For this story, I stretch my mind back five years.
I was working part-time in a small private boarding school. One day, one of the fourteen year old boys stayed behind after class and gave me a telephone number, saying, "My father says will you phone him?"
So I phoned David's father that night. This led to a meeting at his father's home, about fifty miles away, the following weekend. He told me that he was going to need to be away for a week at the start of the school holiday. He was looking for someone to look after David at home and to tutor him. "I have heard David speak with respect of you, but before I make a decision, I need to know your attitude to corporal punishment."
"As you know, it is not allowed at David's school."
"Do you think it should be?"
"I certainly think that it has a place in the upbringing of boys, particularly in the unruly adolescent years."
"Good. Excellent. I am a firm believer in it. How do you think it is best done?"
"I have always thought that it exists in two main dimensions: as pain and as embarrassment."
"Good fellow! You approve of the bared bottom?"
"Certainly."
"Or even nakedness?"
"Yes, if that is what the parent wants."
"Oh, indeed it is. Especially if it is practised by someone other than myself - he has become too used to being stripped by me."
"I quite understand. It would need to be clear to David that, not to put too fine a point on it, in punishments his body was mine to command."
"That would be no difficulty."
*** ***
David, as I have said, was 14. He was about the normal height for that age and had short, straight black hair. He was slim but not thin or slight, and had an evident bottom though not an obtrusive one. Conventionally attractive in an all-boy way. And intelligent. He seemed pleased when he learnt I was to be his mentor for the week, and not unamused when I converted mentor to tormentor and warned that I'd have him over my knee in a trice if he misbehaved. Perhaps he thought I was bluffing.
David's father expected him to dress formally, even at home, particularly if being tutored, when he had to wear his school uniform. The uniform at that school was particularly old-fashioned. Even at 14, the boys wore grey short trousers, long grey socks, and grey shirts and socks, with school ties, grey v-neck pullovers and black leather shoes.
So it was that on my first full day in his home, David presented himself in school uniform in the dining room at 9 a. m. We worked amicably through the morning, had lunch - and then there came a glitch because I left David to do the washing up and when I returned, it was only half completed.
"I'm afraid this merits a small punishment," I said.
"A punishment!?"
"Didn't your father warn you that I had complete power to punish?"
"Yes but... I've had other tutors... they've never...."
"Sorry David," I said. "Your father was particular that I should be extremely firm. Bend over the end of the kitchen table please..."
I had him stretched forward over the table, hands grasping its sides, legs apart. I took a flat wooden spoon from a rack. His shorts were stretched tight over his buttocks. I placed the spoon across the seat of his shorts. He twitched nervously. I lifted it and brought it down hard, with a satisfying smack. He winced. I repeated the action, five times, equally hard. When I let him up he rubbed his bottom vigorously and hopped from one foot to the other. But I never had a problem with the washing up again.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but the next morning he was thirty minutes late for his studies. "I cannot accept this," I said. "Come here."
David stood before me. I lifted his pullover above his waist and undid his leather belt and removed it entirely from his shorts. I undid his top buttons, unzipped the fly and pulled down his shorts to his ankles, having him step out of them. Finally I folded his shirt and pullover upward, to clear the waistband of his white jockeys, and used the belt to secure them in place at that level.
To say that David looked uncomfortable would be to understate; to say he was mortified would be to exaggerate; he was clearly made anxious. I moved to an upright chair without arms and bade him lie across my thighs. The seat of his underpants was nicely filled, his buttocks firm and muscular as I placed my hand on them. There was a thin line of bare skin, just above the waistband of his Y-fronts - and below the belt, which retained his shirt and pullover. His legs were smooth and hairless. I smacked, smacked many times more, got into a rhythm of spanking and placement of my spanks. He took a time to yelp, but in the end I was hurting and he could no longer stay silent.
Having made my point, I stopped, let him up and sent him to his room to hang up his shorts, which I said he would not need for the rest of the day.
We settld to work - but David was unsettled, fidgety, not concentrating. "David," I said, "I am going to test you on everything on these pages in the text book, after lunch. It is now 11. You may revise wherever you wish. I will see you at lunch."
He arrived to lunch looking as if he had been asleep. He did the washing up OK, but flunked the test miserably. "Go to your bedroom," I said, "and take off everything except your underpants. Do you have a cotton vest?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Then put that on as well, tucking it neatly into your briefs. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
I let him wait for half an hour, then ascended the stair to his room. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, reading a book.
He made to get up.
"Stay there!" I said, sitting by his side and putting my hand on the seat of his underpants. "You know," I said, "you really are setting yourself up to be punished. Aren't you?" I patted his rump affectionately and slid his vest out of his pants to reveal an expanse of his smooth bare back. "Why have you been so lazy today?" I eased my hand under the waistband of his briefs and held it on the top surface of his buttocks.
"I stayed up late watching a video," he admitted.
"Oh well, no wonder!" I said. "Lift your butt."
He lifted his butt and I pulled off his underpants - and then his vest.
I had him stand in front of me. His circumcised dick was hard and over 5" but quite hairless. "Do you shave it?" I asked.
"Dad tells me to."
"I see."
I had him lie across pillows in the bed and strapped his arse, slowly, methodically, changing position and placement regularly until he was uniformly red....