Stevie's Sore Bottom

by Naughteboy <>

(This story is self-contained but you might like to read 'Stevie's First Hiding' to meet the character. This story contains graphic corporal punishment and explict _s_e_x_ual references. Your comments are welcome. You can write to me at the above email address).

After his painful encounter with Mr Samson's thick, leather belt Stevie had been forced to sleep on his tummy. The next morning he tried to mount his bike but the seat, uncomfortable at the best of times, proved too much for his still sore bottom. He decided to walk to school. As he passed Mr Samson's house he saw the plumber loading some gear into the back of his truck.

"Morning, Stevie! Can I give you a lift?"

Stevie nodded gratefully and got into the cab. When he made contact with the warm leather seat he winced. Mr Samson noticed but made no comment. They talked about football until the truck deposited Stevie outside the school gates. He waved goodbye to the plumber who then drove off for his first appointment of the day, dealing with a blocked drain.

St Cuthbert's college was modelled on the English public school system. Despite being 12,000 miles from the United Kingdom, the gowned teachers and strict prefects proudly upheld the public school tradition. The school uniform was topped by a bizarre straw hat called a 'boater'. Stevie doffed his respectfully at a teacher.

The day was like any other except Stevie's bottom still throbbed painfully as he squirmed on the hard wooden seat. The last class that Friday afternoon was English with Mr Hargreaves. He was a tall thin man in his late thirties. His face was pinched and narrow. He had a big nose so the boys rather unimaginatively called him 'Beaky'. Twice he warned Stevie about 'fidgeting'. The second time telling him to desist or he'd give him something to fidget about. Stevie tried but his backside was still sore and he couldn't help but fidget.

"Stay after class!" Beaky boomed nasally and there was a quickly supressed burst of chatter as Stevie's classmates gleefully discussed the fact that a boy was to be beaten. Stevie had never been caned before and was very fearful.

All too soon, the class was dismissed and Stevie stood in front of Mr Hargreave's desk, waiting. The teacher stood up and went to a cupboard. He fished aound until he found a three foot length of malacca. He scythed the air with the whippy stick and Stevie shivered.

"Take off your jacket boy and bend over that desk. I will give you three strokes". Beaky's voice was like foghorn. Stevie bent over the desk, his stomach had turned to ice. The teacher admired the swell of the boy's buttocks so enticingly encased in tight cotton shorts.

Odd the thoughts which pop unbidden into a mind at such a time. Stevie remembered reading that canes were supplied to Commonwealth schools by the Sisters of Charity (India). Ironic, charitable sisters making money selling rattan intended to hurt and even wound the sons of well-off gentlefolk.

Stevie heard the cane swish through the air before connecting with its small target. On contact it re-kindled the flames in the boy's smouldering bottom.

"Aaaagh" he yelled, his buttocks twitching convulsively.

The teacher was delighted to get confirmation that the stick was doing its work effectively. He raised the rattan high in the air and cracked it down again onto Stevie's tortured posterior.

"AAAAAAAGGGH!!!" screamed the boy as the flames in his backside turned into a raging forest fire. He slumped forward, clenching his poor torn bum-cheeks. Mr Hargreave's swollen penis was in danger of bursting its restraining zipper. He did enjoy teaching boys!


"AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!!" The teacher had aimed the stick so it cut a cruel new path through the fresh cane welts. Tears flooded the boy's eyes and ran down his face. Beaky looked at the twitching body of the young boy bent so submissively before him.

"You can get up boy", he said: "No rubbing!"

The teacher sat at his desk and filled out a punishment form. Stevie slowly dragged himself upright. He found a none too clean handkerchief, wiped his eyes and then blew his nose. He pulled on his jacket and stood before the teacher. Beaky was red in the face. Innocent Stevie had no idea the passion he had stirred in the bachelor teacher. When he was dismissed the boy slowly turned. The teacher caught a glimpse of a tiny trickle of blood on the back of Stevie's leg, just below his shorts.

"I've made him bleed!", Beaky gloated as he put the rattan stick back in its cupboard. His zipper stretched even more ominously. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and then went to tea with the headmaster.

Stevie trudged homewards. As he turned the corner into his street he saw Josh Summerfield. His heart quickened. Stevie accepted he was attracted to males. He was surviving a confusing adolescence but knew in the essence of his being that he was gay. Josh was 17 and almost twice as big as Stevie. He was blond and beautiful. Josh was also gay. He smiled with affection at his young friend. Then he noticed Stevie was limping and his voice was full of concern.

"Stevie! What happened to you?" His arm went around the younger boy's shoulders and he guided him inside. Josh's parents worked late in the city so the boys had the house to themselves. Stevie told his friend all about Mr Samson using his belt on him and the caning he'd got from Beaky. Stevie did not protest when Josh asked to see the marks. He undid his shorts and let them fall to the ground. Josh gently peeled down the jockeys and gasped when he saw the extent of the damage.

"The bastard! He made you bleed". Josh helped his friend through to the bathroom. He filled the sink with cold water and Stevie lowered his blazing backside into the cooling liquid. To this day he swears his bum sizzled when it made contact with the water. He soaked for about twenty minutes. Josh perched on the edge of the tub staying close his friend. Then he handed Stevie a towel. The boy stood upright and wrapped the towel around his middle. They walked down the passage and into Josh's bedroom. Stevie lay face down on the bed. Josh beside him. They cuddled.

"Josh?" the boy asked hesitantly: "Will you bum me?"

The older boy looked at the slight figure on the bed. His _c_o_c_k_ was hard just at the thought of it. "Well yes, but not now. Your bum must still be very sore..."

"You don't want to do it coz I'm just a scrawny kid", Stevie said.

"Shh!" Josh leant over and kissed him on the lips. The boy put out a hand and felt his friend's erection through his trousers.

"See!" the younger boy said triumphantly: "You DO want to do it". He pulled off the towel exposing his exquisite but battered bottom. "Come on! Now!"

Josh stripped and lay on top of Stevie. He nuzzled the fine hairs on the back of his young friend's neck. Then he lubricated Stevie's bottom-hole. It felt like a tunnel lined with velvet. Josh pulled on a condom. He stroked Stevie's bottom and fingered his crease. Josh positioned his penis on Stevie's pink bud which opened for him. He entered the boy slowly, letting Stevie get used to the strange feeling of his manhood, swollen inside him. The boy's virgin chute was so hot and tight!

When Josh was fully inside him, Stevie forgot all about the belting and Beaky. He was joined to his friend in the most intimate way two males can ever be together. He had never before felt so wanted, so happy. Life WAS good .......

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