READ PART 1 FIRST: the moment of truth is about to arrive for our minicab hero and his unlucky passenger - but who is setting up whom?

I start thinking how I can go about this circus. I have to get tough again for starters, and ignore my own aching need for sweet release. That can come later, when the boy has taken his whipping.

"Right - it's time to pay up, so out of the car!"

One more glance from those soulful eyes, flared not with fear but excitement, and he scrambles upright and outside into the warm night. As he stands by the door I open the boot and get out a blanket I always keep there, and then scan the track until I find just what I'm looking for a few yards away - a stile over the fence. As I walk up to him I realise that I'm an inch or two taller than him, and he buries his head in my neck as he hugs me tightly, his hands running down my back until they find and grasp the wide leather belt that I always wear in my jeans. I can feel him trembling slightly and it's not from cold.

Gently I ask him - "What's your name, boy?"

"Davy, sir." Oh, that little word is music to my ears, and now I'm convinced that this is the right scene for us, but I have to let him know it's OK.

"Well, Davy, I'm Ian. You know what's going to happen, so let's get it over with now."

I catch his hand and lead him over to the stile, where I fold the blanket up small and place it on the step to make a seat. Then it's the perfect height so I sit down and pull him to my side. The tent in his shorts is confirmation that he still wants this, so I slowly unzip them and drag them down to his ankles, and make him step out of them. Then I pull him down over my lap, his hands on the grass and his beautiful bottom raised high up on my knee, and I push his legs apart so that I can reach every inch and into every corner of that naughty behind. Rubbing my right hand over the seat of his white briefs I am intoxicated by the sight, seeing the submissive, graceful curve of his slim body bent over taut like a bow, the strong legs splayed and the bottom pushed up, inviting me to...

SLAP! "Aah!"

Hardly more than a breath, so I spank the other cheek just as hard. I am rewarded with a wriggle, and I feel that red-hot poker burrowing between my thighs as my own erection pushes up and nudges his flat stomach. I push the shirt and T-shirt up to his armpits and begin a steady stream of stinging swats, from top to thigh, alternating left and right until the wriggle is a constant motion and the little cries change in pitch. Now it's time to see this bewitching little bottom in all its glory, so I hook my fingers in the waistband of the briefs and drag them down his thighs and off his feet.

"Oh, please no sir!" Davy murmurs, a little half-heartedly. I lean over and kiss each splendid bare cheek, firm and pink and already nicely warm all over.

"I did say on your bare bottom, Davy."

I am cruel, rubbing it in, but I am also rubbing my hands all over the exposed flesh, down his crack so I graze the tight puckered hole and even reaching right between his legs to grab his furry balls. He's moaning louder now, and trying to rub his throbbing dick against my thighs, so I reach round his waist with my left hand and grab him by the root to stop him moving, while I start to punish his perfect mounds all over again, harder and faster. As the redness spreads and darkens I land some slaps to the tops of his thighs, right in that tender crease where I know he'll really feel it. He yelps and bucks wildly, but my grip is firm and the hard trunk of his young manhood shows no sign of diminishing.

When he starts to sob quietly and the fight in him is spent, I land a few more hard spanks to each cheek for good measure, then kiss them again before starting to rub the sore, tender flesh slowly. Even in the heat of the night I can feel the warmth from his punishment glowing on my face as the sweat runs off my forehead and drips onto the small of Davy's back, where it joins the trickle running down his furrow. As we both regain our control I remember what I have promised him. I suddenly feel sorry for the boy slumped over my knee, so I lift him up and comfort him, one hand resting lightly on his bruised rear, the other smoothing the tangle of matted highlights.

"Why were you spanked, Davy?"

Through the sobs comes the answer I want to hear - "B-because I was d-disrespectful to y-you when you w-work hard, sir. I'm s-sorry I t-tried to take advantage of y-you, r-really I am, sir!"

How can you not forgive such a sweet boy so sincere in his remorse? I feel really bad about what is coming next, but there are two hard poles jousting at our groins and demanding satisfaction, so I gently lift his chin up to make him look at me. As I gaze into those loving, trusting, tearful eyes I feel I am drowning in the depths of those pools, reaching out and touching his inmost soul. We both know what he wants, and what he needs.

"What happens now, Davy?"

"I-I have to pay the fare, sir!" he sniffles, and I hug him again, proud of him.

I lift the blanket off the stile and lead him back to the car, where I drape the blanket over the bonnet. Standing in front of him I tug both his shirts up and over his head, right off, so that he stands magnificently naked but for the socks and trainers. He is perfectly formed, smooth-chested and lean with a narrow waist. I run my fingers down the little trail of dark fuzz and gently hold his beautiful dick, still full and stiff, kissing him urgently on the lips before indicating to him to bend over the front of the car. He stretches right over the engine, still hot from the journey, holding onto the side wings with his legs spread wide and that pert bottom jutting forward, perfectly presented between the headlights.

"Don't move and then I won't have to add any - do you understand me, Davy?" I ask gruffly, pulling out the belt from the loops and doubling it over as I watch him tremble. He knows this will hurt, but the waiting is only adding to the pleasure for us both as I drink in every detail of this submissive sight.

"Yes, sir." There is a firmer note to his voice now, as he resigns himself to pay up what he owes, in broad red stripes on what half an hour ago was creamy smooth skin.

I gauge my swing, aim, and then let fly a hard stroke right across the centre of his burning behind. The crack of leather on flesh is vivid in the silent wood, and he squeals in surprise. I can see the mark darkening across both swollen cheeks in the cold moonlight.

"Owwww please, sir, no more! I'm sorry sir!"

He is pleading, but not making any move to get up so I line up another and deliver it just below the first. More twitches, more pleading, but he pushes that bruised bottom out again for number three and I just keep on going. By fifteen he's really starting to cry, and I'm beginning to worry that he's had enough, but he just lies there and repeats his mantra over and over - "I'm s-so sorry, sir! Please forgive me sir!"

I take pity on him, and decide that the last two won't be so bad. So I'm surprised when he suddenly jumps up, rubbing his sore behind when I tickle him with number seventeen - it's just half the strength of the others.

"Get back down now, Davy. You've nearly paid the fare but you've still got two to go and that one doesn't count."

Slowly he bends back over into position, with just a quick backward glance at me and an unreadable expression. I can see that he's still hard so I lift the heavy belt again and slash it down harder this time. He moves a little but doesn't try to get up this time, so I give him the last one when he's settled down. It's not that hard, but again he jumps up and looks at me, those deep eyes flashing strangely. There's no hesitation though as he bends back down again.

"I'm very very sorry, sir. P-Please give me the last stroke again."

I suddenly realise what it is he's doing. Caught up in the bravura of this intense game of pain and pleasure, he's deliberately paid me not just the fare, but added a tip on top! I laugh at the courage of the kid and then make the final stroke a real stinger, catching him right on the lowest part of his bottom. He squeals and writhes in pain, but doesn't jump up again. He's been thoroughly punished and he knows it.

"It's over, Davy. You've paid for your journey, so you can get up now."

"Thank you s-sir."

He's sniffling as he stands up stiffly and carefully feels the damage that has been inflicted on his poor little buttocks, now covered in purple welts. I lay the blanket out on the soft grass, and then hold him close, ruffling his hair as that incredible dick throbs hot and hard against my stomach. We both need release, so I start to undo my shirt as he grabs my zip and yanks down my jeans, and finally my own naked hardness wrestles his as I pull him down with me onto the blanket. I roll on to my back, wrapping my legs around him and holding him tight on top of me in a kiss that seems to last forever in that dark, hot, sweaty night...

Some hours later, emotionally and physically exhausted, we finally reach Davy's house in the bright glare of dawn. Bromley's a very quiet neighbourhood at five in the morning, even on a Friday. I help him out of the car and he leans back in to pick up the rucksack, tying it up or something. As he's bending over, I can't resist slapping that beautiful ass once more and he protests in pain, before turning round and sucking the last of my heart and soul out with another amazing kiss, those deep dark eyes now burning with an inner fire. I'm spell-bound and I can't bear to let the kid go, after what we've shared, but eventually we disengage and just hug gently.

"Will you be OK, Davy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to be a bit sore for a few days, though, so I won't be doing much dancing."

"Let's hope the marks have gone when you do your audition next week!"

"Oh god, I'd forgotten about that!"

He thinks for a minute - "What if I need to get home again?"

My heart misses a beat in hope and surprise - "Then you know where to find me. Freedom Cars, number Six One - but make sure you have some money next time!"

He smiles and gives me that strange look again and walks toward the house - "Maybe. But I do always pay my fare, Ian."

I watch him go, smiling back and waving until he's inside. Sighing, I turn back to my car and try to put hopeless, lingering thoughts of Davy out of my mind. I'm suddenly starting to feel very hungry and I have to go home and get my beauty sleep - after all, I have a cappuccino date tonight with our doorman after work. I shall have to replace those packs of condoms and lube I keep in the car for emergencies, too...

I'm just about to pull away, thinking about how maybe this wasn't such a bad night after all, when I notice the smart business card lying on the passenger seat next to me with Davy's contact numbers on it, right next to a crisp new £20 note.