have a cigarette, but Cecil smilingly refused, whereupon the Prince merely gave a little shrug of his shoulders and said, Just as you like. Smoking is such a habit with me that I could not give it up, but I quite understand that it is not the same with everybody.”

I also noticed a pair of magnificent Rottweiller dogs, huge beasts who seemed to be great pets, as the Prince continually put his hand down to fondle them.

I had little to do beyond eating some bonbons which the Prince had offered me, and felt rather neglected; but after our stay had lasted about three quarters of an hour, the Prince rose and said, “The usual parade is to take place now. Come, dear Cecil, I know you like to be present at the proceedings.”

He did not extend the invitation to me, but Cecil motioned me to follow and I accompanied them to a large room, thickly carpeted but devoid of furniture, with the exception of a few chairs. On one of these the Prince took his place and we sat by his side, while the entire side opposite to us was filled with a group of servants.

After a short delay, he said, “Katushka, you were guilty of disobedience and carelessness, and must receive punishment accordingly. Sacha and Mikail, you will please assist in preparing him.”

Two of the boys advanced and the three bowed solemnly, which done, the pair began in a slow and methodical manner to undress Katushka, denuding him of every article of his attire.

He was a splendidly fashioned boy, with a strong cock and big limbs, and I felt my own cock raise itself up against my thigh as I looked at him. He did not display any concern at being thus exposed to strangers, and gazed straight in front of him without flinching, careless of the fact that my eyes were dwelling with great interest on the smooth muscular surface of his belly and his cock with its surrounding bush of black hair.

“Sergei,” said the Prince to another boy, “bring me the rod.” This was a long slender instrument and the boy went on one knee as he presented it over to his master. At a sign from the Prince, Katushka now stepped up, and, kneeling down, repeated some formally framed sentences in which he expressed great sorrow for his misconduct, beseeching forgiveness and begging his master to chastise him for his fault.

At the finish, the Prince held forth the rod, which Katushka kissed, and he then, having bent over and touched the floor with his forehead, rose up and placed himself between Sacha and Mikail again.

They led him to an article of furniture shaped something like a praying desk that you find in churches, and supplied with cushions. On this he placed himself in a kneeling position, while Sacha and Mikail each retained a hold on one of his hands.

Having thus arranged themselves, Sacha, who was nearest to us, looked 'round to signify that all was ready, and the Prince got up and strode towards them. First taking a brief survey of the culprit's body, he raised the rod on high and brought it down with a sweeping stroke on Katuskha's buttocks, leaving a long red mark on the whiteness of the skin. After a slight pause a second stroke followed, succeeded by others, a few moments being allowed to elapse between each so as to increase the impressiveness of the ceremony.

Cecil had told me that the Prince was not cruel or obsessive in his chastisements, but as I watched him, I found it hard to believe this, and the crisscross of livid lines that formed themselves on the unfortunate boy's posterior gave me a distinctly uncomfortable feeling as I noted it.

Katushka himself, however, made no sign or cry of distress, at which I wondered; his sole evidence of suffering any bodily pangs was a little tremor and twitch at each application of the rod.