The White Rat – Chapter Nine

The White Rat – Chapter Nine

Okay... this chapter follows directly on from the end of Chapter Seven, so it's the evening of the prefects' end of term meal, and David and Jordan have just realised that Osterley is in no state to act as a waitress. But his unexpected absence is going to give David a chance to give another of his least favourite boys a thoroughly unhappy evening...

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Once they had decided that Osterley was in no condition to take part in the prefects’ meal David and Jordan left him on the ground, collected his clothes and made their way up to one of the classrooms above the dining hall, where they found Garrett waiting for them.

“We’re a waitress short,” Garrett told David. “Have you seen Osterley? If he doesn’t turn up he’s out the door tomorrow.”

David was briefly tempted to say that he didn’t know where Osterley was – after all, seeing him expelled would round term off nicely as far as David was concerned. But he didn’t think he’d really get away with it – after all, Osterley would be sure to say what had happened to him if Garrett threatened him with expulsion, and he could call on several first and second years to back up his story.

“He’s not coming,” he said. “Some of the juniors have been having a bit of fun with him, and he’s in no condition to work.”

“Well, that’s no bloody good, is it?” said Garrett. “Why did you let the juniors mess about with him tonight, of all nights? We need six waitresses and we’ve only got five. So you’d better find us another one a bit quick, hadn’t you?”

“Where am I going to find someone at this sort of notice?”

“You should have thought of that sooner. Look, V-G, I’ve been relying on you to sort this out for me, and you’ve let me down. So either you go and find me someone suitable – preferably someone who’s been in trouble this term – or you’ll have to wear the sixth uniform yourself. So you’d better start looking, hadn’t you?”

Garrett turned and headed for the dining room, and David darted back into the yard, wondering if he could drag Osterley up here and get him into a fit state to work, or if there was someone else he could use instead. There were a couple of school organisations that would still be running this late – he thought the chess club had a match on tonight, so maybe he could collar one of them… but then most chess players were swots and good boys, and he didn’t think too many of them would have been in the punishment book this term.

He was still standing in the middle of the yard frantically scratching his head when he heard voices – three or four figures were approaching from the direction of the music block, all carrying instrument cases. And among them was…

“Dhif!” he called, thinking how absolutely perfect this was.

“What?” said Dhif, staring at him mistrustfully.

“Garrett wants to see you.”

“What, now?”

“Right now. He’s in the dining hall.”

Dhif had of course already been on the receiving end of one of David’s plots, and so he was highly suspicious. On the other hand, he’d done nothing wrong, and this time he hadn’t even been accused of doing anything wrong, so perhaps it would be okay…

He said goodbye to his fellow band members and followed David to the dining hall.

“Well, I suppose he’ll do,” said Garrett. “I’d have preferred someone we knew was a troublemaker, but I don’t imagine there’s a lot of choice at this time of night. Okay, Dhif, you’d better go and phone home and tell your parents you’re going to be late. We need you to help us with the end of term meal.”

“Well… okay, if that’s all,” agreed Dhif, who had no particular plans and no homework (as the following day was the last day of term, nobody had any homework that evening). So he went and used the call box just outside the north gate and then came back. David met him at the entrance to the dining hall, led him upstairs to the classroom that was serving as a changing room and handed him a bag.

“Get changed into this,” he said, trying to keep a straight face, “and then wait in the room next door.”

Dhif pulled what appeared to be a French maid’s costume from the bag and stared at David, who couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Sambo,” he said. “Get changed.”

“Get stuffed! I am not wearing this, and that’s final!”

“Go and get Garrett, Jordan,” said David, and Jordan nipped off to the dining room. He came back a couple of minutes later accompanied, not by Garrett, but by Atchison.

“What’s the problem?” asked the prefect.

“He won’t put his costume on,” reported David.

“Yes, he will, unless he wants to be caned by every prefect in the building. You’re keeping us waiting, boy – get changed, now.”

“I will not wear these female clothes!”

“Fair enough. In that case you can come down stark naked. It’s up to you – the waitress costume; or nothing at all. Decide, but make it quick.”

Dhif actually hesitated, but in the end he realised that any clothes would be better than none at all. He’d have made a run for it and then argued his case in front of the headmaster next day, but Atchison was standing in front of the door, which made that impossible. Seeing no alternative he removed his blazer, took off his tie and started to unbutton his shirt.

“That’s a good little nigger,” said David, smirking at him. “Do as you’re told like a nice little slave should.”

“I’m going to kill you,” hissed Dhif under his breath. “Very, very slowly.”

“Ooh, I’m scared,” mocked David. “Now get a move on.”

Dhif shot him a look that promised extreme agony and pulled the maid’s costume on, and then allowed himself to be chivvied into the adjoining room, where five other unhappy-looking French maids were waiting. The only plus point was that at least they had been provided with knickers to wear, and for Pattison – who was used to wearing a maid’s costume with no knickers – this was a big improvement. For Baker, Larkin and the other two miscreants, a third-year called Jones and a second-year called Southgate, the knickers were just extremely uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Atchison told them, “there are three tables down there, so there’ll be two of you to each table. Your job is to see that the food is served, the plates cleared, the glasses kept full and the customers kept happy. Do that and you’ll be fine. Mess up and you’ll be in trouble. Okay, let’s go.”

He marched them down to the dining hall and paired them off, sending Dhif and Southgate to Garrett’s table. There were ten people at this table: Garrett, Atchison, four other prefects, two members of the Rugby 1st XV who weren’t prefects, and David and Jordan, whom Garrett had invited to join them.

To start with the meal went quite smoothly: the ‘waitresses’ collected the food as it came to the hatch and served it, and once the prefects were eating their first course Dhif thought that maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Of course, it was shameful having to wear girls’ clothes, and for that alone he was determined to punish the Rat, but if nothing else happened he thought he’d be okay.

But of course this was the sort of evening that could only deteriorate. The prefects had permission for two bottles of wine per table, but considerably more had been brought in, and not just wine, either. With no teachers around to keep things under control (the duty teacher was in the staff room, not even in the same building, and the skeleton kitchen staff were keeping their heads down – what went on on the other side of the serving hatch was no business of theirs).things started to get a little rowdy. It was Baker who first slipped up, spilling a little wine as he tried to refill a glass, and the prefect whose glass it was pushed his chair back from the table, grabbed Baker, pulled him across his lap, wrenched his knickers down and spanked him hard, while his colleagues laughed and cheered.

Dhif didn’t even like holding a bottle with alcohol in, but he was very careful after that not to spill any: he was determined he wasn’t going to be humiliated in that way. But David had other ideas: next time Dhif came close to him with a bottle in his hand he suddenly lunged for the potatoes, which were on the other side of the table, and in the process he knocked the bottle out of Dhif’s hand.

“Clumsy, clumsy,” he said, as the nearest prefect grabbed Dhif and pulled him across his lap. Dhif struggled, but it didn’t do him any good: his knickers were torn off and he was spanked, hard, in front of an audience of thirty-five boys. He thought he’d die of shame. And when he looked for his knickers afterwards he found that David had grabbed them and was using them to mop up the spilt wine.

“No knickers for you for the rest of the evening,” David taunted him. “Better not spill anything else, or we’ll end up using the dress to wipe it up, and then you’ll have nothing to hide your little wee-wee with.” And he put his hand up Dhif’s dress and pinched his bum.

The meal went on, getting steadily rowdier as more and more wine was consumed. Dhif had managed to stay out of trouble, mainly by keeping well clear of David’s chair, but he was horribly aware that he was wearing nothing underneath his short skirt, and that consequently his private parts were in danger of exposure every time he moved. The last course was served and cleared, and at that point the hatch was closed, removing the last vestige of adult contact from the gathering. Various toasts were drunk to increasingly meaningless subjects, and the inhibitions of the diners went down at the same rate as the level of wine in the bottles.

By no means all of the prefects were inclined to indulge in sexual misconduct with their ‘waitresses’, but they were quite happy to watch as the five or six of their colleagues who were so inclined grabbed the waitresses and pulled their knickers off. Garrett had made it clear beforehand that Pattison, Larkin and Baker were freely available for anything (after all, they couldn’t complain without facing immediate expulsion for their own misdeeds), that Jones could be taken advantage of for anything short of anal intercourse (he’d been caught drinking cider in the bike sheds, an offence that would certainly have got him into serious trouble at home, because his father was the minister of a small evangelical church and a rabid teetotaller), and that Southgate (who’d been caught smoking twice) was a borderline case, and so they would probably be best advised not to push him too far. Dhif, he had said, was off-limits to anything more than a grope and a spank, because he really shouldn’t be there at all.

Unfortunately for Dhif, he didn’t know this, and so when he saw a by now naked Baker being pushed onto his knees in preparation for sucking one of the other prefects, he felt sure it was going to happen to him, too, and so he started desperately looking for a way out. David, who was watching him closely, guessed what he was thinking and grabbed his wrist.

“That’ll be you in a minute,” he whispered into the trembling boy’s ear. “You’re going to look so funny, choking on Garrett’s massive cock. Unless he decides to ram it up your arse instead, of course.”

Dhif stared at him.

“He wouldn’t do such a disgusting thing… would he?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, he would. I’ve seen him do it to Pattison. And if he decides Southgate’s better looking, it’ll be Atchison that does you instead, and he likes it rough. Boy, are you going to be sore.”

Dhif darted a look towards the door, but David gripped his wrist firmly.

“Naughty, naughty, no leaving the party early,” he said. “Still, if you were already spoken for, Garrett and Atchison would have to look elsewhere, wouldn’t they?”

“You mean, you’re going to… to…” He couldn’t say it.

“Not me, no. I think that sort of thing is perverted and disgusting, and I’d never get involved in it. I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole, in fact. But young Fielding’s quite keen – aren’t you, Jordan?”

“Huh?” said Jordan, who’d been too engrossed in what was happening to Baker to have been listening.

“I said, do you fancy having some fun with Dhif, before one of the prefects grabs him?”

“Who, me? God, yes!”

“There you are, then, Dhif – make Jordan happy and I’ll keep Garrett off your back – literally, in fact. I’m sure you’d agree an eleven-year-old’s knob is going to hurt you far less than an eighteen-year-old’s.”

“Yes, but I can’t… I mean, it’s filthy… look, come on, Villiers-Gore, you know I shouldn’t even be here!”

''Of course I do, but this lot are getting far too drunk to care. In five minutes they won’t give a monkey’s if you’re a chain-smoking, beer-drinking queerboy or an absolute saint, they’ll still be queuing up to ram you up the arse. Unless you let Jordan do it first, of course.”

“But… why don’t you just let me go? They’d probably not notice if I slipped out now.”

“Let you go? Don’t be stupid – I want to see you getting screwed. You shouldn’t even be in this school – you belong in a zoo with the other monkeys.”

Dhif gaped at him. “Is that what this is about? You mean, you set me up with the bottle, and now this, just because I’m a different colour to you?”

“Obviously. This is a decent school, and I shouldn’t have to breathe the same air as some jumped-up jungle-bunny. They shouldn’t have let you into the country in the first place. So now you can either let Jordan give you one, or take one from Garrett instead. Decide, coon-boy, and make it quick.”

Dhif was absolutely speechless – he couldn’t believe anyone could actually think like that. Since he’d come to KEV he hadn’t had a single person make comments about his colour – he’d genuinely not thought it was an issue.

“But… I’m not even in your year,” he managed to say. “What difference does it make to you?”

“You’re a nigger, and I hate niggers. Now make up your mind: Fielding or Garrett?”

“Well… I mean… Look, I just can’t!”

“Garrett, then. Grab him, Jordan, and don’t let go.”

He made sure Jordan was holding on tight to the second-year’s arm and then got up, walked round to where Garrett was sitting and whispered into his ear.

“This is going to get out of hand pretty soon,” he said. “Do you want me to get Dhif and Southgate out of here before someone goes too far with them?”

“Don’t worry, it won’t get out of hand,” said Garrett, who didn’t sound remotely drunk. “I like watching the boys letting their hair down, but if anyone lays a finger on Dhif or Southgate I’ll personally punch them from here to next week.”

“Well… okay, but I still reckon I should get them out. Southgate’s practically pissing himself with fear, and Dhif’s going to bolt for the door the minute we let go of his arm.”

Garrett sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “I wanted to keep Southgate here long enough to shock some sense into him – you know, ‘Next year this is what will happen to you unless you wake up and dump the ciggies,’ sort of thing. But perhaps he’s already got the message. And maybe it would be better to get Dhif out now, too – after all, he really shouldn’t be here at all. Okay, V-G, get them out of here – and maybe you’d better take young Jordan with you, too, just in case someone gets so pissed he can't tell the difference between a guest and a waitress.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, then.”

David went back to his seat. “He’ll be ready for you in five minutes,” he told Dhif. “Get the rest of your clothes off – and you’d better rub some butter or something round your arsehole, too, or it’ll hurt even more.”

Dhif looked at David, then at Garrett, then at the next table, where Pattison had just been positioned across the edge of the table with his skirt pushed up above his waist, with the captain of the rugby team lining himself up behind him.

“I’ll take Fielding,” he said, in a low voice.

“Too late.”

“Please, Villiers-Gore! I couldn’t... I mean, not like that, not…”

He was starting to cry, which made David feel absolutely marvellous.

“Well… okay, I’ll see if I can swing it,” he said. “On three conditions.”

“What?”

“One, you give me your word not to try to do a runner – in fact I want you to swear to do exactly what I tell you for the next hour.”

“Well… okay, then, I swear.”

“Two, I’m going to get you out of this hall, so at least when Jordan fucks you it won’t be in front of this load of drunken idiots – though that’s for Jordan’s benefit, not yours. But I want you to take your clothes off before we go, so you have to walk past everyone stark naked.”

“Oh, no, please! I mean, I can’t…”

“Shut up,” interrupted David. “This isn’t a discussion: I’m telling you what’s going to happen. And three, when we get back upstairs you’re going to kiss my shoes and admit that you’re a stupid, worthless nigger, and that you’re not fit to wipe my arse. So, either you agree to all that now, or I’ll tell Garrett you’re ready to be fucked by everyone at this table.”

Dhif was too scared to argue, so he nodded and managed to stammer, “I agree,” in a low voice.

“Good,” said David. “Then get your clothes off and I’ll go and tell Garrett I think he should let you and Fielding have a little privacy. He’ll agree – he owes me one.”

He got up, went back to Garrett’s seat, said, “Thanks for the invite, Chief – and have fun,” and walked back to his seat, where Dhif was slowly removing his uniform. Once the boy was naked he pulled him to his feet and told Jordan they were leaving.

“Oh,” said Jordan. “This is getting interesting.”

“Yes, but if we go upstairs you can actually take part instead of just watching,” David pointed out.

“Oh! Okay, then,” said Jordan, suddenly taking in that Dhif was now completely naked.

David led them very slowly to the end of the table, and then stopped, making Dhif stand completely nude in front of everyone – though in fact most of them were either too drunk to notice, or too engrossed in what was happening to Baker and Pattison.

“Come on,” said David in Southgate’s ear. “I’ve talked Garrett into letting you go before they start doing that to you.”

“Oh, wow, thanks!” said Southgate, falling over in his rush to follow them.

David led them out of the hall and back up to the changing room. He told Southgate to take the maid’s uniform off and to put on his underpants but nothing else, and then he took all three of them to an empty classroom at the far end of the corridor.

“Now, in a moment young Jordan’s going to show our resident wog what being a girl really feels like,” he said. “But first, I think you’ve got something to say to me, Dhif.”

Now that he was away from the dining hall Dhif was feeling a lot less scared, and a lot angrier. He’d have liked nothing more than to punch David right in his smirking mouth and break all his teeth. But he’d given his word, even if it was only for another fifty-two minutes (and God help the Rat after that, he thought to himself), and that left him with no choice. He knelt down, lowered his head and kissed David’s shoes.

“I’m a stupid, worthless nigger and I’m not fit to wipe your arse,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“Quite right,” said David, happily. “And don’t you forget it. Okay, Jordan, he’s all yours. Where do you want him?”

“Across this desk should do,” said Jordan, and he arranged Dhif across a desk, his bottom sticking out and his legs apart. Then he pulled his own shorts and pants off, rubbed some Vaseline into his already throbbing penis (he always carried the little jar Garrett had given him in his blazer pocket), and lined himself up behind his victim.

Dhif gave a gasp as he felt the tip of Jordan’s foreskin touch his anus, and he began to plead with the younger boy not to do this awful thing, saying that it would take away his manhood and leave him shamed before everyone.

“That’s the idea,” said David, happily. “Go on, Jordan, give him one.”

Jordan wasn’t entirely sure that Dhif deserved this, but by now his penis had taken control, and so he shoved forward, and Dhif gave a squeal as he was penetrated for the first time.

“Oh, wow, that’s tight,” said Jordan, pulling back slightly and thrusting again. “I can hardly get in there…”

Dhif yelped again at Jordan’s second thrust, and now his sense of shame began to overwhelm him: he was being used like a woman, and by a younger boy, and in front of others…

Another thrust and Jordan was all the way in. It was uncomfortable, but nothing like as painful as it would have been if one of the prefects had done it, so it was mostly shame and disgrace that made Dhif start to cry. David sat on the edge of a desk lapping it up, of course, and after a minute or two he decided to make it worse for his victim.

“Take your pants off and stand in front of him,” he told Southgate.

“Huh? Why?” asked the second-year.

“Just do it, or I’ll take you back downstairs.”

Southgate almost tore his pants in his haste to obey. He took up a position just in front of Dhif’s head, his small white hairless penis dangling down.

“Okay, you black pervert,” said David, “start licking Southgate’s balls.”

“No! I can’t! That… that’s vile!”

“You swore to obey me, remember? So do it, or you’re going back downstairs.”

With a sob Dhif tentatively put out his tongue and licked at Southgate’s genitals.

“No, harder than that,” ordered David. “Lick them properly, so he can feel it.”

Dhif tried to obey, and after a bit of this Southgate’s body started to respond, his penis growing to about three and a half inches of stiffness.

“Now suck on his cock,” demanded David.

Dhif made another futile attempt to argue, but eventually forced himself to comply, and David was then able to sit back and enjoy the sight of the bloody little nig-nog being steadily fucked by a first-former while being forced to suck one of his own class-mates. His only regret was that he didn’t have a camera with him.

Eventually Jordan reached his climax, thrusting hard against Dhif’s body and then relaxing and withdrawing. He grabbed his shorts and pants and nipped down the corridor to clean up in the toilets. Southgate, though clearly enjoying himself, showed no sign of finishing just yet, and that suited David fine: he’d have been happy to force Dhif to go on sucking for the rest of the evening.

Jordan came back and sat down next to David to watch the show, and eventually Southgate began to show signs that he was getting there, grabbing Dhif’s head and thrusting against it, until finally he went rigid, gave a loud gasp and forced Dhif’s head hard against his groin. After a few seconds he relaxed and stepped back.

“Bloody hell,” he said, “that was amazing! I never knew I could feel like that… wow!”

“Obviously our pet nigger is good at sucking boys’ cocks,” said David, grinning. “I bet he does it a lot…. Still, I can’t complain about that, Dhif. I was going to beat you, but maybe you don’t deserve that. In fact, maybe you deserve something much better. Turn over and lie on your back.”

Dhif glanced at his watch, but there were still twenty minutes to go of the hour during which he’d promised to obey David’s orders, so reluctantly positioned himself on his back on top of two desks.

“You don’t seem to have enjoyed all that nice sex,” said David, looking at Dhif’s soft penis. “That’s really not fair – you’ve made these two feel nice but without any reward. Still, we can fix that. Southgate, go and play with Dhif’s knob till it gets hard.”

“Okay,” said Southgate, not showing any reluctance – in fact he thought Dhif was a nice-looking boy, and he found his circumcised penis fascinating. He took hold and squeezed it gently, and although Dhif protested and tried to resist, he was unable to prevent his body from responding. Within a minute he was fully erect, sticking straight up and twitching a little when Southgate let go of it. It was around four inches long, quite thick, and the peach-down David had noticed earlier in the term seemed a little darker now.

“Go on then, Dhif,” said David, “show us how you play with yourself.”

“I don’t,” said Dhif, though he kept his eyes averted when he said it, and David didn’t miss signals like that.

“Don’t lie. I’m ordering you to tell us the truth. You do play with it, don’t you?”

Dhif didn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought. Go on, then, show us how you do it.”

Dhif really wished he was somewhere else – or, better yet, that Villiers-Gore should drop dead on the spot. But he’d given his word… reluctantly he took hold of himself and started to rub it, while Southgate stared in fascination and David and Jordan grinned at him. After a few seconds he stopped.

“Don’t stop,” ordered David. “Give us a proper demonstration.”

Dhif closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was alone, but the snorts and giggles from his audience made that impossible. He rubbed himself steadily, but, not surprisingly, he didn’t find himself getting remotely excited.

“We haven’t got all night,” said David, glancing at his watch. ''Leave it alone. Southgate, go and do it for him – try to do it like he was doing it himself.”

“Okay,” said Southgate, eagerly.

“No, wait! Let me do it!” cried Dhif, mortified at the thought of another boy touching him like this.

“Too late,” said David. “You shouldn’t have messed us around by only pretending to do it. Go on, Southgate, see if you can do a better job.”

Southgate took hold, squeezed a little and started to rub it gently. “Is that okay?” he asked Dhif, who didn’t answer: what was happening to him was disgusting, but parts of his body seemed to like it: he could feel himself getting harder as Southgate stroked him.

“You’ll need to go a bit faster, I think,” said David, and Southgate obliged, and soon Dhif was wriggling about on the desk and clenching his fists and toes.

“That feels nice, doesn’t it?” said David.

Once again Dhif didn’t answer, but his body was now betraying him by thrusting up against Southgate’s hand. And Southgate was obviously enjoying it, too: his penis, which had subsided after Dhif had finished sucking it, was once again stiff and straining.

“Just look at the queerboys, Jordan,” said David. “What a pair of perverts!”

Dhif gasped and writhed and thrust – it was obvious that he was really close. And suddenly he couldn’t hold it back any longer, and a couple of little spurts of almost colourless liquid erupted from his penis and landed on his groin. Southgate kept going, more slowly, until Dhif told him to stop, and then he let go and stared at the other boy’s groin, his eyes shining.

“God, you’re disgusting,” David told Dhif, scornfully. “Fancy letting that happen to you in public! What a pervert!”

He glanced at his watch and saw that there was a little over five minutes of Dhif’s hour still to run.

“Okay,” he said. “Now, just before we go… Southgate, I want you to lie on top of him, so that you’re face to face… yes, that’s right, like that. Dhif, I want you to say thank you to Southgate for rubbing you by giving him a nice hug, so put your arms round him… okay, left hand on his back and right hand on his arse… come on, we haven’t got all night. Yes, okay, that’ll do. Now let’s see you snog each other – give each other a nice kiss to start with, and then take it from there.”

Dhif looked as if he was about to puke, though Southgate looked blissfully happy. David forced Dhif to return Southgate’s kiss and then positioned them with their lips together.

“Aah, don’t they look sweet?” he said to Jordan. “Okay, now you have to keep snogging like that for…” (He checked his watch) “…another three and a half minutes. After that you can go home. Except – I want you to swear that you will never complain about me for this, not to Noddy or any of the other teachers, not to your parents, not to anyone, okay? Let’s hear you say it.”

Dhif was inwardly furious, because he had intended reporting David, even if it meant having his own humiliations made public. He knew he still could, even if he swore otherwise, but somehow he didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to do it: breaking his word was anathema to him. On the spot he decided instead that he would find a way to deal with David himself, in a way that was a hundred times worse than what had been done to him, not just for himself but on behalf of every other kid in the school that David had picked on.

“Okay, I swear it,” he said. “I swear not to report you to any of the teachers or other members of staff, or to my parents, or anyone else. But that means I’ll have to deal with it myself – and I can promise you you’re going to be very, very sorry.”

“Gosh, I’m terrified. Now get back to kissing your boyfriend – you’ve got another two and a half minutes to go. We’ll say goodnight and give you a little privacy.”

David and Jordan left the room and collected their bags from the changing room. David’s bag seemed surprisingly light, and when he checked it he found that Osterley’s clothes were missing.

“Well, credit the little bastard for having the balls to come up here stark naked to get his clothes back,” he said to Jordan. “And at least it means we know there was nothing seriously wrong with him. I told you he was faking it. Anyway, we’d better go – I reckon our coloured friend is going to be in a really crappy mood when he finishes having it away with Southgate.” And he and Jordan left the building and headed for their respective bus stops.

Dhif felt strange. He knew it wasn’t Southgate’s fault: the other boy was just doing what he had been ordered to do. But the boy’s warm body pressing against him, and especially the way Dhif could feel Southgate’s hot little penis pressed against his balls, was making him feel weird. Southgate gently kissed him once more, and Dhif involuntarily returned the kiss and tightened his hug round the other boy’s body. Southgate gave a little purr of contentment

Dhif somehow felt almost lethargic: in his head he knew that being naked with another boy like this was disgusting and shaming, that he had done things this evening that were so filthy he would feel sick about them for weeks to come… and yet, his body felt warm and comfortable, and Southgate’s cheek rubbing against his own felt sensuous and exciting… and now he could feel his penis starting to respond, too, even though it was only about five minutes since he had climaxed. He moved his wrist so that he could see his watch over Southgate’s shoulder, saw that there were only fifteen seconds still to go, and decided that enough was enough: if he went hard like this Southgate would start to think he was bent.

“That’s it,” he said. “You can get off me now.”

“Oh. I was just getting nice and relaxed.”

“Well, bad luck, because time’s up. Come on, get off.”

Cheekily Southgate kissed the tip of his nose and grinned at him as he stood up. He reached for his pants and pulled them on over his hard little penis, and Dhif stood up and realised that his own clothes were in the other room.

“It’s going hard again,” Southgate commented, pointing at Dhif’s groin. “Does that mean you liked doing that?”

“No!” said Dhif emphatically, heading for the door. “It’s disgusting and perverted and filthy and I never want to do it again, okay?”

“Then why are you all hard?”

“I… I can’t help it,” said Dhif, almost running along the corridor to the changing room. “I don’t want that to happen – it just does, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I thought it felt nice, cuddling like that. And you kiss really nicely, and your thing looks really good when it sticks up – and it feels brilliant, too. I liked rubbing it for you and making it feel nice. I bet you would like to do it again really, wouldn’t you?”

“No! Just leave me alone!” Dhif scrabbled for his pants and pulled them on. He was totally messed up, because he had liked holding Southgate, and even kissing him… but it was wrong! It was disgusting, it was something that only shameless perverts would do… He felt he was on the point of bursting into tears, thought he couldn’t understand why he felt like that. He frantically pulled his clothes on, hoping to get away from the school before his emotions completely overwhelmed him…

He swore that somehow he was going to find a way to destroy Villiers-Gore, both for humiliating him publicly and forcing him to behave like a perverted rent-boy, and for messing with his head to the extent that he could no longer think straight. He couldn’t see how – after all, as long as Garrett was in the background Villiers-Gore was untouchable. But of course Garrett wouldn’t be Head Boy for ever, and when he left…

He found that his left shoelace was knotted and he couldn’t undo it, and somehow that was the last straw. He subsided into a chair, put his head in his hands and burst into tears.

Southgate had almost finished dressing. He was in two minds about what to do here – after all, Dhif had just told him to leave him alone. But Southgate was a good-hearted boy and didn’t like to see anyone unhappy, so he dropped his blazer on the nearest desk, walked across to where Dhif was sitting and put a hand on his shoulder, tentatively, in case Dhif should flail out at him. But Dhif didn’t move at all, so Southgate pulled another chair up next to the one Dhif was using, sat down on it and put his arm round Dhif’s shoulders.

”Don’t cry,” he said, quietly. “There wasn’t anything you could do about it. And nobody is ever going to hear about it from me, either – and if the Rat tries saying anything happened, if we both call him a liar nobody will believe him. Everyone in the school hates him, anyway.”

“Garrett doesn’t.”

“Garrett won’t be here next year. Maybe the next Head Boy will be a decent person.”

“And maybe he’ll be just like Garrett, and things will go on the same way… I can’t believe the Rat did all these things to me because I’m not English. I mean, I know there are people like that, but everyone else in this school is decent. I don’t think any of the boys in our class hate me because I’m not white, do they?”

“Nobody hates you, Brahim. In fact I think you’ve got a good chance of being made form captain next year. I’ll vote for you, anyway.”

“So why is it such a problem for him?”

“Because he’s a stupid racist bastard. Hey, I’d love to see his face if Sun gets made Head Boy next year…”

Dhif managed to smile. “That would be funny, wouldn’t it? He’d pretty soon tell the Rat to get lost. It won’t happen, though – Sun only came here last September, and they like the Head Boy to have been in the school since the first year. Still, maybe we’ll be lucky… look, I’m sorry I told you to leave me alone, Paul. But… I can’t cope with this sex stuff. It made me feel… well, disgusting and excited at the same time. There must be something wrong with me to even think about doing stuff like that without wanting to be sick… but…”

“But what?”

But although I felt horrible about having to… lick… well, you know…. I sort of… well…”

“Go on.”

“Well, I thought it would taste disgusting, but it didn’t. And when it was in my mouth… I thought I was going to be sick, but… well, it sort of felt… I don’t know – interesting, sort of warm and hard and alive, and part of me was sort of screaming in my head that I should be punished for doing something so vile, and another part thought it wasn’t so bad after all… and even when the first-year boy was… you know… even that was nothing like as bad as I’d thought. It hurt when he started, but not afterwards – afterwards it felt weird, but not bad, somehow. Of course, if it had been one of the prefects instead it would have hurt like hell, but… well…”

He shrugged. “So it felt okay, and even having yours in my mouth felt almost nice – and when you… you know, took hold of me afterwards, that felt awful and sort of thrilling at the same time, and the bit when it happened to me was amazing… but I know how filthy it all was really, and that’s why… I can’t think straight about it… so I’m sorry…”

“I’ve never even dreamed of doing stuff like that,” Southgate told him. “I didn’t even know it was possible… I don’t know anything about sex at all – in fact I didn’t even know about…well, you know, touching yourself. And when you had it in your mouth, it’s the most incredible feeling I’ve ever known. I suppose it is wrong – I mean, boys are only supposed to do thing with girls, and even then you’re not supposed to do anything unless you’re getting married and want a baby… but it felt so wonderful… Look, I know this is a bit of a cheek, but could you… well, teach me a bit about sex? Like, what was that stuff that came out of you? I thought it was pee at first, but it didn’t really look like it, or feel like it… please, Brahim?”

“Well… maybe. But we must never do anything like that again, Paul, okay? It’s wrong, and shameful…”

“I suppose so. But I really wouldn’t mind trying stuff with you if you want. At least now we’ve been through this we know we can trust each other, don’t we?”

“Yes, but…well… no, we mustn’t, Paul. We just have to… be pure, I think. Look, I have to go. Can you try and untie this lace for me? You’ve got better nails than I have.”

So Southgate unpicked the knot in Dhif’s shoelace, and then they finished getting dressed, collected their bags and headed for home.

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David thinks this has been a good night's work, but in fact he's just dug yet another hole that he's going to fall into himself in the not-too-distant future. In the next chapter we'll see the wheels starting to come off, though the first problems are not going to appear where we might be expecting them...

And here I have to apologise for the fact that I'm going to be away on holiday next week, and I won't have access to a computer while I'm away, which means that it'll be two weeks before Chapter Ten is posted. So to everyone who has written asking when the tables are going to be turned: it'll be in the next chapter, but you'll have to wait two weeks for it. Sorry about that.

Comments (though hopefully not too many complaints about the extra week's wait!) are welcomed as always at gothmog@nyms.net

Copyright 2009 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke