Please, please comment on this story if you like it, or even if you don't. Comments to drtucker80@hotmail. com.
I know I was in the wrong; I shouldn't have done it, it's just not my style. Now here I was taking my well-deserved punishment. Let me explain from the beginning.
My name's Mark and I'm 27. I'm at that age where the whole world's still at my feet and that's what's got me into trouble this time. You see, I have a boyfriend Richard who's 29. We met in a gay bar in London two years ago, so as you can see, things are pretty serious between us. Richard's more serious than I, it's just his nature, less outgoing, more centred, but a bloody good lover! I've always been a bit wild. I like the parties, the discos, late nights etc.
Two nights ago, Friday night, I phoned Richard up and suggested we go out to a new club that had opened in London. Richard being his usual mature self said he'd prefer a quiet night in, a bottle of wine and a good film. Well, we argued a bit, I saw red because I really wanted to have a night out (a rare occasion), but Richard wouldn't give in. So, in a fit of temper, I shouted, "Fine, I'll go by myself, you never know, I might even find someone there who's got a life!", and slammed down the phone. I knew I had no intention of pulling anyone, but I did intend to have a good time despite the feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I hated arguing.
I arrived at the club about 9.30 pm, got a drink and made my way to the dance floor. I love dancing and I flatter myself I'm quite good at it, so why not? Anyway, the guy I was dancing next to caught my eye. I don't know what it was about him, whether it was his shiny brown hair, his beautiful blue eyes or his sweet smile, but I started to get turned on. Before I knew where I was, I'd approached him and engaged him in conversation. Where did he come from, did he like the new gay club, what music did he like, did he have a boyfriend. One part of me couldn't believe I was doing this behind my boyfriend's back, it was shouting STOP, this is wrong. But my rebellious streak got the better of me and before long I was giving him the full lip treatment. Then I opened my eyes.
Horror. Richard was standing just beyond my new "lover", staring at us. The combined look of shock, anger and deep hurt upon his face was one I shall never forget. I was glad Richard wasn't the type of bloke to start a fight with this other guy. After all, it was me he should be angry at. But Richard just turned and walked away, tears welling in his eyes. He had obviously felt so guilty about our confrontation earlier that he had doled himself up and come to find me.
I turned and followed him, trying desperately to keep up with his swift pace. I was trying to sweet talk him, tell him it meant nothing, tell him I love him, that I'd do anything to gloss over this failure on my part. And then he turned on me sharply. "How could you do this to me", he asked. "I thought we meant more to each other than this. If this is going to be how you act every time I say no, I don't think we have a future. We'd best move on, Mark. Goodbye". I felt gutted. This wasn't meant to happen, I'd been stupid, tempted by lust totally unlike the love I felt for Richard and I was _d_a_m_n_ sure I wasn't going to loose him over this. "I'm truly sorry Richard", I started. "It was idiotic and insensitive of me to pick up the first guy who crossed my path. Can you ever forgive me? I'll take whatever punishment you want to give me, but please say you'll give it another go". I'd added this last bit, because I knew how much Richard was secretly into this spanking thing. It didn't honestly do a lot for me, but we had often talked about Richard's personal fantasies. I knew this wasn't going to do my arse a lot of good, but I suggested, "Why don't you give me a good old-fashioned spanking". Richard looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "Yes you were stupid, yes you were insensitive and you have hurt me more than I can explain. But yes, I will spank you, hard, and then we will try and put this behind us. I'm too angry to do it now, I don't believe in spanking when you're seeing red, but come over to my place on Sunday evening, 6 pm sharp. 1 minute late will equal 5 extra strokes, understood?" "Yes Richard", I replied, humbly. "And you better start calling me sir from now on", he said. "Yes sir" I felt so humiliated having to call him sir, submitting to a punishment and I had a feeling I was going to regret suggesting this method of reconciliation. But that very small sensible part of me told me that I deserved everything I was going to get on Sunday. I hate being sensible!
The period between Friday night and Sunday evening passed very quickly, as is usual when you don't want something to happen! Sunday evening I drove to Richard's house and rang on the door, full of trepidation. Richard beckoned me in and told me to go into the living room and sit down. He was obviously going to lecture me first. Finally he came in. Looking meaningfully at me, he started, "What you did to me was wrong, hurtful and thoughtless. I am going to spank you now with three implements". He walked over and took out of the cupboard a broad leather belt and a cane. "The third implement will be a switch, which you will cut yourself from the garden when I'm finished belting and caning you". Strangely, just hearing him talk in this authoritative tone about my imminent fate was turning me on. I could feel my _c_o_c_k_ stiffen in my jeans. He ordered me to kneel up on the sofa and proceeded to untie my shoes and remove them. Next he fumbled at my belt and released it before unzipping my jeans and stripping them off me. For a moment I thought he might allow me my pants as protection, but it was sadly not to be, as he slowly removed them. Lastly he peeled off each of my socks revealing my tender bare feet and leaving my lower body naked.
Positioning my body with my arse as high as possible, he told me, "I'm going to give you forty strokes of the belt and if you move your legs once or make an unacceptable amount of noise, you will get extra strokes. You already have ten extras strokes for being two minutes late. Extras will come at the end. You ready?" "Yes sir", I replied, although I doubted I was ready! The first stroke landed dead centre across both cheeks. I couldn't believe the excruciating pain from just one stroke. The second stroke was no better; I couldn't help but kick my legs (extra strokes). As each stroke rained down on my naked buttocks, the pain worsened and the urge to cry out became stronger. On the 25th stroke, I could take no more, I started to moan (yet more extra strokes). Finally the belt ordeal came to an end.
Richard obviously knew no mercy though, as he proceeded to fetch the cane and starting swishing it in the air. "I'm going to give you fifteen strokes of the cane and you will count each one, thank me and call me sir, understood?" "Yes sir", I replied. "Get your buttocks up", he ordered. I repositioned myself with my bottom higher. It was so humiliating being ordered about by my boyfriend. Swish CRACK. "One sir, thank you, sir", I managed to get out, even though the pain was almost intolerable. Swish CRACK "Two sir, thank you, sir". Swish CRACK "Three sir, thank you, sir". The pain in my buttocks was like nothing I'd ever experienced. I'd been spanked by my parents by hand on my trousered bottom, but never anything on this scale. Swish CRACK "Four sir, thank you, sir" Somehow I managed to survive those fifteen strokes, only crying out and shuffling towards the end, but I have no idea how. It came as a blessed relief, therefore, when Richard instructed me to go into the garden and cut a switch from the large tree. I went to put my clothes on again, but Richard stopped me. "No", he said, "you will go out there bare-arsed". So I went, looking nervously about me to see if the neighbours were looking and wincing as the gravel on Richard's path cut into my soft bare feet. I cut a longish strong-looking switch and brought it inside to Richard.
"Get back on the sofa", he ordered. "For your last punishment before we get to the extras (as if I could forget!), I'm going to give you twelve with the switch". Richard's aim was perfect. Somehow he seemed to aim each stroke so that it not only spread the pain equally over each cheek, but he also managed to work top to bottom, finding a fresh spot each time. Somehow, I think he must have been practising. As the last strokes were delivered, I knew I had survived, though tears were silently rolling down my cheeks. Then, however, I remembered the extra strokes for lateness, moving my legs about and calling out. I wondered how these were to be administered and what the final total was. I didn't think I could take any more on my arse and started to plead with Richard, sounding increasingly like a recalcitrant schoolboy. "Please Richard. I don't think my bottom can take any more. I've learned my lesson. Can't we just forget these extra strokes"? "No", came the stern reply. "You know you deserve everything you get. But I will come to a compromise. You have earned forty-five extra strokes, which I was going to give with a combination of cane and switch to your buttocks. However, since you can't seem to keep your feet still, I will administer these forty-five strokes with the belt and switch to the soles of your feet. You will get 25 belt and 20 switch". Well this was something I'd not envisaged. Bastinado. I'd read about its use on prisoners in Turkey and it had always caused a tingling in my feet. Now I was the prisoner. At least my bottom was safe though.
Richard placed a high pile of cushions on the sofa at one end and instructed me to lay lengthways with my feet up on the cushions. This placed the soles of my bare feet at Richard's waist height. Next he instructed me to keep my feet tight together and picked up the leather belt. The first stroke against my tender soles cracked like a rifle shot and the pain shot straight up my legs and across my whole body. The strokes kept coming hard and fast, attacking my vulnerable soles from just below the toes to just above the heels. If this was just the belt, what would the switch do? I had 20 to come with that. I was about to find out. Richard picked up the switch and positioned it for aim across the bottoms of my feet. Then he drew back and CRACK......This was hell. It felt like flames were licking my now reddened soles. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK By now I was starting to count down the strokes. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK My whole body was ablaze. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK Just five more to go, but I was crying openly now. CRACK CRACK CRACK C-R-A-C-K He gave his hardest stroke yet. C-R-A-C-K Jesus. It was over. I could breathe again. Al I wanted to do was hug him. Richard threw down the switch and embraced me, massaging my feet a little first. "I'm sorry I had to put you through that, but now you know what pain and hurt I felt when you decided to pull at that bar". I knew he was right. I had deserved every stroke. It had even turned me on in a strange way. I got up and dressed myself again, leaving my feet bare (I couldn't face shoes yet!). Next time, I thought to myself, when he suggests a quiet night in, I'll just say 'perfect'.
Remember: I would love to receive loads of comments. If I do, I might even write another. Let's also see some more stories containing bastinado. Email: drtucker80@hotmail. com