"Tutor available. Students 11-16. General Subjects. Firm traditional approach."
This is how I advertise my services.
And mainly I get run-of-the-mill boys and girls, whose parents want old style teaching methods, nothing new or 'progressive'.
Just occasionally, perhaps once every two years, I get a parent who is looking for discipline alongside the tutoring. This happened last January. I was called to visit the father of a sixteen year old boy, Jason Green .
It was not completely unusual to be asked to tutor an older student, but also not a frequent occurrence. Mr Green answered the door, sat me on a chair at his dining table and called for Jason.
Here was the next, completely unusual, feature. Jason, a short, red-haired boy, with a pale, smooth freckly face, looking more like fourteen than sixteen, was dressed only inwhite socks, white canvas shoes, white Y-fronts and a white singlet. He started to blush as soon as he saw me sitting there.
Mr Green had him stand before us, his hands clasped behind his bottom.
"Jason is dressed like this," Mr Green said, "because he is in disgrace. So I have confined him to the house in his underpants for the weekend. He has failed important examinations at school, not through lack of ability, Mr Warner, but because he is lazy. I have, so far in his childhood, refrained from beating him as I was beaten, as a boy. I thought it would be better to proceed through reasonableness - and the occasional embarrassment like this. But it seems that I was in error. And I have decided that he needs a tutor able both to embarrass and, physically, to punish him. Are you willing to do this?"
"I have had some experience of this, Mr Green. But such punishments are now quite rare in our society and often frowned upon. So I have reached the point where I am only prepared to act traditionally if the boy himself accepts that this is fair."
"I understand, Mr Warner. I have discussed matters with Jason. I suggest I leave you together - and you can call me back when you are clear you have his consent." Mr Green withdrew.
"This is all a bit unusual, Jason," I said. "What do you think?"
"Nothing else seems to work, sir - and I do want to do better with my schoolwork."
"Why don't you just work harder?"
"I say I will and I think I will - but I never do."
"So you are hoping that more punishment, or the threat of it, will improve matters?"
"Yes Sir."
"I see. Very well. Let's have your father back."
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We agreed that I would tutor Jason on Saturday mornings at their home. I was shown an attic room which had been converted into a study for Jason - a large, airy room, which I judged very suitable to the task. I made an agreement with Mr Green that I would log any punishments and show him the results, as it were, in the flesh, though Jason was not immediately privy to this. Jason for his part accepted I could remove clothes at will and use hand, belt, or cane as required.
I arrived on my first Saturday, promptly at ten, with a large carrier bag. Jason opened the door to me with a friendly smile. He was dressed in blue denim jeans, a red basketball top, and light blue Nikes, with red socks. He took me into the kitchen and made me a coffee, then we went up the two flights of stairs to his study.
Once there, I took out my crook-handled cane and hung it on the back of the door, with my broad leather belt. He looked at them curiously. We settled to work. He was indeed quite able, lively and vivacious - a pleasure to work with, actually. At the end I set him some work for the week.
"Now I want you to understand that this work has to be done - and done properly," I said, "or you will end up with a very sore bottom and an equally red face. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
"Well, just to be sure you do understand, I am going to put you over my knee and give you just the tiniest sample of what might happen. Come here."
He came over to me as I sat on a chair and I put him over my knees, laying the palm of my right hand on the seat of his jeans. His bottom felt firm and hot. I brought my hand down hard, six times. He didn't yell out, but when I let him stand he looked dishevelled and embarrassed.
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The following Saturday, he was dressed as before. As soon as we were in the study, I asked for his work.
"I haven't been able to do much," he said, looking shifty, as he passed me his folder, which, on examination, contained a tiny amount of poorly presented work.
"You haven't been able to...?" I asked.
"Well, that is, I'm sorry, Sir, I haven't..."
"You were able to do it?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You just didn't?"
"Yes Sir."
"So, why lie to me?"
He hung his head.
"I think because you know you will be punished. Go to your bedroom, change into your school clothes and come back here."
"My school clothes?!"
"Your school clothes. Even your blazer. Are you deaf, Jason?"
A little over five minutes later, Jason returned, now dressed in black blazer, red tie, white shirt, black long trousers, black shoes, white socks. He looked very smart.
"Good," I said. "Today you really start to learn about punishment. Take off your shoes, take them down to your bedroom and come back."
He removed his shoes, already looking irritated. He slunk back downstairs and returned shortly afterwards.
"Now bend over the back of this chair."
I bent him over the back of a wooden chair facing the door, hands holding the seat, legs slightly spread. I reached down the crook-handled cane, flexed it, brought it down hard on the padded seat of a chair, then went round behind him and folded his blazer neatly back to his shoulders.
I laid the cane on the seat of his black trousers and slid it up and down over his bottom. Then I lifted it and broughtit down hard laterally across the centre of his arse. He yelped and made as if to rise. I placed my hand on the small of his back, pressing him back down. I whacked him, hard, again, in almost exactly the same place.
This time, Jason jumped in the air and howled, rubbing his bottom under the tail of his blazer, which had dropped back in place. I put the cane back on the door hook. "That was only a taster, Jason," I said. "Right now you still haveyour trousers and underpants on. Imagine what it will feel like on bare flesh."
Jason looked at me and went quite white. He swallowed nervously and licked his lips.
"Take off your blazer," I said quietly.
He removed it.
"Take it to your room and come back here."
He went and returned, a little breathless and flushed. I was sitting on a chair. "Come and stand in front of me."
He stood before me. I reached out and unbuckled his trouser belt. I undid his top button and metal snap. I unzipped him. His trousers slid to his knees. "Take them off," I said.
He took them off.
"Take them to your room and come back."
He went and came back. In white shirt, white socks, red tie, nothing else visible. Smooth hairless legs, which surprised me at 16.
"Bend back over the chair."
He bent back over and watched as I removed the broad leather belt from the door hook and doubled it over.
I moved to his rear and folded his shirt right back, tucking it into his collar at the back. He was wearing a white vest and white Y-fronts again. I pulled the elastic of his waistband backwards and removed his vest, getting a first view of bare butt-cheek, then pulled his vest upward on each side, so it detached from his underpants and I could fold it also into his shirt collar.
I pulled the back of his underpants waist upward a little, to tighten the profile of his bottom - and brought the belt down hard. Jason gave a sharp intake of breath. I repeated the action five more times at different angles. He was yelling at the end.
I let him up, dancing around and rubbing his arse, whilst I coolly replaced the belt. He was red-faced and looked somewhere between upset and angry. "Take off your tie and shirt," I ordered.
His hands visibly shaking, he pulled off the tie, rubbed his bottom again, then unbuttoned the shirt and removed it. His vest hung down outside his briefs. He still wore socks. "Take them downstairs, brush your hair, get yourself together and come back. You have ten minutes."
He was back in time, looking a bit more composed. "That hurt!" he said ruefully.
"I haven't finished with you yet," I replied. "Come here."
He stood close. I tucked his vest in, front and back, then shocked him by pulling his underpants right down to his ankles. It was not that long a vest - and I could see the tip of his dick and lower parts of his balls hanging beneath the bottom of his vest.
"Take them down to your room and come back," I ordered.
"What if dad sees me?" he asked anxiously.
"He never takes your Y-fronts down?"
"Never. He never strips me to more than my vest and briefs."
"Then you'd better hope he doesn't see you. Off you go."
I heard him positively scampering down the stairs and then, after a short interval, running back up.
"Right," I said to the breathless boy, "Bend back over the chair. I want to see what the cane and belt have done."
He bent over and I lifted his vest. There were two nice red weals where the cane had struck, partially overlapping one another. The belt had induced a more general reddening. A satisfactory start. I let him stand.
"Is it bad?" he asked anxiously, feeling his butt sheeks. "Oh no, Jason," I said, "Plenty of space for more."
"MORE?!"
"But right now," I said, ignoring his anxiety, "We have work to do. Come and sit by my side at the table."
Completely ignoring his semi-nakedness, I set to work, teaching him. I was aware that he was uncomfortable, by the way he shifted around from time to time.
After about an hour, whilst he was working on an exercize, he said, "Sir, do you mind if I ask a question?"
"Carry on."
"It's not to do with the work."
"Still carry on."
"Am I going to be punished some more?"
"Oh yes. When we finish."
"With the cane or belt?"
"No. I'm going to take off your vest and spank your bottom with my hand."
"Oh."
He went on working, but after a while I became aware his hand was down between his legs on a number of occasions. "Jason, can you leave your penis alone, please?"
He flushed and quickly withdrew his hand, furtively looking down. I followed his gaze - and saw an upright, hard dick. "Ah!" I said. "You've gone hard."
"I'm sorry Sir."
"That OK, Jason. Boys do quite often go hard when they're in for a naked spanking. Let's finish the work."
When we had finished, I had Jason stand, stood myself, and pulled off his vest. He was still absolutely hard. "Take your vest down," I ordered.
"But... I'm naked!"
"That's right. Off you go."
When he returned, it was with his father. He was bright red now.
"I thought I'd like to see the last act," Mr Green said.
"Fine," I said. "Back in position over the chair Jason, but this time, feet much wider."
Jason assumed his position, his cheeks spead wide. I began to spank - and soon his bottom was uniformly scarlet and he was begging me to stop.
"Can I finish it?" Mr Green asked.
I nodded.
He went to the door and collected the cane....
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