♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot explicit adult fiction by guest author Dave Stewart
It was in the local supermarket that I met Mr Hurd for the first time in many years. At school he had been my mathematics teacher and while we had never fallen out as such, I had felt the wrath of his tawse many, many times. He looked different now. Obviously older, as it was 25 years since I had left school, so I suppose he had to be in his late 60s while I was 41.
“Mr Hurd?” I enquired.
The tall, still authoritative figure eyed me up and down before answering, “Yes, and who are you?”
“David…David Welsh Sir,” and I smiled adding, “Mr Hurd.”
A few moments of thought and then he said, “Ah, Welshy my lad, yes how are you and what have you been doing with yourself?”
We chatted and he insisted that went into the coffee shop for a catch-up. We talked about life and what we had both done and he told me he had retired from teaching and moved down to the same village I now lived in.
I enquired what he did now and he replied that he, “Still sees some old boys now and again.”
Our chat ended and it was two weeks later that we again met in the same store and shared another coffee. Talk this time returned to school days, because in truth we had little else in common, and he made me blush by reminding me of the days he had me stand in front of him for a hand tawsing. “Yes my lad I don’t think the sixers ever did you any harm. Did they?”
Again I could not disagree as I my education had led me on to university, and I now held an accounting post that gave me a good lifestyle, although I was still single.
I found myself drawn to converse further about the tawsings and asked him, “Tell me, did you enjoy thrashing us boys?”
A laugh followed and he admitted to, “A certain amount of pleasure and satisfaction sorting some boys out!” He then startled me by adding, “And you Welshy. I remember giving you a few good tawsings and admiring how you took them. I often wondered since how you would have taken the cane, had it been in use in our part of Scotland.”
I became quite brave at this point and said I no doubt would have handled the cane just as well as the tawse. Mr Hurd asked me how it felt to take a tawsing and we conversed openly about all things to do with beatings and school discipline.
“You should come and visit me some time, Welshy, and I will show you my memorabilia from those days. I kept some of my toys when they were banned.”
I said that I would like that, while wondering why and we arranged for me to visit him the following evening. I found myself thinking all night and then the following day about school discipline. I found myself unusually excited, touching my cock frequently then wanking furiously twice. I was indeed excited, fantasising about being tawsed again, which shocked me.
I visited Mr Hurd that evening and we chatted over some cheese and wine before he went to a drawer and handed me the same tawse he said he had taken to me all these years ago. It was a fearsome dark brown three tailed length of leather and I could see immediately why it had terrified us kids all these years ago. In fact Mr Hurd had a reputation for being a hard and ruthless tawser and six from him was the worst punishment in school.
My mind wandered back to Miss Beaton, my English teacher, a tall lady in her early 20s. I was in love with her, or so I thought, and I fantasised about being tawsed by her. That first time she rumbled me she appeared surprised but the second time she knew exactly what was on my mind. So she sent me to see Mr Hurd! Never again did I try it on with Miss Beaton. Strangely, just then Mr Hurd mentioned her as he poured more wine into my glass.
“Yes Welshy, you had a crush on that delightful lady and a fetish about her punishing you, I believe!”
I blushed and the memories came rushing back. We laughed and chatted further before I asked about his other memorabilia.
“Ah, that is in my study,” he stood up and I followed him automatically. We entered an upstairs room that was indeed full of memorabilia including a traditional cast frame school desk and a teacher’s one.
“I am a bit olde worlde about this room, Welshy, so when we are within it you should call me ‘Sir’, is that clear? Just like you did at school and in the supermarket when we renewed our acquaintance.”
“Eh? Yes, Yes Sir,” I responded.
Sir opened a cupboard and within were an array of canes and tawses. I couldn’t believe my eyes! I was invited to inspect them. As I did so, I heard rustling behind me, and then when Sir came into view he was wearing his old schoolteacher’s gown.
I am, and was, far from stupid and realised immediately that there was more to Sir than first met the eye. And a strange feeling swept over me as I stood holding the tawses and canes in turn.
“Are you impressed young Welshy?” Sir asked.
I turned around, holding a tawse, and answered truthfully, “Yes Sir, very.”
“Are you still as brave Lad?” asked Sir suddenly. I blushed deeply and lowered my head. “Perhaps not?” he teased.
“Your not meaning, well, meaning Sir that you expect me to take the tawse all these years later?”
Sir replied, “Come, we shall retire downstairs again and chat some more, Welshy.”
Downstairs Mr Hurd, or Sir, explained to me that he knew all those years ago what I was up to with Miss Beaton and wondered if I still held such fantasies. He added that many boys still did and then told me that he had a few old boys who visited him for some school discipline. He concluded by saying, “Perhaps I misjudged you Welshy…or was it that bulge in your shorts that misled me?”
That started a long conversation about those special boys and what they got up to. Sir told me how some boys took the tawse, some the cane and some did lines for him. Some did all three.
I asked Sir what he enjoyed most and he said that he got great pleasure returning to his schoolteacher role and providing the necessary discipline. He was still sat in his gown holding that wicked tawse when the conversation dried up suddenly. All I could say to him was that I was not sure about things.
He smiled rather benignly and said that he understood, and that I should go and think and if I decided it was for me then fine, and if not no more would be said.
As I left, feeling foolish and embarrassed, Sir gave me his phone number and said he hoped to speak soon.
I left knowing I had chickened out but could not get home soon enough to wank off. I decided that I needed to visit again. The following day I phoned Sir and left a message and eagerly awaited his call back. All I said in my message was “Sir it is Welshy and I think I would like to visit again, as discussed.”
The call back came that evening after 10pm and a very straight-talking Sir asked me what I wanted and made me say I wanted to experience the tawse again. Like at school. He also drew from me that I wanted to be caned as well.
“Very well young Welshy!” he retorted. “You will report to my study tomorrow evening at 7pm . When you do you will have written for me 100 lines, which I will inspect. I expect your handwriting to be neat. And no grammatical or spelling mistakes. The lines will be “I deserve to be tawsed and caned for my behaviour.”
The conversation ended and excitedly I got paper and pen and started to write. Now, lines was never my thing and soon the boredom overtook the excitement and it was an hour and a half later when I completed the hated lines. I hated them, just like I had at school.
The following evening I visited Sir at the agreed hour and he opened the door dressed in his gown, shirt, tie and suit trousers.
“Welshy good timekeeping, now come on in. Nervous?” he asked, and he smiled when I said I was very nervous.
He took me to the study and asked for my lines before telling me to wait outside his door until I was called. Stood there, it was school days all over again. Waiting to be punished! I felt that very worrying nervous stomach churning feeling almost all schoolboys have known.
“Get in here now Welshy!” bellowed the voice from within. I entered and was immediately lectured on my behaviour and lines. Spelling and writing issues were pointed out and I began to feel almost intimidated.
“Right then Welshy. Perhaps some hand warming will encourage better writing for your next set of lines!”
I noticed he had referred to my next set. I stood in front of Sir as he withdrew the familiar tawse from within his gown. Without being told to, I raised my hands, placing palm on palm, almost as if this was a normal thing to do. After some instruction as to height and posture, the tawse was raised and descended with a force that made me yell out and rub my hands furiously.
A smiling Sir simply said, “Change palms for me, Welsh.”
I took my six strokes, three on each palm, with a strange feeling of pained excitement. As soon as it was over I started to sport the most difficult of erections to hide. Sir noticed it. He smiled but said nothing.
Sir replaced the tawse in his gown as he took it off, placing it over the chair, and rolled his sleeves up. He then went to the cupboard and took his time selecting a cane. He swished and flexed several in the process, maybe for effect, before picking a wicked looking crook-handled, swishy cane.
“Now then Welsh. I want your trousers lowered and you bent over that desk.”
I did as instructed and felt grateful for the thin covering of my underpants. Standing behind me, Sir flexed the cane then spoke with authority, “So Welsh, your first taste of the cane. I expect you to remain over the desk. If you stand, utter profanities or reach behind I shall give that stroke again and add an extra penalty one. Boys at school took this in their stride, so I expect an adult lad like you to do the same. Do you understand?”
I very nervously spluttered out “Yes Sir” and inwardly wondered what it was that had encouraged me into this situation. I felt his hands on my backside and then, to my horror, the pants were dragged down. I felt the tentative tap of the cane on my bare flesh.
Suddenly, as I toyed with my own thoughts about what it would feel like, the first cane stroke whistled down. I shot up in response to the pain, bolt upright, and shouted “FUCK ME!”
Sir growled, “Perhaps later lad, but now we’ll start again and add another. YOU WILL LEARN TO BEHAVE IN MY CLASS!”
The second cut deep. I bit my lip and held on with stoic determination. The third stroke almost made me stand up again and the fourth was a real burner. The next two strokes made me hold on for grim death and it was all I could do not to do anything except grunt loudly.
I was keeping count and knew I had taken six. There were two more to come and I was determined not to incur more. I wondered to myself why I didn’t just stand up and say I wouldn’t take any more. Just then the next stroke whistled down followed swiftly by a burning final stroke. My eighth.
“Stand and turn around Welsh!” I was instructed. I was told to stand in the corner. I stood there contemplating what had just happened and soon my softened penis grew embarrassingly.
When Sir allowed me come out of the corner, I tried to use my hands to conceal my erection from him. I was mortified but Sir smiled. He came towards me. Without any resistance from me, he held my cock and slowly started to wank me. Despite or perhaps because of my burning hands and bottom, I soon exploded into the tissue he had handy. I was left to clean up and dress.
Arriving back downstairs we discussed openly what had happened and I declared that it was more painful than I had expected. However, I couldn’t deny that my rock hard cock betrayed my excitement.
“Any time you wish some more Welshy then all you need do is write me some lines, and then come and see me.”
It felt strange thanking the man responsible for my discomfort as I left and even stranger that as soon as I sat in the car I was planning my next tutorial.
I was about to undertake what might be termed “adult further education.”
Story © 2012 by David Stewart, used by kind permission
Real life story by new guest author Strapmenow
Webmaster Rod’s note: This was originally published as a comment on my recent story “Full Bottom Of Steam”, but I thought it good enough to use as a short piece in its own right. Fortunately the comment author was happy with this, so in slightly tidied form, here it is:
…Reminds me of receiving from my wife the ½” thick cane, 3½” double leather spanker, and 1¾” thick double leather tawse (split vertically for the last 6½“) last Tuesday. Boy how I hate the tawse! Actually in that session I hated all those implements. They all really hurt.
I was very pleased with the after effects. The tramlines were still very visible 24 hours later. I just had to smile to myself whenever I sat on a hard seat, like the toilet seat or whenever I went driving. Car seats are great reminders if one has just received a jolly good thrashing. When you first sit in the driver’s seat you are reminded of why your bottom is so sore and everytime you shift position to operate the foot pedals one receives further reminders. I can’t help smiling to myself at each of these reminders, knowing how I came to have them and also knowing from whom I received them! I suppose if it were not for those very painful strokes received, one would not have such delicious reminders afterwards.
Whenever my wife feels like giving me a thrashing that is exactly what I receive. The waiting up in our room is really the worst time. There I am, naked and draped over a couple of pillows on the centre of our bed with the instruments of correction either lying on top of me or right beside me. I know (or at least think I know) what I am in for. My ears are very attuned to every sound I hear from the kitchen. My wife is heard rattling around, doing a whole lot of things, I presume, wholly unrelated to my impending spanking. I think to myself during this interminable waiting time, “I wish she would hurry up and get this thing over with.” My tension level keeps on ramping up to a higher and higher level. Yes, I am fearful of what is about to happen and yet at the very same time I really do want it to happen! Eventually I hear her footsteps coming down the hallway and know that it will all soon be underway.
When I introduced my wife to BDSM spanking (by hitting myself with an implement – can’t remember which one at this point of time, which I had purchased from an Adult Shop – it may have been a crop) I gave myself some 500 strokes on my bare bum, which of course considerably reddened it! Ha ha! I told her, “See it has not done me any harm and you can see how much it has excited me.” This was evidenced by my rampant erection. I said,”Next time I would like you to apply the implement.” She did!
I had always heard that the person giving the thrashings got turned on too, as well as the person receiving, but I did not really believe it. I had thought that they were doing it solely for the pleasure of the one receiving. But Pam was wet. I discovered that when she invited me to touch her. Yes, I discovered that she was very wet indeed.
After ten years of marriage I still love vanilla sex. Each time I come inside Pam is just as much a thrill as the first time. “Yes!” I say to myself, “I can still do this,” and it gives me as much of a charge as the very first time. Yet Pam spanking me adds a very thrilling dimension to our sex life. I don’t fully understand why this is so but just know that it is. It most likely is because in consensual BDSM Spanking the one receiving knows that the giver will not permanently injure you, it is not abuse, which I am very much opposed to. The surrender of control says in a very powerful way, “I trust you and know that you will not in any way harm me. Yes, what you are about to do will hurt me, but I know that you will not take me beyond my ability to bare. Yes, at times you will extend my limits and I’ll discover that my ability to bear the pain is much greater than I would have thought.”
Sometimes, indeed most times, I enjoy the spankings. I love the feel of leather being applied to my bare bottom, or hands. Sometimes I think that it is harder than I can bear. The mind most certainly plays tricks with you. I had really thought that when Pam was caning me that she was using full force. In actual fact she was horrified that I thought she was doing that! She was only using her forearm. Of course, what is actually happening is that your brain releases those wonderful chemicals, endorphins, in response to the pain. The recipient drifts off into that dreamlike state, that state of euphoria called sub-space.
Well Rod, I started off supposedly commenting on a story here and ended up giving a rant on the whole spanking scene! I think that I need a jolly good thrashing! Perhaps you may consider writing a story where you do just that. Ha ha!
I will close now after reading what I have just written to my wife, prior to posting. Keep writing those great stories! I, along with your other select group of readers I have no doubt, enjoy what you write here…
Content © 2012 by Strapmenow
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by guest author sukemnsee
DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I was taking a short break in the Kingdom of Fife. Later, I would be going on to Glasgow for an organised tour that included the Edinburgh Tattoo. I was staying off the main road north, in a delightful B & B in the village of Auchtermuchty. I chose it because of the name, as it has come up once or twice over the years and I liked the sound of it. For those of you who do not know the area, it is in the east of Scotland, above Edinburgh going up towards Perth and not far from the home of golf at St. Andrews.
My nearest main town was Cupar and so the travel ticket I had was based on that area with some village extensions. There are some delightful places around there and I was quite content to meander, take a pub meal where I fancied and to enjoy the little-known area.
On a whim, I decided to go to visit Cowdenbeath, just because it was a name associated with listening to football results from the Scottish Leagues when I was younger.
I caught the bus and headed merrily off. To my surprise, as the bus pulled into a bus station part way, there were two uniformed officers doing a ticket inspection. I showed them my pass ticket and was met with a grimace as they studied it. I was ordered off the bus and taken to a small office at the rear of the building. I had to give my name and address and the younger man, went off to a computer to verify my details. The older man resembled a TV character from an old Ronnie Barker series. He was very stern and with his little greyed moustache, seemed unsmiling.
The younger man came back and said that the computer verified that I lived where I’d stated. He thought I was a high earner, living in a category nine home insurance area, which meant the property values were high.
This disappointed the older man, “So Mister, if I fine you the regulation £20 for this offence it will mean nothing to you, this is no guid at all, there is no reckoning here.”
I nearly blurted out that fines in my area were £80 but kept quiet.
“I need to punish you, but I would hae to take you before the Sheriff if I wanted you excluded from all our buses and he is not in session the now. I need something quicker and more focused.”
“I see, have you heard that it is Consensual Spanking International Day today, 8th August? You could have a pop at me for that. Go ahead, if you can!”
I was a bit impertinent there and he told me my blether was drivel. That said, the younger one said he could not find such a day in the calendar. I told him to find “The Canery” blog and he would see it there.
The older man said that a spanking was in order but that I need not think now or by the end that it was consensual! It was to set me on the straight and narrow.
“Bend over the edge of that desk there, Mister.”
The man was actually serious. I complied, feeling rather strange with the two men in the little office and not knowing how the sound would carry.
“You dinna think I am wasting my strap on claithes, get they trews and kecks down to your ankles!”
I bared as instructed, wondering by now if I had dozed off on the bus journey and this was all a dream…
This was no dream, a sharp swipe of his leather had just woken up all the nerves in my bottom!
“Do I not get a hand spanking to warm me up then?” I asked.
“Mister, we are not playing games here, my tawse will suffice.”
The younger man added, “You are being punished with a fine example of a Lochgelly tawse. This supple leather strap with its two tails is designed to make a swift impression and you will be red raw when we are done with you. This is our present frae Scotland to you, with the feared strap made in Main Street.”
This man knew how to lay it on. I could feel the full force of it alright!
Already I felt there was no space left untouched on my arse. The pain was building up as the strap lashed me, with more intensity than a standard belt. Maybe it was the tails the boy spoke of?
I grunted, I was really getting quite sore. In a recreational spanking, I would normally have asked for a break just here but this was a punishment and so that wasn’t an option. The strokes felt as if they were landing on earlier ones.
“Oooh!”, I was starting to get a little vocal. I was into that phase of clenching my muscles to see if it lessened the impact and also probably in anticipation.
“Dinna stop the now, there’s mair red to go yet!”
The younger guy was egging on the older guy. It brought home how I was being studied. This was more embarrassing in the tiny office, especially when compared to spanking clubs where you know there are distant, furtive audiences for each bit of action.
“ARRRGH!” that really set me on fire as landed on a spot where I’d already been thrashed. I wondered how my bottom looked, as it felt like a furnace.
I had no idea how long or how many this would go on for, would I have any say?
“Stand Up, Mister!”
I eased up into a standing position, a little embarrassed as I had a firm erection sticking out and my shirt was short and sort of rested against it.
“Hold up your left hand, palm upward, you can support it with your right hand.”
I screamed as he laid the tawse into my left palm. It was so sore and my fingers tingled like mad. It was amazing to think that this was the way schoolboys were punished! I was suddenly grateful for all the arse caning and plimsoll swiping I got at school!
“Raise the other hand now, Mister!”
This was inhuman I thought to myself, I would be useless for hours if both my hands were made that sore.
“C’mon Laddie, are you wanting me to start over again?”
I raised my right hand, finding it sore bunching my left hand in support.
I knew this was coming and sort of pulled away my hand, but not fast enough! It seemed to catch me on fingers more and that was certainly a mistake!
“Get that hand properly in place, or it’ll be so much the worse for you!”
I somehow raised that right hand.
I saw the strap come down, the split bit at the end making a double impact. I screamed once more and my eyes were watering, I was so close to crying.
“Get dressed, Mister.”
I reached down, past my now wilted pride and gripped the waistband of my trousers. It was agony but I did not want to linger. I reckon I had been strapped about twenty times, one stroke for each pound of the fine. I was so sore.
I left the office and made for the nearby men’s room. As I walked in heading for the cubicles, a young man of maybe North African origin smiled at me, and paused from his mopping. He seemed to me to make a very definite move to caress his bottom which looked attractive and snug in his brown coverall jump suit. Did he know what had just gone on? Maybe his store cupboard was within earshot of the tiny office. Maybe there had been many like me over the years?
On any other day, I might have seen this as a come-on but for now, the privacy of the cubicle was what I craved. At last, alone in the cubicle I could feel my tender hands and my even hotter bottom. I would love to have looked at my bum in a mirror there, but the place was too busy for that sort of thing.
I headed back to my lodgings, paying the bus fare this time. It was quite expensive. I stood all the way by choice.
I have to go now, just showered and refreshed. My bottom is still very red from that strapping.
The younger ticket inspector called me on my mobile. He must have got the number from the quick background searches he had carried out on me. Anyway, he is coming in his car to pick me up and take me back to his place.
He promises that I’ll enjoy myself, and satisfy him. He has taken the tawse home and got a pair of brand spanking new plimsolls and other toys. He had read up more of The Canery site and he a favourite story already, one called Rump Kilt Skin. He will let me have a consensual spanking this time. What could be more appropriate on Consensual Spanking International Day?
There’s the horn, I’m gone.
Story © 2012 by sukemnsee
Sore botty pictures © 2011 by Jonathan
Thanks to both for their contributions
Comments very welcome
Erotic fiction by guest author David Stewart
Mother-in-law was a rather fearsome lady, never one of David’s great admirers. She was scathing about his lack of achievement and inability to provide, as she thought, what her daughter deserved. A lawyer by calling, she had an authoritative tone and dominant nature, that in truth David had often admired. He saw much of that in her daughter, his wife, and this was one of the reasons that the couple had lived so happily in their ten years together.
In truth, she was well off the mark and David was a thoughtful and hard-working individual devoted to his wife, who, in their private life, was every bit as dominant as he perceived her mother to be.
It was one of the bi-annual visits to the house that she made her discovery. As usual David had spent the week making sure the house was cleaned and ready for his mother-in-law to arrive. His wife had ensured, with two sound thrashings that he had done so. Hidden from all the family was the fact that David was subservient to his wife and had been since early in the relationship.
On the second night of the four night stay the alarm bells sounded as David, with bravado and too much wine, had argued with his wife over something quite silly. Never the less, if looks could kill, David would have been collecting his insurance premium, or rather his wife would have.
His mother-in-law commented about “David is being brave tonight, is he not?”
His wife replied, “Yes he is, or rather he is being silly tonight and will pay the price after your visit.”
Smiles and laughter led to a blushing face from David and his mother-in-law rounded on him saying, “Oh, so you will be on the end of some retribution when I am gone, will you David?”
David blushed, his wife laughed and his mother-in-law added, “Perhaps the canes you keep upstairs are explained now?
It was his wife who blushed now, and his mother-in-law continued, “I did wonder, who used these and I am pleased to assume it is you, my dear, who chastises David here! Is that the case?”
A conversation where his wife opened up and admitted to taking charge led to David feeling totally humiliated as his wife and mother-in-law started to discuss marital domestic discipline.
“I am no stranger to this my dear, as I can assure you that your late father was as obedient to me, and was soundly thrashed at times by me. That is the secret of success!”
Almost oblivious to David’s presence they both discussed how early on in the relationships they had discovered that their partners were basically in need of guidance and discipline and one thing led to another. “I used to take your father over my knees for the hairbrush at regular intervals, both as a reminder and also when he was badly behaved. Much the same dear as I recall doing to you with the same hairbrush!” It was David’s wife who blushed as her mother recounted how she would administer the hairbrush with good effect to both sisters at times.
The wine continued and eventually all retired to bed. In bed that night David apologised, but as they cuddled, he was obviously excited about what his mother-in-law had revealed and pressed his wife for more intimate details about how she herself had been spanked with that brush.
“She was a real monster with that brush and the mere threat of it was enough, once we had sampled it a few times. I got it till I left the house at 21 and it was a most humiliating experience, but I suppose was never given unless deserved.”
Question after question led to some marital fumblings and at one point his wife made the comment “I think it is you that should perhaps sample her brush next?”
David drew a breath and could not hide the delight at this prospect saying “Ooh, my darling, how absolutely humiliating that would be!”
In the morning all were a bit embarrassed, and at lunch the mother-in-law suddenly started the conversation that altered the day, “So my dear, last night?” adding “Last night was an eye-opener and I have decided that my stay should not interfere with your marital discipline. I suggest we send David home and we continue to the shops. After that we can join David and you can do whatever you would do to him as punishment for his intolerable behaviour last night. I suggest if the boy wants to be disrespectful in front of his mother-in-law then I deserve to see his punishment?
So after some small talk it was accepted and David returned home. It was a lonely wait of mixed anticipation and fear for the three hours before they returned.
“Mother wants to see you punished as I would do normally, and I see no reason not to do that. Go and get ready for me now David, and we will be along when we are ready.”
As he headed out the door he turned to his wife and asked “Err, darling, is that exactly as I would be for you?”
She smiled and both her and her mother laughed and she said “Yes, exactly!”
So it was that twenty minutes later his wife and mother-in-law entered the bedroom and found a naked David, head lowered and blushing with his shaven cock and balls on display. A cane, three-tailed tawse and heavy bath brush were laid out on the bed.
His mother-in-law tried not to look amused, but she was.
“Now perhaps an apology to myself and Mother? And then your usual?”
David, still head lowered, said, “Darling, I am sorry for answering back the other night. I deserve this thrashing. I also want to apologise to you, Alison, for having to be a witness.”
“You will be sorry very soon David, now bend over!” said his wife in her strictest tone. He bent over the edge of the bed, grateful not to be exposed any longer.
“So how many will you give him?” asked his mother-in-law. The magical sentence of 36 was announced.
The caning started and David yelped and the next landed shortly afterwards. He took the full 36 and heard various comments from the audience culminating in “Good show, darling!”
The caning stopped and the order was given to lie on the bed. The tawse was administered to his backside 36 times too, and each blow brought a yelp from the ever-suffering David.
“Are you feeling sorry now David?” asked his mother-in-law.
“Yes, yes, I am very sorry.”
“I think you may like to take over mother” his wife said and handed the brush to her mother. The brush was then used with amazing force on poor David’s burning cheeks! He was amazed at the strength of the woman.
What also amazed him was the tirade of verbal insults she gave with the spanking, “You deserve every one of these, David!” “This will teach you to obey your wife!” “My boy you need this so much!”
The force of the beating caused David to shout out, “For fucks sake, I am sorry, sorry!”
His mother-in-law asked, “What was that you said David?”
“Ssssorry, I said I was sorry!”
“Yes, but did you not say the “F” word as well?”
“Yyess. Ssorry I did! I am sorry I did not mean to, just it is so sore, and it slipped out!”
“Stand up David!” his mother-in-law commanded and he gratefully stood in front of her, his hands covering his front.
“Swearing is unforgivable and your wife knows what happens now don’t you my dear?”
His wife blushed, thinking back to the days when her mother spanked her, then she smiled knowingly and said, “Yes Mother, you would start again, wouldn’t you?”
His humiliation was complete as both ladies burst into laughter. He was taken by the ear and almost thrown back on the bed and told by his mother-in-law, “50 smacks and any swearing you’ll get the same again!”
The spanking that followed caused David to cry out a lot. But he did not swear and despite tears welling he managed not to cry for real.
The thrashing over, David stood up and his wife raised her eyes to the ceiling. David reacted by saying, “Alison, thank you for my spanking which was deserved.”
After a pause his wife added, “And what else do we say after a spanking?”
He added, “Oh and Alison, if I ever deserve another please don’t hesitate, because I need to be disciplined when I am naughty.”
It was a well-rehearsed sentence that David always had to use, but somehow both ladies found it so humorous and before laughing too much his mother-in-law sarcastically added “Thank you David. Be assured I shall do so!”
That concluded his thrashing, and for the remainder of the visit his behaviour was impeccable.
Before leaving, his mother-in-law sat both of them down and said, “Now I may have found David’s reactions amusing, but I am proud of you both. You my darling for taking charge, and you David for accepting the need for a strong woman to lead you. I shall help out again if needed, and this is obviously our secret. It is, I am sure, the secret to a very successful marriage, so long as you my dear never forget that David requires discipline, and plenty of it!”
To be continued.
Story ©2012 by David Stewart
Explicit true story by David Stewart
I’ve always felt that I wanted to be spanked, and I’m not sure why.
It was always ladies I fantasised about until I was about 22, when I made a friend who would introduce me to the world of adult discipline.
To set the scene here, I was a young police officer. I met John, who was 59 and a retired teacher (or so he told me). I had been schooled in Scotland and he had taught on both sides of the border. I met him as a result of a call to assist with some children that were causing a nuisance. We had a chat over coffee about ‘the kids of today’ and so on. Over a few visits the story was always the same, about people lacking discipline nowadays and eventually I guess we both learnt that each other was more than interested in the topic. He did ask me if I was disciplined at home and in school, and did I think I was better for it. In hindsight, nowadays he would be called a pervert, but there you are and remember this was the late ’70s.
He made an unusual comment one visit, asking, “Do you ever miss the way a spanked bottom or tawsed hands dealt with an issue and then it was over?” I answered, “I suppose so, in a strange way.”
As I left that night John made his move and said, “You know David, if you ever felt the need to revisit those days of a spanked bottom, then you only need ask me to do it for you.”
Well I left, and I gave my cock a thorough workout later that day. The following day I called him and spoke nervously about the comment. Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself if I got it wrong, I asked, “What did you mean last night when I left, about if I ever felt the need or something?”
“David, I know some adults still miss that old fashioned spanking thing and as a friend if you felt you needed it, then I would do it for you.” It was a s simple as that, but it had taken about six visits before he asked. I said that I thought I did and he said, “Well if you do David, bring your PE kit to change into and we will see to it!”
Two days later I turned up in uniform along with a bag with shorts and vest in it, and we had a coffee. “Did you bring anything with you today, David?”, he asked. Nervously I showed him the plastic bag and then its contents. John then went on to try to relax me, which was impossible. He told me he had friends who he spanked, and not to think I was unusual in any way.
Eventually he said something about “So should we go and deal with you then?” We stood and went to what was a small study. It had a desk with leather chair, a hard-backed chair in the corner, and a small cupboard on one wall.
“So how should I deal with you, David?”
I said, “Just like my father would, Sir.” There had been no request to call him Sir, it just felt right.
“I will leave you to change then into your shorts and vest.”
When he returned some five minutes later I was stood there with an erection in my PE shorts. He smiled and pulled the hard-backed chair out, told me to go over his lap and then he spanked me over my shorts for a while. I left that night disappointed, to be honest.
The next time I visited, we chatted about it. I had brought my kit again. He asked me how it had been. I suddenly blurted out that “It was not quite as I expected.” Asked why, I said, “Well I was always spanked on the bare bum and it always really stung. I always felt as if I had been punished then.”
John looked at me, smiled, and said “Ah David, so you want a proper spanking do you, pants down, over my knee and one that teaches you a lesson?”
“Well yes, Sir,” I stuttered. “It’s just that I always thought spankings should be like that.”
As a result, a few minutes later I was at John’s side and having my shorts and pants pulled down. This caused my erection to stick out (and be ignored by John). I was then pulled over and I got the hardest spanking I could remember. I recall yelling out “Oh Sir, I am so sorry!”
After the spanking, I was made to stand in the corner, bottom bare and hands on head. That was the way it went for a few months until one day I turned up without my kit. Over coffee we were chatting about spanking and I said, “It makes me regret forgetting my kit today.” John smiled and said, “Well David, I think, if you don’t mind, and as I have seen most of you anyway, we can do without the PE kit from now on, if you want.”
We went up to the study and John for the first time stood watching me and said “Right David I want all your clothes off today.” I was soon stood naked and erect as he gazed at me. “Does it excite you that I am going to spank you David?”
“Do you usually have a wank afterwards, thinking of me spanking you?”
“Yes, usually Sir!”
He moved closer to me. “Do you ever think of me touching your cock David, or does that thought never enter your head?”
“I do Sir, sometimes.”
His hand started to move towards my cock. He touched it and it stood even more erect. He pulled back and then had me over his knee, spanking that erection out of me. It was a harder than usual spanking and I nearly cried. Afterwards he put his hand between my cheeks and made me erect again. So it was that I was wanked for the first time by another guy. That became the norm and I would visit for a spanking at least twice a week and I started to visit him on my days off. It was only a short while before I started to wank him off as well.
After about six months he re-introduced me to the tawse. In doing so, he revealed his love of tawsing. The norm then became for me to have to take six of the tawse along with any spanking. Normally, this was after the spanking, as he liked my hands to be warm when I touched him. After a tawsing, they were really hot!
It was a year before I got caned and I was warned how sore that experience would be. We had discussed it before, but I was still rather unaware of the pain a cane could cause. I recall being told that the cane would be applied next time I came and to make an appointment on a day off. He promised me a real ‘six of the best’ and I got that, for sure.
It was six days later. I visited him nervously. This time, John was very different. “Come in boy!” was his command and I was taken directly to his study. A a cane lay on the desk. He lectured me and told me I was to be caned, six strokes and if I stood up or touched my bottom that stroke would not count and he would add another.
Naked, I stood waiting and Sir said to me in a softer tone, “Now remember David, you asked for this and I need to give you it as I would if it were a real punishment. It is going to hurt like nothing you have experienced before, but I have explained all that already, haven’t I?”
“Yes Sir”, I said.
“And you still want to find out what a real caning is like?”
“Yes Sir, please Sir.”
His attitude changed suddenly, “Right boy! Over the desk, and grip the far side.”
The cane was tapped a few times before it thrashed down. The sound felt delayed, as if it came after the hit . There was a distinct moment when I felt nothing, but then a fearsome pain cut through me! I stood up and grabbed my bum, only to hear a very unsympathetic, “Get down boy! I expected better!”
The next stroke elicited a real yell from me followed by a third then a fourth which both did the same. It was true agony and I had to wait for the fifth stroke. The sixth cut deep into my cheeks and then Sir spoke, “Now you have to be given the first stroke again and then one extra. Are you ready boy?”
“Sir, please no more! I’m so sore!”, I whined.
“You wanted a real caning, now take the last two like a man, David!”
Almost immediately the cane delivered the penultimate stroke, followed shortly by the eighth, final stroke. In tears, I stood up and Sir cuddled me, and then made me stand in the corner. After a while the flames of pain diminished. He led me to the bedroom where he undressed and we got into bed. In the end, I stayed the whole night after being taken out for a curry.
Our relationship lasted for over six years and during that time my bottom was constantly spanked and caned. My hands were tawsed so often that I lost count! It was the only time I have had a long relationship with another guy. Believe it or not, the reason we stopped was because by then I’d met my wife. The marks were too conspicuous to have. She became my chastiser. I have however, always retained a desire to be spanked by another older guy and especially to be hand tawsed by one. I have met a few guys who can tawse school-style and are happy to spank a naughty lad like me.
So that’s the true account of how I came to be into spanking.
Text © David Stewart 2012, used here by very kind permission
picture © by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
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