Sunday night passed in a slightly feverish haze. Basically I found it difficult to sleep with the rather strange throbbing sensation in my bottom. It was if Mister Grayson was standing by my bedside and repeating his thorough caning of my bared backside over and over again through the whole long night. The really weird thing was that I still couldn't work out whether or not I thought that this was a pleasant sensation or a decidedly unpleasant one. Whatever, I was a very well-caned twenty-three year old teenage boy. More than once I found myself thinking over my new guardian's words when he had said that I needed to sharpen up my school-work if I was to be ready to go to a real school within a few weeks.
There was no way that that could be possible, was there? I know that 5'8" doesn't make me a very tall guy, and that my 30" waist is doesn't make me the fattest guy around, but I could hardly pass for a genuine teenager. There again, there was the image of myself in the bathroom mirror after I had been shaved. I didn't exactly look like a man either. Anyway, if he really meant it there would still be the problem of forcing me to wear shorts to school. He had said that I would be the only boy at this school in shorts but it seemed to me more likely that no school would allow that nowadays, so he wasn't going to get his way. I passed into some sort of slumber on that reassuring thought.
Monday morning was similar to Sunday morning, and Saturday morning and Friday morning. Mister Grayson entered my bedroom, woke me up, turned me over on my stomach, and _f_u_c_k_ed me. Then he gave me ten minutes to get washed, dressed, and downstairs. Even so it was still a bit odd to pull on the grey knee socks and turn them over to reveal the two dark green stripes at the tops. It was even odder to be wearing these very short grey school shorts. But that's the way he wants me dressed, and anyway, I don't know where my other clothes are. I wouldn't put it past my guardian to have dumped them in the bin by now.
I went downstairs and sat at the table across from Mister Grayson and we ate breakfast. Living on my own as I had been doing for the past few years I'm not really used to conversation first thing in the morning. I'm certainly not used to the sort of one-sided discussion that my guardian had with me. Basically he outlined his plans for the day and they included a very simple statement that we were going to wind up my affairs in the world.
Did I have a bank account? That would be closed. Where was my jobseeker's book? We would fill in the form at the back and post it off to say that I would no longer be needing to draw benefit. What arrangements did I have with my landlord? We would move my stuff out today and dump it.
Dump my stuff! I totally flipped at that. There was no way that he could be seriously suggesting that he could simply get me to pack all of my belongings and just dump them. Well, actually that was exactly what he was saying. And he went on to say that if this was going to be my attitude then he would have to alter it immediately.
My heart sank. I could guess what his idea of altering my attitude meant. He told me to get up and join him in the study for a short and very sharp lesson. This time I really let him have it. I actually let fly with my fists and feet and screamed all sorts of stuff at him about his perverted life. Maybe he thought it was amusing to take guys and turn their lives inside out, make them wear stupid little-boy clothes, and cane them, but it was sick. Sick, sick, sick.
Then, having had my say, I looked him in the eye, daring him to respond. And he did.
"Don't you ever speak to me like that again boy. Don't you ever use language like that, ever again, boy. Don't you ever forget that I am now your guardian and that you will obey me no matter what I tell you to do. Now bend over and grab your ankles".
My mind was a total mess. I stared at him in silence. I really could not believe that this guy was so incapable of taking no for an answer. I had told him to _f_u_c_k_ off and that I was not going to play along with his little game any more. I had reminded him that I was not his little boy. That I was in fact an adult and twenty-three years old. He had had his fun, and now it was over.
I stared at him in amazement at his perverted stupidity. He stared back at me. We stood there in his study in total silence for what seemed like a long, long time. It was a long, long time. Something like twenty minutes went by. I didn't want to turn my back on this mad old lunatic until I was certain that he knew that his weekend's fun was over. I wasn't entirely certain that he wouldn't try to do something daft and attack me. I was pretty certain that I could overpower the old guy if it came to a straight fight but I wanted to keep my eyes on him all the same. I stared at him. And he stared at me.
As the minutes passed I realised that my breathing was quite heavy. I was also aware of the incredible anger in his eyes. This guy was absolutely furious. Then he let his eyes drop slowly from mine and he looked down my body. I felt his glare as he took in the grey school shirt that I was wearing. I felt his glare on my crotch as he inspected the tight grey school shorts that I was wearing. I felt his glare run down over my bare knees to the tops of the long grey kneesocks that I had pulled up so very properly. His eyes returned to mine and he stared into me again.
I was almost panting with the tension. I just knew that something really dreadful was going to happen within the next few seconds. It was one of those moments in life when you just know that everything is about to go seriously wrong. And sure enough, a few seconds later, everything, absolutely everything went very seriously wrong.
Mister Grayson stared right into my eyes, picked up his cane and flexed it so that I could see its terrifying flexibility. I thought to myself that now was my last chance. I would have to attack first before he let fly. I tensed my body ready to really give him a thorough bruising. He stood across from, and then he very quietly and calmly said, 'I told you some time ago now boy to bend over and grab your ankles. I am going to cane you and I do not expect to have to repeat myself. So assume the position now boy'.
I took a deep breath, looked back at him, and bent over.
My hands reached for my ankles. I was aware of Mister Grayson moving around behind me. His hands reached round my waist and undid the fastening and zip on my shorts. He pulled them down to my knees, stopping just above my school socks. Then his fingers reached into the elastic waist of my white briefs. Within a second they too were down around my knees. He stepped back and raised his arm.
The cane came crashing down through the air and landed right across my bottom with an incredibly powerful delivery. There was a slight moment between the terrifying noise of the impact and the onset of the truly awful pain. My hands broke away from my ankles for just a fraction of a second in an involuntary reaction. Then back they went and I gripped more tightly to counteract the pain that was now raging through my whole body. I shivered. 'One, Sir'.
I could almost feel the cane rise up into the air behind me again. I imagined the tip of it pointing towards the corner of the ceiling where it met the top of the bookcase. There was a long pause and then I heard the cutting of the air as the cane accelerated towards my bottom again. 'Two, Sir'.
There are sound barriers, and speed of light barriers, and pain barriers. That morning my new guardian introduced me to each of these in turn. The sound of the cane parting the air in the room and giving off that terrifying whoosh noise. The speed of light as the cane disappeared into my naked skin and the rebounded out again. The speed of the reflex action as my hands strained against my ankles. The strength of my reflexes as the cane progressed and I became numbed with agonising pain. The total loss of control as my back arched up in reaction to the impact of that vicious cane as it ripped into me. 'Eighteen, Sir'.
'Nineteen, Sir'. 'Twenty, Sir'. 'Twenty-one, Sir'. 'Twenty-two, Sir'. 'Twenty-three, Sir'.
Mister Grayson moved round in front of me and placed the cane on his desk. It was over, and I had survived. I slowly pulled myself up and stood to attention. I could feel my backside quivering, the muscles in spasm and taking on a life of their own. The pain was absolutely dreadful, far worse than anything I had ever experienced before in my life. I thanked my guardian for having disciplined me so firmly.
He looked into my eyes again. 'Now boy, I think that will help you to think before you ever dare to disobey me again. You insisted that you are a twenty-three year old adult. Well, that was a stroke for each year of your self-proclaimed age. I am sure that you can already appreciate the benefits of being a fifteen year old again'.
I sobbed out an almost whispered, 'Yes, Sir'.
'What age are you boy?'
'Fifteen, Sir'.
I had been right during those long moments of anticipation and out-staring each other. Something really awful had been about to happen. Something really awful happened. My old life had been caned out of me. The old me was dead and buried. It was no lie. I really was only fifteen years old again, there could be no going back now.