Bloody
hell it hurt ! Bloody, bloody hell it hurt a lot. I
remember it so very well.
Having the cane was something of a rite of passage and when I
was first told to bend over I was slightly, secretly pleased
that my time had come. But when that first stroke cracked
down on my buttocks it was like a squirt of fire attacking me.
Just a single stroke the first time and I can’t even remember
precisely what the peccadillo was that brought about my
initiation to corporal punishment but it bloody well hurt.
I was, in fact, caned three times during my secondary school
career, and one of these it was six of the best ! Now that
was something else I can tell you. One of my friends at
school, he was a good mate, managed to be caned by three
different teachers on the same day. I wonder what his arse
felt like when he got home and had the chance to examine it in
the mirror. Wouldn’t have minded taking a look myself.
Nearly every time a boy got the stick it was in front of the
rest of the class, only the headmaster caned in the privacy of
his study. Of course there was an air of sympathy for the
lad involved but, while nobody ever admitted it or gave any
indication, there was also a degree of sensuality in being part
of the audience. It was a turn on.
Being caned was a natural part of school life, part of growing
up and a test of an adolescent’s claim to manhood. It
was accepted and while not rejoiced in I doubt you would find
many of my age group or older who would have agreed when a
lily-livered government decided to bow to the pansy Eurocrats
and over indulged do-gooders and abolished corporal punishment
in schools. Strangely all this happened the very year
after I left school. Yep, I left school when I was sixteen
and waved a fond farewell to the cane to forget all about it
until earlier this week.
I was busy clearing out a load of junk and found a pair of old
gym shoes, god knows how long I had, had them. I picked
one up and held it tightly clenched in my right fist, just like
the teachers at school used to. Yes, I was slippered
at school as well. Loads of times, so many I can’t remember
them all. Having the slipper didn’t really count, not
like having the cane. The marks didn’t last as long as
the cane and were never well defined. You got the slipper
for things like talking when you were supposed not to, coming
last in a PE event or getting too may spellings wrong in a test.
Nothing really.
I do remember one lad weeing in the showers after football,
problem was the teacher saw him. He was dragged out dripping wet
and stark naked, made to bend over and slippered three times.
I bet that hurt as much as any caning. Anyway back to the
story.
Swishing the plimsol through the air I remembered those school
days and looked about for something to slipper. I tanned
the arse of the settee arm. As I did so a heaviness
developed between my legs and a slow but certain erection began
to arise. Did the teachers at school get a hard on when
they slippered or caned boys ? I was curious to know.
A desire to hold a proper cane and swish it through the air in
the same way began to possess me. The cane was proper
corporal punishment, the slipper was for girls ! How could
I get hold of a cane ? Well it’s hardly something you
pop down to Tesco’s for is it ? But I wanted a cane !
I had time to spare so turned to the computer, the Internet and
the site Ask Jeeves. Where can I buy a punishment cane ?
I typed in.
By this time I was dead horny and slipped a hand down the front
of my trousers to adjust matters into a more comfortable
position. As the reply came I kept my hand there. A
click onto the first answer in a long list provided by the site
took my breath away, there was a shop only a couple of miles
down the road. Sure I knew there were such things as sex
shops but I thought they just sold magazines, video’s and
stuff like that. This shop had an on-line catalogue and
there were canes for a tenner each. My heart beat like a
hammer inside my chest but this was nothing to the pounding it
was making as I opened the door of the shop and boldly walked
in.
The assistant regarded me with little consequence, as if
somebody walked in every day to buy a cane - they probably did.
I handed over the money and walked out trying as hard as I could
to conceal my purchase.
Back home I waved the cane about, thought back to the times when
such an implement caressed my own backside then dropped my
trousers and tried to cane myself. Of course at school we
lads were always caned through our trousers but some how the
whack of bamboo on bare buttocks had an interesting appeal.
It was difficult to reach round but I did manage to register one
good stroke. Looking in the mirror I admired the line then
set up my digital camera and took a series of pictures.
Back to the PC I studied each one in turn. Nice.
Naked now before the keyboard I admired the pictures again.
My rock hard cock demanded I relieve the tension and I enjoyed a
superb wank looking at my own backside.
I wanted to know more about my new found interest of spanking
and I wanted to chat with someone about it, share experiences.
Hell, I was feeling horny. That wank had done nothing to
relieve that.
I found a website published by a guy in San Francisco called
Bare Ass Spanking - you should check it out. I
e-mailed a message to the webmaster but San Francisco is a long
way off even if I did give serious consideration to jumping on a
747 and heading off across the Atlantic.
The website did not feature the slipper although it did show a
number of guys being caned. Many of the pictures featured
a paddle, the favored implement once used in American schools.
I don’t have many DIY tools but set up a quick workshop in the
kitchen and still quite naked made myself my very own paddle
from a length of plywood. The paddle blade was about ten
inches long with a five or so inch handle. I wrapped black
insulating tape round the handle and admired my efforts.
Then, to add effect I cut four half inch holes in the centre of
the blade right where it would slap on a bare bum.
I needed that bare bum, needed it to test out the paddle, my
slipper and my newly purchased cane. Again I surfed into
the Internet and drifted through a couple of chat rooms where I
nattered with several guys but all were time wasters. Then
I had a thought.
In my briefcase I had a copy of Exchange and Mart I had bought
the week before when I was looking for a new car and recalled
there were some gay chat adverts in the back pages. I
flicked through and found one: Gay Chat 2p per minute. I
dialed the number: 08708 30 30 14.
Once connected I logged myself on with a voice message as
Curious Spanker. I told guys how I had spent money on a
cane and made my own paddle. All I needed was the right
bum. Was there one out there ? I was prepared to
travel.
I hadn’t been on line for more than a few moments when the
first private message came in. I ignored it, the guy was
miles away. The second was from a guy old enough to be my
grandfather but number three was perfect. Jon told me he
was 21 years old and curious about what it would be liked to be
spanked. He lived about half an hour’s drive away.
“Do you fancy spanking me ?”
I did.
“Could you spank me tonight ?”
I bloody well could and my heart almost burst as we continued
talking. I prayed that we would not get cut off or the
line connecting to a heavily subscribed telephone chat room
break down.
“I have my own place,” Jon explained. “At least I
share with my sister but she’s away tonight so do you want to
come over ?”
Could this be a wind up ? If I got in the car and drove to
the next town would the address actually exist ? Would the
youthful Jon turn out to be an aging perv ? “So what do
you look like ?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I am about 6’ 2” and slim, dark
spiky hair, fairly good looking with a tight and cute bum. Come
over and take a look. You won't be disappointed - I
promise.”
I had previously told him all about me and was silent for a
moment.
“You still there ?”
“Yes.”
“So are you going to come over ? My bum is dead curious
particularly for that paddle you said you made earlier.
Come and print that across my cheeks.”
What could I lose ? Worse case scenario an hour
driving there and back and the cost of the petrol. But Jon
was so precise about the directions and even gave me his mobile
telephone number. “Ring me as you pull into the road and
I will be at the door waiting for you.”
I drove carefully but quickly. The time on the clock
passed as its ordained rate but time in my mind went so slowly
until I eventually found the road where Jon lived. I
dialed the number and waited for the answer.
“I can see you coming up the road. Just park outside and
bring your cane, paddle and slipper inside.”
I had placed all three inside an old hold-all, the paddle
and slipper were no problem but the cane poked out the end.
Jon smiled as he saw it.
“Come inside, I’m dead horny.”
“You ever been spanked before,” I began the clumsy
conversation.
“No, this will be my first time. You spanked many ?”
Hell it was my first time as well.
John took off his shirt to reveal broad shoulders and a muscular
torso then dropped his jeans and pants to show two tight bum
cheeks. God they were inviting. Things were moving
so fast my mind was having difficulty keeping up.
If I was the spanker and Jon the spankee then I should be the
one taking charge of the situation, giving the orders and he
carrying them out. Not standing there open mouthed no
matter how inviting that backside was.
I look round the room quickly and found a suitable chair.
I sat down. "Come here," I said mustering
as much severity in my voice as I could. "Bend over
my knee."
Jon did exactly as he was told, giving me a wink as he settled
into position.
I has the slipper already in my hand. I lifted my arm high
into the air then brought that slipper down as hard as I could
on that beautiful bare bum. It made a loud slap and man it
must have hurt. I felt Jon tighten against me as he gasped
with the sudden pain. I wanted to ask him if it hurt but I
knew the answer. I knew also the answer to his desire for
more.
Whack - whack - whack - I delivered three more stinging blows.
Already a satisfying red glow as beginning to appear. Two
more - whack - whack - to complete the full half dozen.
I dropped the slipper to the floor by my side and ran a hand
over the bruised bum. It felt good and to it I delivered a
couple of firm hand swats.
John was as hard as rock and I could feel his stiff cock
pressing against the top of my leg. My own manhood was
pointing upwards with great strength and purpose.
I reached for the paddle and smiled at my woodworking efforts.
I laid it gently across Jon and eyes how I would bring it down
to the greatest effect. Inside my briefs I was damp with
precum, it would not take much to make me cum fully.
The first swat of the paddle sent an echo round the room closely
followed by a cry of pain from Jon. He had been groaning
and offering the oddOwchwith
every stroke but this was a real cry of pain. I hesitated
and wondered if he had enough.
"Don't stop," he said. "I need more
punishment."
Well he was going to get it and get it good.
"Stand up boy and bend over so I can punish you properly.
This over the knee stuff is for kids."
He did as he was told, bending over and placing his hands on his
knees. This was much better, I could now put some real
force behind my swing. That home-made paddle was certainly
making its impression on Jon and leaving clear marks on his
already reddened behind. Unlike the slippering I was not
counting the strokes, perhaps I had reached double figures - if
not then I wasn't far from them - when a super stroke snapped
the blade of the paddle right where it met the handle. My
woodworking effort had not been good enough, there was a design
fault which I would have to rectify.
"You broke my paddle," I said accusingly.
"It will have to be the cane now."
"Yes," John said still bent double and ready to
receive it. "Please."
I held the end of the cane in one hand while resting its tip
against John's buttocks. They still looked good in spite
of the beating they had taken. His legs were apart and I
could see his balls hanging low between them, his cock was like
rock as was indeed my own. I knew I could cum at any time
simply through the pleasure of spanking my new friend and
guessed with each stroke I delivered he was nearing a climax.
Placing the cane to one side just momentarily I rolled up the
sleeves of my shirt then undid the buttons down the front. I was
working up quite a sweat. Automatically I unfastened my
trousers and let them fall to the floor. Stepping out of
them to stand in my underpants I picked up the cane to resume
work.
My god that arse was beautiful. Again I laid the cane
across both buttocks then eyed the target and prepared to take
aim. The cane made a loud swish as the air fought to move
out of the way as it sped down. The crack as it met bare flesh
was louder than anything so far generated save for the scream of
Jon. His voice had a croak of tears about it as he called
for a second stroke.
Before the cane had lifted more than a few inches in preparation
for that second stroke a firm red line was developing and
deepening like the glow of an electric fire when it is first
turned on. Soon there was a second and then a third line
by the side of the first.
The bicep in my right arm was beginning to ache but that ache
was nothing compared to the ache in my cock as it burst to cum.
I would not be able to hold it for very much longer.
With the next stroke Jon began to cum, his cries of pain changed
to cries of delight as the spanking generated within him a
spontaneous ejaculation. I ripped my pants away and held
my cock in my left hand as I delivered yet another blow with my
right.
I didn't need to hold it as, like Jon's, it was in control of
its own destiny and burst forth a fountain of man-fire.
Jon stood to face me, his punishment over. I smiled at
him. "That was good," Jon said. "Better
than I imagined, much better."
"It was good for me as well," I said.
He smiled again. "So I see. Same time next week
?"
