Tims ads on the websites started to draw more interest. Gary turned out to be the first of many men, young and old, who came to spank or to be spanked at Tims cottage on the moors. Tim, who was still a sub by nature, was often on the receiving end. Being a meticulous sort of chap, he kept a written record of all his sessions, outlining the punishments he had given or received and describing his impressions.
He certainly had some unusual customers. One of these was a young man called Andy. He was about 20 years old and a student at the local university. He had a foot fetish. He loved socks and would often take his own socks off and smell their aroma. And before you dismiss this as weird, maybe youd like to ask yourself what you are doing reading stories like this on this website! Certainly Tim had come to the conclusion that there was very little in this world that really was weird. It is simply that we dismiss certain things that are not to our own particular taste. So dont sit there feeling superior just because you dont like smelling socks.
Anyway, Im rambling on here. To cut a long story short, Andy responded to one of Tims ads and they made an appointment to meet one morning at the park bench where Tim had met Gary. Andy turned out to be a short 5ft 4in roly-poly kind of young man, seriously overweight (about 190 pounds), but perhaps not yet quite in the obese category. Even so, Tim, who was about 6ft and clocked in at around the same weight, was glad he wasnt expected to put this lump over his knee.
In his e-mails Andy had described how he had grown up in one of the Emirates and formed a friendship with Ali, an Arab boy his own age. One day, when he was about 14, he had gone over to Alis house and found him crying. Apparently Ali had started attending Koran school and had not memorised the set passages properly. His teacher had taken a big stick, strung his feet up and beaten the soles until he was howling. Ali showed Andy his sore feet, which were beetroot red from the beating. Andy gave a whistle of amazement as he handled them tenderly and felt a curious arousal in his penis as he did so. "Wow, Ali! Bet you wont go back to that Koran school again, eh?"
"I have no choice," said Ali. "My father wants me to become a hafiz – someone who can recite the Koran by heart. I deserved to be punished. I was lazy."
"What does it feel like when you get beaten on the soles of your feet?"
"It hurts like crazy, far worse than when Father canes me on my bottom. It feels like an electric shock is being passed through your body via your feet."
Then Andy found himself saying something really crazy. "Im really curious to experience it for myself."
"You must be nuts, Andy!"
"I know. But Id still like to feel a few strokes of the cane on my feet. Theres no one else in the house at the moment. Couldnt you get your Dads cane and give my feet a couple of whacks?"
Ali looked at him in utter amazement. "I cant do that to you – youre my friend!"
"Dont real friends try to please their friends and do what they ask? Please, Ali, Id really like you to cane my feet. Im serious. I want to feel what you felt."
"Well, OK, then. Wait here and Ill see if I can find Dads cane."
Ali ran upstairs and opened the wardrobe where his father kept the cane he used to discipline his children. Then he ran downstairs again into the lounge, where he found Andy lying on the sofa, his bare feet resting on the large, padded arm.
"Now pretend Im you and youre the teacher" said Andy.
"OK," said Ali, drawing his breath and trying to recollect exactly what the Koran teacher had said: "You idle son of a stinking camel! Why have you not learned your passages from the Holy Koran? I will turn your feet the colour of a camels bum, you insolent, lazy brat!"
"Wow, did he say all that?" asked Andy.
"Silence, you piece of _s_h_i_t_ from the arse of a dog! Stick your feet up and prepare yourself for a taste of hell!"
Andy duly stuck his feet up and screwed his eyes shut waiting for the fatal blow. Ali then rather half-heartedly tapped the soles of his feet a couple of times.
"Come on, Ali. He must have whacked you harder than that!"
"Yes, but I couldnt whack you that hard!"
"Cant or wont? Look, Ali, if youre really my friend, youll do as I ask. Now come on and give me a couple of proper whacks as hard as you can, as hard as what your Koran teacher gave you."
"OK Andy. You asked for it. I hope youll still be my friend when you get it."
So saying, Ali lifted the cane high and practised swishing it hard like the Koran teacher. Eventually he felt ready to cane Andys feet. He tapped them softly and told Andy to prepare himself for a thrashing.
Swoosh, thwack! The first stroke landed on Andys feet and even as he let out a scream, there was a second "Swoosh, thwack!" as the second stroke landed an inch below the first. Andys soles had two angry red weals running across them. Andy grabbed his feet and curled up into a ball on the sofa, letting out a continuous "Oooow, ooow, ooow!" as he did so.
Ali came over to hug him. "Oh Andy, Im so, so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me."
"Ali, theres no need to be sorry. Im glad my feet have felt what you felt. I want you to promise me something."
"Whats that, Andy?"
"Every time your Koran teacher beats you, I want you to ask me round to your house so that you can beat me too."
"Youre a weird friend, Andy, but if it makes you happy, sure."
And so began a strange relationship between Andy and Ali. Every time Ali had the soles of his feet beaten by the Koran teacher, Andy would go over and rub soothing ointment into them. He loved the feel of Alis feet and would smother them in kisses and cuddles. Ali would then cane Andys feet until eventually Andy could take a beating of the same severity that Ali used to receive. It certainly made Ali feel better. It was a cathartic experience in which he could release all his negative feelings. He began to relish wielding the cane on Andys feet. _s_e_x_ually it was a great turn-on for both of them and before long, the boys were having _s_e_x_ together regularly, though Ali was always in mortal fear of being caught. He knew what kind of beating his father, a very strict religious man, would give both of them – perhaps even a public beating. Fortunately, they never were caught.
In due course Andys parents moved back to England and he lost touch with Ali. For several years he missed the caning sessions he had enjoyed with the Arab lad. Then he discovered the websites and began looking for someone in his locality who would be willing to cane his feet. He started corresponding with Tim, who liked his unusual story. Tim wrote back to say:
"Ive never caned anyones feet before, but Im willing to give it a shot...."
Andy lolloped towards the park bench where Tim was sitting. They shook hands and Tim took him to his car and drove him to his cottage on the moors.
"I dont mind if you want _s_e_x_ with me" said Andy, suddenly breaking the silence.
"Er, no. I dont think so," replied Tim. He couldnt think of anything hed rather do less than to bugger this lump of lard. Having said that, Andy was obviously not a bad lad and Tim didnt want to hurt his feelings, so he added rather stiffly and starchily, "Im not gay, you know."
"Oh" said Andy, obviously disappointed.
"Ill tell what Ill do, though. Ill stick an anal plug up your backside. Thatll give you a similar feeling to being stuffed. Consolation prize."
"OK" said Andy, brightening up a bit.
When they reached the cottage, Tim ushered Andy up the stairs into the playroom. There he ordered Andy to strip stark naked and bend over the punishment horse.
"I dont want my bum whacked," said Andy anxiously. For a moment he looked extraordinarily like a version of Billy Bunter, bending over that horse.
"Dont worry. Anal plug" explained Tim laconically. He greased the plug with some cheap margarine and then started to insert it gently into Andys anus. It was quite a big plug and Andy ooed and aahed a bit as it made its way down his anal passage and he yelped as Tim rammed it fully home. Tim then sat down and rested his feet on a footstool. Andy crawled over on all fours and started to fondle and kiss them. After enjoying a bit of foot worship, Tim took Andy gently by the ear over to the punishment horse. He then grabbed Andys legs and passed them through two loops which hung down from the horse. Tim had made the loops specially for Andys punishment.
"OK, you rear end of a diseased camel...."
"Those werent exactly the words Ali used...."
"Stop interrupting, you numbskull! Im doing my best. Just shut up for goodness sake!"
Tim looked at Andys face. He was grinning from ear to ear. Tim realised the interruption was a deliberate ploy to wind him up.
"OK, you piece of _s_h_i_t_ from the arse of a dog. Why havent you learned your lessons?"
"O great master, Im very sorry. My cousin came from Riyadh and I had to look after him. There was no time to memorise my Koran passages."
"Stop your excuses, boy. Prepare for a taste of hell!"
Tim grabbed a medium-sized rattan and tapped Andys feet, which were close together, side by side. He raised the cane and brought it down with "Swoosh, thwack" right in the middle of Andys soles. Though now in his mid-fifties, Tim was a strong, fit man. The stroke he delivered was more painful than a lad like Ali could ever manage. Andy roared with pain and his feet bucked. He nearly kicked the punishment horse over. Tim made a mental note to do something to make sure that next time the horse was immobilised.
Tims second stroke landed half an inch above the first. Andy screamed again. He wondered about saying his password, but decided he wanted to ride out this beating. The pain was so bad he felt tears welling in his eyes.
Swoosh, thwack! The third stroke landed across the toes of both feet. Andys scream was even more penetrating than before. Tim was glad hed never done cp in his flat in town. Here in the cottage Andy could scream as loud as he wanted and no one would hear.
Swoosh, thwack! The fourth stroke went awry and landed on the thick skin of Andys heels. No response whatever. Obviously cane strokes on the heel were not particularly painful.
Tim built up a steady rhythm and soon Andys feet were red and sore. Tim would stop occasionally to feel Andys feet and as he squeezed them, Andy cooed with pleasure. Then he would resume the caning. From the way Andy was bucking up and down it was clear that he was close to orgasm. However, Tim was well aware of the dangers of caning feet. He had no desire to turn Andy into a cripple. There were already a few spots of blood appearing on the soles of his feet, so Tim gave him two more hard strokes and then called it a day. He released Andys feet from the loops and Andy hobbled painfully across the room to retrieve his clothes and get dressed again.
"Thank you, Tim. That was great. Youre even better than Ali at caning feet, though you need a few lessons in cussing. Youre not quite up to Arab standards yet!"
"Cheeky bugger! Ive a good mind to put your feet through those loops again, you filthy piece of shrivelled cow pat, you.... you worm in a ....camels dunghill!" Tim improvised.
"Hey! Thats not bad!" said Andy. And they both roared with laughter.
"Come again" said Tim, looking intently into Andys Bunter-like face.
"Thanks. I will" said Andy.
And so began yet another off-beat cp relationship....