A Boy Again


by Lochgelly User <Lochgellyuser@hotmail.com>

It had been in my mind for a long time, that I will admit. The interest opens up so many new possibilities but what would family and friends say! They had not the least inkling of my dormant desire. Twenty years had passed since I was dealt with at school. In between I had fathered two children and had not even considered spanking them. I was in a professional post .....a well respected member of the community. At one stage I had expressed an interest to my wife. The whole idea was immediately rejected as totally unacceptable. The idea of being spanked by another woman was considered by me, at least, as cheating on my wife

Why not, therefore, be an adult schoolboy? Why not bring back memories for real of those oh so memorable fifth and sixth year experiences? His advertisement stated that the spanked was a Head-teacher for real. We established a rapport through the chat room. We spoke on the phone. He had had a lot of experience. There was no issue in dealing with someone coming on forty who had spent around twenty years suppressing the urge. He suggested that he had dealt with many similarly concerned and just as confused!

The conference was on for a week. It was being held in his home territory. There had been established a situation of discretion and trust.. It was "now or never" time. The hotel had leisure facilities therefore there was not even a problem in packing sports gear. I advised "Sir" that I was awaiting his instructions

They soon came. I was to prepare in advance a punishment exercise of up to 400 words on my most memorable spanking. It took me back to those horror lessons in PE in the school gym. The crisp manner in which the instructions were given. The advice to "Bend down and touch your toes, boy" if there was considered to be any slacking. The cane would swish across the white PE shorts now tightly drawn over the muscular young buttocks. The PE teacher always wore his crisp white vest allowing his pecs to be fully presented and those shorter than shorts shorts...yes, surely a boy was allowed to appreciate the tree-trunk like legs! At that stage, too, the expression "commando style" was not known to me but yes that was how he wore them!

Perhaps, too, we could reminisce on the experience in the English class. No one admitted that they had started the classroom commotion. The teacher was a sadist. We would all present our outstretched palms to receive a telling reminder that this behaviour was unacceptable. "You", he thundered, "are young adults. It is the heavy Lochgelly for you" His was a fine art. The tawse from across the shoulders aimed fully at our outstretched palms. It always hit centre palm. It hurt like hell. They could only be moved at Sir's instruction to allow the other palm to be held out for punishment.

The Lochgelly dealt a truly lethal message. Developing the essay was stimulating ...shall we say...in its own right. My Scottish upbringing came to the fore

The fateful day arrived. I had chosen the Monday to allow any marks to disappear by the end of the week. We had agreed on the bar in which we would meet. I will admit that I almost gave up at this stage. After all I am a professional. For Heaven's sake if anyone ever got to know. The teacher epitomised charm as we chatted. He had my essay. He wanted to know how many stokes of the cane I would accept. Why not a dozen....I'm away from home for a week after all.

He went back to his place. It was an easy enough walk to get there. I was to follow in five minutes. I accepted fully that the scene would change once I had rung that door bell. The mind was full of anticipation as I made my way to my Headmaster's home. We had agreed that he would be in PE kit and I would be reporting for punishment

I will freely admit that I was still a little apprehensive as I pressed the door-bell. Now my friendly chatty Head looked decidedly different in his crisp white shorts and "whiter than white" top. In his hand the cane was at the ready. There was no welcome. "Right, boy, you know why you are here?"

" Yes, sir"

"You were to follow me in how many minutes"

"Five, sir"

"Yes, boy, eight minutes have now elapsed .....you are late, LATE, understand?"

"Yes, sir"

"You do not give a particularly good first impression, boy. I regard lateness as total lack of respect and indeed arrogance especially when I set the agenda, do you agree?"

"Yes, sir, I am sorry, sir"

"You will be, boy. You can be assured that you will be. Bend down, hands on knees, head straight forward. Right, boy, for each minute you will receive one stroke of the paddle and for your total ignorance and arrogance at keeping me waiting this will be doubled. After each stroke you will count out as in "One, sir, thank you, sir!" I was hardly in the door. I was absolutely petrified. No punishment for years and then this!

His hand pulled my hair, "Do you understand, boy?"

The leather paddle certainly fully covered each cheek. The swing was measured. I would never ever, report late again.

"Right, boy, we are now ready to start. Into the shower....all clothes off for a cold shower" After you have finished you will be reporting for punishment, you understand, knock on the bathroon door when you are ready"

A cold shower in the middle of winter is something else! It had been set cold. I had no choice. On went my top and shorts. I knocked. I waited. Why had I agreed to this? Would it not be more comfortable to escape now?

"Open the door, boy" he thundered, "and come into the room. Stand with hands behind back in the *at ease mode* while I inspect the bathroom"

My outdoor clothes were there and my shoes. I was commanded, "In here, boy, to consider this untidy mess...one shoe here and the other there; clothes not really folded. You have earned yourself a further three strokes with the cane on the bare backside...do you understand?"

"Yes, sir". I had already agree to twelve strokes which could be varied slightly but another three...the thought was enough

"Right,. boy, your induction. Sit down and write out "I thoroughly deserve the cane's message to be delivered to my bare backside" Somehow writing it like that made it for real. Then came a spelling test. Liaison, excerpt, manoeurvre...and other completely confusing words. "You will receive a stroke of the paddle for every mistake made in each word"

There were six words in all. Spelling was never one of my best subjects. I managed to get eight letters wrong in all

"Not what I would expect of you, boy, ...another eight paddle strokes "It is building up nicely is it not, boy"

"Yes, sir" This will hurt like hell

"Right now down on all fours...project the backside out" Crash comes his hand and he has a leather glove on it to make it more meaningful. "This will be position one. allowing the backside to be more fully displayed". Smack again. "You realise how vulnerable you are"

Then the wheelbarrow. "Support yourself on your arms, legs at the side of my body...a lovely position to play bongo drums on your backside. The hand made its impression on each cheek. "Press ups now, boy"

"Not sufficient effort there, bend over. As a senior boy, press ups should be well presented should they not?"

" Yes, sir"

"That was rubbish", he roared, "no real effort" How many press ups were there?"

"Four, sir"

"Hands on knees, quickly!" Crash the hand came down four times on the gym shorts. "I want real effort, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir"

"Right then, boy. I think it is time you went over my knee" I obeyed. This is when an expert got to work. The retort was crisp, the swing of his hand well measured. One cheek then the other. "Smack, smack" There was a torrent of it. To express my thanks and indicate that I deserved further punishment after every ten spanks was not easy...and if I did not do so then I was sure of receiving some more as a bonus! Then the hand would move across the buttocks...what a sensation. The hand would stray somewhat. I had never allowed any other guy to touch my private parts before but this was different: this was part of a punishment. A delay. Some hesitatio. Then he had put on a leather glove which, in due course was replaced by a paddle. There must have been thirty attacks on my arched buttocks!

"Well that was a gentle start...with your bottom fully protected...now into the corner, nose to wall, yes nose only touching the wall" The order was instantly obeyed. What is this: a paperback is placed in my hand. "Get it on your head, if you dare drop it.....you will be further punished" The concentration over the next few minutes is so, so difficult but I do not wish to take a chance on it. The book is eventually removed

"Right now we will move to your punishment exercise. Do you think I should be in a position to receive your best work?"

"Yes, sir"

"Right, boy, this is an apology; a mess and from a boy in your position"

"Sorry, sir"

"You will be, boy"

"We will read it now. He had marked out the parts I was to read...as well as marking up the spelling and grammatical mistakes. I had made ten I had not noticed at the time. "Yes, boy, you have made ten mistakes which require to be added to the strokes already agreed, understand?"

"Yes, Sir"

"That is 18 with the paddle on the bare backside, 12 with the cane. I trust that you understand, boy?" "Yes, Sir"

"To corner"

In the background I could hear the tawse and paddle being swished. I was petrified and yet..and yet...there was a lovely glow there now. "Right, boy, at the count of five, down with those shorts" I obeyed but I fumbled. They were at my feet. "No reaction, boy, too slow. Pull them up. Bend over" Another cracker with the paddle

"Hands above head" His hands pulled at my shorts. "Were you given permission to wear underpants for P. E.?"

"No, Sir"

"Then why the Hell are you wearing them"

"I don't know, Sir"

"Over my knee and at once"

The instruments varied, slipper, hand, hairbrush, paddle...how I felt them. "Up, boy, now the wheelbarrow " The hands bounced off my backside. It was rhythmic. My buttocks certainly hurt. The underwear slid down to frame my now reddened buttocks. Oh for some let-up. Oh for some relief...whatever that meant! At times the hands moved across, up and down erotically. Yes this was relief. This showed a little caring. I was summoned to stand, hands behind head. "Do not move, understand!"

"Yes, Sir" I was advised that this was time for reflection. I was left this way for what seemed ages, perhaps five minutes in reality. When he returned it was slowly, decisively. The pants were pulled down with real force. "You do not move. Stand as you are, boy"

"Yes, Sir" He circled in inspection. The eagle ready to pounce.. He felt the warmth. He felt around my private parts. "Ready for more now, boy?"

"Yes, yes, Sir"

"Somewhat of a reluctance in the response was there not?"

"Say after me, Yes, Sir"

"Yes, Sir"

"Yes, a little better"

"Over the knee, you know the drill by now" Thirty crisp retorts came from my bare buttocks. I was told to spread the cheeks further out ..to project them better. I knew what to expect if I did not obey ....and instantly.

After more book balancing corner time I was ordered to bring some pillows, build a stack on the bed. Then to fetch the cane; hold it above my head. "Flex it, boy" God the vulnerability. Then the same with the paddle. "Smell the leather"

"You are fortunate, boy, in that both are well used to boys' backsides. You will find that they are very effective indeed" I was too scared to respond. "It is arrogance then which we are seeing displayed?"

"No, Sir"

"When I speak you respond"

"Yes, Sir"

"Over the pillows at once, backside projected, hurry" The cheeks were parted, I felt that he had the paddle edge between them. "This is the anus. It is well exposed just now....a particularly tender part of the anatomy, Feel the fresh air circulating around your exposed anus...a wonderful feeling is it not? "

"Yes, sir, it is, sir"

"Right, boy, you will count the strokes...and they will be increased if either you do not pronounce, "Sir", as you should or you contract the cheeks in any way, understand?"

"Yes, sir"

One cheek. The other. Across both. That spot at the top of the thigh where the cheeks start. The expert knew where to aim. How I wished I could call it all off.....and yet..... The fire was horrendously fierce. School punishment were mild. This was something else, "Twenty eight, sir" It was over

The hand massaged the taut buttocks. "Well done, boy, however I did perceive two occasions when you attempted to retract the buttocks. Remain there, then, do not move"

The backside was on fire. I was totally vulnerable of course. When would this end? The master of his art left a further moment or two before, "Crash"

"Oh, sir" I retorted. "What do you say?" came the reply, "One, sir, thank you sir, I deserve more, sir, was it not?! "Yes, sir"

"An intelligent boy like you getting it wrong. Two has now become four. After each you know what you must say?"

"Yes, sir"

There was a little light tap after the fourth. "Stand up, boy, you have done well. The mirror is over there, check out your punishment. I have seen redness before but this was different; what a redness; what a glow; what a pain. The cane marks were there but all around the buttocks were a deep, deep shade and I felt its effect, quite definitely. "Thank you, sir" I said somewhat sheepishly

"I am not finished yet, over my knee". This was unbelievable surely he was not some sadist, should I object this time? The hand was gentler now. It moved slowly. The cold cream had been kept cool in the fridge and was rubbed well in all over. This was real relief. This made the glow somewhat magical

That was my one and only adult schoolboy punishment...and I learned a lot from it. I use all of the techniques...and a few more...as I now deal with my adult pupils. "Are you man enough to be a boy again?", I usually ask. Some lads like it more moderate some more severe. I learned from my particular expert teacher, acting the part gives me a real thrill as my pupils also agree as they regularly now are given lessons in Glasgow


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