Tims ads on the websites had initially drawn many responses. Many of them were time-wasters, "cyber-wankers" as he called them – people who had no intention of meeting for a cp session, but who just wanted to fantasise in their minds. Tim was pig-sick of such people. If only they told you right from the beginning that they only wanted to correspond by e-mail and had no intention of meeting. If anyone needed a jolly good hiding, they did! It was the younger men who were a particular problem. Tim guessed that most of them were novices and chickened out at the last moment. Hed spent many a frustrating hour sitting on the park bench waiting for them to show up.
In his ads Tim made it clear that he wanted to spank men up to the age of 50 or so and to be spanked by older men. He loved role play and could not imagine being able to act a role properly if he spanked an older man or was spanked by a younger.
This somewhat ageist approach to cp (not unusual in the scene) was about to change. One day, after a long gap of zero response to his ads, Tim was contacted by a man who called himself Barry. His language seemed to be that of a teenager, speaking about how he liked "to chill out" by the swimming pool. It never occurred to Tim to ask Barrys age. He knew Barrys stats: 5ft 10, slim 30 inch waist, weight 130 pounds – a typical size for a teenage male. He knew what Barry wanted: a prolonged over-the-knee spanking followed by a sound caning. "No problemo," said Tim. "Come and meet me at the park bench at 11am on Friday."
Tim arrived early and sat down on the bench munching a Mars bar and scanning the newspaper. He looked up as he heard feet scrunching on the gravel path. He saw a fit, dapper elderly man coming towards him. Barry was 74, but could easily pass for early 60s.
"Mind if I sit down?" said Barry, pointing to the space next to Tim.
"No, help yourself" said Tim, resuming his newspaper.
"Waiting for anyone?" asked Barry.
"Er, yes. Im meeting my ....er.... nephew."
"Oh.... His name wouldnt be Barry, would it?"
Tims Mars bar stopped in mid-air as he looked in astonishment at the man sitting next to him.
"Youre not.... You couldnt possibly...."
"Yes, Im Barry. Look, I know Im a lot older than what you were expecting and Im sorry if Ive disappointed you. Its just, well.... Nobody wants to know you if youre over 70 and want a spanking."
"Yes, well.... I did say clearly in my ad I only spanked people under 50."
"I know and Im sorry. But at least I didnt lie about my age, because you never asked me. Would you at least hear my story?"
"OK, said Tim, "But Im not promising that Ill agree to spank you."
"Thats fine," said Barry. "Im not going to try and persuade you otherwise. Let me tell you a bit about myself. Im a retired headmaster. I started off as a maths teacher at a preparatory school in 1953. As you know, corporal punishment was still widespread in schools at that time. I was only allowed to use a plimsoll. If a boy needed caning, I had to send him to the headmaster with what we called a "beating slip", a small blue form outlining the boys offence and the number of strokes we thought he should get (though the headmaster was not bound to follow our recommendation – he could increase or decrease the number of strokes as he saw fit). Anyway, I quite enjoyed whacking boys bottoms with my plimsoll and soon got a reputation for being exceptionally strict. Discipline in my classes was impeccable and the academic results I got from my pupils were outstanding. Before long I found myself head of the maths department and then, by a stroke of fortune, deputy head at that school. I was still only 28 years old. Next year I applied for a job as headmaster of a slightly smaller prep school about 10 miles away. To my astonishment I got the job. At that time it was quite rare for a man as young as 29 to become the headmaster of a school. I was no less a stickler for discipline at my new school than I had been as a maths teacher at my first school. Boys soon found that a visit to my study usually meant a very sore bottom. I was an expert with the cane and I knew how to make even the most stubborn boy VERY contrite. My reputation for academic excellence continued and I rose steadily up the headmasters ladder. My last post was at an exclusive school in Tonbridge Wells in Kent. Halfway through my time there, in 1990 I think it was, the board of governors decided to abolish corporal punishment, mores the pity. We were one of the last schools in the country to do away with it. Well, if they hadnt done it, I suppose the government would have eventually forced us to. Anyway, academic standards, though still ve! ry good, were never of the same excellence again. It seems that nothing but the threat of a sore bottom will motivate some boys to do their school work properly...."
"What has all this to do with your present request to be spanked?" interrupted Tim.
"Ah, I was coming to that," said Barry. "I know I said that corporal punishment seems to be an indispensable means of motivating some young boys. Well, I was never like that as a boy. I was always very well-behaved and my school work was impeccable. I was head boy at both my prep school and the public [for our American readers that means "exclusive private"!] school I attended after that. I suppose I was a bit of a goody-goody. I have never felt a plimsoll or cane on my bottom in my life. Thats why I always felt a bit guilty when applying an instrument of correction to the bottom of one of my pupils. There was always a little voice saying to me You have no idea what this feels like, do you, you big bully? I suppose I feel a bit conscience-stricken about my 42 years as a schoolteacher and headmaster. I know Im way above your age limit, but Im still in good shape. Would you please take me and spank me? I want to feel the plimsoll and the cane like my pupils did."
Tim thought for a moment. There was no doubt that Barry was a very well-preserved 74. Tim didnt like to admit it, but Barry could have passed for his elder brother despite an age gap of nearly 20 years. At least the old guy had kept himself trim, Tim thought, unlike a number of young fatties who had passed through his doors recently.
"I dont have a plimsoll" said Tim eventually.
"No problem" said Barry as he triumphantly produced a formidable-looking plimsoll from the bag he was carrying.
"But I have plenty of canes" Tim added with a smile. "Lets do it!"
"Thank you, Tim. I really appreciate this."
"Just one thing. From now on Im not Tim. You are to address me as sir. Understand?"
"Yes, sir" said Barry most respectfully.
Half an hour later they were at Tims cottage. Barry changed into one of Tims school uniforms. It was easy to find one that fitted. Barry, amazingly, still had the figure of a teenager. At least, he was still slim and his bottom looked remarkably young for a man his age. After he had put on the school uniform, from the back you would never have believed you were looking at a man of 74.
Barry knocked timidly on the door of Tims study.
"Enter!" boomed Tims voice.
Barry entered the room tentatively.
"Stop dithering, boy. Stand in front of my desk with your feet to attention."
Barry obeyed without a murmur.
"I hear you have been bullying certain pupils, that you have beaten some of them excessively with a plimsoll and with the cane. Is that true?"
"Yes, sir, Im afraid it is."
"Very well. You will receive a taste of your own medicine, young man. Come over here and drape yourself over my lap."
Barry walked over, took off his school cap and meekly put himself over Tims lap. Tim started to spank Barry over his short trousers, slowly and methodically warming his buttocks. He then made Barry stand up and remove his trousers and underpants. He was pleasantly surprised to see what a nice bottom he had. He continued to lay into it with his hand until it was a uniformly pink colour. Then he picked up the plimsoll which Barry had supplied him with. It was a large plimsoll with a thick rubber sole. It gave an ominous thwack when it connected with Barrys backside.
"Oooh! Ow!" said Barry. It was obvious that the plimsoll hurt much more than the hand. Tim followed it up with half a dozen more strokes. Each time it got more and more difficult for Barry to bear. Eventually he cried out: "Please sir! How many are you going to give me?"
"I dont know yet."
"But I always used to tell my boys how many they were going to get."
"But part of YOUR punishment is not knowing exactly how many YOU are going to get," said Tim.
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir."
Tim continued to punish Barrys buttocks mercilessly with the plimsoll. There were almost no white spaces left. The whole of his bottom was a deep pink with purple patches and one or two angry black bruises where the plimsoll had landed many times. Barry was starting to sob.
Tim stopped spanking Barry and ordered him to get up. "Do you know what it feels like now?" he said.
"Yes, sir."
"What have you got to say for yourself?"
"Im very, very sorry, sir, that I punished some of the other boys too hard. I now know what it feels like."
"Yes, except that you havent had the cane yet."
"Oh sir, my bottom is so sore. You surely cant mean to cane me today."
"I most certainly can. I intend to thrash you for all the times you have been too hard on boys younger than you. Bend over that horse."
Somehow Barry screwed up the courage to let himself have a second dose of cp. He draped himself over the horse and Tim secured his wrists and legs with the leather straps. He then took a medium rattan cane about 3ft (90cm) long and tapped Barrys buttocks with it. Barry tensed with anticipation.
"Relax the muscles of your bottom, boy. It will hurt a lot more if you tense them."
Barry did his best to relax and lay there waiting in dread of the first stroke. Suddenly there was a fierce swishing sound and a loud thwack as the cane connected with the centre of both buttocks. Barry sucked in his breath.
"Golly, I never realised it hurt this much!"
"It probably didnt. You caned boys over their trousers and probably used a lighter junior cane. But youre an adult, so your caning needs to be more severe in order to have the same effect."
Tim then landed a second stroke just half an inch below the first. Barry struggled against the straps and kicked the floor in a vain attempt to ease the agonising sting.
"Please, sir. How many am I to receive?"
"Again, that is for me to decide. You should learn to be silent, boy. I will have to deliver those two strokes again."
Barry sniffed. There was a small blob of snot at the end of his nose. Tim continued to cane him steadily and forcefully. There was no going easy on a first timer. Tim sensed that Barry wanted something memorable – a really severe once-off beating – and he was determined not to disappoint. The eleventh and twelfth strokes drew a little blood, which Tim wiped off with an antiseptic cloth. He then delivered two cane strokes in quick succession to the top of Barrys thighs. Tears rolled down the old mans cheeks as he screamed with the pain.
"Thats it, boy. I hope youve learned your lesson."
"Yes, sir."
"What exactly have you learned?"
"That the plimsoll and the cane both hurt. I should have been more sympathetic to the boys in my charge. I should have been punished like this many years ago, so I could learn what it felt like."
"Good lad!" said Tim, releasing him from the straps. "You seem to have learned something today."
"I have, indeed" said Barry. "I dont think Ill be back for any more, though!"
And he meant it. Tim never saw him again. Some peoples interest in cp ends with a single session. Barry was one of those people. Being beaten was an experience he only needed to have once.
As for Tim, from that time on he dropped any age restrictions from the ads he put on the cp websites. Old people, too, could be fun to spank.