At fifteen, Stephen was a tall handsome boy, fair haired and slim, he hadn't gone out with girls as yet, although a good number had tried to force their attention upon him. He still preferred members of his own _s_e_x_ for company, and when the mood took him no company at all as he like the solitude walking alone in the open fields and woodland areas would bring.
Stephen was the youngest of two brothers, the eldest having gone to University some three years earlier much to the delight of his parents who seemed to have forgotten Stephen's existence as they thrived on the continued reports of his older brother's success.
Stephen grew used to this however, and didn't let it bother him unduly but it was having the effect of making him something of a recluse, choosing more often these days to be on his own and seek out the solitary existence. It was during the school holidays that Stephen had heard of the death of his school's headmaster, which had come as a tremendous shock to the whole community because he had been seen as a most fit man and could only have been in his late forties.
Stephen remembered vividly the last time he had contact with the late Mr Randall, but probably not quite as vividly as the boy of his age but in a different class to him who had received a caning behind the closed doors of his study while Stephen waited outside to see him on a perfectly innocent matter.
Stephen had always kept out of trouble generally, except for minor issues where line or detention were the order of the day. He was aware the cane had its place in the school where all masters had the power to resort to its use. Mr Randall's use of the cane was always evident however and stood out like a beacon from the rest of the master's in the school, because he was the only person allowed to cane an errant boys backside and the vivid stripes were plain for all the world to see in the changing rooms or shower where it became something of a status symbol to show other boys the results of their misdeeds.
The boy was already inside the headmaster's study when Stephen had arrived to see him on a matter relating to a career opportunity he was interested in. The door had a sliding sign, which signalled whether it was vacant or otherwise whenever the door was closed. The voices inside were quite clear making the engaged sign unnecessary as he stood looking at the various staff announcements on the nearby notice board.
It was the swish followed by a crack and a howl of pain which brought Stephen to his senses, being quickly followed by another and two more. It was a strange sensation he felt, a quickening of his pulse, his thoughts entirely concentrating on the subject very much in the same way when he had seen the marks on the rears of boys of all ages and sizes from time to time.
The door opened and a tearful boy who would never forgive him for being there left the room and disappeared out of sight down a side corridor. Stephen entered and stood by the headmasters desk upon which lay an open book listing scores of names and misdeeds, and across it a cane some three feet in length which Stephen guessed had been the prescribed punishment in every case on record.
He remembered feeling a strange sense of excitement at almost being there at this time knowing an event had occurred only minutes before which he would have like to have witnessed, and even as the evidence of the punishment was being placed aside for another time and his real reason for being there explored further, Stephen couldn't help but wonder if he would ever commit some unmentionable crime needing such justice.
It was a Tuesday when Stephen started back for the first term of the school year, it always seemed strange why this day was chosen and not the Monday instead, but he didn't dwell on it as he loaded his books onto the carrier at the rear of his cycle and prepared for the twenty minute journey that would take him to his final year at school.
He arrived with about ten minutes to go before assembly was called and it soon became obvious the overwhelming though on everybody's mind that day was the new headmaster, what was he like, was it true he had come from one of the toughest schools in the midlands with a reputation for harsh discipline. Stephen was at the rear of the hall where the schools 600 mixed pupils were gathered, await the arrival of Mr Broadhurst to take the morning service.
His arrival caused a ripple of shock as he burst into view walking along an open veranda along the side of the hall before entering a side door which led to the steps of a raised platform.
"We will sing hymn number one hundred and sixty two".
These were the first words spoken in a commanding voice by this tall man to the hushed audience before him. Broadhurst was dressed in a dark suit over which he wore the draped black gown which somehow needlessly indicated his rank.
His service was short and just as he was last to enter, he chose to be the first to leave, making his way to the main exit where he stood almost threateningly as the boys filed past and on their way to new classrooms and curriculums for the year before them.
The first term was one which saw much change in the school, the most obvious one from his point of view was the sharp increase in striped bottoms in the shower rooms, where previously it was something seen infrequently, now boys with white buttocks clear with the marks left by the cane were becoming the minority, with many a boy carrying the marking of fresh beatings even before older marks had died away.
No boy was really safe, as the head took to prowling the corridors with cane in hand and dishing out instant justice to boys having been sent out of classrooms for misbehaviour, or indeed anybody who he found not in their class and with insufficient reason for not being so.
Smoking became a punishable offence, having always been so, but now the rate of detection was growing rapidly as Broadhurst made a personal crusade to stamp out the habit. By the second term things had settled down a little, or so it seemed, although more probably the school was growing used to the new regime which had developed since his arrival.
Stephen was finding the thoughts of punishment entering into his thoughts on a growing scale these days, his dreams and fantasies centred on the cane and the effects of it on the smooth and rounded bottoms of his classmates. This produced a yearning to be involved and to take his share, to find out how painfully those marks he saw would feel.
His fantasies grew more strongly as the weeks moved on, his most recurring one taking place in the shower surrounded with other boys all carrying the marks of the cane, he being the only exception. He recalls how he hears his name called out, and stepping out from the wet and steam finds him confronted by Broadhurst, cane in hand.
Stephen is naked, that is how he is to be as the head calls the boys to form a circle with Stephen in the centre bending over a vaulting horse placed their for that purpose. He always woke up at this point, sweating and shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement.
It was one lunchtime when Stephen with four others having left the school grounds he became involved in an incident which was to put some of his fantasies into reality and start the chain of events which lead to his experience.
Stephen only tagged along for the ride that fateful day, normally he would have had nothing to do with this sort of company. Stephen wore a school uniform blazer, while the others had more casual clothing.In fact two of the boys had knitted pullovers of such outrageous colour and design that they were easily identifiable. They were a boisterous group as they took to an alley way near the town centre. Most of their energy was now taken up with a game of football, the ball being substituted by an old paint tin. Over the top of the noise they were making came the sounds of play, the happy laughter of infants in a nearby school playing during the lunchtime break.
Stephen didn't see which of his group pick up the milk crate and hurled it over the high wall into the midst of the tiny children the other side. Miraculously it missed everyone there. The group ran off, and Stephen finding himself alone casually turned around and giving an air of being a casual bystander walked away from the scene back towards his school.
It was the following day during morning assembly when the full wrath of the headmaster was brought to bear down on the hapless culprits. A boy wearing school uniform, as yet unidentified had been seen at the time of the incident. The others it was explained were more easily identifiable.
The boys who had been identified were publicly interrogated and there sentence announced in front of the assembled throng. taken off to the headmaster's study for their punishment immediately after assembly.
That afternoon during games Stephen was able clearly to see the results of the caning on each of the boys picked out and harangued by Broadhurst. The shower room became a focal point to show off their painfully earned trophies, buttocks a mass of livid weals where the cane had left its mark.
Each boy had received six strokes, the maximum permitted by the rules, it was obvious that Broadhurst would have preferred to have administered many more given the deep bruising left behind as frustration set in and his determination to ensure the meagre pittance doled out would not be forgotten lightly.
The sight of the marks were emblazoned on Stephen's mind all that night, giving him a strange feeling, a knowledge that he himself could or should have been similarly punished. As he dropped back into a deep sleep his old fantasy returned, only now it had changed from the shower room to the headmaster's study. Stephen standing naked while Broadhurst fetched the cane and prompted Stephen to take position over the conveniently placed vaulting horse.
He felt the coolness of the cane as it was measured across his buttocks, and he awoke with a start, shivering and sweating as the cane swished through the air and landed with its fearful and searing pain seconds later.
Stephen realised the dilemma he was in, having wondered for so long what the pain attached to the stripes across other boys bottoms would be like he now realised that his golden opportunity had arrived.
It was just before lunch when Stephen knocked on Mr Broadhurst's door the following day, it was answered with his normal brusque manner typical of the man, and instantly filling Stephen with a foreboding which made him instantly regret the course of action he was now committed to.
"Yes Stephen, what can I do for you?" Broadhurst asked aggressively as soon as Stephen had entered his study.
"I've come to own up sir, I was with the others in the group that threw the milk crate." He felt relieved he had said it, and unless there was some overwhelming sense of forgiveness or compassion he knew he would soon have the same emblazoned pattern of cane marks on his own bottom.
"So why are you here then Stephen, I don't normally associate this school with courage and chivalry, is this some joke!" He rose enormously from his seat and stood menacingly over Stephen whose previous lack of fear had all but vanished now and replaced by an increasing feeling of uncertainty.
"No sir, It's no joke, I was with the other boys but didn't run off with the others, it was me wearing school uniform."
"Did you throw the crate?"
"No sir, in fact I didn't see who did, it happened so quickly."
Broadhurst delayed any further questioning, and spent the next few seconds deliberating over his next action, all the time fixing his gaze upon Stephen as if in some trial of strength ensuring first that truth was being told.
"You were out of bounds, going into town in the first place, while I appreciate you couldn't have prevented the incident at the infants school, you were there and must be accountable for that." He hesitated before delivering his verdict. "You will receive four strokes of the cane, come back here at the end of school this afternoon, you may go." With that Broadhurst turned away and returned to his desk leaving Stephen to ponder on the situation facing him.
Stephen didn't discuss the matter with anybody during the three or so hours that followed, time as always in these circumstances dragged by and with it Stephen's mind became unable to focus on his work or events going on around him. Twice during that long afternoon Stephen was reprimanded for lack of attention but nothing was going to make him attentive. It was four thirty when the bell rang to signal the end of the day and Stephen rose from his desk, collected his things together and prepared to make his way to Mr Broadhurst's study and take what was coming to him.
The school was more or less empty as he visited the toilet first, and in a moment of pure fantasy imagined being ordered to remove his clothes first and take his punishment naked as had been in his dream. It was in such a mood that his inspiration took him into a locked cubicle where he removed his underpants and carefully rolled up his shirt such that only the absolute minimum protection was afforded him to satisfy his real aim which he realised could never be fulfilled.
The door was open when he arrived outside the headmaster's office a few minutes later, just as on previous occasion a cane laying across an open punishment book was the first thing he noticed on his arrival, only this time his name was evident on the last line to be completed.
There was not much time for ritual just a request that Stephen remove his blazer and hang it on the hook provided behind the door, and then stand in the centre of a space which had been cleared at the end of the room.
"With your legs slightly apart I want you to bend over and touch the floor with your fingertips."
Stephen did as he was told and was soon adjusting his vision to the upside down world he now found himself in, he saw Broadhurst pick up the cane which he flexed in both hands before taking up position to his right giving him plenty of room for a full swing.
"For the record Stephen, you are to receive four strokes of the cane, as rightful punishment for leaving the school without permission, and for your involvement in activities likely to bring the schools good name into ill repute."
He hesitated briefly before continuing. "Have you anything to say before I carry out the punishment as specified."
"No sir, other than to say how sorry I am."
"I will call out the number of the stroke as it is delivered."
The next few moments were noticeable for the excitement Stephen felt as he sensed Mr Broadhurst adjusting his stance, he yearned to have his master request him to loosen the belt holding up his shorts so he could remove them for him, but it was not to be as he felt the cane touch his buttocks halfway up on there fleshiest part and wait when it was removed for the pain he had only imagined up till now. He didn't have too long to wait as "One" was followed by a swish and instantly by the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. Then there was a long delay which Stephen was not expecting.
"What are you wearing underneath your Stephen?" Broadhurst quizzed the young man bending before him having been suspicious of the tightness of the target before he had even started but more so by the staccato crack as the first stroke landed and even now before him seeing the line formed by the weal growing by the second under Stephen's flannel .
When Stephen did not reply instantly Broadhurst had him stand upright and gave him a request which made his heart pound almost to the point of missing a beat.
"Undo your shorts and slip them down to your ankles Stephen, quickly boy."
His request was sharp but without the venom normally reserved for wrong doers. Stephen's mind was all at sea as he fumbled with the awkward belt of matching material which supported his thin grey flannel , and upon completion lowered them in reality just as he had done on endless occasions in his dreams.
Stephens shirt tail fell over like a flap as his fell silently to his ankles but did not conceal for one moment the fact that the way it had been folded and the absence of underwear was more than mere coincidence.
"Do you normally come to school without underpants Stephen?"
"No sir I took them off for the beating sir."
"Why when most boys do their utmost to increase their protection do you choose to wear less, do you enjoy being beaten?"
"Please sir I know you cannot for a minute understand why, but I needed you to......., sir I cannot explain its all too difficult."
Broadhurst put down the cane and moving forward turned the key in the lock which instantly displayed a "Do not disturb" notice instead of a mere "Knock before entry" then he pulled the curtains across at the window.
"Take off your shirt Stephen." He watched the boy as he did so. "How long have you had these strange feelings then?" He asked the question as he continued to look at the vivid red stripes carved across the boy's tight plump bottom.
"Ever since I saw the boys in the shower with marks across their bottoms sir, and since you came here everyone seemed to have them except me sir."
"That just shows how misbehaved boys are at this school Stephen." He looked into the boys blue/grey eyes. "Do you like pain Stephen?, does the thought of being punished excite you?"
"Yes sir....I mean no sir, I don't really know sir, all I really know is that I can't stop thinking about it sir."
"What do you hope will happen now Stephen." The head had just asked the one question Stephen dreaded having to answer.
"I don't really know sir"
"You must know, you had things all worked out when you arrived therefore you must have wished something to happen, quickly boy give me an answer."
"I want you to cane me as I am sir, really punish me, make an example of me."
"Impossible, out of the question."
Broadhurst relished the thought of carrying out Stephen's wishes.
"Please sir, I am very sorry for letting the school down, I deserve to be punished, or are you going to let me off."
Broadhurst stared at the boy before him, he realised he couldn't drag out the issue all night. "Bend over boy."
Stephen bent forward as commanded, his lithe young body able to stretch and meet the demands made upon it with consummate ease, his buttocks stretched to an eye pleasing rounded fullness, the single red line diagonally bisecting then where the first stroke had landed what now seemed ages ago.
Broadhurst lined the second with some force, the swish and crack filling the room with a sound that had never been present before. Another weal swelled, white at first where the blood under the surface skin was squeezed out under the force of the blow, then turning red.
Stephen cried out in pain, but he remained in position for the last stroke which arrived an inch below the last causing another agonizing cry and another mark to explain in the days not weeks to come.
"Stand up Stephen, get dressed, you must go home now, thank you for being brave."
Broadhurst watched fascinated as Stephen withdrew the underpants from the pocket of his blazer and climbed into them one leg at a time, before putting on his shirt and . two minutes later he was gone, the punishment book and cane put away for another day.
It was a week later when Stephen saw Broadhurst again. Stephen felt it was no coincidence for him to arrive in the changing room while he and the other boys of his same year were taking a shower after a games period.
Broadhurst stood talking to the master in charge on some matter, but even through the strained silence his presence evoked. Stephen knew it was he that the head had come to see and to that end provoked and taunted him by ensuring he gave Broadhurst the fullest opportunity to study his striped bottom as he went through an exaggerated ritual of drying himself, bending over frequently to ensure his handiwork was readily on view.
Their eyes met, communicating a truth only they knew, Stephen still able to feel the searing yet beautiful agony he had felt that night as Broadhurst had succumbed to his wishes and caned his bare bottom.
It was later that day just before school finished that Stephen received the instruction to go to the head on some undisclosed matter. He found Broadhurst sat at his desk as he entered the room again, still steeped in fond memories of the last time he had been there.
"Sit down Stephen, are you well?"
"Yes sir, I feel fine."
"Not too many problems with the marks left by the cane then?" Broadhurst had seen the effects of the beating he had administered but decided to seek Stephen's comments and other peoples reaction to them.
"They hurt for a long time afterwards sir, and it has caused quite a stir amongst the other boys because they are so pronounced."
"what did you tell them Stephen"
"I told them that I bruise easily, they were more surprised that I had finally become one of the boys sir."
"You have no regrets then?"
"No sir, none at all, in fact I wish you could find fault with me so you could do it again sir."
"What if I invited you to my house for some more, would you come Stephen?"
"I think so sir."
"You could come during the half term holiday, then your stripes would be gone before you returned to school."
Stephen hesitated briefly.
"What would you do to me sir."
"That depends on you really Stephen. It really depends on what you would like me to do. It is a good caning you want Stephen?"
"I would like to come sir, but will the cane hurt a lot sir?"
"I expect so, you will be stripped naked and restrained across apparatus specially designed for the purpose, are you frightened at the thought of that Stephen?" "Yes sir, a little, the cane hurt a lot the other day and that was only three strokes so I'm not sure if I could take much more sir."
"You won't have much choice if you are restrained, so you had better think on that."
"I will let you know before we break up sir."
"Very well Stephen, that is all, you can go."
Stephen rose and left closing the door behind him, walking away in a daze of terror and excitement, overwhelmed by the unusual offer that had been made. An offer that at last would once and for all turn into reality all the wild strange dreams which had ravaged his sleep night after night over the last few months.
The next couple of weeks dragged slowly, Stephen had a lot on his mind as he considered the proposal out to him. He had yearned to take a beating such as he had received from Broadhurst. But it had hurt far more than he had ever expected. He remembered the pain which made him call out involuntarily, a searing stinging pain which didn't take effect immediately, but which grew and grew uncontrollably to its peak which was only reached long after he had called out in his agony.
His time at school was becoming more and more difficult, like the day he had gone to Broadhurst, owned up and been punished, he realised he had a similar choice this time also, he could continue to lay in bed at night wondering what the ordeal would be like, knowing he could walk away from the challenge never knowing if he could have met it.
Stephen enjoyed soaking himself in the bath, the water, hot as he could bear, up to his shoulders as he would lay for almost an hour before clambering out and drying himself in front of the full mirror which ran from floor to ceiling down one end of the bathroom.
He had taken to turning his back to the mirror and just as Broadhurst had instructed would bend over legs slightly apart and look at the view his taught bottom presented to anybody who might have been there behind him.
At night he would lay in bed naked, his hands running over his bottom exploring its rounded smoothness feeling imaginary ridges left from his latest dream where the thrashing received had left its marks.
It was the day before the end of term Stephen went to see Broadhurst to tell him his final decision, it was almost a strange sense of relief when he found he was out for the day and not expected back for the rest of the term. He was worried, particularly as he had given his word to Broadhurst that he would advise him of his decision, and now he would not be able to.
Stephen packed his books as usual and walking to his cycle undid the saddlebag in which he always carried them, he was just about to load the bag when he noticed a plain envelope lying in the bottom.
He removed it, then placed his books inside before sitting astride his cycle and ripping the flap open and removing its contents, a single sheet of paper.
It was typed and read;
"Dear Stephen, I haven't heard from you so I have no idea of your final decision. However the offer still stands, if you wish to visit come to my house next Monday evening at seven, if you come, make arrangements to stay overnight, I will be expecting you anyway."
Stephen had intended telling Broadhurst of his intention to accept the offer, now he knew all he had to do was turn up. He realised the harsh psychological pressure being exerted at every juncture by his headmaster, where every decision was placed on him and every obstacle was quickly removed before it could be used as any form of excuse.
Stephen enjoyed fishing and spent the greatest part of the weekend at his chosen hobby, it was a deliberate action as staying out all night fishing for a mighty carp in a nearby lake was something he often did, and would give him the perfect excuse to be out the following monday without involving anybody else who could break his alibi.
Stephen set off to meet his fate just after tea on the following Monday. With his fishing gear packed to cover his absence that night, he climbed aboard his cycle and rode steadily the four miles from his house to that of Mr Broadhurst who was no doubt expecting him and had fully prepared for his arrival.
The house was huge in comparison to the much more modest one he lived in, it was detached, and set well back in its own grounds, which consisted of mature trees and rolling lawns, broken up into flower beds, through which the early spring flowers were even now beginning to show.
Stephen rode up the gravel path which led up to the house and parking his cycle well out of sight walked nervously up to the front door and rang the doorbell.
Broadhurst spoke in a friendly manner, and in no way indicating any form of authority in his voice.
Stephen entered the large hall which opened up in front of him immediately he entered the house, and was aware of Broadhurst closing the door firmly behind him without any form of ceremony. Next he was shown into a large room where he was invited to make himself comfortable while Broadhurst himself left, returning a few minutes later with a tray containing tea and an assortment of biscuits.
"What reason have you given for being away tonight Stephen?"
"I have said that I have gone fishing, its quite normal and I am not expected back until tomorrow."
"No second thoughts I hope?"
"No sir, I have given it all a lot of thought and I intend going through with whatever you think suitable."
"Good lad, I expected you would all along, but I began to have my doubts when you didn't come back to me as you had indicated."
"I know sir, I did come to see you but you were not there, then I found your note."
Both parties had finished their tea and realising time was pressing on Broadhurst rose and spoke to Stephen just a little more formally than he had previously.
"Well Stephen, you know why you are here, you can leave now if you wish, there will also be several other times when you will be quite free to go if you don't wish to carry on, do you understand?"
"Yes sir, I understand but I am quite happy to carry on at the moment than you, sir."
"Right, I would like you to go upstairs and take the first door on the right which is the bathroom, take a hot bath, off you go."
Stephen left the room and climbed the stairs and seeing the door in question entered the bathroom, in which towels and soap had been placed ready for use.
It didn't take very long to run a bath and stripping off his clothing soon found himself basking in the warmth of the hot water and relaxing just slightly, forgetting briefly the real purpose of his visit.
His relaxation was short lived as Broadhurst entered after about five minutes, and going to a nearby cabinet took out a safety razor, brush and soap.
"Out you come then Stephen, time to have your bottom shaved."
"Why sir, you didn't tell me about this, anyway I don't have very many hairs on my bottom." Stephen became just a little alarmed as to why this act was necessary.
"Don't worry Stephen, you have left the proceedings to me, and part of the process involves you being shaved, anyway I am sure you will enjoy it, now out of the bath."
Gone was the formal Broadhurst, instead was a fatherly man and somehow, with the wetness of the bath, he began to relive his fantasy of the shower room scene where he was publicly beaten after being ordered out of the shower, and without anymore questions Stephen rose naked from the comfort of the bath and stepped out into a welcoming towel which was held outstretched before him.
Stephen dried himself as Broadhurst fitted a new blade to the razor and moving the flat bathroom stool into a better position invited Stephen to kneel in front of it and bend forward giving the fullest access to accomplish his work.
The sight of Stephen's beautifully rounded bottom excited Broadhurst, he knew it would not be long before those pale white globes would be reddened with the spanking and caning he had awaiting for him.
Until then he intended prolonging the build up in ritual, and proceeded to lather the brush and transfer the soap mixture to Stephen's taut buttocks working the creamy substance into every crevice likely to need the attention of a razor.
As Stephen had stated he didn't have a lot of body hair, in fact the exercise was quite meaningless other than for the mutual excitement each felt. Stephen for his part enjoyed the feel of the brush working its way between his legs, and he felt a particular sense of excitement as Broadhurst gently parted the cheeks of his bottom and ran the soapy brush across his anus.
The razor felt cool and smooth as it took off any hair that did exist, just as his master had parted his buttocks to apply the soap to his anus, these same fingers opened up this area again exposing it to the rasping effect of the razor, as every trace of hair was quickly removed from Stephen's most intimate and sensitive region.
Stephen felt his headmaster's hands wander during the exercise, a probing finger touched his anus, which repelled instinctively at the contact.
"Didn't you like me touching you there, Stephen?"
"Yes, I think so sir,"
Broadhurst then moved his hand lower and probed between Stephen's thighs.
You have an erection Stephen, could that mean you really want me to do this."
"Please sir, it does feel ever so nice."
Broadhurst withdrew his hand and stood up, and leaving Stephen still bending over the stool spoke over his shoulder as he left the room.
"I will be in the room facing you when you leave the bathroom, dry yourself and join me if you wish."
Stephen slightly more apprehensive now, did as he was requested and rose before taking up the warm fluffy towel and drying himself in those regions which had been smoothed so gently only minutes previously.
Then turning about he followed his master into a large bedroom whose centre piece was a double divan bed with a rubber sheet laid along its length. Broadhurst had taken a seat at the bottom of the bed and beckoned Stephen, still naked towards him.
"Bend over my lap Stephen, legs slightly apart and get your bottom up good and high."
"Yes sir."
Stephen quickly moved forward standing legs apart, slightly tiptoe before leaning forward and presenting his smooth rounded bottom to Broadhurst.
"You really do have a nice firm bottom Stephen, so nice I am afraid I am going to have to spank it."
"Yes sir."
Stephen felt Mr Broadhurst's hand slowly running over his smooth bottom, softened by his period in the bath.
"Now Stephen, this is a warm up, then it is downstairs for the cane, I assume you still want me to give you a good caning."
"Yes sir."
"That is three times you have said those two words, are you a parrot."
"No sir."
"Well then, we had better get down to business hadn't we, now keep quite still, and stay in position until I say you can get up."
Stephen felt the hand circle his bottom once more before it lifted off, and after a brief delay came sharply down with a resounding smack.
Stephen felt his right buttock sting and the burning sensation increased, as the hand remained in place for several seconds before it rose again and was brought down on the other cheek with an even louder crack.
"Ouch"
Stephen was surprised how much the blow stung and responded accordingly.
"Did that hurt Stephen?"
"It did a bit sir, stung quite a lot sir."
"Wait until you feel the cane Stephen, that will really hurt."
"Yes sir, I realise that."
The hand was again brought down hard and Stephen winced as the pain from the blow really burned across the middle of his bottom.
Broadhurst now got down to work and slightly shifted Stephen to allow more access to his left cheek, and began to quicken the pace as smack after smack landed on the boys ever reddening buttocks.
They burned and felt hotter, and gradually the skin darkened and several deep purple streaks appeared which look suspiciously like finger marks where the man's heavy hand had landed.
After a countless number of hard smacks Stephen's ordeal was over, at least for a while, he lay face down on the cool rubber sheet and while he lay there Broadhurst lay a cool wet towel over both buttocks and gently rubbed his own burning hand over the outside.
"Stay as you are Stephen, I haven't finished with you just yet."
Broadhurst disappeared briefly and Stephen found himself alone, enjoying a strange mixture of pain, which was mixed with a pleasing throbbing sensation together with coolness from the wet towel which made him shiver slightly.
He returned shortly, and sitting next to Stephen on the bed removed the towel and squeezed a generous quantity of white cream through the nozzle of a tube. The master's fingers smoothed out the cream and soon gentle circular rhythmic movements kneaded the hot burning flesh in a way which began to cause strange sensations to grow deep in Stephen's groin.
A straggling finger found the anus again and gently gained fresh entry causing Stephen to groan and ask a pointless question.
"Why are you doing this, sir?"
"Because it is necessary Stephen, and because you want me to really don't you."
"Please stop you are starting to make me come sir."
Stephen, was now speaking with a voice which had urgency and truth about etched within it.
Broadhurst stood up and spoke with a mixture of firmness and kindness, in a way which Stephen liked and respected deeply.
"The time has come Stephen for you to decide whether you wish to leave my house or receive the caning I have organised for you downstairs."
Stephen stood up, an erection standing hugely before him, the tip moist where his excitement had been obvious and further evident by a damp patch on the bedcover.
"Put on this bedrobe Stephen, go downstairs and go into my study which is the second door on your right down the hall."
Stephen left the bedroom, his bottom still smarting from the spanking, but somewhat lessened by the cream which had been carefully rubbed into the wounded area.
He found the study as it had been described, a door opening into a large darkened room, lit only by a blazing fire which gave it a somewhat ghostly appearance with shadows leaping in a variety of directions on the surrounding walls.
The room seemed somewhat empty, but only because it had been somewhat cleared to form a space for a long bench to be placed directly in front of the fire, a bench with padding along the top and several straps placed at strategic points. Directly beside it on a nearby table was a cane, he guessed it to be around three feet long, and quite straight, not hooked like he imagined it might be, and which so often was depicted in films and books featuring punishment.
Stephen found his eyes rivetted to the instrument which was intended for his caning and was about to look still closer when Broadhurst followed him into the room, and beckoning him to sit in an armchair beside the fire.
"Stephen, you can still stop this from happening, I will leave you to think it over for ten minutes and when I return you will either be dressed and gone, or you will be in position bent over the bench in front of us, do you understand?"
Stephen found difficulty in replying, as always at these times his throat had tightened and his answer came in the form of a croak.
Regardless of whether he had understood, Broadhurst rose from his seat and left the room leaving Stephen to contemplate his fate.
Broadhurst having retired temporarily to an adjacent room, pored himself a drink and sat staring ahead, his eyes blank and unseeing as he concentrated on the task ahead should the boy stay for his punishment.
Stephen meanwhile was contemplating what he should do, sure he wanted to experience a really good hard caning but he also knew that what would come next was going to be very difficult and painful. He still remembered the pain resulting from the caning at school some weeks earlier, surely only the lightest of punishment compared to that which the instrument on the table in front of him would cause if he were to give Broadhurst a chance. He found himself at the cupboard, his clothes folded and hung up on hangers by tidy hands, reaching up he took his underpants and quickly stepped into them. He reached up again for his shirt, but stopped short, thinking about the finality of the decision he was making.
Closing the doors of the cupboard he removed his dressing gown and still leaving his underpants on walked to the bench, stood astride its front and leaning forward as far as he could, bent over the cool deep cushioned bench having decided to go through with whatever agonizing ritual his master was likely to put him through.
He had deliberately left his pants on, these would offer some protection from the cutting effects of the cane without affording much respite from the searing pain it would cause. Surely Broadhurst would relent and allow him to keep them on during the punishment.
Stephen waited as he lay full length along the bench, it seemed an endless wait, the fire frequently spitting in mock displeasure at the quality of the wood that fed it. The shadows continued to dance around the room, just as they had earlier, a gentle warmth radiated from the blaze, Which Stephen felt on the backs of his legs and across the entire surface of his bottom.
Finally, after he had almost given up hope the door opened and Broadhurst entered rather sheepishly, before moving forward and coming to a halt by his side.
"Why are you wearing underpants?"
"I didn't think you would mind sir." Stephen hesitated if only to put on a more reassuring voice. "they will not offer much protection."
"Very true, which is why I want you to take them off."
"But sir."
Broadhurst now put on a very authorative voice "If you insist on wearing this pointless garment, then I insist that you get dressed and go."
Stephen rose from his comfortable position, and with the athletic nimbleness associated with youth stepped out of his underpants and handed them to his master. Stephen felt quite dejected having lost out in a minor power battle with this dominating man who was driving him forward to ultimate punishment.
He felt awkward standing there naked, the bruising redness of his previous encounter still vividly portrayed on his buttocks in the half light afforded by the still blazing fire to his rear.
"Bend over the bench Stephen."
Stephen hesitated for an instant, then resigned himself to his fate and bent forward as he had been commanded to do.
Broadhurst moved to the front and taking Stephen's arms one at a time secured them at the wrist to the straps which had been put there for this very purpose. Two more held his ankles to the feet of the bench, thus causing his legs to be placed apart a couple of feet, while a larger strap round his waist ensured he was unable to move his lateral position while the cane blows were being aimed.
At length he was ready and as a final act of humiliation Stephen's underpants were pulled over his head as a form of hood, thus blinding him from seeing what was taking place at the rear.
Stephen was terrified, his world was now almost blackened out by the underpants which filled his nostrils with a pungent musky body smell from his intimate regions, emphasised more greatly by the high state of excitement he had been in since he had put them on several hours before.
Broadhurst picked up the cane, it felt quite at home in his hands as many like it before had felt, when he had run the approved school in his native Yorkshire.
Before him was a boy, who wanted to be flogged, not at all like the whimpering wretches that shivered and cried out in terror as they also lay trussed and helpless before him, just as Stephen did at this moment in time.
Stephen was aware Broadhurst had picked up the cane, with his sight removed, his hearing was much more sensitive as he strived to understand what was happening. He tensed and stiffened when the cane was measured across the full breadth of his bottom. It felt cold against his burning flesh as the rod seemed to search for its own particular area of skin, and mark out territory to sear and mark as soon as the full force of the big man's arm was brought to bear.
Only someone who has been caned can tell you of the sound it makes as it whistles through the air prior to contact, the singing noise, the echo from every corner, as the prelude to indescribable pain.
The swish was deafening as the supple cane sped downwards to find its target. Stephen was aware of a slight rush of air cooling his back just before the explosion of pain struck him in a broad stripe across his bottom. First a form of numbness followed by a wave of increasing agony as nerve ends gradually recovered from their initial starvation of blood did the job for which they were intended.
Stephen screamed loud and long, as already the vicious arc of the cane searched for as yet untouched parts to torment. Broadhurst decided not to prolong the ritual any further, he had to ship the boy stretched out before him and do it well.
He touched the boy's comparatively unmarked bottom with the cane and saw immediately a tensing of Stephen's whole body as the boy prepared himself for the next stroke. Without more hesitation he raised the arm and brought the cane down across the middle of Stephen's bottom. The hiss and crack as it landed was followed by an instant eire silence, before the shriek of pain forced its way from the boys mouth hidden by the plain white underpants he had quite needlessly and cruelly had the boy remove.
Instantly a second broad weal was raised on the boys flesh, already Broadhurst was thinking of the further pain he would inflict and was searching his beautiful athletic buttocks for the next area to attack as he raised the cane for the third time.
Before Stephen could settle from the second stroke, he followed it with a third, then a fourth. Each time the scream coming from the muffled end was more intense, the flesh of the boys buttocks was becoming more marked, as vivid stripes appeared, some turning a darker red where weals criss crossed as his master continued his intensive punishment.
Stephen was totally immersed in a tidal wave of searing pain, everywhere from the waist down burned as each few seconds passed this was further increased as more agony was piled on top of the last. He had started to mentally count but this soon got lost as he attempted to survive in a harsh uncertain world.
By the eighth stroke Stephen's bottom was a mass of raised weals. The boy's screams had subsided and were now replaced by shouts for his master to stop.
"Please stop"
"No"
"No more, please stop."
The cane still whistled through the air as it continued to find its mark, until the twelfth, after which all fell silent except for the sobbing of a broken young man, who had a bottom that had been well and truly caned.
Stephen was removed from his restraints, he was carried over the shoulder of his master to his bedroom and laid carefully face down onto a clean white sheet.
The cries of sorrow and remorse gradually subsided, the painful weals and raised areas were treated to cool and soothing cream. Soon the boy's bottom took on the look of a more normal appearance. Stephen's mind went blank and the next he knew he was thinking about his experience and then suddenly:
Stephen lay awake pondering about where his master was at this moment, he yearned for him to come to his bed. He yearned for him to come to his bed and instead of inflicting pain, to continue the pleasant things which had proceeded the caning, which had hurt him far more than he had expected. He recalled the events that had taken place. He felt his bottom and was excited by the marks which covered it, no pain now, just warmth and a burning sensation which produced an erection.
After some time Stephen still unable to sleep decided to solve his problem, and rising from his bed walked naked to the door of his room and moved slowly onto the broad landing and made his way to the bedroom he had visited shortly after his bath the previous evening.
Stephen was surprised when he entered the room and found his master still awake and reading a book, the shadowy light from a small bedside lamp assisting the process.
"I wondered if you would come Stephen." Broadhurst spoke gently, as he rose in his bed and placing his book carefully on the table beside him, but only after ensuring that he had marked his place before he did so.
"I couldn't sleep sir".
"I can see why Stephen."
His master looked at the boys hard erection, and leaning forward carefully grasped the boy's penis and drew him slowly but firmly towards him.
"That's a nice erection Stephen, do you often have this problem?"
"Quite often sir."
"What do you normally do about it Stephen?"
The boy looked downwards, unable to meet the older man's eyes.
"Bend over my lap Stephen, I want to look at your bottom."
"You wont spank me will you sir, I'm ever so sore."
"No Stephen, you have had all you're getting for one day."
Broadhurst had meanwhile shifted position to accommodate him and the boy responded and took up position over his master's lap. The master was pleased with his handiwork as he gazed down at the boy's bottom, red and swollen, with weal criss crossing in red lines across both cheeks.
"Did it hurt very much Stephen?"
"Yes sir, it was very painful."
"On or two of these weals look a bit sore, does this hurt?" Broadhurst touched a raw spot where at least three strokes had intersected, and brought a sharp intake of breath from the boy as he winced in pain.
"I am sorry Stephen, I didn't mean to hurt you that much, but sometimes these things happen and the skin gets marked where the cane hits too often in the same place."
Broadhurst smoothed a cooling hand over each cheek and gradually found his way again between them and sought out the boy's anus which he fingered before moving his hand further down between his legs and groping for his erect penis.
"It's getting late young man, now turn over and let's have a look at what I can so about your problem at the front."
"Broadhurst gave Stephen a sharp playful smack on his right cheek, and the boy rose, then as his master made room, lay on his back, his head resting on the soft cotton pillow and waited for the attention he sought.
The older man sat level with Stephen's knee and soon he was stroking the boy's hard penis, pausing at the tip and running his finger in a circular movement helped in no small way by the slippery liquid which flowed in profusion from its opening.
"Will you come here for more punishment Stephen, I haven't put you off?"
"No sir, I mean, yes sir, I will come back for more and no you haven't put me off."
"Did you enjoy the cane, Stephen?"
"Not really sir, I found it very painful, but the rest was all worth it."
"Was it how you imagined it would be?"
Broadhurst was slowly beginning to masturbate Stephen, who now lay back on the pillow with his eyes closed, his mind at peace and contented, as he enjoyed the attentions he was receiving.
"I have always wanted you to cane me naked sir, but i never imagined it would be like this sir."
"You like what I am doing to you?"
"Oh yes sir, It feels wonderful."
"You tell me when you're about to come won't you Stephen, I don't want you spurting all over the place."
Broadhurst quickened the rhythm, and generally the boy's breathing increased in tempo with it, as his knees began to rise and quiver he called out urgently as the involuntary feeling rose within him.
"Quickly I can feel it coming sir."
Broadhurst was just in time to smother the torrent of hot white fluid which burst forth in a solid stream, and he continued to cover the end as spasm after spasm brought forth more, until it subsided and the boy turned on his side and curled up in a contented peace of mind.