The Public Performance
I thought we ought to do something before shutting the door on our guests again. "Help me with this rubbish." I had detached my brother from the toilet. Dave grabbed the arm that I didn't have hold of and we lifted John into the communal shower alongside his two partners in crime. I thought that at least he'd have to crawl over the sill if he was going to go anywhere and there was no way any of the three of them would be able to undo either of his mates in the time he would have. Just to encourage group bonding, Dave used the trailing rope to fasten John to both of the chairs that were sharing the shower with him.
"Hang on. Doesn't it smell as though something's died in here?"
"Nah, that's just wishful thinking, Al."
"Pwoahhh! I think it's your brother."
I reached for the shower controls: 'temperature: down - flow: up' and hit the silver button.
We shut the bathroom door and made ourselves comfortable while we attacked my stash of sweets. We hoped that the increasingly frequent sounds of Third-Years arriving back to the dorm block would dissuade our prisoners from calling attention to their plight. We'd made a good guess that we wouldn't be the only ones who had cause to revenge ourselves on my brother and his cronies and we presumed that they knew we'd have to let them go before dinner time. Although it wasn't an official roll-call, there would be enough staff present to miss those three known trouble makers and neither Ed nor John would normally dream of missing his dinner.
We needed to bring Kev and, if he still wanted in, Chas up to speed with our plans. There was one aspect that worried Chas somewhat but, even though his potential participation was a recent development, it opened a special possibility that would make his continued contributions more than useful. We had talked quietly ( -yes, we did! -) to stop our guests overhearing things but they must have heard the communal, "YES!!" after Chas had agreed to help even over the sound of the cold shower that they were enjoying.
I won't bother you too much with the details of how we decided which of our erstwhile tormentors should receive our attentions first but it did involve more head slapping and dipping (Once the shower had been turned off). Richard was 'elected' to go first and Kev and Dave went into the bathroom to collect him. Once they had delivered him, I closed the door.
We put it to Richard that we already had that Polaroid that made it look like he'd wet his pants and that, if he complained to his friends, he'd have to admit that him and his two mates had been beaten by some not very tall Third-Years. If he dobbed us in to the staff, no one in school was likely to have anything to do with him for weeks and that's important in a boarding school. He knew that but we had to point it out just to make sure.
That was what we'd achieved so far; now we needed his attention while I explained the next part of our insurance policy. "My mate says that it would be better if we removed your hoods. . . ." Richard nodded enthusiastically, "So that the other kids can recognise you easier in the photos." Richard tested the renewed gag and started shaking his head. You might remember that bit about 'what we said' when we didn't tape his hood down again. "Oh, and don't get any ideas; you will be blindfolded again. Richard was furious but we just left him to his convulsions until he toppled the chair.
At that time he seemed to accept defeat. Chris asked him whether he'd calmed down and I could swear I heard muffled sobbing as he nodded his head. Kev and Chris lifted his chair upright again and I asked Chas if he wanted to leave the room. We all grinned when he declined and I said that I didn't think he'd have any trouble from Richard again, especially if he did what we'd suggested.
Kev got out the illicit penknife that he'd brought from his dorm when he went to get Chas and soon made short work of the tape round Richard's eyes. He pulled off the hood leaving Richard blinking and spasmodically shaking his head. He certainly didn't seem surprised when he realised who'd put him through all his torments but he didn't try to shout and just seemed to collapse into himself.
"OK, David Bailey, time for a photo." Chris handed me my camera.
"Where's my other model?"
"Twiggy, over 'ere." Chas didn't even look insulted as Chris called him over to stand behind our subject; he knew the effect our planned photograph was supposed to have. We saw the wildcat in his eye again.
Chas put his left arm over Richard's left shoulder and reached for his right flank. His other hand found a quivering belly button. I took up my stance and called "action". Chas went into attack mode and I waited until I could get the best shot with Chas grinning straight at the camera. Then, just for good measure, I took another just as Richard's head jerked backwards and his abdomen ballooned so far forwards that Chas's hands were dislodged. The advantage of Polaroids in those days was that you could see the result instantly and that particular result was greeted with considerable mirth. There was a renowned bully being bested by the smallest kid in the school. That, along with the completely fabricated but totally credible "wee-wee" picture, should blow Richard's credibility for the foreseeable future.
Don't you think it's funny: one person in the room was so moved by the shot, when he got to see it, that I'm sure he was close to tears?
Chris decided that it was time to console our guest. He assured him that the tickling was over but warned him that he should close his eyes because he was about to be blindfolded. I'm sure that he tried to plead for mercy but Chris was implacable. Did you know that it's possible to blindfold someone with transparent tape? The first layer taped his eyes shut and Chris followed it up with one carefully placed layer that went half way over the previous one and another equally precisely positioned layer just under the second one. One final layer went over where Chris had placed the first layer.
"Take him back?"
"Yeah, treat him gently; he's had a hard day." I don't think the way I patted him on the chin really helped him to feel any better. Kev and Dave lifted his chair and carried him back into the shower.
"Ready for the next one?" Dave's voice was calling from the shower.
"OK by you, Shrimp?" Our recently appointed Chief Torturer affirmed that indeed it was, so our two porters dragged my brother out of the shower. They didn't bother to lift him until his more tender parts had encountered the sill. The stifled nature of the resultant squeal assured Dave that his carefully constructed gag seemed to be working quite efficiently. Kev pulled John's boxer shorts back up again from where they had been dragged down at the front. He thought he would just give a little extra tug to make sure that they were secure and assured John that there was absolutely no need to thank him. He even gave the waist band another little tug in case his previous effort was not good enough.
I was really looking forward to the next bit as John got dumped in front of me. "Maggot to UglyFuck, are you receiving me?" Even John's attempted reply lacked his usual mindless venom as I administered a minor kick to his side. I knew he'd not be as easy to break as Richard had been but, if only we could convince him that his treasured 'hard man' image would count for nothing after we'd finished with him, it would have been job done.
I begged the honour of removing John's hood and Kev handed me the official penknife. I carefully cut the tape holding the pillowcases round his neck and decided that the laws of leverage would help with the next stage. Science was never my strong point.
I sat on the floor and pulled the open ends of the pillowcases together above John's head. I took a good grip and shoved the soles of my boots against his shoulders. "Ready UglyFuck? On three. One, two, . . ."
"MMMMghhh!"
"Opps, sorry. - Er, Three? Hi! Remember me?" He certainly did. That was more like it: the vituperations were almost decipherable after I had straightened my legs and pulled the pillowcases, tightly bound adhesive tape and all, clear of his head. That must have hurt, at least it was supposed to. Do you think I was taking this too personally? Bloody right I was. This was my first chance of revenge in thirteen years.
I explained to John that he was going to be my model. He didn't sound impressed. I told him that he wasn't going to be the star, merely the support act. He sounded even less impressed when he caught sight of Chas with the fires of revenge in his eyes. He couldn't let this scrawny little worm get the better of him.
John adopted the tactic of full time swearing (presumably) and struggling against the hogtie he'd been left in. He'd probably have been even funnier flapping around like a grounded fish if he'd still been blindfolded but that wouldn't have suited our purposes so well. We just left him to exhaust himself applying just a little kick every time he got too near to one of us. Chris claimed that I was cheating when I got up from where I was sitting just to have a little punt.
"Tell me: whose brother is that down there?"
"Fair enough, sorry, how ill mannered of me, Allen; you must have my next go as well." Oh, I was glad to be sharing with Chris and Dave. Now my big brother had to avoid both me and Chris if he didn't want a real good punt from me. We must have had a good half-hour's sport at my brother's expense before we considered John to be ready for his photo call.
I grabbed my camera and went into David Bailey mode again. "Kev, Dave, d'you think you could hold him like you did for Chas just now? Yeah, that's good but can you just move down a bit out of shot? Woaah, yeah! Come on Chas, it's your big scene." I didn't care if it took all the film I had, I WAS going to get the best shot ever.
"Yes, just put your foot on his head and persuade him to look this way. Yes, just grind your foot in a bit. No don't worry, he can't feel a thing; he's completely insensitive. Believe me, I know him." With Dave and Kev rendering any resistance futile, Chas soon had John's right ear on the ground and his under-sized foot planted firmly on his left cheek. "Aaand flex . . . Say, 'cheeeese'. Alright, nice one." Chas took his foot off John's face and we appraised my latest artwork.
"Yesss!" Mine was obviously a completely unbiased opinion.
"Oh, I don't know, have you got my best side?" That was better: Chas made a joke. He got a little clip round the ear for his trouble from Kev but he was still smiling after it.
"I reckon John ought to see what you've made of him."
Dave was obviously right so I showed John the photo. He simply didn't know how to react. There was the self-appointed "Hard Man of the Fourth-Year" lying on the floor, facing the camera with the wimpiest kid in the school posing like a muscle man with his foot on his gagged face. I almost felt sorry for him as he saw his image dropping from him and disappearing through the cracks between the floorboards. Almost, that is, but not quite.
We checked John's bonds and Dave untied the rope connecting his wrists to his ankles. John seemed to be reviving before Dave re-applied the rope but with his ankles drawn much closer to his wrists this time. It almost seemed cruel when Chris advised him to close his eyes prior to applying several layers of the famous transparent tape to his eyes. John had even stopped yelling but he'd not started begging yet. We could wait.
"OK, Big Brother, we've got someone else to see to before we can spare any more time for you. Try not to miss us."
Dave and Kev prepared for heavy lifting. "Why are we carrying him this time?"
"So that we don't pull his boxers down again."
"You know: you're such a thoughtful person? But why don't we just drag him the other way round"
"You're right, good man." Dave and Kev repositioned themselves and grabbed a leg each prior to dragging their charge back into the shower. They did manage to keep his underwear in place that time but the yell as, I presume, what was inside it encountered the sill again seemed to please his porters. How cruel.
Kevin seemed to have a special word for John (So did the rest of us, actually, but it wasn't the sort of word you'd use in company.) before he helped Dave drag the somewhat heavily breathing Ed out of the bathroom.
"You're a luck boy, Ed Livingstone. Our chief torturer hasn't got anything against you. The rest of us, however . . ." As Dave's voice faded out, Ed groaned and Chris got around to cutting the Sellotape from round the pillowcases shrouding his head.
"How much don't you want anyone to see this picture?" I asked him as he blinked in the light.
He looked at the proffered Polaroid: the one that made his "contentment" with his earlier predicament only too evident, and shook his head vigorously making more noise than he'd managed since we'd gagged him.
"Alright," said Dave, "Who speaks for this man?"
There was a short silence before a few lazy declarations along the lines of, "Nah.", "Not me.", "Serve him right for hanging round with my scum-bucket brother." and such like until his champion spoke up.
Things were looking up, Chas had taken the initiative. "I think I can persuade my friends not to show anyone. Hang on a minute." So saying Chas ran out of the room leaving the rest of us puzzled, to say the least. We didn't have more than about a minute for speculation before the little scruff-bag reappeared with his portable tape-recorder. This was before cassettes. Stop pretending; you remember cassettes.
Chas moved the spare study chair to be in front of our prisoner and sat on it holding the microphone up to his own mouth. "I am going to give Edward Livingstone the opportunity to confess all his sins. He knows that if he does not tell the truth he will be subject to public humiliation." To hear little Chas talking like that was, shall we say, at last a surprise. He seemed to have taken charge of the situation. "Do you promise that, when Dave removes your gag, you won't shout?" Ed nodded. "Do you further promise that you will only speak to answer our questions?" Ed nodded again while the little lawyer was getting into his stride
I won't go into all the details of my learned friend's questions but, by the time he'd finished (with helpful interjections from the rest of us) Ed had confirmed that:
1) He tipped off Francis about what my brother and his friends were going to do to us on the first day because they were both members of the County Junior Swimming Team.
2) He had taken a full part in the activities of the "Welcoming Committee"
3) John was the boy who had initiated most of their activities.
4) John had produced the "Poem" on the bog wall and framed Kev for it. Only John would have been stupid enough to boast to anyone else about it!
Just for good measure, Chas even got Ed to admit that he liked to be tied up by other boys. He certainly wouldn't have liked the girlfriend to hear that.
If John and Richard ever got to find out about Ed's confession, his health would certainly have taken a turn for the worse but we said that it would give him a chance to dissociate himself from the other two. I also took a certain pleasure in pointing out that, in order to allay their suspicions, we'd have to treat him just like we were about to treat them. Chas said he would post the tape home as soon as we had finished with him and his friends. Ed nodded warily.
Dave made to replace the already disgusting gag and Ed took the chance of initiating conversation. "Please don't, that hurts. Don't put it back." After a few more profuse apologies, some of which sounded sincere, even Dave was feeling more sympathetic towards hm. However, he didn't trust him to stay quiet during the rest of what we had planned for him.
The Court went into camera. Or at least we took Ed back into the shower and spoke very quietly. With both Richard and John blindfolded, they wouldn't know that Ed wasn't UNLESS he spoke. His decision really.
We soon came to a decision. We were going to have to retie our prisoners ready for their release so we just decided to start with Ed.