Early evening TV gets worse and worse, thought James. He had thrown on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when he got home from work, and was in the kitchen with his head stuck in the fridge, trying to find something easy for dinner. Over in the lounge, he could hear the sound of the same old soap characters saying the saying the same old things. He glanced through the open door and saw the flickering screen. None of his favourite science fiction programmes were on that night, he knew, and no decent documentaries. I'll go to bed early and start that book I bought last week, he decided, before he remembered the pile of unwashed plates. He sighed and shut the fridge door, just as the telephone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi Jay! Wotcha doing?"
"I was trying to decide what to have for dinner. No luck, though. And the TV's rubbish tonight."
"Yeah. Come over! Mum and Dad have gone out to dinner. They won't be back till after twelve. I'm bored with revision." Andy's end of term tests were about to start.
As good an invitation as any, and better than most. "OK. Why not? I've got something to ask you anyway. Want me to bring anything?"
"What do you want to ask me?"
"Wait till I get there!"
"Oh.... all right. Bring our badminton racquets. It's nice outside and we can knock a shuttle around if you like. Bring something from your cupboard, too. I might be a bad boy!"
James laughed. He hadn't spanked him in over two months. "See you in twenty minutes!" He walked up to his bedroom, put their badminton racquets into his sports bag, and opened the cupboard door. He looked around thoughtfully before nodding to himself and putting his choice in the bag.
After James' visit to Andy's house at the end of April, he had decided that they needed another mutual interest besides spanking. He needed to lose weight anyway, and had suggested taking up badminton. Andy had loved the idea, and they had started playing every Sunday afternoon at the leisure centre. James had bought them both graphite racquets, which stayed at his house, and the lad had proved to be a bit of a natural, already attracting the interest of the local club coach. To his surprise, James was also quite good, and they both looked forward to weekly practice and the friendly rivalry of their matches with each other. It had become quite a routine. After Sunday lunch with his parents, Andy caught the bus to James' house and they went to practice together, after which they'd watch TV, do Andy's homework, or play games before dinner, which was usually large, thick, home-made hamburgers. James had become quite good at making these, even though he wasn't normally a good cook, and had a wide selection of spices and sauces to liven them up. He then drove Andy home for about nine, often staying to have a drink and a chat with his parents. Andy's Dad was James's boss at work, and he had found this uncomfortable at first, but David was an older man in his mid-fifties and he and his wife were glad that their son had found an adult friend who could keep up with him, and who was able and willing to look after him when they were away, which they often were. It wasn't hurting his promotion prospects either, James knew, although David was a fair man and very discreet.
It was seven thirty on a warm evening in early July, and there was still plenty of daylight left. James made good time, and was soon at Andy's. As he parked in the driveway he could see that the door was ajar, and walked straight in. "Hi Andy!" he shouted.
"Jay! In here!" The sound came from the kitchen. James walked in and saw his friend stuffing fruit and chocolate ice cream into the blender. "I'm making us milkshakes!"
Andy was wearing a torn T-shirt and black football shorts so that any spillage wouldn't get smarter clothes dirty. He stepped back and flicked the switch, smiling with satisfaction as the concoction turned into a thick reddish-brown liquid. "Hand me those glasses. The big ones, over there." He poured the contents slowly out, making sure they both got the same amount, and handed it to James with a flourish. "There."
It was surprisingly good, and they both finished quickly. "Thanks!" James put his glass down and gave Andy a hug which was quickly returned.
"Now," said Andy, stepping back. "what is it you want to ask me?"
"Yes, well, I was wondering if you would like to come on holiday with me in August."
"What? Great! Where?"
"It's nothing fancy. I don't like sitting around on beaches much."
"Doesn't matter. Come on. Where?"
"I'm going to walk the Pennine Way, camping out overnight. I've always wanted to do it, and I would really like you to come too. I've already discussed it with your parents, they think it's a great idea. Good exercise and a good experience, your dad said."
"What's the Pennine Way, Jay? I've never heard of it." Andy hated Geography.
"The first official long distance footpath to be opened in Britain. It starts in Derbyshire and runs all the way to the Scottish Border. It's over 260 miles long."
"260 miles? That's forever. How long does it take to walk it?"
"About three weeks. Great scenery, open spaces, not many people. It's hard work in places, you know, especially if it rains. You'll need proper walking boots. If you want to come, that is."
"Of course I want to come! Thanks, Jay!" Andy beamed. "I've never slept in a tent."
"Mine is big enough for us both, don't worry. You'll need a sleeping bag, though, and some other stuff like a compass."
"Three weeks! We'll have a right laugh. When are we going?"
"I thought we'd leave on the first Saturday in August, catching an early train up there. Then we can find a cheap hotel for the night and start out first thing Sunday morning."
"I can't wait! Three weeks together! I bet my bum will be really sore at the end of it!"
"Yes, well, we're going for fresh air, exercise, and to have a good time together. Not to whack your bottom, we can do that here. I suppose I might find time to spank you a bit, though. If you're naughty." He grinned. They both knew that James would only do so if Andy wanted him to. "Talking of which, have a look in my bag. Under the racquets."
Andy went into the hallway and James heard him rummaging around. He returned holding a long black strap.
"It's got two tails. It's a tawse, isn't it? I've seen it in your cupboard. It's thick!"
"And made of rubber instead of leather," said James. "Stings a lot more."
Andy handed it to his friend. "Go on. Whack me with it, then."
The boy was certainly direct. "Are you sure? I'll do it properly and it'll hurt."
There was barely a moment's pause. It always hurt, that was the point. "I know, sir. I've been a bad boy."
OK, then, James thought. He had already decided on the nature of the scene. "Right, boy. Get upstairs to your bedroom!"
"Yes, sir." James followed him up and could see him trembling a bit.
"Put your pillows on top of each other in the middle of your bed," James ordered. "That's it. Now, take your shorts and underpants off, and lie with your hips over the pillows so your bottom is raised up."
Andy did so. "Wait a minute," he said, then got back up and folded the top pillow in half before lying back over it again and adjusting himself. His bottom was sticking right up, almost a foot in the air. "Ready, sir."
James stood beside the bed and smoothly drew the tawse over his shoulder before bring it down onto Andy's bottom with a loud slap. "OWW!" Andy's eyes were wide open in surprise. Leaving about five seconds between whacks, James struck the boy's bottom thirty times, hard, all over. Andy cried out as each blow fell, tears running freely down his face by the tenth smack, but stayed determinedly in position, digging his fingers into the duvet. "OOOWWWWWW" he sobbed as the last one was given.
"Go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head, boy. I haven't finished with you yet!"
"Yes, sir," Andy meekly replied, and moved stiffly to stand as instructed. His bottom was covered in thick red stripes.
"Don't move an inch!"
James left Andy for a few minutes and went to the boy's bathroom. He was shaking, and took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves before filling Andy's tooth mug and taking a quick drink.
"Right, back in position, boy." Andy wasn't so quick to move this time, James saw, and he was still sniffing a bit. Ten minutes corner time had probably had quite an effect on him. The boy had some difficulty getting himself into position, but still doubled up the pillow and managed to get his bottom as high as before.
James whipped the tawse down as hard as he could. "OOWWWW!" The boy threw his head back and howled. Twenty times the heavy rubber strap fell all over his bottom and the top of his legs. Large purple patches were starting to appear on his bottom, which was now dark red all over, and tears and snot were running freely down his face and onto the bed.
"Back in the corner, boy!" After a few seconds, Andy slowly and painfully pushed himself up and off the bed before limping slowly over to the corner. "Hands on your head!"
James sat in Andy's executive desk chair and looked at the lad's bottom. He knew it must be hurting very much and wondered, not for the first time, why his young friend wanted to be beaten like this. Andy knew he could stop it at any time, but didn't, no matter how loudly he cried out. He seemed to like the submission to it as much as the pain itself. James himself had fantasised about being spanked from around Andy's age, but hadn't actually got into it until his twenties, and was continually amazed that he had somehow formed a friendship with a boy who shared his interests.
It was time to finish the scene. "Back over the pillows, boy. Move yourself a bit further forward this time." Andy obeyed, hobbling back to his bed and positioning himself to that the lower half of his bottom was highest and the tops of his legs were more easy to hit. He was shaking slightly and gripped the duvet cover tightly.
Taking careful aim each time, James lashed the rubber tawse down onto the lower half of Andy's bottom and the crease at the tops of his legs, thirty times. Each stroke was very hard and Andy wailed pitifully as the strap bit into his already bruised flesh, his voice breaking as he yelled out at each whack, his face blotchy from crying.
Finally it was over. The 'punishment' had taken half an hour, including corner time. Andy stayed in position, lying over the pillows. The lower half of his bottom had gone a deep shade of purple and parts of it were turning greeny-black, and he was sobbing loudly. James knew he wouldn't move until given permission.
"Your punishment is over, boy. You may get up."
"Thank you, sir." Andy sniffed. Putting his underpants on, very carefully, he limped to his chest of drawers and took out a pair of his school shorts. He put them on, easing them slowly over his bottom, then went back to the corner and stood there, facing the wall, his hands clasped behind his back.
James frowned. He had not been expecting this. He put the tawse down, went over to Andy, took him lightly by the shoulders, and turned him round.
"I'm sorry for being a bad boy, sir."
"Andy." James gave him a gentle shake. "Andy!"
Andy stared at him for a moment, and James smiled at him. "Come on, Andy, it's over. You weren't really being punished, it was for fun. We're friends." With that, he hugged Andy close for a few seconds, before the boy gently pushed him away.
"Jay? Bloody Hell. OW! My bum HURTS!"
"I'm not surprised. I gave you eighty hard whacks with a rubber tawse. Most adults couldn't – or wouldn't - take that."
"Could you?"
"Yes, actually, and I have. More than once. But not when I was twelve!"
"And a half!"
"Sorry. Twelve and a half. Are you OK?"
"Yeah." He reached back and gingerly rubbed his bottom. "You sure know how to beat me, don't you, so it hurts?"
"Andy, I've been interested in CP – that's what it's called, CP, 'corporal punishment' – since I was your age, and I've been active in the scene for almost ten years, since leaving university really. I know how to beat anyone, not just you." Andy looked suprisingly upset by this. "But I don't any more. I only do it with you now," James hastily added.
The boy brightened instantly. "Good! You're my best friend, Jay."
James gasped, and looked at him. He wasn't so old himself that he had forgotten what a big thing this was for Andy to say. "I thought Peter was your best friend."
"And he is a very good friend, but you're my best friend."
"Well, thanks. You're my best friend, too." James replied, realising with a start that this was true. He rubbed at his eyes. "Bright in here. Better get those back off," he said, pointing at Andy's shorts.
"No, I'll leave them on. We're going to practice badminton, aren't we? It'll even things up. My football shorts are really loose and you wouldn't stand a chance," he grinned, "but with my sore bum in these, you might win a point or two!"