Firm Traditional Discipline

by Mike Ward

It does a boy good to have to be kept in shorts until he leaves school!

I'm sitting at the desk. I have to write a three thousand-word essay in my very best handwriting. The topic that I have been set is this: "Firm traditional discipline, with the regular and frequent application of corporal punishment, would have made a better man of me".

The pen in my hand is of a type that I have seen but never actually used before. It is wooden with a metal nib and has to be dipped in an inkpot frequently. The prep school I joined as a seven year old in 1973 had some ancient desks in some classrooms. These were only used by the older boys and they used pens like these, dipping them into inkpots that were built into the desks and had little brass sliding covers. But by the time I was an older boy the pen had been replaced by the biro and I'm not so sure that our handwriting was any better for that change.

I'm struggling to use this pen without blotting everything in sight. It's going to take a very long time to write this essay but then, a very long time is what I've got. I was set this task by a gentleman who insisted on having me strip naked as soon as I arrived. We had hardly said hello, meeting for the very first time, but he wasn't going to have any delay. This long weekend would be on his terms, not mine. Once I had removed my clothes, standard casual wear for a guy in his mid to late thirties, he had taken the folded pile upstairs and put them away. When he came down he walked over to me and slapped the back of my legs several times before ordering me to put my hands on top of my head and stand facing into a corner. I heard him going through my weekend bag and imagined him taking each item out for inspection, checking that I had brought the clothes that he had listed in the emails which preceded this visit.

I pictured him lifting out my special clothes one by one. First there would be the two grey school shirts from the JL department store. Neatly ironed and folded and placed on top to avoid creasing. Then the two pairs of grey short trousers. One pair made by David Luke, lined in white cotton, and offering a generous inside leg of over six inches, the second pair lined in white nylon and offering no more than an inch of inside leg. These extra short school shorts were brand new having been bought to meet this gentleman's requirement that I should bring a suitable pair of juvenile punishment shorts. After the shirts and shorts he would have extracted three pairs of white cotton trunks and two pairs of white briefs, all bearing the tags which proclaimed that they were of a size suitable for boys, age 15 - 16. These would have been followed by: two white vests, three pairs of plain grey kneesocks, two pairs of kneesocks with navy turnover tops, one pair of shortie pyjamas (extra short shorts), two school ties, one navy jumper, and one pair of garters with navy flashes. My sponge-bag would have come out last along with a pair of brown leather sandals. My black shoes were still on the floor, I was wearing them when I arrived.

There was some movement, and then I heard him going up the stairs again. I presumed that he was putting my special wardrobe away in a bedroom. As he came down again I felt the muscles in my stomach tighten and a tingling ran down my spine.

I know this feeling well. It's always the same. After the email exchanges and the telephone calls and the arranging of appointments it always comes to this. That I have actually turned up. I am really going to be spanked and caned. I will feel pain, a lot of it. I will have to do as I am told even if I don't want to. I have given up all control and I must submit, accept that I am no longer an adult. I have become a boy again, and this man is my teacher, my tutor, my uncle, my Daddy. He will decide. He will tell me what to do. I will obey.

But right now as he is coming down the stairs I am thinking, "why am I doing this? Why don't I just turn around and tell him that it's all been a terrible mistake, that I am sorry for wasting his time, that I have to leave right now?" But I know that having come here I will submit. I will obey until the time that we have agreed would be the time for me to change back into those adult clothes and leave. In this case that is a long way away. It's Friday afternoon and I have agreed to stay until Tuesday evening. It's a ridiculously long time for a first encounter with another man.

There is the possibility that this will not turn out well, there is real danger. So I shudder but I will be an obedient boy. I will take my punishment. I will bend over and ask to be thrashed. I will do whatever chores I am given. I will undertake whatever schoolwork I am set. I will try to be a good boy even though I know that, no matter how good and well-behaved I may be, I will be punished. And yes, if I am ordered, I will kneel before this gentleman and take his manly cock into my mouth and suck for all I am worth. I want to please this total stranger and I will go through with it.