Newsgroups: alt._s_e_x_.spanking
From:crispenn@tawnycoll.win-uk.net(Crispenn)
Date: Sun, 06 Nov 1994 17:03:54 GMT
Subject: Story - Memories of Dad - M/M - CP

My name is Stephen, and I am an only child. My mother died many years ago, and five years ago my father died after a long illness. I have a job and live in my own house about 10 miles from where my parents lived. When Father died, I had to go and sort out his house. It was hard to know where to start on such a task; there was no hurry as I was not in any rush to sell the house so I did it bit by bit. On the day in question, I was starting on his bedroom and was very relieved to find that apart from an odd item of sentimental jewellery there was nothing belonging to my Mother. Having taken his suits etc out of the wardrobe and boxed them up for the local charity, I found his cane standing up at the back in one corner, and then memories came flooding back to me as I sat on the bed holding his beloved instrument of discipline. I can't remember how many times he'd used it on me but I vividly recalled the last two occasions.

From an early age I can remember being spanked and slippered, and then once I went to a small Public School at the age of twelve I was introduced to the cane. I never felt any ill feeling towards my father, even though he made my bottom really sore on many occasions, as once the ordeal was over all was forgotten, and I felt, and still do feel, that he was right in what he did to uphold his beliefs and standards. There was always a ritual to the discipline; a short telling off, then 'Upstairs and prepare yourself boy' to which I had to answer 'Yes, Sir'. I would go up to his bedroom, take down my trousers and pants, and kneel on a footstool at the foot of his bed and bend over with my stomach and chest on the bed, my arms out sideways holding on to the sides of the bed. I would stay in this position till father appeared; sometimes he would be up quickly, but on occasions he would keep me waiting sometime.

When he entered the room he would pick up the slipper or cane and tell me many strokes I was to receive. I had to count out loud each stroke as it was delivered, and when finished, and once he had put the instrument away I could stand up and dress, and that would be that.

Handling the cane that day also brought back memories of my time as a prefect later in life at my school when I was allowed to cane juniors, but there it had to be with their trousers on, and the maximum a prefect could give was four strokes and even that had to be in the presence of another prefect. Academically I was good, and was also good at sport, so at 6'1" and well built I was somewhat feared by the juniors as I always chose my mate to witness any canings I had to administer as he was of much the same build as myself, though slightly shorter. We both believed that canings should hurt if they were going to do any good.

The whole school enjoyed it very much when in my second term as prefect the Headmaster gave me six strokes of the cane on my bare backside in front of them all after he had caught me with a book of naked men and women in various compromising positions.

It was just before returning to school, while I was a prefect, for my last term in which I was to take my "A" levels that my father gave me the hardest caning. He had gone to a meeting at the school where he taught and I had got everything ready to return to school the next day. As he was out I decided to help myself to a glass of whisky which I was enjoying while watching television, and did not hear him return.

"What do you think you are doing drinking my whisky without permission? Upstairs and prepare yourself!" he shouted.

"But, Dad........"

"No but's lad. Do as I say, NOW!"

Feeling very ashamed I went upstairs never realising that at seventeen I would be caned by my father. He came up to the bedroom as soon as I was in position, opened the wardrobe and took out the cane.

"Thought you were too old for the cane did you lad?"

"Yes, Sir." I replied.

"Well, you're not. And while you are relying on me for your keep etc, you will learn to ask if you want to drink my whisky or do anything else with my property. In my book you have been stealing so I'm giving you 10 strokes." And with that he took off his jumper and threw it over my head.

"Leave it there, you won't suffocate! Come on stick that bottom of your's out more." Obediently I wriggled about until he was satisfied and my buttocks were raised up to him and my legs were slightly apart.

After tapping my behind a few times to judge the distance, he started, and how he delivered those strokes, he started at the top of my buttocks and worked his way down until the ninth stroke landed right on the crease of my bottom and thighs, each stroke causing me to buck, but the ninth one just about lifted me off the bed and I'm sure my knees left the footstool for a brief second.

"Keep still lad, only one more to go!" he shouted, and I wondered where this last one would land as I was sure that wherever it landed it would surely be on top of a previous stroke. My father must have given this some thought as well as it seemed like ages before I heard his cane swishing through the air for the final stroke, it was delivered harder than the previous nine diagonally across my bottom, and the other nine strokes causing me unbelievable pain as all ten strokes came to life again. I gripped the side of the bed and stayed still. Then I felt his hand on my bottom feeling the marks and ridges as the weals rose up like a growing tree. Next I heard the wardrobe door being closed and him saying;

"O.K. you can get up now."

As I stood up and my head was uncovered from his jumper, he could see that he had brought me to tears.

"Let that be a lesson to you lad. You've certainly got something to show your mates at school as those marks will be there for some time."

"Thank you, Sir," I mumbled in reply.

"You've got a good body lad, and there will be no shortage of girls in your life when You're a bit older." And with that he left the room. I dressed and went downstairs to find that he's poured me a whisky, and we sat there chatting for the rest of the evening.

He was right about my mates at school. Everyone had to have a cold shower every morning, with the youngest first and then up through the ages. They all undressed, showered, dried and dressed again in the same room, and the shower was a large communal one. The prefects had a small side room where they undressed and dried etc, having first ensured that all the others had had their morning awakening, so it was only the fifth year that saw the naked prefects leave their room for their cold shower. I'd concealed my striped bottom the first night, but once in our side room I stripped quickly and turned round so my backside was on full view and asked the others;

"Can any of you better this?"

The questions came flying, but we had to hurry to get our cold shower so as we went through to the shower room the fifth formers who were still dressing saw my bottom clearly.

"This is what some of you could do with!" I said as I entered the cold spray of water. My backside was the talking point for quite some time by the whole school was word spread through the grapevine, and even the PE master said the he hadn't seen such a 'Work of Art' for ages when he saw me changing.

My father had told me, while we were having the whisky on that night that he was very pleased with my reports and said that I should have no trouble in obtaining a good grade 'A' pass in all three subjects, and that to make me work harder he said he'd give me two strokes for each 'B' grade, four strokes for each 'C' grade etc. And we actually shook hands on it.

As soon as term ended and I got home my father was taken ill and went into hospital for several weeks. Fortunately my employment did not start until the middle of September, and it was not dependant on my exam results, so I was able to look after the house and visit my father regularly. I did his garden, kept the house clean and played a lot of tennis as well as going swimming a lot. Eventually he came home though he was quite weak and I rarely left the house except for shopping etc. As he improved so the visitors appeared. he was a maths teacher at the local school and was well respected, so a lot of his visitors were other teachers. As my father got better, so I was able to go out again for tennis and swimming.

One day at the end of August or early September, soon after my exam results came I went for a game of tennis. My exam results showed one Grade 'A' and two Grade 'B's'.

"When I'm stronger lad, we'll keep our bargain, O.K.?"

"Of course Dad. But you get better first, that's the most important thing. I'm sure your cane won't rot and I know my bottom will still be here." I said in a light hearted way even though I realised that he was not likely to get much better at all.

I'd played several sets of tennis with my mate who was good and in the end I just beat him, but was utterly exhausted. I cycled home and went into the house still in my tennis clothes, but as I was so hot I pulled off my shirt as soon as I was in the hall and entered the sitting room in just my trainers, socks, shorts and briefs to find a visitor with Dad.

"This is John the P.E. Master from my school." He said introducing me to a fair haired chap of about 30 who was in shorts and T shirt, and he looked every inch of what he was. I collapsed in a chair and we chatted about my game of tennis and his job as P.E. master for some time.

"Stephen." my dad said, "I've been telling John about the job you are going to start soon, and also about your exam results. Caning has been stooped at our school, and John is a little out of practice and as I am not getting any stronger he is prepared to act for me in carrying out the final part of our agreement, so, upstairs and prepare yourself!"

"I can wait for you to get better Dad." I said.

"Do as I say. Lad."

So, rather flushed, but obediently I got up and left the room and then slowly made my way up to Dads bedroom. Dad and John practically followed me up the stairs. Once in his bedroom I felt very embarrassed as I realised that once I'd removed my shorts and briefs I would be totally naked, having already removed my shirt, but there was no time to get another one, to hide my embarrassment I quickly got into position. They came in together and as my father went to the wardrobe he told me to make sure I was in the same position as the last time, so with a bit of wriggling I got there.

"Now John, you have a very good target and I want you to give him four strokes. And I don't want you to tickle him, I want to see four good strong lines on the lower part of his bottom. Something he will remember, our agreement will then be fulfilled."

John flexed the cane in his hands and out of the corner of my eye I could see a smile spread across his face. He took up his stance and I could see the muscles in his heavy thighs tighten as he braced himself for the delivery of the first stroke. It came, but not as hard as I had expected. My father looked at the mark which it had left.

"Come on John, you can do better than that, put some of that muscle behind it." My Dad said. The next two were reminiscent of what my father had given me earlier in the year, after the whisky incident.

"Where do you want me to put the last one, Bill?" John asked my father," "Above the other three, or below on the crease?"

"On the crease, John, it hurts more there, and I want you to make this last stroke the hardest of all."

And he sure did, I'd never felt anything like it in my life before, with all the canings that I had ever received both at home and at school that last one had to be the worst. I stayed in position while they both examined John's handiwork, and did not move until I heard the wardrobe door close, then I stood up with my back to them and pulled on my briefs and shorts as quickly as I could in order to hide my embarrassment, as the warmth and sting spread through and around my body.

"Thanks John, I'm glad that our agreement had now been settled. I'm rather tired, so if you will excuse me I will go to bed now, but you two go down and have a drink and a chat for as long as you like. Come and see me again sometime, John, when you've time, and thanks again."

"O.K. Bill, it's been a pleasure. Take care and I will call round again sometime."

"Night Dad, and thanks." I said as John and I left the room.

"Goodnight Lad. I don't suppose we shall have to use the cane again now you are over 18 and going away to work, but I'll keep it safe, just in case. Night."

Downstairs I found John adjusting his shorts and it was obvious that in some way he was just as embarrassed and excited by the ordeal as I had been. We poured ourselves a drink, I sat down carefully and we chatted for quite some time. He tried to apologise for what he had done, but I cut him short by telling him that Dad and I had an agreement and that I fully accepted it. I went on to tell him about my previous caning and also the one I had had in front of the entire school, he in turn told me how he found his old gym shoe to be very effective on young backsides in the gym which were only covered with thin cotton shorts, and how effective it had been in getting the boys to behave and to get the best out of them. We both agreed that such disciplinary actions were beneficial all round, and I told him of the times that I had used the cane on boys at school when I was a prefect. He related how he'd been caned at college, and on one occasion had actually been tied down to receive his punishment. he told me that he had his own house a few miles away and that he had turned his basement come cellar into a small gym where he did his training, especially during school holidays.

Having questioned me about my means of keeping fit and discovering that I'd never done anything with weights, and since leaving school had only played tennis and done some swimming, he invited me over to his little gym sometime when it was convenient.

"Of course Stephen," he continued, " you must realise that I am a strict teacher and that in my gym, my rules apply and also that you are now a man and not a boy so you could find a training session rather hard and sore especially as the only clothing I permit is a jock strap. Even that might have to be discarded if I think it is necessary.

At this I blushed somewhat and had to move into a different position in my chair even though it hurt to sit in this new way.

"O.K." I said, "I'll try to come over one afternoon or evening next week."

"Fine, make it Thursday about 5pm. I'll start you off with an hour or an hour and a half in the gym then we can go upstairs and have a drink and a chat afterwards.

But all that's another story which I'll tell you about some other time, as well as how my father conducted his private tuition with the consent of the pupils parents.

So much for finding Dads cane!!!!