♥ Site recommended story ♥
Red hot new spanking fiction by very special guest author Sukemnsee – strictly over 18s only!
The Very Supportive Care Worker by Sukemnsee
I looked across at Nobby and Sach making fools of themselves. They were trying to flatter a manipulative older woman who in my mind just wanted these young men to buy her a drink. I realised that I had to do so much more with the decade that would commence in a few hours. There was no quick escape tonight, I would raise a glass like everyone else in The Ruddy Duck public house and toast midnight and Happy New Year. I hoped that later as we would walk back to our local streets that Nobby would not start puking along every hedgerow, once again unable to hold his drink. He was such a lightweight amongst us 20-year-olds! My current social circle, product of school and college, was so-called apprentice engineers.
It had been a depressing year really, one to escape. Yes I had to change completely and forge my own pathway and Eric had inspired me in this. The New Year’s Day private party with Eric and his friends was something else! It was exciting, with new experiences, and more secrets not to tell my crowd about, and a sign that this year was starting differently.
Back to work on 2nd, I went straight to Foreman Len and said I planned to finish at the end of the month. I half-hoped they would throw me out instantly but he was quite polite and appreciated what I had done while working there. He said I was the cream of the intake so he always knew I would move on, but maybe not so fast.
I enrolled in several courses in following days, taking up most of my evenings, getting minor certifications to get me employed by a Care Agency. Did it so well I left the factory one day and was on a joint assignment the very next day. My colleague was nowhere near as professional as my friend Eric, but then Eric was special in my eyes. I had seen lots of dross tending to my late father before, but Eric had engaged my father with respect and attentiveness and restored his dignity in trying times. Eric was a role model for me in many respects.
Just two weeks later I was off to one of my first solo engagements. There was some tittering in the office as they gave me the job folder. They wanted to see how long I would last with the miserable old man I’d been assigned to. Such negativity, just like many factory days, those past days! Well I would take this client on, and if I got rebooked repeatedly then that would be to my credit and help my career pathway.
Thomas was a little curmudgeonly at first, I was yet another different face needing to be told what he needed. The agency had sent me to him far too early! There was a TV programme he wanted to watch before being packed off to bed. Here was a quick win. I told him that if I was paired with him frequently then I could see what flexibility of time there was to make my visits suit him better and for tomorrow I would have stored his programme on my tablet using catch up and he could watch it then. This caused an utter transformation and immediately I had one happy man as my very elderly client.
We settled into a routine very quickly. The agency was surprised that there were no complaints as in the past carers had been changed at least weekly. I even had a Supervisor call in mid visit to observe all was in order. I remembered that Eric had forged a bond with my late father by taking an interest in his past, in his case lower league football. Thomas was not much of a football supporter although he had enjoyed going to cricket, occasionally rugby and turned out to have encyclopaedic knowledge of athletics in years gone by. I certainly had to do some quick research to make conversations meaningful. On one occasion there was a rare visit from the successful in business son of his. I sensed this was a duty visit rather than deep bonding but he took me to one side and slipped me a £50 pound note as a bonus assuming I had low wages because he knew his father was much more content of late. I tried to make a polite refusal but was actually really pleased to accept it.
One day we started talking about his former working life. It transpired he had been a schoolmaster in a notorious grammar school which even had boarders as well as day pupils. He had focused mainly in teaching Geography and History as specialist subjects but over the years had stepped in more than once in staff shortages to teach many a subject. Before he retired he held the position of Deputy Headmaster which suited him as he was still able to teach for the majority of the day whereas if he had taken Headship his teaching hours would have been very limited. He could have retired from full time position as early as 1983 but he pressed on and left in Summer of 1986. He then set up some private tutoring at home for another 10 years when he specialised in getting older boys through retakes of examinations and getting them on the path to University.
This provided lots of conversational material. Although my own schooling was adequate, I had recently had access to my Great Uncle’s project. He had recently retired from working and had decided to write up all his school and youthful memories in detail along with other research with a view to possibly publishing one day. He had shown me a lot of the early manuscripts and I had found them fascinating. His age meant he was being educated while Thomas was active in teaching so the anecdotes I heard had from my client had some relevance. My relative was a bit of a character so the memories I passed on really engaged old Thomas.
I don’t know why but we had never discussed school punishments but I had recently been asked to proofread a couple of chapters for Uncle and when I mentioned I had this task I was asked to bring them with me and read aloud the jottings. A strange word in my lexicon. Wow! this was dynamite as suddenly it dawned on me after the first session that Thomas had obviously been a strict disciplinarian as his body language told it all. It seemed many teachers had distinctive ways in those days.
That material was a real Pandora’s Box. I had been virtually ignorant of all this history but I started to find it fascinating, especially the way it was accepted practice without complaint. Slowly Thomas started to reveal ways he kept young men in line. I could have great conversations with Uncle about this or write great amounts from the revelations. I started to get curious and on one or two occasions I was concealing a strange sexual excitement. I asked him Thomas why such a successful system died out. In his view this was a major collapse in society standards leading to the current entitled generation. What was lost was a sense of boundaries and acceptance of consequences. It was natural in maturity for young men to push boundaries and what developed them was the way they adapted and stretched ingenuity.
A few weeks later, I had an unusual and sadly quite hostile argument with my mother. It was months of pent-up frustration I suppose but I should have handled it better. Thomas sensed this as soon as I arrived and once I had done all the necessary tasks he soon had me admitting my shame and repentance. Given my total lack of experience he told me I would receive a spanking just this time! Suffice to say I never realised an old man could use his hand so effectively especially as my bottom was bare before he said I had enough. How I ended up getting spanked by him without dissent was a slight mystery but I just seemed to have complied with instructions and I was warned future misbehaving would be far more painful.
Six days later I found out. So soon when I had thought the previous week was just a one-off experience that had almost been a reverie. I arrived with a black eye and multiple other signs that I had been involved in a fight. The night before I had agreed to go to the pub to mark Nobby’s birthday but some louts started picking on little Sach and so I waded into defence. They ended up worse than I did though but I must stress this was not my customary behaviour at all. Thomas was immediately displeased. He made a comment that a common thug should not be sent to care for him. He did not seem to want to listen to my version of events so I just got on with the routine tasks.
Toward the end of my session when I was preparing his luncheon tray for later, I was told to attend him in the front parlour on completion, such different use of language to our usual conversations. When I did attempt to open the door it was shut. I rapped on the door. I heard a response telling me to enter when the green light showed. I had never seen any lights? Then above the door frame was a flashing red light. It went to a steady green and I heard a click at the lock and I was able to push the door open. What a transformation! Thomas was standing by a desk smartly dressed in a suit with shirt and tie. He also had a black gown over this similar to the way people dress up for University graduation ceremonies. There was even a hat, I now know it to be called a mortar board, on the desk alongside another item of equipment. I was summoned to stand close to the desk.
I then got a major lecture on failing to reach the standards of a gentleman indicating that I had let myself and my family down by being involved in a common pub brawl. My protestations about saving a friend were unheeded. I felt really cowed in the face of this authority. I suddenly realised what a potent force he must have been in his prime. Then he picked up the brown stick with a curved handle off the desk and asked me what it was. I called it a stick, even a walking stick and was met with derision. I honestly had no idea what an old fashioned school cane looked like despite reading some of my Great Uncle’s writings. I found it later on the internet. Like all miscreants, he told me, I needed a thrashing to help me make the right choices. I did exactly what he told me as this new incarnation of Thomas was mesmerising.
He had me bend over completely touching my toes then he came to the side of me and I felt the stick, I mean cane, gently tapping on my trousers before suddenly he lashed it in with force and set my whole bottom ablaze. I jumped up and then had to resume my submissive position again. Another two more strikes had me squealing, rather pathetic really. My bottom now felt like it was three times normal size. I had to endure three more strikes of this innocent looking cane before he had me stand up.
Even that hurt as my tenderised muscles moved. I was glad that was over; except it wasn’t. As an older boy, similar to many of his prefects, I was told that I needed an exemplary lesson. There was more to come! I now had to drop my trousers and take one leg out and the I even had to remove my stylish underwear, so that it hung at one ankle.
I was told I would not be able to stay still touching my toes so instead I had to reach over the desk and lie on my stomach. Then I had to spread my legs wide. This made a perfect target for him to aim at. I never realised at the time until I did more internet research that in that position it was not just my bottom visible but that he would have seen my testicles drooping and maybe more. What he did see and comment markedly was that my skin coloured easily and he could see the marks from the first six stroke marks. He then promised to fill in the gaps.
As before there was the tapping for positioning then the first swipe of the cane. Ouch was an understatement! The pain was incredible. It was far worse than when I wore trousers and pants. I squealed unwittingly. By the third I was screaming. At the fourth I jumped up and almost danced around the room trying to alleviate the pain. I was sternly told to get back in place as any more movement would lead to additional penalty strokes. The fifth stroke landed and I gritted my teeth. I felt that there would either be blood in my gums or all over my bottom at this rate. The sixth stroke was just as evil as all the rest but it turned out to be the last and I stayed silent and indeed very crestfallen. I was allowed to get dressed although I am sure my leg was shaking and my bottom twitching as I did so.
It was my time to go home. I was told to let myself out as Thomas needed to rest after his exertions. I resisted the opportunity to tell him if had not exerted himself so much on me he would still be fine. I walked home as I did not feel I could sit on a bus without others noticing how uncomfortable I was. As I cut through the woodland I found a hidden sppace and dropped my clothes to get a glimpse of my bottom. It was not a selfie to share online! Instead it was a mass of red lines but they did not seem to be overlapping. I felt the marks – one or two felt ridged. I feared I was being watched so I dressed and headed home, thankful I had a gap before my next carework appointments.
Although I still care professionally for Thomas, and to the highest standard, something has changed. I am mindful of keeping my own behaviour to a comparable standard, to avoid facing further punishment. After just six weeks there have been two more trouser canings. On a “three strikes and you’re out” principle it is likely there would be a terrible three layer caning as the next instalment. I still love the work and indeed another cash envelope came my way recently from the businessman son as Thomas is thriving in every respect.
After those two recent canings, both evening sessions, I have found myself very charged up if you know what I mean when I retire to bed. I think Thomas has suggested he would cane other suitable youths and I am so close to getting Sach involved, or at least makiing him aware of my corrections. However, like everything else nowadays I need to think carefully before I act in a foolhardy manner. New Year, New Pathway, New Decade, New Life. Yes, all is great now.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.