During break times all pupils must vacate the building unless a valid reason is given.
That's more or less what the rule about break times stated. But of course if it was raining or cold yours truly and his mates would find a nice cosy vacated classroom in which to hide in.
Imagine if you would a scene from stalag luft or colditz. The camp guards patrolling the barbed wire fence with vicious dogs barking at the full length of their leads. That to us was the game. Now, replace guards with dinner ladies and the dogs with the much hated prefects [ spit ].
An English secondary school is a vast array of corridors and classrooms, toilets and changing rooms. The latter two coming in very handy as all the dinner ladies were well, ladies. Not many would dare to venture into the boys toilets.
Incidentally , on the subject of changing rooms , I would like to hereby thank the architect who was responsible for designing the girls changing room on behalf of hundreds if not thousands of grateful boys. An open doorway then a left turn past a wall , then a right turn past a wall from the opposite direction so that the entrant did an 'S' shape. Trouble was , the two walls didn't overlap and so a well positioned boy could see straight into the bowels of the changing room . That's where I saw my first naked boobies! Failing that you could climb up on the flat roof and look through the skylight , which was permanently open to vent steam.
Any way , back to colditz.
This particular day four of us had dodged the guards but had chosen a room at the very end of the corridor . No back way out . Only one thing to do was hide in the cupboards .
I must have chosen three of the noisiest , stupidest and giggliest friends I could find. Within minutes we were apprehended and marched to the staff room .
Mr Williams was a very tall daunting figure to any grown man let alone to us mere 2nd years. As deputy head he dealt with miscreant boys in a very firm fashion . Therefore , it was a major shock to be sent outside and made to sit on the lower playground wall for the duration of break time.
A huge relief.
As I stated earlier, my friends lacked a lot of common sense and so it shouldn't have surprised me when after ten minutes or so one of them wanted to go to the tuck shop because he was hungry. We had missed dinner but the money could buy lots of sweets.
Deciding a trip through the corridor was too risky , we snuck around the school boundary to cross the road and home safe. Trouble was we had to pass the staff room window. Yep, no one had thought of that.
Out flung the window and a ' YOU BOYS !' was bellowed at us by a clearly slightly peeved deputy head. Oh crap !
Lined up outside his study the three of us could clearly hear the smack of slipper hitting number fours' backside. An occasional yelp told us we were in the shit , big time.
As last man , I had to suffer the gut ache for the longest which grew and grew with every exiting , crying boy frantically rubbing his backside with both hands.
That ' let's get this over with ' feeling relieved my stomach a little as I entered his study , but returned immediately he barked ' Bend over and touch your toes boy!'
Anyone who has had a cold slippering will appreciate just how much it hurt. The first two were full swing strikes shared on each buttock. Thereafter he covered every inch of my bottom with regular measured smacks. The burn grew rapidly to a scolding hot which had to be endured till he decided when to stop as there was no count to be made. I don't know what shoe size his slipper was but judging by his height I'd say about a twelve as he could spank both cheeks at once with a little manoeuvring. My yelps came with the first impact on the top of the thigh. 'Shit that hurts, I can't take much more of this ' Blub.
Finally I was dismissed and found that straightening upright only increased the pain in my bum and so I quickly headed out of his study and straight down the corridor to the nearest boys toilets.
Plug in , cold tap on full pelt while I yanked down my trousers and pants.
' Fuck , my arse hurts.' I thought as I tried to immerse it into way too small a basin.
' I wonder where the other guys went to ?'
' And which classroom shall we hide in tomorrow ?'
Some kids will never learn , Hi , my name is Gary......
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Monday, 10 December 2012
The Great Spanking of ' 67
A thin layer of snow covered the playground when I arrived at school that morning. Throughout the rest of the morning more flurries made it just deep enough to leave a footprint and the whole class was eager to escape lessons for the lunch time break.
Finally the bell sounded and we all stood as one to be dismissed by Miss Clifford. The rush to exit the door was tempered by the fear of being called back by Miss for being too noisy or too rushed or too anything really. I had had my hand slapped by her ruler on more than one occasion in the past and so kept myself at a steady pace until exiting the door.
Outside the stampede to the playground meant many a smaller child was simply pushed aside, or over. On reaching the playground I found a snowball fight had already begun with two discernible sides formed at each end. Joining one I quickly gathered snow and began throwing snowballs at any target still enough to hit.
The trouble was the tarmac surface was quite old and so loose stones were very prolific. Being only 9 years old and keen to make friends in this new school I gave it no thought at all until...
' Stop this at once ', bellowed from the direction of the main doorway.
There stood the headmaster, Mr Harris, with an expression that stopped everyone in their tracks.
' There will be no snowballs thrown in this playground ', he said as he walked to the middle.
' You are picking up stones in amongst the snowballs and someone could easily be blinded if hit in the face by one , do I make myself clear ?' he glowered at us.
Disappearing back into the school doorway everyone mooched about looking for some other form of entertainment when a single snowball flew through the air. It was like a starting gun for everyone to resume the contest and within minutes the battle began again.
' Right!' ' Everybody inside now and line up outside my office.' a very red faced Mr Harris shouted.
A certain amount of place changing ensued as the line grew to the full length of the corridor. I chose to be in the middle as I was still not aware of what was about to happen. In front of me was a girl I had seen before so I asked her what we could expect. She ignored me. Drawing my own conclusion that as there were several girls in the queue we would only be given a telling off.
I hadn't paid much attention to the kids leaving his office until with three to go before me I saw a boy leaving with tears streaming down his cheeks.
The penny dropped.
Stomach tightened and yet still I couldn't believe the girl in front would get the same treatment.
I stood facing the door to his office and jumped slightly when it suddenly opened and the girl rushed out with head in hands. Slight sobs disappeared out the main door with her. I walked in and closed the door behind me.
In front of me was a chair, the back of which faced me. Headmaster stood to the left side with a large black plimsoll in his hand.
' Bend over the chair boy,' he said in a matter of fact way.
To this day I can remember the sting of that plimsoll as it impacted my small bottom. Four strokes, two on each cheek made it burn and throb within seconds.
' Now get out, next !' he yelled and I exited not looking at anything but the floor in front of me.
Outside in the cool air I frantically looked for a snow pile against the wall of the building in which to sit in.
True story.
All I could think of as I sat there was the look of disdain on the face of Miss Clifford when I got back to my class. I well remember the shame I felt as I entered her doorway and yet she merely pointed to my desk at which I dutifully sat. Bottom still throbbing.
My first spanking at school but as you will see later, not my last.
Finally the bell sounded and we all stood as one to be dismissed by Miss Clifford. The rush to exit the door was tempered by the fear of being called back by Miss for being too noisy or too rushed or too anything really. I had had my hand slapped by her ruler on more than one occasion in the past and so kept myself at a steady pace until exiting the door.
Outside the stampede to the playground meant many a smaller child was simply pushed aside, or over. On reaching the playground I found a snowball fight had already begun with two discernible sides formed at each end. Joining one I quickly gathered snow and began throwing snowballs at any target still enough to hit.
The trouble was the tarmac surface was quite old and so loose stones were very prolific. Being only 9 years old and keen to make friends in this new school I gave it no thought at all until...
' Stop this at once ', bellowed from the direction of the main doorway.
There stood the headmaster, Mr Harris, with an expression that stopped everyone in their tracks.
' There will be no snowballs thrown in this playground ', he said as he walked to the middle.
' You are picking up stones in amongst the snowballs and someone could easily be blinded if hit in the face by one , do I make myself clear ?' he glowered at us.
Disappearing back into the school doorway everyone mooched about looking for some other form of entertainment when a single snowball flew through the air. It was like a starting gun for everyone to resume the contest and within minutes the battle began again.
' Right!' ' Everybody inside now and line up outside my office.' a very red faced Mr Harris shouted.
A certain amount of place changing ensued as the line grew to the full length of the corridor. I chose to be in the middle as I was still not aware of what was about to happen. In front of me was a girl I had seen before so I asked her what we could expect. She ignored me. Drawing my own conclusion that as there were several girls in the queue we would only be given a telling off.
I hadn't paid much attention to the kids leaving his office until with three to go before me I saw a boy leaving with tears streaming down his cheeks.
The penny dropped.
Stomach tightened and yet still I couldn't believe the girl in front would get the same treatment.
I stood facing the door to his office and jumped slightly when it suddenly opened and the girl rushed out with head in hands. Slight sobs disappeared out the main door with her. I walked in and closed the door behind me.
In front of me was a chair, the back of which faced me. Headmaster stood to the left side with a large black plimsoll in his hand.
' Bend over the chair boy,' he said in a matter of fact way.
To this day I can remember the sting of that plimsoll as it impacted my small bottom. Four strokes, two on each cheek made it burn and throb within seconds.
' Now get out, next !' he yelled and I exited not looking at anything but the floor in front of me.
Outside in the cool air I frantically looked for a snow pile against the wall of the building in which to sit in.
True story.
All I could think of as I sat there was the look of disdain on the face of Miss Clifford when I got back to my class. I well remember the shame I felt as I entered her doorway and yet she merely pointed to my desk at which I dutifully sat. Bottom still throbbing.
My first spanking at school but as you will see later, not my last.
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Up the creek without a paddle
My headmaster posted a blog about the perils of the wooden paddle recently so I thought I would give my two pence worth from the receivers view point.
Now I am by no means a seasoned bottom, in fact my experience is quite limited, and short....Damn it !
Any hoo, to the subject of paddles of the wooden variety.
They hurt like the devil himself is biting your arse. It's not just the sting that hurts, they have an impact that is much heavier than say a leather one.
Now leather is a different kettle of fish, not only do they smack louder, they smart less and don't seem to bruise as easily.
What is a kettle of fish anyway ?
And leather straps are even better. Oh for a dose of the army belt again.....
How I miss it....That long strip of sting across both cheeks at once...Oooo. Awesome.
Of course I was very lucky, the headmaster is an expert at bringing your threshold higher gradually. He would always start with an O.T.K. spanking, sometimes over pants, sometimes straight on the bare, if I was lucky. Mind you, I always enjoyed it when my pants were pulled aside one side at a time to receive the sting of his hand. But then sometimes he would travel south to my thighs which I didn't enjoy quite as much. Made me squirm in fact.
I have a stubborn streak in me that won't allow myself to move out of position once put there by the headmaster. And yet I can remember two occasions where I was on the verge of doing just that.
One was the first time I got the dragon cane across my bare bottom. I was contemplating one of two courses of action. Either plead for him to stop or to stand up from bending over the table top. In the end ( pun intended ) I did neither and learned to trust his judgement. He never did me wrong.
The second time was when he introduced me to 'old vic'. An innocent looking wooden hairbrush that very likely was used to straighten Lady Hamiltons' or even Cleopatras' hair.
Needless to say it certainly straightened me out all right.Christ.
The choices in my head this time were either plead or cry. Although I did present a moving target for most of this paddle spanking I didn't actually move off his lap. Got very close to tears though. Again his judgement came to my rescue..Pheew.
So, to summarize, I am definitely NOT a fan of wooden paddles. They should all be left up the creek in my opinion.
Give me leather ones any day, Any day now please, anyone ?
Now I am by no means a seasoned bottom, in fact my experience is quite limited, and short....Damn it !
Any hoo, to the subject of paddles of the wooden variety.
They hurt like the devil himself is biting your arse. It's not just the sting that hurts, they have an impact that is much heavier than say a leather one.
Now leather is a different kettle of fish, not only do they smack louder, they smart less and don't seem to bruise as easily.
What is a kettle of fish anyway ?
And leather straps are even better. Oh for a dose of the army belt again.....
How I miss it....That long strip of sting across both cheeks at once...Oooo. Awesome.
Of course I was very lucky, the headmaster is an expert at bringing your threshold higher gradually. He would always start with an O.T.K. spanking, sometimes over pants, sometimes straight on the bare, if I was lucky. Mind you, I always enjoyed it when my pants were pulled aside one side at a time to receive the sting of his hand. But then sometimes he would travel south to my thighs which I didn't enjoy quite as much. Made me squirm in fact.
I have a stubborn streak in me that won't allow myself to move out of position once put there by the headmaster. And yet I can remember two occasions where I was on the verge of doing just that.
One was the first time I got the dragon cane across my bare bottom. I was contemplating one of two courses of action. Either plead for him to stop or to stand up from bending over the table top. In the end ( pun intended ) I did neither and learned to trust his judgement. He never did me wrong.
The second time was when he introduced me to 'old vic'. An innocent looking wooden hairbrush that very likely was used to straighten Lady Hamiltons' or even Cleopatras' hair.
Needless to say it certainly straightened me out all right.Christ.
The choices in my head this time were either plead or cry. Although I did present a moving target for most of this paddle spanking I didn't actually move off his lap. Got very close to tears though. Again his judgement came to my rescue..Pheew.
So, to summarize, I am definitely NOT a fan of wooden paddles. They should all be left up the creek in my opinion.
Give me leather ones any day, Any day now please, anyone ?
Monday, 22 October 2012
TAWSE FOR THOUGHT ( a fantasy)
Lined up in two rows I could just make out from the back a very smartly attired girl facing us. She dressed no differently to the rest of the girls in the queue except she had a shiny badge on her lapel. The word 'Prefect' written diagonally across it and a self confident look on her face made everyone, including myself, shuffle their feet and look anywhere except at her directly.
Uniform inspections always make me nervous anyway but as I had not yet got my new one I stuck out like a sore thumb.
Surely if your thumb is sore you'd keep it tucked in.
Anyway, the procession moved forward until only yours truely was left facing the dragon of st. justens.
Looking me up and down she did a circuit around me then made me jump with, 'WHAT do you call those',
Pointing down at my feet I surmised that she meant my shoes. 'They're clarks miss' I blurted out', then regaining a little more composure I added, 'he wants them back tomorrow'.
I couldn't rid the smirk from my face even as we neared the headmasters' study. It had been worth it just to see her speechless for a few seconds and the look of a cartoon kettle about to burst.
All I could make out from outside the door was a low mumble until, 'Gary, get in here!' was bellowed from within. That's when the swallowed a brick feeling appeared in my stomach and as I entered the dreaded room dragon brushed past me with more than a hint of a smile on her face.
Bitch, I thought as she closed the door behind me.
A good clue as to what you're going to get is if the headmaster is sitting at his desk or standing by the window. You see all his canes are kept in a cupboard by the window but his slipper and strap are in the drawer of his desk.
The brick dissolved a little as he looked up at me from his chair, his fingers forming an inverted V shape under his chin as he rested his elbows on the desk.
I only heard the first line of his sentence, 'First day back at school and here you are again Gary'. Then his voice petered out as my mind played a guessing game of, strap or slipper?, pants or bare?, six or twelve?
'Get your shorts down boy and get yourself over my desk'.
He had my full attention again.
My face not one foot from the far side of his desk, it was a relief to see his hand reach into a drawer until that is, it withdrew a brown leather strap about two foot in length that was split into three at one end. Holy crap! a tawse! Never had this before, I thought. The brick inside me now made of lead as I felt my pants being pulled down to just below my exposed bottom.
'You will count all six boy' he said, 'and thank me for each one'. Ah well, six, won't be too bad.....will it?
I never heard it coming, no sound, no swish, just a loud 'SSMACK'.
Holy mother of god that stings. Ow ow it won't subside.
'One sir' I managed after the breath I'd been holding was finally released.. 'Thank you sir' brought a second crack from behind me and a burst of scolding pain tracked across both cheeks. Only the pain intensified afterwards on my right cheek at the very end of the tawses' strike.
There used to be an advert for orange drink that said, 'You know when you've been tango'd'
Well, you know when you've been tawsed. By god it lingers. The fingers of it must fan out as it comes down then strikes your bum at near sound barrier speed.
Just after number three had been counted the remnants of the brick in my stomach must have tried to escape up my throat because as I blurted out thank you sir my voice croaked. The lump grew to a blockage as number four landed.
I couldn't help myself, an involuntary yelp shot out and as I opened my eyes again they were suddenly moistened with tears.
The blockage burst on number fives' arrival and a sound like a castrated wolf on a moonlit night filled the room. Probably filled the whole school block infact.
Six couldn't come soon enough for me then and I wanted only to rush to the boys toilets to try and dowse these flames on my arse.
As I pulled my shorts back up I hoped and prayed that dragon wasn't gloating outside the door, waiting to greet me.
Blame my I.D.
Gary.
Uniform inspections always make me nervous anyway but as I had not yet got my new one I stuck out like a sore thumb.
Surely if your thumb is sore you'd keep it tucked in.
Anyway, the procession moved forward until only yours truely was left facing the dragon of st. justens.
Looking me up and down she did a circuit around me then made me jump with, 'WHAT do you call those',
Pointing down at my feet I surmised that she meant my shoes. 'They're clarks miss' I blurted out', then regaining a little more composure I added, 'he wants them back tomorrow'.
I couldn't rid the smirk from my face even as we neared the headmasters' study. It had been worth it just to see her speechless for a few seconds and the look of a cartoon kettle about to burst.
All I could make out from outside the door was a low mumble until, 'Gary, get in here!' was bellowed from within. That's when the swallowed a brick feeling appeared in my stomach and as I entered the dreaded room dragon brushed past me with more than a hint of a smile on her face.
Bitch, I thought as she closed the door behind me.
A good clue as to what you're going to get is if the headmaster is sitting at his desk or standing by the window. You see all his canes are kept in a cupboard by the window but his slipper and strap are in the drawer of his desk.
The brick dissolved a little as he looked up at me from his chair, his fingers forming an inverted V shape under his chin as he rested his elbows on the desk.
I only heard the first line of his sentence, 'First day back at school and here you are again Gary'. Then his voice petered out as my mind played a guessing game of, strap or slipper?, pants or bare?, six or twelve?
'Get your shorts down boy and get yourself over my desk'.
He had my full attention again.
My face not one foot from the far side of his desk, it was a relief to see his hand reach into a drawer until that is, it withdrew a brown leather strap about two foot in length that was split into three at one end. Holy crap! a tawse! Never had this before, I thought. The brick inside me now made of lead as I felt my pants being pulled down to just below my exposed bottom.
'You will count all six boy' he said, 'and thank me for each one'. Ah well, six, won't be too bad.....will it?
I never heard it coming, no sound, no swish, just a loud 'SSMACK'.
Holy mother of god that stings. Ow ow it won't subside.
'One sir' I managed after the breath I'd been holding was finally released.. 'Thank you sir' brought a second crack from behind me and a burst of scolding pain tracked across both cheeks. Only the pain intensified afterwards on my right cheek at the very end of the tawses' strike.
There used to be an advert for orange drink that said, 'You know when you've been tango'd'
Well, you know when you've been tawsed. By god it lingers. The fingers of it must fan out as it comes down then strikes your bum at near sound barrier speed.
Just after number three had been counted the remnants of the brick in my stomach must have tried to escape up my throat because as I blurted out thank you sir my voice croaked. The lump grew to a blockage as number four landed.
I couldn't help myself, an involuntary yelp shot out and as I opened my eyes again they were suddenly moistened with tears.
The blockage burst on number fives' arrival and a sound like a castrated wolf on a moonlit night filled the room. Probably filled the whole school block infact.
Six couldn't come soon enough for me then and I wanted only to rush to the boys toilets to try and dowse these flames on my arse.
As I pulled my shorts back up I hoped and prayed that dragon wasn't gloating outside the door, waiting to greet me.
Blame my I.D.
Gary.
Monday, 15 October 2012
My Happy Place...A continuation of the story.
'Intriguing answer' said the headmaster, 'well then, you'd better come here and bend over then boy'.
My mind was still in shock from my previous answer and so I dutifully obeyed and took up the position, resting my hands on the far side of his desk and trying my best to stick my bottom out but keeping a straight back. See, Told you it was difficult!
Now there are three views that I have whilst in this position, my feet, the floor or the close up of his school desk top. But this time I could just make out the left side of the headmaster in my peripheral vision as well. Then something else briefly came into view. The long swish of rattan cutting the air at speed was replaced by a loud CRACK. Something akin to a dart impacted my right flank and two words burst in my head, F...... HELL. Fortunately those words didn't escape and were replaced by 'one sir' etc. etc.
Even though my bottom was still clad and so protected to a small degree I had not till now experienced such pain. Why on earth do I take notice of my ID?
The brief glimpses I was getting out of my left side vision only now registered in my befuddled brain.
Cane tip. I was seeing the cane tip on the top of the full swing.
I wonder if the H.M. plays golf ? He'd be quite a long hitter if he di....CRACK Ouch!!! Bugger that hurts!
Now I am not particularly brave or stupid for that matter, So, after no: 12 was counted and thanked for I stayed still and waited.
The room lit up by a camera flash and I knew that my headmaster was making a record of this naughty boys' predicament.
Quite innocently and probably naively I asked if he would 'like my shorts and pants down', you know, so he could photograph the results better.
'You know, I think I would', said the headmaster.
That done I repositioned myself and..
Oh no, he's along side me again. Surely not. That's not what I meant.
Cane tip comes into view then disappears.
A searing, intense pain burns into the right side of my buttock. I am unable to speak. I want to yell. To let it out. To burst. Tears are surely to follow and yet they don't come. Only this branded with a hot iron pain fills my brain.
I cannot remember if I counted all six. Cannot recall if I cursed out loud or not. I was only sure that there must be blood splats covering the floor and blood running down his now still cane.
But of course it was not.
Nor was my buttock in shreds as I had imagined it to be. I had survived. Despite my inner devils' best efforts
to destroy my seat it was still intact. And a warm inner glow took over me. That feeling inside that you get when equilibrium has returned to your world.
All is well.
'Would you like a coffee?' he smiled at me and there it was. I was back in my happy place again......
Something familiar popped out of my head and sat on my shoulder again. 'That gum you've been chewing' it said, 'you should put it on his cane when he leaves the room'.
I was so wrong, I am stupid.
Very, very stupid.
And very naughty...(nt).
My mind was still in shock from my previous answer and so I dutifully obeyed and took up the position, resting my hands on the far side of his desk and trying my best to stick my bottom out but keeping a straight back. See, Told you it was difficult!
Now there are three views that I have whilst in this position, my feet, the floor or the close up of his school desk top. But this time I could just make out the left side of the headmaster in my peripheral vision as well. Then something else briefly came into view. The long swish of rattan cutting the air at speed was replaced by a loud CRACK. Something akin to a dart impacted my right flank and two words burst in my head, F...... HELL. Fortunately those words didn't escape and were replaced by 'one sir' etc. etc.
Even though my bottom was still clad and so protected to a small degree I had not till now experienced such pain. Why on earth do I take notice of my ID?
The brief glimpses I was getting out of my left side vision only now registered in my befuddled brain.
Cane tip. I was seeing the cane tip on the top of the full swing.
I wonder if the H.M. plays golf ? He'd be quite a long hitter if he di....CRACK Ouch!!! Bugger that hurts!
Now I am not particularly brave or stupid for that matter, So, after no: 12 was counted and thanked for I stayed still and waited.
The room lit up by a camera flash and I knew that my headmaster was making a record of this naughty boys' predicament.
Quite innocently and probably naively I asked if he would 'like my shorts and pants down', you know, so he could photograph the results better.
'You know, I think I would', said the headmaster.
That done I repositioned myself and..
Oh no, he's along side me again. Surely not. That's not what I meant.
Cane tip comes into view then disappears.
A searing, intense pain burns into the right side of my buttock. I am unable to speak. I want to yell. To let it out. To burst. Tears are surely to follow and yet they don't come. Only this branded with a hot iron pain fills my brain.
I cannot remember if I counted all six. Cannot recall if I cursed out loud or not. I was only sure that there must be blood splats covering the floor and blood running down his now still cane.
But of course it was not.
Nor was my buttock in shreds as I had imagined it to be. I had survived. Despite my inner devils' best efforts
to destroy my seat it was still intact. And a warm inner glow took over me. That feeling inside that you get when equilibrium has returned to your world.
All is well.
'Would you like a coffee?' he smiled at me and there it was. I was back in my happy place again......
Something familiar popped out of my head and sat on my shoulder again. 'That gum you've been chewing' it said, 'you should put it on his cane when he leaves the room'.
I was so wrong, I am stupid.
Very, very stupid.
And very naughty...(nt).
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Inspiration from abroad
If only Punch was as pleased as I was to be once again draped over the headmasters' knee getting my cheeks warmed up by his firm hand.
Actually, I've always thought Punch must have been a top. Anyway, I digress.
I knew full well that my pants (that's underpants for our over the pond friends) would be pulled down very shortly but I hadn't banked on the sharp sting of his strop. Even though it was doubled up and so quite short in length the impact made my now bare bum burn with every stroke. He had clearly made up his mind to match my bottom to my suntan with this new implement.
I wonder just what Punch was so pleased about? He always had a red nose so I guess he drank a lot. Sorry.
It was a relief to be given a little corner time (see picture) even though I knew full well what came next.
The swish from behind me was all too familiar and his question need not have been asked. Assuming the position as best I could (I always get this wrong) he instructed me to 'straighten that back boy'.
I just had time to wonder if after my break abroad I would still find his cane as painful as ev..
Swish thwack. The two sounds very close together then a discernible pause before ..... O.M.G. That burn. That electric wire burn. Question answered, Bloody hell yes I doooo.
I can't speak for every one but I always find that the first four maybe five strokes are the most painful. After that my bum goes sort of numb a bit. Unless that is if he strikes the same place twice, Then it's a much longer lasting and somehow deeper burn sensation. Takes your breath away I can tell you.
Concentrate Gary, Don't lose count.....
All too soon it's 'twelve sir, thank you sir, thank you for my punishment.'
Having dressed and standing before him he asked 'do you feel suitably punished boy?'
Inner devil popped out of my head, sat on my shoulder and then some damn fool said 'actually sir, no sir, I don't.' Shit! Who said that?
To be continued....
Why the title I hear you ask,
If it hadn't been for Hermione and Bonnie this blog would have ended.
To kindred spirits, many thanks.
Gary.
Actually, I've always thought Punch must have been a top. Anyway, I digress.
I knew full well that my pants (that's underpants for our over the pond friends) would be pulled down very shortly but I hadn't banked on the sharp sting of his strop. Even though it was doubled up and so quite short in length the impact made my now bare bum burn with every stroke. He had clearly made up his mind to match my bottom to my suntan with this new implement.
I wonder just what Punch was so pleased about? He always had a red nose so I guess he drank a lot. Sorry.
It was a relief to be given a little corner time (see picture) even though I knew full well what came next.
The swish from behind me was all too familiar and his question need not have been asked. Assuming the position as best I could (I always get this wrong) he instructed me to 'straighten that back boy'.
I just had time to wonder if after my break abroad I would still find his cane as painful as ev..
Swish thwack. The two sounds very close together then a discernible pause before ..... O.M.G. That burn. That electric wire burn. Question answered, Bloody hell yes I doooo.
I can't speak for every one but I always find that the first four maybe five strokes are the most painful. After that my bum goes sort of numb a bit. Unless that is if he strikes the same place twice, Then it's a much longer lasting and somehow deeper burn sensation. Takes your breath away I can tell you.
Concentrate Gary, Don't lose count.....
All too soon it's 'twelve sir, thank you sir, thank you for my punishment.'
Having dressed and standing before him he asked 'do you feel suitably punished boy?'
Inner devil popped out of my head, sat on my shoulder and then some damn fool said 'actually sir, no sir, I don't.' Shit! Who said that?
To be continued....
Why the title I hear you ask,
If it hadn't been for Hermione and Bonnie this blog would have ended.
To kindred spirits, many thanks.
Gary.
Thursday, 4 October 2012
Human emotions
Fascinating isn't it ? There I was sitting at my breakfast table with tears
streaming down my face. The coffee I had made in front of me was untouched, unable
to take one sip.
After all the hard spankings and slipperings, belts and very hard ( on occasions )
canings that my headmaster gave me I never shed a single tear. Although he did
get bloody close with 'old vic' once or twice. And yet just one kind reply from
Hermione, a person I do not know and lives in a completely different country,
got to me.
I quess we are all vunerable at some time no matter how old we are.
Many thanks Hermione.
xx
Choices in life.
Having been without my mentor, the headmaster, for seven weeks now I am champing at the bit and desperate for a good spanking. The need inside me is like a hollow ache that only leaves when I sleep. Even then dreams taunt me.
Just when I was on the threshold of a wonderful and exciting new world my door got slammed in my face. And it hurt. Hurt much more than any of the canings I got from the
H/M. Oh those memories.
But life throws up many problems and mine was to have to choose between two paths.
The love and respect of my wife and family is the one that won.
But still that ache won't go away.........
Thursday, 2 August 2012
Lightning at the headmasters study
spankingbloggersnetwork.blogspot.co.uk They say that lightning never strikes twice in the same place, but I'm not so sure now. The headmasters cane strokes certainly do and boy do they make you wince.
But, whilst I was being given a very hard spanking over sirs' knee,
I was reminded of just how hard his hand can be,
At one point it felt like he was using a slipper on me. Heh, how's that for poetry.
Then suddenly there was a flash and I thought lightning had struck, but when I tried to sneak a peak the headmaster rained down some quick successive smacks and told me to 'face the carpet, boy.'
A few minutes later a second flash and by the burning sensation on my bottom I deduced that a strange phenomenon had occured. A double strike.
Later of course I had more to face, a new paddle, a very familiar paddle, the strap and of course the cane. But I can't help feeling that something new had happened. I can't quite put my finger on it or sit down for that matter, but, ????
Full of surprises is my headmaster.
But, whilst I was being given a very hard spanking over sirs' knee,
I was reminded of just how hard his hand can be,
At one point it felt like he was using a slipper on me. Heh, how's that for poetry.
Then suddenly there was a flash and I thought lightning had struck, but when I tried to sneak a peak the headmaster rained down some quick successive smacks and told me to 'face the carpet, boy.'
A few minutes later a second flash and by the burning sensation on my bottom I deduced that a strange phenomenon had occured. A double strike.
Later of course I had more to face, a new paddle, a very familiar paddle, the strap and of course the cane. But I can't help feeling that something new had happened. I can't quite put my finger on it or sit down for that matter, but, ????
Full of surprises is my headmaster.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)