story: In my first story I wrote about Tim's reminiscences of corporal punishment at his prep school. Living not so far away was another young lad called Steve. He went to a state school where corporal punishment had long been abolished, but Steve had read stories about how boys in years gone by were caned or birched for their misdemeanours. He was fascinated and longed to experience it for himself. He would have given his eye teeth to have gone to Tim's prep school and bent over the headmaster's desk to receive six of the best. Like Tim he had to make do with self-flagellation. There was a luxuriant birch tree in his back garden. When no one was in the house, he would quietly slip out with a pair of seccateurs and surreptitiously cut off half a dozen birch switches, which he would bind together with string. Then he would take the piano stool up to his bedroom, strip off stark naked, lean over the stool and swish his buttocks with the birch-rod he had made. He found this incredibly erotic and it was never long before he reached orgasm once, twice, even three times in one session.
This self-flagellation was all right as far as it went, but Steve would have much preferred a partner to administer the beating. However, like Tim, he thought his desires were unique and there could be no one else in the world who actually wanted to be spanked. He was therefore too afraid to approach anyone and ask them to spank him. Steve was an extremely bright pupil though he was also very _c_o_c_k_y and disrespectful to his teachers. He also had an extraordinarily foul mouth and an amazing command of practically every lewd expression in the English language. His A level results were among the highest in the country and no one was surprised when he won a scholarship to Oxford.
For his first year in university Steve had a room in college. It was at the top of a winding staircase in a medieval tower. To be exact, he had two rooms: a bedroom and an enormous sitting room. The furniture was sparse and old fashioned - a sofa, an armchair, a small desk where he could work and a stout, low coffee table. The floor was just bare boards except for a small rug. There was also an upright piano belonging to Eric, a second year student, who had had Steve's room the year before. Steve liked to play the piano, so Eric had agreed to leave it in the room provided that he too could come and play it sometimes.
But it wasn't only because of the piano that Steve had chosen that room. It had thick, fairly soundproof walls and there were no other rooms on that floor. As it was exposed on all four sides, it got very cold in winter, which was why no other students had wanted the room. Downstairs there were only shower rooms and toilets. Steve would have complete privacy and could flagellate himself to his heart's content without any danger of interruption. Or so he thought. The one element he had not bargained for was Eric. Of course, Eric only arranged to come and play the piano when it was convenient for Steve. Eric still had a key to the room, so Steve never needed to be there to let him in. One day Steve was overwhelmed with the need to give himself a sound birching. He opened the case where he stored his implements and took out a fresh birch-rod. He had an erection which felt as though his balls were going to burst. He tied his ankles with string to the piano stool, bent over and started to thrash his buttocks lustily. He had completely forgotten that Eric was coming to play the piano at that time...
Suddenly the door swung open and there was Eric! What met his gaze was a pair of youthful buttocks now well marked with the birch and a pair of youthful legs tied at the ankles to his piano stool. "Wow, Steve, I didn't know you were - em - into things like this!" he exclaimed with a big grin all over his face.
"Gosh, Eric, I'd completely forgotten you were coming" said Steve with considerable embarrassment. "Look, please don't say anything about this to the other students."
"Don't worry," said Eric, "Your secret's safe with me. Actually... I enjoy a good spanking myself."
Steve was dumbfounded. Here was someone else who had the same secret desires as he had! He was not alone in the world!
"You mean..."
"Yes, Steve! You're not the only one in the world. I guess you thrash yourself because you don't know anyone else who would do it for you."
"Yeah, you got it in one. Say Eric... You wouldn't like to give me a birching, would you?"
"Sorry, Steve. Like you I'm a sub."
"A sub?"
"Stands for submissive. You like to submit yourself to CP - corporal punishment. Other people are dom - 'dominant' - they like to dish it out."
"So what do you do to satisfy your desires to be spanked, Eric?"
"I go to a don in Exeter College. He's got a big detached house out in Headington, where he lives alone. He's in his early fifties. His wife died of cancer a few years ago and they didn't have any children. He's got a superb playroom with real school desks, loads of school uniforms and any number of implements to whack your backside with."
"Next time you see him could you put in a word for me?"
"Sure" said Eric, "As a matter of fact, I'm meeting him for a session next week."
"Are you sure you couldn't give me a few strokes of the birch? I'm absolutely gagging for it!" said Steve.
"Well, if you want. But I've never given it before."
Despite his inexperience, though, Eric wielded the birch surprisingly well and it was not long before Steve came - his buttocks gloriously marked red and purple by the birch-rod.