Steve could not believe how quickly his time at Oxford had passed. He was now in his third and final year as an undergraduate. His work was excellent, in fact he was tipped for a first class honours degree. This was due in no small measure to the discipline he had received from Professor Andrews. He had come a long way from being the 18-year-old brat he had been in his first term. He also had a wonderful girl-friend, Samantha, who shared his interest in spanking. In his second year Professor Andrews had put him in charge of a freshman (first year student) called Ashley, but this had not worked out and Steve currently had no one apart from Samantha to spank. She in turn would spank and cane him when he needed it and occasionally he still reported to the Professor when sterner discipline was required.
Steve had moved out of college into digs - an enormous detached Victorian house which he shared with five other young students, most of whom were members of Professor Andrews' circle. All of them were into spanking. The six-bedroomed house often echoed with the sound of several bare bottoms being chastised simultaneously. The building had a fantastic atmosphere, very reminiscent of an old-fashioned school, and thus very conducive to spanking activities.
Word had got around the spanking community about Professor Andrews. That September, as the new academic year began, he had no less than six freshers who were coming to him for discipline. They could not have been a more varied collection of young men: There was Carl, a beefy, back-slapping, beer-swilling 6ft 3, 230-pound hulk who was sure of a place in the university rugby team (some suspected hed won a place at Oxford more for his brawn than his brain!); Roger, a mouse-like recluse, barely 5ft 4 tall, who never seemed to have his nose out of a book; Yusuf, a slim Asian Muslim from Bradford, quiet and polite with impeccable manners; Winston, a loud-mouthed, jolly black Christian from Brixton in inner-city London, who was a keen member of his black Pentecostal church; Rees, a dour Welshman from Anglesey, who never smiled and rarely said anything; and Rodney, a bubbly, happy-go-lucky scatterbrain, who came from somewhere in Lancashire.
Professor Andrews realised he could not possibly look after so many new pupils. Normally he did not farm out first year pupils till later on in the academic year. This year was exceptional. Despite a few ups and downs in the past, he now fully trusted Steve and gave him Winston and Rodney to look after. For the moment he could just about manage the other four until he felt he could hand them over to the care of a second-year "prefect".
Rodney was a spoilt rich kid. He was barely 18, slim, 5ft 9 and could have passed for 15. He had what they call a baby face and still only needed to shave off his bunny fluff once a week. In many ways he was a carbon copy of Ashley, even in looks, only he was not gay. He had wanted his parents to buy him a car, but one look at Oxford city centre convinced them all that that was not a good idea. The traffic congestion, horrific one-way system and chronic lack of parking spaces make Oxford a nightmare for car-owners. So he persuaded Mummy and Daddy to buy him a brand new Harley Davidson motorbike instead. Of course, he was an absolute menace, tearing down country lanes at 80 mph or more and doing wheelies in Broad Street in the city centre, to the consternation of pedestrians. The way he was going it would only be a matter of time before he had a serious accident.
One dank and dismal evening in late October Samantha was walking down Brasenose Lane, a narrow street near the historic Bodleian Library, where she had been studying late. It had been raining heavily and the drains had overflowed. Suddenly there was the roar of a motorbike behind her. Samantha desperately pinned herself against the wall, but it was no use. The motorbike ploughed through a six-inch deep puddle beside her and drenched her from head to foot.
"You bastard!" she yelled. "Look what you've done to me!"
Rodney, well muffled up against the cold, had not even noticed what he had done, nor did he hear Samantha's indignant protests. Another student came up to Samantha and asked if she was all right.
"Did you see what that idiot did?"
"Yeah. He's an absolute plonker. Nearly ran me over yesterday!"
"Do you know him?"
"Yeah, he's in my college. His name's Rodney Bates. Affectionately known as Master-Bates, coz he's such a wanker!"
Samantha caught the bus to Steve's digs. All the passengers looked at her pityingly. She looked like a drowned rat! When Steve opened the door and saw her, he was going to crack a joke, but one look at Samantha's scowling face made him think twice and he decided a sympathetic approach was wiser.
"You poor thing! Come in, take those wet things off and get warm and dry. Whatever happened?"
"Some nutter on his Harley Davidson went through a puddle and soaked me."
"That's funny. One of my new subs has got a Harley Davidson."
"His name wouldn't be Rodney, would it?"
"Yes," said Steve astonished. "How did you find out his name?"
"A student in his college told me. He saw what happened to me."
"Rodney's coming round to me tomorrow evening for a spanking."
"Well, make sure it's not a fun spanking."
"Certainly not! Hey, do you want to have a hand in punishing him?"
"Why not? I'm quite an expert now in punishing naughty boys!" said Samantha with a twinkle in her eye.
The following evening Rodney turned up for his regular discipline session with Steve. There were the usual things: failure to attend lectures, getting an assignment in late etc. Steve had Rodney over his knee for a good long hand spanking and then made him bend over his sofa to take twelve real stingers from his thick four-tailed tawse. Rodney, who did not have a high pain threshold, was soon yelling and begging for mercy. When it was over Rodney started to rub his swollen buttocks and reached down to pull up his pants and short schoolboy trousers (Professor Andrews insisted all his pupils wear school uniform when they turned up for discipline).
"What are you doing, boy? Did I say you could move?"
"No, sir" said Rodney with a giggle.
"That was just a warm-up. Your real punishment hasn't started yet."
"What do you mean, sir?" Rodney was starting to get worried. He had already had his normal dose of discipline from Steve.
"Come with me and you'll find out" said Steve. He then grabbed Rodney by the ear and marched him upstairs to the enormous bathroom. In the middle of the room there was a vaulting-horse with straps added to fasten a pupil down. Steve and the others who shared his digs had clubbed together to buy it. Rodney looked at it in terror.
"Please, Steve! Nothing too heavy. This is only supposed to be a bit of fun, you know!"
"Silence, boy. Go and drape yourself over that horse."
Rodney meekly obeyed and Steve fastened his wrists and ankles to the legs of the horse. He then walked out to the landing and came back swishing a 3-foot dark brown dragon cane. Rodney's eyes widened in terror. He had not had much of the cane up till now and he found its sharp sting almost unbearable.
"Pleeeease, Steve! I cant take too much of the cane. Anyway, why are you giving me this extra punishment?"
"You don't know?" said Steve.
Rodney shook his head.
"Its all to do with something you own. Something which begins with 'm'."
"Money?"
"No."
"Motorbike?"
"Yes."
"I haven't done anything with my motorbike that deserves a caning!"
"Nothing?" said Samantha, suddenly and dramatically entering the bathroom. "Do you remember me?"
"Why? Have we met somewhere?"
"No, but you passed by me yesterday?"
"So, what's the crime in that?"
Steve brought the dragon down on Rodney's bottom with a loud crack.
"Yeeooow! What was that for?"
"Thats no way to speak to a lady. Youve got to learn to watch that mouth of yours."
"You don't realise what a menace you are on that motorbike, do you?" said Samantha. "You ploughed through a puddle in Brasenose Lane and soaked me from head to foot."
"Well, I'm sorry! Why didn't you get out of the way?"
What an incredible brat Rodney was!
Swiiish, crack! Swiiish, crack! Swiiish, crack! The dragon landed three times in rapid succession on Rodney's already tender buttocks, evoking a scream from his lips.
"I warned you about your mouth, boy. Its obvious you need teaching a severe lesson."
Samantha went out onto the landing and picked up another of the canes lying on a table there. She came back into the bathroom swishing it ominously. Rodney squirmed and looked pleadingly at her and then at Steve. "Pleease, guys. I cant take the cane – its too severe!"
"Nonsense! You need a proper thrashing. It will teach you to ride your motorbike in a more responsible fashion."
Samantha had also brought an anal plug, six inches long, which she greased with cheap margarine and gently eased up Rodneys anus. This was a totally new and humiliating experience for Rodney and he screamed as the plug was rammed home to its full extent. The presence of the plug in his back passage, however, was curiously arousing and Rodney, despite his sufferings, found he had a growing erection. Steve and Samantha then fastened a leg spreader to make sure Rodneys legs were kept as far part as possible, exposing as much of his buttocks as possible. Rodney moaned as he contemplated the severe thrashing he was about to receive.
Steve was right-handed, but Samantha was left-handed, which worked out well for Rodneys chastisement. They each stood to one side of him, Samantha on the right and Steve on the left. They were both swishing their canes vigorously, giving Rodney an enormous rock-hard erection, but also causing him panic at the same time. Like many a sub, he felt a mixture of erotic pleasure and sheer terror at the pain he was about to suffer. After a few playful taps on his beautiful smooth hairless buttocks Steve and Samantha were ready to administer punishment. They had each positioned themselves at exactly the right place in relation to Rodneys firmly tied body – about two and a half feet (75cm) from his waist. This meant their canes were at a slight angle to Rodneys bottom. The point of the cane would sting the edge of the fleshy part of the buttock furthest from the caner, but the stem of the cane would also punish the nearer buttock. Ideally an even stripe would traverse both buttocks from edge to edge.
"Right. How many should we give him?" said Steve.
"A dozen should be about right."
"A dozen each, of course."
"Of course."
Rodney gasped in protest. "No.... no!" he cried.
"Right, Rodney. We want you to ask us politely to punish you. In fact we want you to beg us to begin your punishment."
"No way! Youre going to punish me anyway. Why should I...."
Swish! Swish! Steve and Samantha both landed perfect strokes on Rodneys already battered buttocks. Rodney screamed in agony.
"Youre going to ask politely to be punished because unless you do, were going to cane you indefinitely. And your official punishment wont even have begun!" said Steve.
"OK! OK! I admit I could have ridden my motorbike more responsibly. Im really really sorry I soaked you Samantha...."
"And?"
"And.... I deserve to be punished. Please cane me – a dozen strokes each." Rodney said, gritting his teeth. He knew this caning would be absolute agony.
"OK, Rodney. I want you to kiss my cane and Samanthas and thank us for taking the time to correct you."
Rodney knew what would happen if he didnt, and meekly complied.
"Now you are to ask politely for each stroke, thank us when you have received it and then ask for the next stroke. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Steve. Yes, Samantha. Please give me the first stroke."
"Good lad!"
Steve took aim, drew his arm back and cracked the cane down full force onto Rodneys bottom with a flick of the wrist. A livid red weal appeared right across both buttocks – a perfect stroke!
"Aargh! Aaargh! One, sir! Thank you, sir!" said Rodney gasping with the pain. He could hardly bring himself to ask for the second, and he had another 23 to go! For a while he just lay there quietly sobbing. He had faint hopes of evoking their sympathy and maybe persuading them to let him off the rest of his punishment.
Samantha was getting impatient. "Come on, Rodney! If you dont ask for your second stroke, Ill give it to you anyway and it wont count."
"Please give me number two" said Rodney with a pathetic pleading tone, adding, "I dont really want number two!"
"Im not interested in what you want, only in what you need!"
Swish, crack! Samantha, who had become an expert caner, landed her stroke just a couple of millimetres below Steves.
"Oooow! Oooow!" wailed Rodney, then just in time, "Two, maam! Thank you, maam!" Then he waited a few seconds before stammering out "P-Please give me number three!"
And so the caning went on. Rodney found that after the first dozen strokes, he was beginning to get used to the pain and knew he could take all 24. The tears were streaming down his face and his bottom felt as if he had sat in a pool of molten metal. By the twentieth stroke his bottom was bleeding and a small trickle of blood started to flow down his right thigh. Samantha wiped it off with a cloth soaked in surgical spirit. The last four strokes were delivered extra hard and Rodney had a hard job keeping up the count and asking for the next stroke.
Samantha landed the twenty-fourth stroke with a power astonishing for a young woman. As she did so, Rodney came, sending a spurt of cream all over his stomach and the top of the horse. He lay still, sobbing, his body like a limp doll. Suddenly Steve brought another stroke down on his flaming buttocks.
"Ooooow!! What was that for?"
"Youve forgotten something!"
"Oh.... Er, thank you Steve, thank you Samantha!" said Rodney with just a hint of insolence.
Swish, crack! Swish, crack!
"Yeoow! Yeoow!"
"Thank you for what?"
"Thank you for beating me. Sorry for soaking Samantha. Sorry for being a brat. Er...."
"And how about a promise?"
"I promise Ill ride my motorbike with more consideration for others."
"Good lad! Lets get him untied, Sam."
Rodney was released and rose from the horse with great difficulty. His buttocks were a mass of weals, which had all joined up to make one single hard weal. It was difficult for him to make the slightest movement without wincing. He was now a well-beaten contrite boy. He had received a very severe caning, far more severe than he imagined he could ever take, but like a true submissive he accepted it gratefully and without resentment. He knew he had deserved this thrashing.
It is amazing how something which gives a young male erotic pleasure can also be an effective form of discipline – one of the deeper mysteries of life! Rodney actually did ride his motorbike more considerately from that day on, though he still liked occasionally to race it down a country lane. He also began to act less like a spoilt rich kid, though it was to take many more discipline sessions to iron him out. Rodney always hated the cane, so Steve and Samantha continued to make sure he got plenty of it!