Mark was 30 when he finally found his true nature as a spank-boy. The internet spanking sites had awakened his interest – the pictures and stories of lads submitting to dominant men were incredibly arousing and now, through an internet chat-room, he was awaiting the arrival of his first master and his first spanking. Excited wasn't in it! Mark paced around his flat, trying to keep busy – he needed distractions if he wasn't going to give in to either his fear or his erection – he didn't want to blow his load before the guy even arrived!
He couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Self-employed and fiercely independent, Mark was more used to giving directions to others, rather than taking orders – let alone from strangers! He stood 5'10'', weighed 12 stone, and was quite smooth (though not smooth-shaved – yet!). Swimming was his preferred exercise, but in no way could Mark be mistaken for a gym bunny – he was very much the indoor, intellectual type – dark, curly hair and glasses. Tonight, however, he'd put in his contact lenses – he wanted to look as boyish as possible. The guy currently driving across London to meet him had requested a teacher/pupil roleplay, and Mark was determined to succeed in his part.
At last the doorbell rang. Mark scurried down the stairs. The silhouette he could see through the frosted glass of the front door promised a truthful fulfilment of the man's claim to be tall and imposing – about 6'2'', Mark guessed as he opened the door to admit the man who would unlock his fantasy and finally allow him to take his proper position – naked over a man's knee.
They were quickly upstairs and, as the flat door closed, Mark had a chance to have a proper look at the man. He was in his late 30's, clean shaven with dark blonde hair – perfect! He carried a gym-bag, the contents of which would be revealed all too soon. Mark gave the man a drink and showed him into the living room. The pleasantries were short-lived.
"I want you to step outside into the hall and take a minute to compose yourself. When you're ready, knock on the door and wait for my reply. From that point on I will be your teacher and you will obey me. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
The word was out of Mark's lips before he knew it – 'Sir'. It felt both strange and completely natural and, before he knew it, he was outside the door, waiting to knock and begin his first session as somebody's boy. He raised his hand and rapped on the door.
"Come in, boy."
The man was standing with his back to the door, looking out of the window. He continued speaking without turning round.
"Close the door and step into the centre of the room, legs apart, hands on head."
"Yes, Sir."
As Mark assumed the position, the man turned round and walked behind him. Mark could feel the man standing close, watching his every reaction to the orders and questions, but just out of Mark's field of view.
"I believe you've been a naughty boy, Mark. Is that right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Yes, boy – a very naughty boy. And what happens to boys who misbehave, Mark?"
"They're punished, Sir."
"Yes, Mark, they're punished. And how are they punished?"
Mark faltered here – was the man actually going to make him suggest he needed a spanking?
"I.... I don't know, Sir!"
"You don't know! How do you think they're punished, boy?"
"They're spanked, Sir."
"Yes boy, they are. Have you ever been spanked, boy?"
"No, Sir."
"No, Sir! Well, it's high time you were, don't you think, boy? Do you think you deserve a spanking, boy?"
"I.... I don't know, Sir!"
Mark was starting to tremble, his breathing becoming irregular.
"Are you nervous, boy?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Yes, boy – so you should be! Trousers down, boy, and hands on head."
Mark fumbled with his belt and quickly his trousers were down round his ankles, leaving him standing in his shirt and white y-fronts (the underwear he'd been instructed to wear.) As he put his hands back on his head, the man drew up a chair, slightly to the left and behind of the boy.
"Over my knee, boy."
At last the moment had come. Mark cautiously drew himself down over the man's knees.
"That's it, right over, boy. Hands on the floor. Arse up a bit. Spread these legs a bit."
The man took his time getting Mark positioned. By now the boy's heart was beating much faster as he awaited the first smack. Instead, he felt the man's hand stroking his buttocks through the white cotton briefs, inspecting the slightly fleshy, what would later be described as 'very spankable' buttocks – expertly and exquisitely delaying the moment of truth.
"I feel a very long punishment is due to you, boy," the man said as he continued to run his fingers over the boy's arse and thighs. "You will be spanked over these briefs to begin with, then bare. I will expect you to assume various positions. Do you understand me, boy?"
"Yes, Sir."
" I also expect you to count the strokes out loud, and thank me after each one. If you fail to count correctly, or to call me Sir, you will incur penalty strokes. Is that quite clear?"
This was all a lot more involved than the boy was expecting.
"I said, is that clear, boy!?"
This time, Mark answered without hesitation,"Yes, Sir"
"Right then."
SMACK!
"One!"
SMACK!
"One what!"
"One – thank you, Sir!"
"Don't forget, boy. Penalty punishments will be incurred."
SMACK!
"Two! Thank you, Sir!"
The spanking continued – not too hard, getting Mark used to his position and getting his adrenalin flowing – the man had no intention of scaring the boy out of a long session. After a dozen strokes the man stopped and told Mark to resume his standing position, hands on head.
"Am I getting through to you, boy?"
"Yes Sir – thank you, Sir!"
"Hmm. We'll see. Trousers off."
Mark stepped out of the trousers, still trailing around his ankles.
"Now, boy – lean against the mantle-piece."
Mark stepped towards the hearth and placed his hands out in front, leaning against the mantle.
"Pants down, boy – legs apart."
And now, the final humiliation, Mark thought. Standing in his own front room, displaying his naked bottom to a strange man who'd just had him over his knee for a spanking! As he pulled down his pants, the excitement caused his _c_o_c_k_ – a nice six and a half inch cut _c_o_c_k_ – to flex and pulse, a string of precum oozing out and draining down on to the carpet.
"What's that, boy?"
"Sir?"
"Did I tell you to make a mess all over the carpet?"
"Uh.... no, Sir...."
"This gets worse. That will be further punishment for you, boy. Now – do you know what this is?"
The man had opened his bag and taken out an old gym plimsole – once it had been white, but now it was soiled and dirty. Mark turned sideways to look.
"It's a gym shoe, Sir."
"Yes boy. Now, I'm going to give you twelve on each buttock. I want you to count backwards as we go – 'Twelve left, twelve right, eleven left, eleven right' etc as we go. I may not alternate in a regular pattern. If you make a mistake, the strokes for that cheek will revert back to twelve. Do you understand?"
"Er, I think so, Sir...."
"Right."
SMACK!
The gym shoe certainly hurt more than the man's hand had – and this was on his bare arse now.
"Twelve left, Sir!"
The strokes continued and Mark started to get flustered – the pain, the excitement, the adrenalin made his head swim. After four more strokes – twelve right, eleven left, eleven right, ten left – the man broke the pattern with another consecutive stroke to the left.
"Ten right, Sir!"
The man paused. "No, boy – that was nine left. You are now at twelve left, ten right."
_d_a_m_n_! Mark knew now that if he didn't really concentrate his mistakes could become very costly – and now it was more confusing as the numbers became harder to track and the pain was building up.
Twelve left, ten right, nine right, eleven left, eight right, ten left, seven right, six right – trying to coordinate his brain and his speech whilst the gym shoe continued laying into his arse took all Mark's powers of concentration. When finally this stage of the punishment was over, he was really starting to feel like he was in the middle of a work-out – not his accustomed state! At least his _c_o_c_k_ was now soft again and had stopped oozing the precum that had promised to earn him extra punishment.
The man ordered Mark back into the centre of the room, legs apart, hands on head.
"Are we learning our lesson, now, boy?" he asked, feeling the boy's arse.
"Yes, Sir!" Mark quickly replied.
"Shirt off, boy."
Mark stripped. The excitement of the situation started to strike him. Here he was standing naked in his front room with his hands on his head and his legs apart, being inspected by a man who, still very much dressed, had just laid into him with a gym shoe. As his arse had a moment of respite, Mark's _c_o_c_k_ started to respond – there must be a suppressed exhibitionist in me, thought Mark! The situation did not pass unremarked on by the man.
"Still not learnt your lesson, I see! Perhaps this will do the trick."
And out of his bag the man produced a piece of shiny black leather, perhaps a foot long and two or three inches wide, which tapered into a handle embossed with three chrome studs. Mark had never seen anything like it!
"Do you know what this is, boy?"
"N..n..no, Sir!"
"This is a leather paddle. I use it on boys who, rather than learning their lesson as they should, choose to take _s_e_x_ual gratification from a spanking." He pointed across the room. "Over the back of the sofa, boy – now!"
This was more than Mark had bargained for – there had been no mention of a leather paddle!
"You will receive six strokes with the paddle, boy. If you move out of position, then you will receive the previous stroke again. So I suggest you position yourself properly and take your punishment like a man."
"Yes, Sir!"
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Mark was trembling visibly now. How he'd kept in position he didn't know – he couldn't think any more – only do as he was told and hope to do okay.
"Good boy. Resume the inspection position." Mark did so. "That completes your first punishment." Mark sighed inwardly. "However," - however! "- There is the matter of your penalty punishments."
"Sir!?"
"You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you boy? You forgot to thank me properly after your first spanking" (surely, Mark thought, he'd be given some leeway – it was his first! – but no....) "And then you were rude enough to dribble precum on the carpet. Do you know what this is?"
The man reached into the bag again. He drew out another implement – smaller than the paddle, but it split into three tongues of shiny black leather. The boy thought he could detect a faint smile in the man's face.
"This is a tawse, my boy," he informed him, again indicating Mark should position himself over the back of the sofa. Despite the empty feeling in his stomach, Mark obeyed, murmuring a cowed 'Sir' as he positioned himself to receive this unexpected bonus. Was this really what he'd longed for all this time?
SMACK! CRACK! WHACK! SMACK! CRACK! WHACK!
And it was over.
"Good boy." The man looked at his watch – it was nearly 2am, and he lived an hour's drive away. "I need to stay, boy – get ready for bed."
Mark obeyed – his instincts now completely trained to respond unquestioningly. As the man stripped and climbed into bed beside him, Mark realised this was the first time he had seen the man's body.... He started to think about how the man's _c_o_c_k_ would taste, oozing into his grateful mouth; how he would make the man moan with pleasure as his expert, _c_o_c_k_-sucking lips and tongue started to get to work; how nice it would be to see this big man tremble as he shot his copious load over the boy's face and body; how much his own _c_o_c_k_ needed the relief of orgasm. Perhaps the man would make him pose for him and wank off like the little exhibitionistic slut-boy he might become....
However, the man made it clear that, while happy to punish the boy, Mark was not 'his type' and _s_e_x_ was not on the agenda. Thankfully, they were both pretty tired after their exertions and soon fell asleep.
Three hours later, nonetheless, Mark was awake and horny as hell. Here he was with an attractive man asleep beside him, he'd fulfilled a long-held fantasy, and yet his balls were still full of cum and his _c_o_c_k_ achingly hard. Quietly so as not to disturb the man – who was quite filling the modest queen-sized bed – Mark wrapped his palm over the head of his cut _c_o_c_k_ and started to wank, smoothing the precum around sensuously.
Inevitably, Mark's movements increased – his hips slowly pumping as he focussed on the pleasure of wanking his _c_o_c_k_. It was, therefore, a surprise to hear a stern voice:
"Did I give you permission to wank, boy?"
Mark froze. "No, Sir."
The man said nothing else. He quickly sat up in bed and pulled Mark over his knees. There was no warm-up this time. The smacks stung sharply and Mark wriggled unhappily to free himself – but each spank shocked his body and confused his brain, and the man had a sure grip. Just as suddenly as it had begun, Mark was unceremoniously pushed aside.
"Now sleep. No more wanking." The man turned over and fell back to sleep, leaving Mark stunned – still horny and unable to do anything about it. Eventually, he too dozed off.
In the morning, Mark – still naked – served the man a light breakfast as he washed and dressed. They would not meet again – Mark was not, indeed, the man's 'type', but would prove to be suited for many others in the monthly spankings which were to follow whenever Mark's need to submit and go over a man's knee again resurfaced. However – this man was pleased to have inducted Mark into his new role – and Mark would remember this spanking long after the glow on his buttocks had faded.