Ever since his thrashing at the hands of his headmaster, (Well Deserved Whippings) Travis had been fascinated with corporal punishment. That morning, stark naked, grimly holding on to his ankles, the 12 year-old had experienced just what it was like to have his bare bottom soundly, and justifiably, whipped by an angry man. The pain had been excruciating, but had somehow felt so right. In fact, the boy had surprised himself, not to mention headmaster, when, after receiving the first six, he had actually asked the man to give him a further hiding. One dozen strokes in all, making the young 7th grade prefect a legend amongst his peers. When he had gotten home, the boy had relived his experience again and again in his mind, fingering the raised welts that had been left by the cane. At the tender age of just 12, Travis did not understand the meaning of the word fetish, but he was bright enough to realise that his excitement about his caning would not be understood by his parents or his friends. Never before had his bottom been so sore, but the attractive pre-teen had loved it!
Travis realised that he just had to find a way to get another good hiding. Bending over, naked, and at the mercy of a cane wielding disciplinarian dominated the boy's thoughts. But if he were to do something serious enough to get his bare bottom thrashed by the headmaster again, he would almost certainly lose his prefect badge, not to mention getting grounded for ages by his parents. And he would never be able to persuade one of his friends to beat him. Imagine what they would say? And besides, having a boy his own age whipping him was just not the same as having a grown-up man doing it! So instead, Travis took to surfing the internet in search of spanking stories and any information that he could gleam about his new interest. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a chat room where men talked about spanking boys. School holidays had started just as Travis had become involved in the chat room, and made some new cyber friends. There was one man in particular, known as BoyWhipper, who he chatted to a lot. Of course, the man thought that Travis was just another man posing as a boy, and the two of them worked their way through many spankings scenarios together, until one day Travis realized that BoyWhipper lived in the same town as him! He set about persuading the man to meet up with him. Perhaps, at last, the pre-teen could get that thrashing that he so desperately needed and wanted!
BoyWhipper - so you really want me to beat you?
Travis - oh yes! I want to feel your cane thrashing my bare bottom.
BoyWhipper - well, Travis, to be honest I'm not really into men. I have been involved in the spanking scene for a long time, but I got bored with all this role-play stuff. Now I just like to fantasize with other guys, like we are, about caning young boys.
Travis - I am a young boy! Im only 12!
BoyWhipper - like I said, I'm not into role-play.
Travis - but I really am! Wait, I'll turn on my Web cam and you can see for yourself!
The boy did as he promised, aiming the Web cam at himself, and waving nervously. There was a long pause, and Travis started to suspect that BoyWhipper had disappeared, but then the message arrived that he had been waiting for.
BoyWhipper - I don't believe it! You really are just a little boy! But kid, are you sure that you want to go through with this? I've caned a lot of men, but never a child. If I cane you, I'll really do it properly. Hard!
Travis - I know. I want you to cane me hard! A real punishment caning! I've had a dozen from my headmaster, bare bottomed, so I know what it's like, and I can take it!
And so the conversation went on, Travis trying desperately to talk BoyWhipper out of his natural concerns for meeting up with a 12 year-old. It didn't really take much to convince the man. He kept looking at the picture of Travis that he had kept on his screen. Although the boy had remained dressed in his shorts and T-shirt, he still looked like a fine-looking youngster. Bright blonde hair, big blue eyes, sun tanned limbs. On the verge of adolescence. The kind of boy that the man dreamt about taking his cane to - and this gorgeous child was actually begging him to thrash him! How could he refuse? Eventually, they settled on a plan for the following day. There was a long abandoned factory on the edge of town, and it was here, in the old Manager's Office, that boy and man agreed to meet, each desperate to play out his fantasies. BoyWhipper had the last comment to make,
BoyWhipper - just remember, Travis, once we meet in that room, we are both committed. No backing out. I'm going to hurt you, but only on your bottom, and I won't draw blood or anything like that. But I do intend to give you one hell of a hiding. Oh, and by the way, from now on you will call me sir!
That was just fine with Travis. Getting his backside hurt was exactly what he wanted. He couldn't wait to present his bottom to his new friend, and punisher. He had intended to only call the man Sir anyway - it would make the whole thing so much better.
Nearly half an hour earlier than planned, Travis arrived at the factory, and sneaked in. He did not see the man sitting in his car. Still unsure, BoyWhipper had decided to case the place out, and take a look at Travis before committing himself. There was still a chance that this was a police operation, and he certainly did not want to be caught up in it! He was delighted when the boy arrived completely on his own, and crept through the fence, heading for their rendezvous. Travis was just as good looking as he had expected. Letting the boy go in to the factory, the man slowly got of his car. He looked around him as he opened the boot, then, he carefully withdrew the junior cane that he had bought years before from a _s_e_x_ shop, and followed the child.
The stillness of the factory made Travis even more nervous. He still only half believed that the man would show up, desperately hoping that he would get his hiding. He grinned to himself as, for a fleeting moment, he pictured the faces of his friends if they were to find out that he had actually asked a perfect stranger to cane his bare bottom! Boys his age generally tried to avoid hidings, while here he was, excited about the prospect of getting a sound whipping! Careful to follow the instructions of BoyWhipper, Travis took the stairs up to the third floor of the deserted building. He walked into the first room on his left, and then put into action the first part of his orders. Taking his time, and making sure that he was perfectly neat, the pre-teen unpacked his school uniform from his satchel and put it on. Then, leaving the satchel and his regular clothing in that room, the little schoolboy continued up to the next floor, and the Manager's Office. The room was clearly labelled, but he did not enter it. Again, following the instructions that he had been given, the 12 year-old 7th grader turned to the wall opposite the door, placed his hands on his head, and, making sure his nose was touching the wall, settled down to wait.
BoyWhipper entered the building from a different direction. He knew it well, having used it as a rendezvous for many of his adult role play scenes. Giving Travis enough time to change into his school uniform, the man had waited until he heard the footsteps of the boy going up to the next level. Then, silently, he had checked that the child's satchel was safe and his clothing was all there, before heading up the stairs himself. But, unknown to Travis, the man used another set of stairs, so that he actually entered the Manager's Office from a back door. Then he let the boy wait, but after only 10 minutes, he could wait no longer. Without opening the door, he instructed in his sternest voice, "Come in, boy!"
Travis turned from the wall, crossed the narrow corridor, and put his hand on the door handle. For a moment he hesitated. This was it, this was the moment of decision. If he entered that room, he would have to take his hiding, as agreed. But he had come this far, so he opened the door, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. The room was much bigger than he had expected. That was because it was largely empty. Worn green carpet covered the floor, and there was an old metal desk against one of the three large windows. A simple wooden chair stood in the centre of the room, but this furniture was not what held the boy's attention. Standing next to the chair, back to the window so that Travis could make out very little of his features was the man. He was much bigger than the boy had expected, clearly well over 6 ft tall, dressed in dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt, black work boots and a peak cap. The boy's heart jumped at the sight of this big man, standing legs well apart, in his big hands flexing a junior cane, just like the headmaster's! Perfect!
The man simply stared at the boy, flexing the cane menacingly, enjoying the angelic vision of a neatly turned-out little schoolboy before him. Despite himself, Travis could not stop his knees from shaking, something that the man could not help but notice as the shorts clad little boy stood before him. This is what dreams are made of! But that uniform, cute as it was, would have to go, "Take off your clothing, boy!"
Not trusting himself to say anything, Travis started to strip. Like the boy's headmaster had all those weeks ago, BoyWhipper admired the scene of a well-built, but still completely hairless, 12 year-old boy stripping in front of him. As Travis took off each garment, he folded it neatly and placed it on the table. Then, when he was in nothing but his skimpy orange underpants, he stood facing the table, slipped his fingers into the waistband, and drew them down his legs, at the same time looking out across the deserted ground. This was it! He was taking off all his clothing, and about to be stark naked and at the mercy of a cane wielding stranger. Little did he know, in his innocence, how lucky he was that in his heart, BoyWhipper was a kind man, and would make no _s_e_x_ual attack on the child. A good-looking boy like Travis could have got himself into very serious trouble indeed!
The man watched the boy slip down his underpants, finally exposing his soft, creamy white bottom, framed by his deeply tanned legs and back. What a sight! And here he was, alone with this beautiful 12 year-old boy, who was willingly allowing him to play out his fantasy of caning a naked preteen boy. He was even more surprised when the little boy left the safety and cover of his clothing and came to stand just a few metres in front of him, head down, hands clasped behind his back, making no attempt to cover up his hairless modesty, or, or that matter, his obvious excitement! It was time to begin giving the boy thrashing that he was here for, "Bend over."
For most boys, those two words are among the most feared and hated. But not for Travis. They were the signal of the beginning of a dream come true! As he had learnt in the headmaster's office, the pre-teen opened his feet slightly wider apart than his shoulders, and bent over, keeping his knees straight, and grabbing onto his ankles. Boy Whip slowly walked around the naked, slender figure of the 12 year-old bending at his mercy. He swished the cane menacingly in the air as he admired the sight of the tightly bent boy, and then stood behind him. The rounded, perfectly symmetrical bum cheeks of the lad were smaller than he had imagined they would be, and they looked so tender and exposed. Gently he reached down, and squeezed each buttock in turn, noting their firmness, but also how soft the skin seemed to be. Would this little target really be able to take a sound caning? But the boy claimed to have been caned severely on this bare little bottom before, and the way in which he was bending over so perfectly pointed to the fact that he really was experienced in getting a good hiding.
The man stepped to the side of the naked boy, taking up the stance that he had so often when caning fellow men - and gently tapped the cane on Traviss small bottom. The boy tensed, but made no effort to move. Using his best technique, but still being careful to keep the actual strength of the stroke to a minimum, he whipped the cane across the boy's bottom. There was a little gasp from the child, and then he mumbled something that BoyWhipper couldn't make out, "I beg your pardon?"
"I said that you can cane me much harder!" Travis answered, head still down, hands still gripping ankles, "You said you were going to give me a hiding, and hidings are supposed to hurt! So give me a hiding!"
After all that, Travis was disappointed. Here he was, living out his fantasy of bending over stark naked to be soundly caned by a big man, and this guy was caning him like a fairy! Didn't he understand? Travis wanted his bottom to be thrashed, not tickled! But the second stroke made up for the gentleness of the first. BoyWhipper really caned him hard this time, at least as hard as the headmaster had, and then Travis knew that he was going to get the hiding that he had been looking forward to! He had challenged this man to really hurt his bottom, and now his wish was coming true.
The scene in the room was what both had dreamed of. A naked, pre-teen boy, tightly bent, bare bottom well raised up. And a large man, soundly thrashing that bare little bottom with his cane! Boy and man totally fulfilled. It did not take long for Travis to start to cry, but, since the boy made no attempt to stand up or move his bottom away from the punishing cane, the man decided to continue with the hiding. Pausing for sometimes as long as 30 seconds between strokes, BoyWhipper gave Travis the hiding of his life. After a dozen sound lashes, he made the naked boy stand up, and, without allowing him to touch his blazing bottom, made him go and stand, nose pressed to one of the grubby windows, while he admired the 12 welts that he had striped down the lower half of the pre-teens bottom. Travis, vision blurred by his tears, hands on head, backside alight, had never felt so alive! This had been worse than he had ever imagined, far more painful than he remembered from the headmaster's office. As each excruciating stroke had cracked across his helplessly exposed bottom, he had wailed, and desperately hoped, after the 7th stroke, that the hiding would end, while at the same time desperate for another lash. But he was glad that the man had stopped after 12. That was his limit, and the pre-teen was pretty certain that he could take no more, especially that hard! He had both hated and loved getting this hiding, but there was something about BoyWhipper that the 12 year-old respected and trusted implicitly. He had sensed that the man was reading his limits very well indeed, and had no intention of going over the top with him.
BoyWhipper had indeed sensed that Travis had reached his limit. He had been in the recreational spanking scene for long enough to be able to gauge just how much pain the men that he punished could take. And although Travis was at least half the age of his youngest ever spankees, he had been able to read the boy easily. But he had been impressed by how much, and how severely, he could cane Travis. He hoped that he had given the boy exactly what he wanted, so that he could have another session with him. In all his years as a spanker, BoyWhipper had never enjoyed giving a hiding as much as he had enjoyed thrashing this little boy. Placing the cane on the chair, he stepped over to Travis, and, he placed a hand on the child's shoulder and with his other hand he gently rubbed the boy's welted bottom, "Well done, young man," his voice was soft and gentle now, unlike the harsh tone that he had adopted when ordering the boy to strip and then bend over, "you took that very well."
"Thank you sir," although the boy was still tearful, there was a firm timbre to his voice that surprised the man, "you certainly gave me a good hiding. It was worse than I expected it to be, but I really loved it anyway!"
"You may turn around now and rub your own bottom." Travis turned around and faced his punisher. He gripped his throbbing backside with both hands, and, through his tears, grinned ruefully up at the man. But BoyWhipper was not through with him yet, "Do you think that you would enjoy some more strokes of my cane?"
"I would love another hiding from you sir!" the naked little boy declared, "How about we meet here again in about three weeks' time? That will give my bottom time to recover!"
"I was talking about giving you another hiding right now, Travis."
"No, thank you! That would be like real punishment, not fun! My bottom is much to sore for me to enjoy any more of your cane today!"
"Travis, you're a very good looking little boy, but you are also a very silly little boy! What you have done today, although it has turned out very well for both of us, is exceptionally dangerous. You have allowed yourself to be completely naked at the mercy of somebody you have never met before, and you could have got yourself seriously hurt. Now I have taken a bit of a shine to you, and I would like to meet you regularly for good hidings, but I need to teach you a lesson about internet safety. So the reason I asked if you could take any more caning today and still have fun is because I want to give you a proper punishment hiding."
Travis had no argument for BoyWhippers comments. He knew that his new friend was right, he had been very foolish. And he also knew that he deserved to be punished properly. But he was unsure if he could take the cane again on his battered bottom.
"I can't take any more today, please sir! Can't you just give me a few more over the next few times we meet? And Ill never meet up with someone on the internet again, only you, sir!"
"Youre not listening to me, Travis. I want to actually punish you now, by giving you a hiding that you don't enjoy, so that you learn your lesson properly. In fact, my boy, if you are not prepared to bend over to be thrashed properly as a punishment, this will be the last time we meet!"
Travis realised that he had no real options. Slowly he turned around, released his bottom, and started to bend over again. But BoyWhipper had other ideas for him this time. "This time I want you bending over the back of the chair, Travis," he said, leading the naked boy to where the chair was in the centre of the room, "it will be easier for you to stay in position this way."
The boy was relieved, and recognised that the man, who up until a few minutes ago, had been a perfect stranger, really did care about him. Just the gentle way in which he was bent tightly over the old chair, with the man's big hands adjusting his position until his head was right down, his hands firmly gripping the rungs below the seat, his legs well spread and his naked bottom upraised for his punishment, made him automatically trust his disciplinarian. The whole atmosphere between man and boy had changed from one of illicit fun, to that of a caring adult reluctantly administering punishment to a naughty boy. For a moment, Travis was angry at his own father, who, in the boy's eyes, never showed him enough caring to bend him over like this and give him a _d_a_m_n_ good domestic hiding. Then his eyes focused on the cane that had been left on the seat of the chair, inches from his nose, and a fresh flood of tears burst forth. For the first time in his life, Travis realised that he was about to be severely punished by somebody that he actually liked and respected. Weird considering he had only known BoyWhipper for less than an hour. Then the cane in front of his nose was taken away, and he felt it being gently lined up on his very tender young bottom.
The man tapped the cane gently on the boys submissively raised naked buttocks, sympathizing with the child, but determined to do his duty, even if it meant soundly thrashing an already bruised backside. Amazingly, although he was deriving a fair amount of pleasure from this continuation of the hiding, it was different. For the first time in his life, he was actually about to dish out some real punishment - by giving a little boy a thrashing that was richly deserved. He pulled the cane back, and commenced giving the 12 year-old a genuine hiding. It was only six this time, but he put just as much effort into this caning as he had for the earlier dozen. Travis kept his head down and his bottom up as bravely as he could while he was flogged. Bent over the chair, the boy realised that this caning was far worse than his earlier one, not only because it was over an already bruised backside, but because it was an actual punishment thrashing. He sobbed as the cane bit again and again into his bare bottom, releasing emotions that he had never released before, pent up emotions that should have been released years before if somebody had taken the trouble to tan his backside earlier on in his childhood. This, not the dozen strokes taken earlier, was the real hiding of the day.
When BoyWhipper had finished caning Travis, he stepped back and admired the damage that he had done to the lads pretty little bottom. From just above half way, down to the crease that separated bottom and legs, were eighteen perfectly straight weals, already bruising. The classic evidence of a severe, well administered hiding. Perfect, "That will do, Travis. I want you to stay like that, in that position, thinking about your sore bottom, for at least 15 minutes. Then you may go home. I hope I will see you here in three weeks' time."
With that he was gone. An observer would have been amazed to note that Travis did in fact stay as he was, tightly bent over that chair, throbbing, blazing bottom in the air, not for 15 minutes but for nearly half an hour! He had a lot of thinking to do, and somehow maintaining his humiliating, submissive position just seemed like the right thing to do. Eventually, he did get up. And the little boy picked up his school uniform, and, without bothering to put it on, walked slowly and gingerly, still naked, down to the third floor. His aching, well whipped bottom meant that he had to walk with his legs slightly apart, with a distinctive limp. The well beaten boy found a basin and washed his tear stained face, then got dressed and went home, deeply satisfied, bottom still throbbing warmly, determined to be back in three weeks' time.