♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic Fiction by guest author sukemnsee
There was a time when contact with like-minded people was far more furtive and involved a lot of spoken or written code. I share with you one example from 25 years ago.
I saw a tuition card for adult students in a newsagent’s window. The wording was similar to:
“Relive the best of school days and improve yourself.
Experienced master offers lessons in basic and advanced subjects to young men over the age of 21 at his well equipped home. No room for slackers. High standards enforced. Classics also offered.
Apply in the first instance to…”
This intrigued me. I had no educational learning need but I sensed an opportunity to explore a part of me. I duly phoned him. He sounded like a teacher and he asked me several questions. We then made an appointment for me at 5 o’clock the afternoon following, and he gave me directions to his house.
I had not been told to but I dressed in a school uniform sort of style, with my MCC tie and a blazer with no crest.
The house was big and had been converted into apartments. He had most of the ground floor, and the rooms had high ceilings. He welcomed me in, but was careful to explain that while he had guests, he would leave the front door not quite fastened as he did not want any pupil to ever feel trapped. He showed me to a room with two proper old school desks complete with inkwells. He had me seated.
He questioned me several times about my work in a hotel and said eventually that he had a policy of avoiding students who were press or police. We discussed my school achievements and he asked how order was maintained. I told him about the constant fear of corporal punishment we had that had kept us in line. He probed some more, then asked me to do a test paper. He said I was intelligent and must work honestly as I would get nothing if deliberate mistakes were made.
I worked away and the paper was quite taxing but I did apply myself for an hour.
He then took me through to another room which was a well fitted home gym and said he would direct me from a table while he marked my work. I said I had no kit and he asked what happened at my boy’s school when that happened. I replied that you did class naked and also got punished. He replied that, well with just two of us there that I could manage without kit. I did as he directed but felt very self-conscious as I was a bit flabby and all was on view on the rowing machine.
After the time was up I was sent to a shower and instructed to present myself in the schoolroom wrapped in a towel when washed and dried.
I duly did so and he made me stand with hands on head while I was inspected. He was displeased that my back was damp as well as my inner thigh. He prodded and probed and I felt sure I would be chastised for the embarrassing erection I now had but apart from fingertip inspection to make sure I was clean, nothing was said, though my face was scarlet with shame.
He now gave me the results of my tests. I had done as well as expected but had made some careless mistakes and could have done better.
He believed these mistakes were genuine so I was worth having as a pupil. My biggest error was being slovenly in my drying off and not being fully prepared for the exercise at which I definitely needed to improve.
He told me that the way he could help me was to cane me. This would guide me as to the right way to behave, otherwise the door was open and I should leave and never return.
I was torn by this choice. I had secretly hoped for punishment in the coded advert but was now nervous of it. Leaving would have been easy but I would have been unsatisfied. I decided to ask for the caning.
He then told me to bend myself forward over the desk I had worked on. I did so and felt incredibly nervous. Why was this so? I knew I wanted to be caned but feared it.
He announced I would receive twelve strokes. My heart sank, surely this was too much, as I was bare? I had been caned in the past but the most I had ever received was four strokes, and most times I had remained clothed for my punishment.
That felt like a hot wire across my bottom!
Those two came very quickly and I really felt them. There was a pause, but the burning sting from those first strokes was intense.
I could not help making some noise.
SWISH-CRACK! This was now more strokes than I’d ever taken before and the pain was terrific.
“Oh, oh, oh, aah, oh!” I could not believe how bad this was. I was shuffling my feet as if that could help.
I saw him walk around in front of me with that evil cane in his hand.
I tried to stand up but he put his hand on my back. He told me that if I were to get up he would add more strokes. I did not want that. The latest strokes from the other side were killers.
“Please, no more please!” I was actually sobbing. My legs felt weak. I could not speak properly even. I saw him move again.
I let out a scream! I did not care if the neighbours heard. I felt cut in half. The pain throbbed away.
He allowed me to get up. I rushed my hands to my bottom. It was all hot and I was sure there were raised marks. I danced around the room, not much bothered about modesty any longer.
He gave me time to settle down before quietly telling me to get dressed. He said that I was a bit of a performer but that I had promise. He would have me back. At that minute I was sure I would never agree to that, but in time that changed.
He said he had a busy diary so he would call me to set up the appointment for next time.
I dressed, politely thanked him and walked home, acutely conscious of my stripes on every step.
I never did get the call. I did try ringing after some while but got no reply.
I did however see a snippet in the local newspaper about a man who had been jailed for enticing younger men into flagellation by posing as a tutor, and I guess that was my man.
That was my first “recreational” caning. To this day, it remains the most severe but also probably the most interesting caning I ever took. It was all thanks to a coded advert.
Story © 2011 by sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission