Adam, Beloved Mentor (3)

by Tim Anders <Timlovesjase@yahoo.com.au>

Adam, Beloved Mentor (3) by Tim Anders

Revised version of 'Back in the Big Smoke' (Sequel to 'Country Life').

No lectures Friday afternoon, so I got home early, did some housework, prepared dinner and went back to working on yet another assignment. Adam arrived quite late, and the first thing I had to do was drop my shorts and get over his knee for my daily spanking. decreed as an interim measure until the caning I was to get on Saturday.

"But we did that this morning already!" I protested.

"You enjoyed that too much," he said with a grin, "I need to reinforce the message."

As I dropped my shorts and briefs, Adam took hold of my rigid little mate, pulling me along till I ended up over his knee, and then delivered at least 20 almighty handspanks. They did hurt enough to make me yell out loud, but my little mate seemed to think it was Christmas. Afterwards, Adam kept blowing on his aching hand. "There'll be no more of this, once we get that cane," he said, and my heart sank at the reminder of what was still in store for me.

We had our usual after dinner cuddle on the sitting room floor, but I kept thinking that tomorrow was the day when my punishment would resume and our new regime was to begin. I could tell from the way Adam talked, he wasn't looking forward to it any more than I was, but when he said, in that strained voice I knew so well, "this time tomorrow, little man, you're going to have a very sore bum," my little mate jumped. This is not unusual, but in this case it was surprising, because I genuinely dreaded what lay ahead.

Next morning, we got up early because we weren't sure how long it would take us to find a shop that sold canes. Adam didn't want to go to _s_e_x_ shops, so he leafed through the Yellow Pages and noted down a few addresses of craft places and such. He told me to wear shorts, appropriate for a discipline day. I was a bit taken aback by that, as it wasn't all that warm outside yet, but I didn't say anything, obeyed and put on my briefs and footy shorts and a T-shirt and windcheater.

"What happened to your jeans shorts?" Adam asked when I was dressed. They were some very old, skimpy, worn out jeans I had cut off when I was 17 and still living with Dad. I loved those shorts - so did Adam! They were extremely _s_e_x_y, but they had just about reached their 'use-by' date (actually, I still have and wear them). Adam had a similar pair himself, and we often slopped around in nothing but our jeans shorts in the house and garden, which kept my little mate at almost permanent attention, as I just couldn't take my eyes off him. He was a dish, dressed in nothing but those indecent shorts and fuzz all over his body, yummm!

"Well?" he demanded.

"Somewhere in a drawer, I guess. You don't want me to wear those, do you?"

"I do."

"But, Adam - "

"Put them on!! No briefs, either!"

I went and put them on, and they still fitted - almost too well, if you know what I mean. "It's bloody embarrassing walking around like that," I said, as I emerged from the bedroom.

"Good! Then you'll remember today for a long time, and we won't need too many of these in the future. OK, now, stand up straight and tell me why we are having a discipline day today."

I swallowed hard but accepted the unusual formality of it all. I mentioned the mess with the essay and various other shortcomings and misdemeanours he had been talking about, and I added that I deserved to be punished severely.

"Drop your shorts." I did as I was told. "Take 'em off and bend over." I looked at Adam in surprise. "Do as you're told," he said and slapped my bare backside with his hand. I quickly bent over as I heard him removing his belt. "Just to remind you, you're having a discipline day," he spelled out, as the belt blistered my bum about six times. I yelped, knowing that this was only the beginning. He told me to put my shorts back on, and we went on our way.

As we were driving, it really sank in that wherever we were going to buy canes, their final purpose and destination would be obvious to anybody seeing me in those shorts. The first address was a kind of warehouse. I tried to hang back as Adam got out, but he made me come along. He asked the little Chinese man for some canes, and I could have sunk into the ground, when the man took one look at me and said "for discipline?"

"That's right," said Adam.

The Chinese man said he only had large bundles of huge lengths of cane, and we should go to another address where they made them, even with handles "like English school" (his words). He gave Adam the address and said it was a private house, but they had "lots of canes".

It took nearly an hour to drive there, and just as Adam knocked on the door, it opened, and a man in his 40s came out with a bundle of canes, thanking the lady inside, as he left. She waved us in and led us down a long passage to the far end of the house, asking how we knew about this place, and Adam explained how we got the address. We reached a large room with boxes and tables with all kinds of baskets and ornaments and various cane products. Asked what he was after, Adam said he wanted some canes for discipline. The woman looked at me for a moment, making me feel like I'd been stripped naked, and then at Adam. "Over there," she said, pointing to a kind of rack with twenty or more large pigeon holes. Each one held canes, all different in length and thickness. "Take your time," she said and left us.

Adam started taking canes from various slots swishing them through the air, and asked what my dad's canes were like. I pointed out a few that seemed similar to what Dad had used on me. "The really thin ones are the worst," I said, meaning their impact on my bottom.

"You mean the best," I heard a voice behind me and I blushed.

A man in his 60s had materialised from nowhere. "I came to see if you need help," he said in a foreign accent that I didn't recognise.

Adam nodded, "yes, please. What do I look for in a good discipline cane?"

"It depends on the age and size of the target, and how it is applied, I mean clothed or not." It all sounded very clinical.

"Well," said Adam, "how should it be applied, what would you recommend?"

"Are we talking about this young fellow here?" I tried to study my sneakers, but my face felt so hot, it must have looked like a tomato.

"Yep," said Adam, "that's him."

The man looked me up and down, "about 17?" he asked me.

Adam looked at me, his eyes saying "come on! Speak!"

I squirmed, "eighteen and a half," I mumbled.

"Mhmm." He looked at Adam, "once they get over fifteen, it should be done unclothed."

"Oh, it will be," said Adam, "it always is, isn't it?" The last bit was directed at me.

I nodded. As much as I loved him, I hated him at that moment.

The man picked six canes of varying lengths, all fairly thin, and said to Adam: "You'll find these very satisfactory. They're four dollars each. Six for twenty dollars." (Something like that, I can't remember the exact price).

Adam inspected them closely, bent them for flexibility, swished them through the air, making me cringe, tapped my bottom with one of them, I just wished I was somewhere else.

"You can try them out, if you wish," the man said, "just call me when you are ready," and he left us alone.

Adam looked at me. I looked away. "Well, mate, bend over. I won't insist on you pulling them down."

"Adam, please, do we have to?"

"Well, we want to know what we're buying, don't we. Besides, you are more than overdue for a reminder. Come on, bend over, before I change my mind and make you drop 'em."

I bent over. WHACK! "OW!" I yelped and jumped.

"Legs apart," he commanded, "you should know that by now." I bent over again for one stroke with each of the six canes. They hurt a lot, even through my jeans shorts, Adam must have really put his back into them. I did not yelp any more, but there were tears in my eyes at the end. Adam gave me a big hug and rubbed my buns, and when I'd composed myself, he called out and the man reappeared instantly. He'd probably been watching us from very close by.

He looked at me briefly, then at Adam and the canes he had tested, "I think you've got what you need," he said with a knowing smile. I was absolutely mortified.

Adam paid, the man tied the canes together with a kind of raffia and handed the bundle to me with a wink, "I'm glad there are still people who care enough," he said.

I forced a smile and even said "thank you."

When we got to the car, I gave the canes to Adam who put them on the back seat. We then got in and drove off. I didn't say a word, I felt so ashamed, I started to cry. Adam put his hand on my thigh, "you OK, mate?"

I pushed his hand away but was immediately sorry. "Sorry, Adam," and I took his hand and put it right on top of my erection, but he didn't leave it there, seeing he was driving, and the car was not an automatic.

He pulled into a small reserve and stopped the car. "I'm sorry, mate, but I'm going to go through with this, like it or not."

"I know, and I want you to, honest. I just felt so ashamed and I hated you for a moment, and I don't want to hate you, cause I love you," I cried openly.

He took my chin and turned my face towards him. "Tim, mate, I meant it when I said I want you to remember this day, so we won't have to repeat it."

I nodded. "I know."

"It'll be worse before it gets better."

I put my hand on his thigh now, "I just wish it were over."

"So do I, mate." He put his hand on my rigid companion, "he seems to be enjoying it."

I put my hand on his and giggled, "so is yours," and we kissed for a blissful moment.

We reached home about an hour later, well after lunch time, but neither of us was hungry. We both wanted this over and out of the way. So, in a way I was glad when Adam said "better get yourself ready, mate, time for the cane."

I stripped completely, "where do you want to do it?" Adam looked at my "little mate", which wasn't quite little any more, but I remembered his instructions last time and quickly pulled the foreskin back, making me feel even more naked than naked (years later, in a discipline context, it still has that effect).

"I think the study is the perfect place for discipline."

In the study I had to spell out once more why I was being punished, after which he told me to bend over the desk, with a warning not to get up. Again, I was to count each stroke when I was ready to receive it, as we had done a few days before, except this time, he said he would leave plenty of time between strokes to maximise the impact, no matter how quickly I 'called the shots.' This was a kind of reinforced punishment but I had no quarrel with it.

I took a deep breath and called "one." Almost instantly, there was the whistle of the cane and that burning sting on my bum. "OWWWW!!!" Hell! I'd forgotten how the cane stings. I lay there gasping for a moment, and I heard the cane swishing through the air, but it didn't land on my bottom. _s_h_i_t_! I forgot to call the next one. Was Adam getting impatient, or was he just practising?

"Two!" WHACK!! "Owowow, please!" Again I could hear the practising swishes.

"Three!" I called, and after a moment the cane crashed into my burning backside, WHACK! "Aaargh!" Am I going to last through this? But I remembered that I had some memorable canings from Dad, so, of course I would! On with it, then -

"Four!" Pause, SWISH - CRACK. "Owhowhow!" I promised myself I'd never miss a date for an assignment again, EVER!! (famous last words). Better keep going -

"Five!" SLAM!! "Aarghowow!" _s_h_i_t_, that stings. What am I going to do? Just keep counting I suppose, pretend this is not happening -

"Six!" WHACK! "Yeeowwch!" I couldn't feel my little mate any more, he must have gone numb or shrivelled down to nothing. Not a word from Adam, just the practising swishes of the cane till I said I was ready.

"Seven!" Was my voice cracking, like my bum? It sounded funny and my bum felt like it was split open - yeah I know it always is, but you know what I mean. Here it comes - WHACK! "Owowow." Ohmegawd, I'm not going to last through this. What am I talking about? Hang in there, mate, keep counting, you're near half-time -

"Eight!" SWISH-SLAM! "Yoowyaghkh!" Could it get any worse?

Before I could say "nine", Adam told me to stand up and rub my backside till he got back in a few minutes. I stood there, sobbing, rubbing furiously. I could feel the ridges the cane had raised on my bottom, but nothing was cracked or 'split open' as I had feared.

Somebody once told me a joke about the Oomebumbird that lives in the Antarctic, it has no legs, and as it comes in for its landing on the ice, it calls out "OO-ME-BUM, OO-ME-BUM". Funny the things that come to one's mind at very odd times. I actually grinned to myself, thinking about that bird and how I wouldn't mind landing on the ice just now. I didn't tell Adam about that, when he came back, though, he mightn't have appreciated it at that moment (when I told him much later, he thought it was hilarious).

Having examined my bottom, he told me to get over the desk again, and I got the remaining seven in the same fashion as the first eight. The severe pain increased with each stroke and my yelling became louder and louder, and I suddenly realised Adam had turned the stereo up high when he was out of the room, clearly for the benefit of the neighbours -

Although Adam denied it when I asked him later, the last seven didn't seem quite as hard as the first eight. I still howled, and my bum felt like it was on fire, but the real shock when it was all over, was Adam's face, which was white as a sheet. He was almost as shaken as I was and gave me a crushing hug. "Don't ever make me do that again, you little bastard," he said in a voice choked with tears. I went completely to pieces. If anyone had come into the room, seeing naked me and fully dressed Adam, in each other's arms, both shaking in misery for different reasons, and consoling each other, they would have been puzzled, to say the least.

He inspected my backside once more, massaging it with some anti-bruising stuff he'd bought from the chemist shop beforehand, 'just in case'. Life had taught him to be prepared for all eventualities. No wonder I felt so perfectly safe with him. "I don't think I've done any permanent damage," he said after the inspection, "but I don't want you marked for life, or embarrass you with your swimming mates, so this is where we'll stop for today."

I had expected there would be more punishments of some sort or other that day, so I was surprised and relieved at the same time. "Thank you," I said as I hugged and kissed him, "you're very sweet."

He rubbed my buns and cleared his throat, "yeah, well, apart from anything else, I like your bum reasonably unblemished, just for my sake."

I smiled, "I love you, mate, and I'm very, very sorry."

"I love you too, mate, otherwise I wouldn't be doing this. I'd just turf you out."

For the rest of the day I was only allowed to wear those jeans shorts. The worst part was getting into them, but I managed.

That whole episode made a lasting impact on our life together, our love had found a new dimension. I made a truly mighty effort to avoid any repetition of that awful punishment, but from that day on Adam kept a much stricter rein in smaller everyday matters, exercising the cane almost daily, often more than once, whenever I 'slipped up'. For frequent very minor things, I'd just have to bend over and he'd give me a whack or two on my clothed bottom with the cane that was permanently kept in the kitchen.

For more serious offences, I'd have to bring 'my' cane, bare my behind and bend over for at least three strokes. This was usually done in the sitting room, and once the cane had been used, it remained there in full view - very embarrassing if visitors arrived. Subsequent punishments on the same day always increased in severity. And if it happened while we had visitors who knew us well, like Roger and Brian, it was carried out right in front of them.

Other visitors were left in no doubt either, when Adam sent me off with the words, 'you know what to do!' I first had to get 'my' cane from the bedroom, carry it through the sitting room - there was no other way to the study - and then he'd follow me and usually leave the study door ajar. So, even if they didn't get an eyeful, they got an earful.

The worst thing was to rejoin them afterwards and trying to pretend nothing had happened. Some were even 'indelicate' enough to enquire after the state of my bottom, and what was it like, sitting on it. I was always careful how I answered, as I didn't want to whinge and be seen as a big wuss, but at the same time, I couldn't very well give the impression that it had no effect. Adam, for one, would have taken that as a reason to 'improve' on his efforts forthwith. So, I usually mumbled something non-committal like "it's ok now."

The other routine, part of my punishment, was the daily reminder. As Adam had decreed, I was to get a three-stroke warning every morning, before I left for Uni, until the end of the semester. This was always the last thing before our good-bye kiss.

It was a bit of a nuisance, having to drop my jeans or shorts, just before leaving the house, and after a couple of painful lapses I got into the habit of not putting them on at all until I'd had my 'reminder'. I'd forgotten on a number of occasions, to ask for my three whacks, and that resulted in a double dose in the evening, as soon as we were both home.

As I got whacked a fair bit already, due to our new arrangements, I could definitely do without that extra six. So I suggested I'd leave my bottom bare till Adam had caned me every morning. He didn't mind at all. if he'd had his way, I'd have been running around naked all the time. I felt the same about looking at him, and often we did just that.

Those three morning stingers were of a pretty hefty calibre. Adam reasoned they were to last a whole day to keep me out of trouble, and somehow I was really aware of them, well, at least till lunchtime. Not that they really hurt when I sat down or anything, it was more like an awareness of something that didn't belong there, like a big pimple.

At the same it felt really nice and warm, almost like my Adam was with me, and my little mate who was pretty unruly at the best of times in those days, stood up quick smart, every time I took notice of the three reminders on my buns.

As arranged, Roger and I met in the university library during the following week, but it was a little different from what we both had expected when we organised it. I felt quite guilty because I'd sort of lost my head that day in the study, and Roger had hoped for something a lot more intense. But, although I was still very attracted to him, there was no room for anyone else but my Adam, and no way I'd give in to the temptation, however cute Roger was.

I liked him a lot and felt truly sorry for him, because he had serious problems with Brian and was even talking of leaving him. We kept meeting at least once a week, and gradually a lasting friendship developed.

I told Adam about Roger's predicament, because I knew Adam and Brian had known each other from way back. I said I didn't really know exactly what the problem was, but I had the feeling Brian might be a bit too rough and domineering, and Roger wanted out.

"Brian's got a foul temper and a violent streak," said Adam, "I've lived with him for a while, years ago, till I outgrew him physically and emotionally."

"Yes, I remember you talking about it the other day. You mean he abused you?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it abuse, he did what I'm doing to you, only more so, and I needed it, I was a real little _s_h_i_t_ and very immature."

"How young were you?"

"I wasn't even 17 yet when he took me in, after my old man kicked me out for being gay."

"Oh Adam, I didn't know . . ."

"Best thing that could have happened."

"That must have been awful, mate. You mean your folks just threw you out at 16?"

"The old man just disowned me, as if I'd died. He's very rich, maybe that's got something to do with it - and with the fact that my brothers and sisters don't want to know me either. But Mum didn't agree and was very upset, especially when I went underground."

"Your poor mother, mate, have you contacted her since?"

"Yeah, sure, I wrote to her first, just didn't think I could face her till about a year after the bust-up. But now we meet almost every week for lunch. I even told her about you," he stroked my face, "and she wants to meet you. So, sometime soon, we may have her over here. Would you be happy with that?"

"If you think it's ok and if that's what you want, I'd like to meet your mum, yes." I was a little taken aback and must have looked it.

"Well, think about it and get used to the idea. It won't be tomorrow, but you're the two most important people in my life and I want you to meet. You'll love her and I know she'll love you."

Adam had never talked much about his past before and I had learned not to ask, because when I did, he answered briefly and then changed the subject. Hearing this story now, I was appalled and my heart went out to him. How lucky I was with my own parents!

"Adam, I'm so sorry about all that, and you were only 16!"

"Well, - nearly 17, mate. Anyway, I'm glad things happened that way. I would've never come across you otherwise," and he held me very tight and kissed me. I was so proud of my man, proud he was all mine, admiring the inner strength he must have had, after such a blow.

By now, I'd become really curious, "so, what happened with Brian, how did you find him and - "

"He picked me up one night in St Kilda, I was touting for business - don't look so shocked, little man, I was broke, I had to earn a living."

I must have looked like I'd seen a ghost, "you mean, you - " I nearly choked on the thought as much as the words.

"_f_u_c_k_ed my way through Melbourne, or got _f_u_c_k_ed, for money. But Brian stopped all that."

"What happened?"

"He picked me up and took me home with him, I was living in the parks then. He made me have a bath and clean myself up, and then he said if I played my cards right and did as I was told, I could stay a while, like live with him."

"Just like that? he was taking a bit of a risk, wasn't he?"

"Ah, he saw me honest face and _s_e_x_y body, and I was irresistible," Adam joked.

"You still are, mate, but it was a risk, I mean for both of you."

"Yeah, sure, but we were both lucky. I mean, I was so glad to have a roof over my head and plenty of food - I was always hungry. He even sent me back to school for a while, but I had missed too much and wasn't really interested in catching up. So, after many sore bums and a lot of failed attempts at persuasion, he gave up on that one. An important point was, I always accepted corporal punishment when I deserved it. That was one of his conditions."

"How did you feel about that?"

"Didn't worry me at all, I was used to it. My old man is very old-fashioned. He used to thrash the daylights out of us boys. The main difference was that Brian got off on caning my arse and insisted on certain rituals. Quite _s_e_x_y, up to a point. I mean, he was quite a hunk, about ten years older, and I did need a firm hand at that stage, like it or not."

"Adam, my love, don't get mad, but with that background, why were you so surprised and reluctant when I told you I needed a firm hand?"

"That's why I never told you about all that. Brian could get a bit brutal, and I didn't want to fall into that trap. I love you little bugger and I didn't want us to end up like Brian and I did. He never mentioned love, he just wanted _s_e_x_ and cane my bum, and that was fine with me.

"You mean you want more than _s_e_x_ and cane my bum?" I teased, and before I knew it, he had me over his shoulder and carried me kicking and shouting into the bedroom.

"I'll teach you to be provocative," he laughed as he threw me on our bed and bared my buns for a rapid fire bare handed spanking.

"Owyowyow," I yelped, laughing. It did hurt a bit, but it was extremely _s_e_x_y, and my little mate was rampant and ready for action. I twisted around and pulled Adam's face to mine for a long kiss, during which we somehow managed to remove each other's clothes completely, for what turned out to be the raunchiest and most momentous _s_e_x_ we'd ever had.

I have mentioned before how much I wanted to feel my Adam inside me, and I knew how much he wanted it too. But he kept saying he wanted it to be perfect for me and I wasn't ready yet to receive him, because he was a 'very big boy'. Many weeks of daily patient, gentle preparation had passed, and I felt the moment had come that we should attempt that awesome union we both had waited for, and put off for so long.

"Adam, darling, I am ready, please do it, I want to feel you inside me, please!!"

To my delight, he probed once again, "maybe you're right, little man," he said, as he started applying liberal lubrication to my entrance and his awesome rod. "But I want you to promise you'll shout if I hurt you in any way at all, ok?"

"I promise," I lied. Now that I had him this far, I had no intention of letting the opportunity slip away.

We achieved that ultimate physical and emotional intimacy slowly and gently, and there was no pain, just love and exhilaration. The feeling of closeness and becoming one with my beloved beautiful Adam was incredible, and I am still glad and grateful he had ignored my earlier impatience, making it all such a mind-blowing experience. I'll never forget that moment.

Much later, we were lying there, deliciously exhausted, Adam on his back, his arm under me, squeezing and caressing my buns, I on my side, surveying my beautiful man, my fingers running through the fuzz forest all over his gorgeous body.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked.

"What question?" I was so blissfully happy, I had totally forgotten our earlier conversation.

"That rude question you asked," and he slapped my bare bottom, putting my little mate on instant alert, in spite of his recent workout.

"Ah! I remember. You mean whether you want more than _s_e_x_ and cane my bum? Yes, my darling, you have answered all my questions and prayers."

"I'm listening."

"You DO want _s_e_x_ and cane my bum," I teased. SLAP on my bunz. "Ouch!, let me finish."

"Go on then."

"But you want so much more and so do I, my wonderful man, and you can have anything you want. I love you so much, I can't say how much, I adore you, I - - -"

He closed my mouth with one of his delicious kisses, and when we came up for air, he said, "stop raving, mate, the most beautiful and gorgeous and wonderful thing around here is you, my little man. I'd eat you, if I could."

"What's stopping you?" SLAP - "Ouch. OK, OK, tell me more about your life with Brian.

"Hey, that's the name of a musical, did you know that?"

I couldn't resist it, "no, must have been before my time." SLAP. "Ouch! Come on, tell me what it was like."

"Well there isn't all that much to tell. I mean, I'd been living in the parks and sleeping in Brotherhood bins, I was totally out of control. The only thing I was scared of was drugs."

"You never tried any?"

"I smoked pot once, Brian smelled it off my clothes. I confessed and got the most almighty thrashing three evenings in a row. He told me, if he smelled that stuff on me again, I'd be out, back in the street. I never did it again, but I didn't really like it anyway, so it was no great hardship. I've always had a healthy respect for drugs, ever since."

"So Brian did good things for you, too?"

"Why the surprise, mate? He did me a good turn, he got his pound of flesh - "

"Pound and a half," I cut in, fondling his limp, but still magnificent dick. SLAP. "Ouch!"

"You dirty little bugger! - Well, as I was saying, Brian saved me, and you should be grateful, because without him and his discipline I'd probably be in jail or dead, or both."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist it."

"He got me into the modelling business, too. Took some nude shots of me in very daring poses, some pure porn, some quite respectable, and several of his mates in the industry said they wanted to see me in the flesh."

"And?"

"Well, they did, but they couldn't really employ me because I was under age. Still, I was growing fast and often passed for a young looking 18 year old. So I got some jobs on the side, stripping at parties, posing for 'private' photos, that kind of stuff."

"Did you get paid for that?"

"Sure. Brian kept saying there was no need for it, he was quite happy to keep me as his bum boy. But I didn't want to be so dependent on him. As I got older, punishments became more severe, probably deserved. But he lost his temper a few times, tried to tie me up and all that crap. Luckily I'd grown up a lot by then and was strong enough to stand up to him."

"Maybe that's what Roger was on about," I said, "he only hinted, maybe he's too scared to tell me the whole story. Do you think he is at risk?"

"I hope not, mate. But that's why I was concerned about young Roger. If Brian forces that kid into something he doesn't want, I'll flatten the bastard."

"We know he canes him," I said, "they told us that when they were both here."

"That's allright, as long as Rodge agrees. I mean I'm thrashing your backside all the time . . ."

"Not all the time, mate, only when I've earned it."

"Yeah, and that's all the time. Seems that way, anyway."