John Andrews
(SM Boy Writers)

A Willing Boy's First Whipping

Chapter One

I loved my work because I had always loved young boys. I would watch them develop from eight year old innocents until at around their twelfth birthday they would suddenly become infinitely desirable. Not only that, but their hormones had started working and made many of them incredibly and intensely sexually aware.

At the end of the summer term it came about that three of the boys had no parents coming home from abroad, and the head master asked me if I would stay on and look after these lads for a couple of weeks until the parents arrived. I would be paid extra of course and would only be expected to look after them by day, while the matron would stay on as housemother to see to their domestic needs. For me this meant a sort of camping holiday with the boys, doing all the sports together, and being the summer spending a lot of time around the school swimming pool.

So this story is about those boys, and I will deal with one particular boy first. Just twelve when the story starts. He was a boy that I had lusted after as I watched him in physical training gear. Thin white cotton shorts with nothing underneath as this was the school rule for gym lessons. Then, if it was warm I would have them strip to the waist and be barefoot for good measure. Best of all though was during swimming, when clad only in the tiny school briefs the school had adopted. These we told the parents were made so that they fitted any boy in that they were two little triangles tied across the hips with a bit of cord through some lacing eyes. As our oldest boys were thirteen we did not even have the fronts lined and as they were thin shiny material they did not leave a lot to the imagination when wet! The boys seemed to delight in wearing them brief with the sides bunched on each hip leaving all those folds in the front pouch area for the imagination to run riot.

Jon was physically perfect. Just forming his smooth young muscles and with velvety smooth skin. His tummy a perfect flat smooth surface around his neat little navel and when he climbed out of the pool his briefs would be so low on his tummy that his groin lines almost met above the top hem, literally only just above his penis. Piercing blue eyes, a tousled mop of fair hair, and the most gorgeous tan from a lot of time around the pool. I got an erection just looking at him!

But all of this is immaterial to the story! Because I had observed this boy, whose name I remember was Johnny, would often leave on his own and slip into the nearby woods which adjoined the sports field.. This left me, and the two other boys, playing alone on the field. After I had seen him do this on several occasions I decided that I must follow him quietly and see what he was up to. One day he was away a full hour and I decided that the next time would be my chance.

So greatly intrigued, and I have to say with mounting excitement because I suspected he was on some sort of sexual mission, I followed him around ten minutes after he had left the field. It was a hot summers day and I followed the tracks he had made through the knee high bracken. The track led directly, as I suspected it might, to an old wooden hut that in days gone by had been used for summer camping but was now abandoned. For all that it was in good condition and its single window had no broken glass and the door was solid and still well hung.

I approached slowly and quietly and went to the window to carefully look in only to find that the window had been deliberately blocked by what looked like an old blanket from inside. I crept along the side wall and finally found a small knot hole through which I could see most of the interior despite the holes small size.

I felt a surge of elation and my cock became rigid immediately. There in front of me in the centre of the shed, was Jon. He had stripped naked but for a tiny loin cloth which he appeared to have made himself from white cotton hankerchief material, with a cord between the legs and around the waist g-string style. The loin cloth was just forming a small loose pouch around his genitals and I could see his erection pushing the folds of cloth rigidly forward. But more that that, what really excited me was that he had strung himself up by his wrists to an overhead beam. Around each slender wrist was a thong of soft rope. He had clearly stood on a box to get his wrists into prepared slip loops and then kicked the box away, which now lay some distance from his feet. His toes were only just touching the ground. He was struggling to take some weight on his legs, and his body was squirming, writhing and contorting as he hung so nearly naked and utterly delectably before me. A sheen of sweat was beginning to cover his face although he can only have been there for a few minutes. His chest and tummy were shiny with his efforts as he struggled to ease some of the pain from his wrists, and get an arm free to loosen his bonds.

Quietly I rose, went to the door, and pushed on it. He had blocked something against it but with a good push I was in and stood before him with my hands on my hips. "Well well Jon, what do you think you are doing I asked."

"Oh sir, please sir, get me down. There were two men that set on me and tied me up like this. Please sir, let me down."

"Now then Jon, that will not do," I told him. "I know you tied yourself up like that, and I am going to take a few photos of you incase you ever deny it. I don't think you would like anyone to see the pictures, would you?" So saying I stood back and slipped my digital camera out of my pocket, taking photos from all angles of the writhing sweating twelve year old. I particularly liked the back view, completely naked but for the thin string running from between his legs to the string around his waist. His wonderful tan contrasting with his small white buttocks where his bikini swimmers had covered him. His back was a lovely concave curve above the string of his loin cloth as he struggled to gain some support from his toes and his shoulder blades were working too and fro under his velvety smooth tanned skin. I finished my photos and went back to face him.

"Now look Jon, just tell me what you are thinking and why you have tied yourself up like this." I reached forward and in a friendly gesture tousled the boys fair hair, then let my hands hold him just under his armpits while I looked into his anguished eyes. "Look boy, I promise you this is not all that unusual behaviour for a boy of your age so don't be embarrased. Let's talk about it and see what we can do for you."

"Yes sir, alright, I know I did it. It is only a game but I imagine that I am captured and tied up by cruel men who punish me, whipping me and torturing me."

"Yes Jon, I know that many boys have these fantasies but how far has your fantasy ever gone. Have you ever actually been whipped when you are tied like this."

"Well only very slightly sir, by James. He and I played tieing up and made a whip to try out, but only very gently. So I always imagine being whipped in front of the men who are holding me captive. I have always imagined myself strung up and taking the pain bravely. I have wondered what it would be like and it makes me excited even though it must hurt a lot."

At this point I let my hands gently slide down each side of his body to his hips, and then one hand to his rigid erection so beautifully outlined in his skimpy little loin cloth. He shuddered and pushed his straining body forward against my hand and then whispered the words "I never thought I would hear from a young boy."

"Please sir, do you think as I have been very naughty I should be whipped now. Sir, I think I deserve to be whipped."

"Oh yes Jon, I agree with you, but first, no one must ever know what has happened here and what you have done to yourself. I will give you a whipping right now so you know what it is like and if at any time you feel like more I will arrange for you to visit my house where I have a special room set up for men who have the same fantasies as you. You see, you will not be the first to be whipped in my dungeon!"

"Wow sir, can I really do that please?" came his reply.

I told him then that I thought maybe after I had dealt with him now, that he may not want to visit me, and with that, prepared to carry out the punishment that he so clearly wanted.

"I am going to whip you with my doubled belt, six lashes across that little white backside of yours," I told him.

I stood in front of him with mounting excitement as I slowly undid my shirt and pulled it off over my head. "That will give me more freedom to swing my arms," I told him. "Also, I think, so you are held a little tighter that your legs need spreading a bit to a true spreadeagle," and I picked up a short length of discarded old timber from one end of the shed. "I need some more cord," I told the boy who was watching my every move.

"Sir, in that haversack with my clothes there is some more cord," said this delightful boy. I went to his pack and unzipped the top to find inside a collection of cords from which I chose a couple of lengths. Going onto my knees before Jon, I tied one ankle firmly to one end of the wood. "Right boy, spread those legs," I told him. He was already on his toes so this had the effect of virtually hanging him from his wrists. As he struggled so his wrist rope loops stretched a bit more and he finished up with just his tip toes giving a tiny bit of support. His lithe young body was now stretched tight, tummy pulled in tight and that delicious sheen of sweat across his chest.

"Are you going to strip off my g-string?" he asked me.

"No Jon, I like the look of you as you are. I can see your excitement easily enough," and I gently felt his erection where it stuck rigidly out into the folds of the thin cotton material of his home made loin cloth. He pushed his body against my hand again as best he could in his suspended state so I felt his little shaft for a few moments, stroking it up and down until he was obviously getting ready to orgasm. Just before he climaxed I realised that now he was ready for his ordeal to come.

He watched me then as I removed my belt, double it in my hand and swished it through the air. My trousers were now loose around my waist, so I told Jon that I had better take them off. My sandals followed and I now stood wearing only my thong briefs that I always wore for hiding my often excited erections from the boys, while giving that nice bare bottom sexy feel. I went to one side of the boy, and enjoyed watching his expression as his head swung to watch me.

I did not spare him and landed the first hard lash across his white buttocks and got a small gasp in response. I landed the second lash just below the first and enjoyed watching his body jerking in his bonds. Three, four, five and now the boy was crying gently.

"One more Jon, are you ready?"

"Yes sir, please sir," and I swung the hardest blow low across his now red striped bottom. I dropped the belt, went to stand in front of him and gently ruffled his hair, pulling his head against my chest and pressing my body against his until I could feel his erection pushing against mine. We stood like that for about a minute as I ran my hands gently up and down his smooth young back before he surprised me again.

He pulled his head back from my chest, and looking at me with those lovely clear blue eyes, his face now stained with tears, this beautiful angelic boy asked for more! "Please sir, I think I deserve more than six for being so naughty. Sir, in the bottom of that bag is the home made whip I mentioned that James and I made to try on each other but he could not come today which is why I am alone."

Reluctantly I let go of the boy and went to the bag and sure enough, in the bottom was a short length of broom handle with nine leather boot laces fastened to the base of it with pvc tape. The laces were just over a half metre [2 feet] long and made a wonderful whip. I ran them over my hand and then noticed that just three of the laces had been longer and were now knotted about every two centimetres [one inch]. I returned to stand in front of Jon holding the whip. He was still sweating and from his slight writhing it was obvious that his arms were giving him quite a bit of pain.

"Jon, these knots are going to really hurt you," I told him, "in fact, they could cut you."

"Sir, I deserve the punishment, please sir, please do it to me."

I stood away again to one side and hefted the whip in my hand, and the bound and helpless but willing boy watched my every move. His lovely naked body with just the string and cotton loin cloth was waiting for his own home made whip. I lashed it hard accross his buttocks and he cried out in shock. I gave him three more and stopped then went to stand in front of him again. Now I undid the knot of the string holding his only covering and his smooth hairless penis sprung out. I started to wank him then and he immediately climaxed, going rigid and giving a small high pitched cry as he hung before me. He slowly went soft in my hand and I assumed we had finished our little game

Then as I held his perspiring anguished young head against my chest again he looked up at me and said, "please give me the last six strokes please sir, I know I deserve it."

"Jon, that is too much," I told him but as my hand stroked down that smooth tummy to find his soft little penis I was amazed at what I found! It was no longer soft, but rapidly rising again obviously at the thought of yet another whipping to come. Such is the wonderful quick response of a pubescent boy! I ruffled his hair again, stroking his firm back and over his now red whealed buttocks. His little voice came again, "Sir, three on my back and three over my chest and tummy he whispered."

I stood back from him then, marvelling again at my new little masochistic boy. So I prepared to do his bidding. The first stroke was across his shoulders and he bucked and cried out. The second wrapped around his mid back and ribs and he gave an anguished cry, so the third was low around his waist to wrap viciously around his midriff. I watched as he writhed in pain, tugging at his wrist bonds and kicking up his bound splayed legs into the air so that he was for a moment fully suspended. Then it was time for his frontal whipping! The first, hard across his chest caused him to give a small scream of agony and a red stripe appeared as if by magic. I struck again, with no mercy around his midriff and watched the tails of the whip curl around his already sore back.

"Sir, please sir, that's enough," he called out as he writhed and struggled in pain.

"Oh no Jon, you asked for six and you have one more to come. No mercy from me when you have already asked for it." I leaned forward, another hair tousling, a gentle feel of his erection now twitching and hard and he was as ready as he ever would be. For good measure though, I stood in front of him and gently kissed his brow, then his lips to which he responded with some passion, while whimpering softly.

Again I took my stance, swung the whip and landed it across his midriff just above that straining penis. He cried out in agony as the red stripe rose across that smooth tanned skin, but it was over. He gasped, crying, writhing and filling me with desire to hold him. So brooking no argument, I released his legs, then his arms, and as he came free he flung his arms around my neck and hugged his naked body to me, pressing his rigid penis against my near to bursting thong. Then, dropping his hands to my thong he pushed it down and started to fondle and work my cock which responded almost immediately with spurt after spurt of cum over the tortured naked body of this wonderful boy.

I knew now that I was going to have some wonderful sessions with this youngster when I got him over to my house. Particularly, as he seemed to like the feeling of having his hands strung above his head. I imagined him bound by his wrists to my large wooden christian cross that was mounted in my basement. I had perfected this apparatus so that I would lift the victim up to balance on a tiny little platform on the centre post. He would then first have his wrists fastened with soft leather thongs, while he stood on a tiny platform.

Chapter Two

He squatted down beside me to chat for a couple of minutes. "Where would we do it," he asked, and then, leaning towards me, "and with what sort of whip?" he whispered, and, obviously getting excited at the prospect of coming to my house he stood up and was tenting out his skimpy little thin wet shiny yellow briefs as he stood deliberately in front of me, watching my face as I observed his erection. What a boy, what a find, and he was mine to enjoy!

"Jon, I want you to come over to my house after your supper tonight and I will show you my secret cellar dungeon." He grinned at me, and agreed at once. I told him to come around the back so not too many people would see him come to me, and the date was made.

"What about the other two boys," he asked, and then shyly told me that after all, James had helped him to make the whip and he and James had tried bondage and torture games as well. He also thought that the thirteen year old, Kevin, would enjoy it.

"Alright Jon, you will be able to bring James and maybe Kevin, if you are ok with me this time, but for your first visit to a proper dungeon you must come alone. Tell the others that you are coming over for extra maths tuition and then are being allowed to sleep over, and anyway, I am sure you have told them a bit of what goes on. I have fixed this with the matron so we will have all night. I can tell you now boy, that after your session with me in the dungeon, you will be tied spreadeagled and naked all night, and that is quite a turn on, often bringing on sexy dreams as every time you try to move you get restrained by your bonds."

Came Jon's favourite saying, "Wow sir!"

I could actually see the twitch of excitement in those skimpy little briefs as I admired yet again that firm flat smooth brown tummy and his whole, so near naked, tanned silky body. He gave me a final grin, ran from me and dived in to the water. Then a minute later emerged in front of me and looking quickly down at his briefs as he climbed out he gave them a crafty little push to lower the front for maximum effect on any watcher. What a boy!

That evening, after my supper, I watched from a window and saw him coming on his bike, swerving and doing wheelies in the wonderful carefree way of pubescent boys as he came for his night with me. He came around to the back door and I quickly opened it to get him inside. It was still a warm night and he wore only jeans, a white tee shirt and sandals with no socks and carried a small haversack presumably with his pyjamas which I knew he would not need! I guided him in with a hand behind his head and took him through to my inner sanctum where the blinds were drawn and soft lighting already on. I locked the door and sat down on my large settee.

"Let's get in the mood before I take you to the dungeon," I told him. "Take off your shirt and sandals Jon, then stand in front of me with your back to me, and with your hands behind you."

He complied immediately, peeling his shirt quickly over his head and kicking off his sandals. I took a length of cord from the back of the settee and telling him to cross his wrists I quickly bound and cinched them as he stood passively.

"Right," I said, "how does that feel?"

He took a few steps from me, his firm smooth tanned body rippling gently as he tested his bonds. "Wow sir, I could never get free from that," he said, grinning again.

"Right then, now come and stand in front of me, and facing me," I told him as I sat down on the settee. Again, complete obedience. I reached forward for the buckle on his belt and he looked down to watch my hands as I undid it, then slipped the zip down to drop his jeans around his ankles. With absolute delight I found that he had put on the loin cloth that I had first found him in when I caught him at self bondage in the wood. He was clearly erect, the folds of the white cotton hankerchief held rigidly forward with only the thin string holding the home made thin cotton pouch around his waist and then between his legs making him other than totally naked. I reached forward as he stood still before me and putting my hands behind him gently felt his delightful firm naked buttocks, and then, transferring to his front, feeling that hard boyish erection so excited and twitching in the loin cloth. I felt that I had to be careful not to get him to climax before I got him into the dungeon because then the pain would help him hold off until later. So I pulled him towards me to stand between my legs, smoothing down his superb body. It was clear that this willing young boy was enjoying himself as he nestled against me. I could wait no longer, I pushed him gently away and standing up, stripped off my own clothes to stand before him wearing only my favourite thong of thin soft black leather.

I put my hand behind his unruly mop of blond hair, and guided him to the door at one end of the room. Opening it, I already had the lights on, and he could see a flight of stone steps going down into the cellar region. My schoolhouse was old and this was one of my favourite places. Down we went, his small figure, hands bound tightly behind him and naked but for the loin cloth, was just in front of me. I heard his familiar gasp of surprise and excitement. "Wow sir," as he took in my prepared dungeon. Whips on the walls, whipping posts, chains hanging from the roof. It was very warm, and the soft lighting was all around the stone walls.

Laying flat on the floor in the centre of the room, lay the cross that was to be the main feature for the boy. It was made of thin stainless steel tubing, highly polished and the top of the upright was connected to an overhead beam by a rope tackle, while the base rested near a socket on the floor. At each end of the cross bar a length of chain was fastened. Jon looked it over and then turned to me.

"Sir, are you really going to tie me to the cross," he asked.

"Yes Jon, but only if you really want to go on with this. If you do, go and lie down on your back and spread yourself along the cross. But first let me untie your wrists so that you can lay your arms along the cross bar."

Again, excited compliance from the boy as I loosed his wrists and giving him a gentle pat of encouragement on his bare backside pushed him towards the waiting cross. I watched with delight as he lowered himself gently into position to lie flat on his back, his little loin cloth was made even briefer as his tummy became concave, his ribs stood out and his penis was straining to get out from the folds of thin cotton.

Having collected padded cuffs from my collection I went to kneel beside him and without being told he held each arm out in turn to have the cuff buckled tightly onto his wrists with the double thin straps of leather around the well padded cuffs with their soft sheepskin lining. From each cuff was a short thin chain with a clip at the end which, after telling him to stretch out each arm, I then clipped to the chains on the end of each cross beam. He was now immobile, arms spread. Next each ankle cuff, again well padded and finally clipped tightly together. From these I took a small length of chain which I passed under the main upright of the cross so that by pulling it up and hitching it over one of several projecting spurs on the back of the upright I could control the amount of bend in his legs. The only way that the boy could relieve the strain on his arms would be to push hard on his ankle bonds which in turn would give him a lot of pain as the chain behind the upright forced his ankles against the upright of the cross.

We were ready to start but first we had to agree the time that he would hang from the cross, and what penalties if he cried out for mercy and to be taken down! I knew just how much this was going to hurt him so I also knew that I would soon be whipping him for asking to come down!

I knelt beside my boy, now secured to the cross which was ready for hoisting upright for his ordeal. "Jon this is going to hurt you," I told him.

"Yes sir, I know," came the whispered response.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" I asked.

"Yes please sir, if you want to sir, and if you like doing it then I want you to do it."

"Alright Jon, this is the game. You will be hoisted upright and I want you to agree on twenty minutes suspended. You may ask to be taken down, but for every minute less than twenty you will then be given two lashes. So if you only manage five minutes you will then be transferred to the twin posts over there, you will be tied spreadeagled, naked, and I will whip you, half on your back and buttocks, half on your chest and tummy."

He gave a little smile, "wow sir," he whispered.

"Do you accept then I asked him."

"Yes please sir," came the answer.

"You realise that there is to be no way out. No namby pamby safe words. This is for real, man to boy," I told him. With that, I stood back and looked down at the bound, near naked, beautiful boy with mounting excitement, then went to the tackle that hoisted the cross and started pulling it up. As it rose more upright the weight came on Jon's arms and his body gradually slumped forward as his legs bent and were pulled tight to the upright. When fully up I guided the base of the cross into the socket and let it fall in. Now the boy's struggles began in earnest. At first he simply writhed and pushed on his legs to try and relieve his arms, then when his legs hurt, his body started twisting and turning as he pulled uselessly at his wrist bonds.

After two minutes he was covered in a sheen of perspiration but what a sight he made. A willing boy accepting the pain of a rope crucifixion. Three minutes went by and he was moaning and started saying he could not bear much more. At four minutes I was admiring his body as he frantically heaved and bucked with sweat running in little rivers down his smooth chest to be absorbed by his thin cotton loin cloth, which was still rigidly held out by his erection. At five minutes he appeared to be getting used to the pain and hung there, sweating but hanging still, except for his tummy which was sucking in and out as he gasped for breath. But as I watched, fascinated by this incredibly erotic sight of the young boy willingly accepting the pain, the pain obviously kicked in again at eight minutes and he started a convulsive writhing, finally crying out that he could not stand it much longer. I watched two minutes of this, and then he gave an anguished cry for release.

I pulled the cross out of its socket and lowered the now sobbing boy to the ground where he squirmed on his back still tied in position. I soon undid the clips on the chains on his cuffs though, and as I helped him to his feet he flung his arms around me, burying his sweating head on my chest and sobbing. But between sobs I could hear him muttering, "alright sir, but now I will have to be whipped!"

"You have had enough now Jon. I am going to tie you down as I promised for the night and will whip you in the morning. You will be able to think about it whenever you wake up which will be fairly often in your spreadeagled position. Come upstairs with me, but first take a shower. Then come to me in the bedroom. No loincloth, you will be naked all night."

The sweating boy followed me up stairs and I gave him a towel and directed him into the shower.

Ten minutes later he emerged, naked as I had told him, and as usual fully aroused. I made him lie back on my king size bed where the cords were already in place with the cuffs fastened to the ends to hold him for the night. Willingly he stretched his arms over his head, and I buckled the leather cuffs onto his slim wrists again. Then pulling his legs apart I cuffed each ankle before going to each cord and tightening them back so that he was just firmly held in position.

"How is that young Jon?" I asked him.

"Sir, can I be stretched out tighter please so that I cannot really move much at all."

I could hardly believe it. Here was this beautiful young boy enjoying being tortured by me and he would be tightly spreadeagled on my bed all night, but who was I to argue! I pulled each smooth limb hard with the cords and bound them off for the night. Then, stripping off my thong to be naked, like my boy, I lay beside him and watched as he fell asleep.

In the early hours of the morning I awoke and looked at the boy beside me. He stirred in his sleep, pulled at his wrists, grunted gently and I watched as his penis gently rose from soft to hard as he found himself so helplessly tied down. So smooth, so absolutely gorgeous, and in an hour or two I knew I would be whipping him in my dungeon.

Chapter Three

I released his bonds, leaving the padded leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists as they would soon be in use again. I clipped his wrists together tightly behind his back to start getting him into his willing subservient mood. I told him to stand still in front of me while I tied his little loin cloth into place, the leather cord around his waist with the thin cotton pulled between his legs and up and over the front. I so enjoyed seeing him wearing this little outfit, so seductive and with the knowledge that soon, once he was secured, I could be stripping it off him again in the dungeon! He stood there with me admiring him. A twelve year old boy, naked but for his loin cloth, hands fastened behind his back, and above all, excitedly randy. I ruffled his hair, and putting my hand behind his head, guided him to the door that led to the cellar dungeon.

On entering the dungeon, which I kept softly lit and very warm, Jon walked straight over to the two posts set up ready for whipping victims. With the two posts and the victim spread between them I could whip any part of the body.

"Alright sir, now see what I can take from you," said this superb sexy little scamp. I unclipped Jon's wrists, and he willingly held his arms out to have them clipped to the waiting chains well above his head. A line from the base of each post I passed through the rings on his ankle straps and pulled his legs wide apart until he was standing on his tip toes. His body was now ideally tensioned. Chest puffed out, tummy sucked in with the strain. His lovely clean smooth limbs stretched to hold him steady.

"How do you feel Jon?" I asked him.

"I'm ready sir, but you can stretch me even tighter if you want to. I deserve this for being so weak when tied on the cross."

I reminded Jon that our usual rule was in force. Any pleading for mercy or going softer on the strokes would mean the doubling of any remaining punishment and him being tightly gagged to stop any protest. He grinned a nervous grin, and I knew we were ready to start. I had one other rule that I always observed, and that was that if any stroke resulted in breaking the skin, and blood showing, we immediately stopped and I had explained this to Jon. It was essential because I could make a boy scream and struggle without going too far and we both knew that the marks would have to fade before his schoolfriends saw him stripped in the showers.

I put down three selected whips on the bondage table alongside us. I hefted the lightest multi tailed lash, stroked it against the sweating boy and then hung it around his neck. I knelt before him, undid the tie of his loin cloth and his erection sprung proudly out, smooth, hairless, uncircumcised but so engorged that the purple head was half emerged from the protective foreskin. I stood up again, and peeled off my thong to be proudly naked in front of my willing naked boy.

My final act was to stand close to him, hug him to me, and kiss him. My hands caressed down the willing young body spreadeagled so helplessly. His firm butt tensioned by the way he was tied, his whole body already covered in a slight sheen of sweat due to the heat and humidity in the dungeon. He kissed me back and we stood for a couple of minutes like this, before he pulled his head away and said the magic words, "Please whip me now Sir, and please make me suffer."

I pulled the whip from around his neck, and after a couple of noisy swishes I landed the first stroke across his shoulders. He winced but was quiet. I laid on five more, working down his back and at the last one he gave a sort of squeal and his body jerked in his bonds.

"How do you feel Jon?" I asked him.

"Sir, you can go harder than that if you want to," came the delightful answer from this game youngster.

I picked up the middle whip with harder leather tails. "Right boy, you have asked for it," I told him, and I lashed it hard around his lower back. He screamed and the red wheals that immediately appeared were the hardest I could go without breaking his skin. I laid on another, and he screamed again, then two more and we were half way with his sentence of twenty lashes. He hung there, writhing, still rigidly erect and now with little rivulets of sweat running down his body and dripping off his cute little nose. His mop of fair hair was wet and tangled and the whole scene was so breathtakingly perfect that I could no longer contain myself and suddenly could not contain my orgasm as I watched the writhing youngster awaiting the rest of his whipping. I came to the most wonderful climax as we stood there, Jon watching in fascination as I shot loads of cum from my rigid body, before going to him, hugging him to me, and telling him to be strong for the second part of his ordeal.

I decided not to go for the heaviest whip as his back was now striped quite severely, so picking up the middle whip again I lashed it across his butt. He took that well but of course was used to having his butt caned and whipped at school. Four more on the butt as he wriggled delightfully for my pleasure, then I paused. "Five more to go Jon," I told him, "and you have taken it like a man. The next five will be on that chest and tummy of yours I told him."

Still holding the medium whip I stood to one side of him and landed the first of the five hard across that lovely flat, boy's tummy making the tails wrapping around his ribs and back. He screamed and bucked. I landed another across his chest, a higher note of scream and tears starting to stream down his face.

"Sir, please sir, Ow, ow ow, it's too much, please will you stop now."

I dropped the whip, stood in front of the sobbing boy and put my arms around him. "Jon, you know what you have just done, you know our agreement, and we have no way of stopping, and you have just turned your last three strokes into six."

"Oh sir, please sir, I did not know it would be this bad."

"Right Jon, that's it then, it is now the gag, and you have asked twice for mercy. Three became six, now six will become twelve and it is your fault, or maybe you little scamp, that is what you wanted anyway."

Taking a ball gag from a hook on the wall I pressed it against his mouth which he obediently opened. A tight strap and buckle around the back of the head, and one over the top, and all one could now hear was a mumble.

I really did not know if Jon had meant to double up on his punishment, so I decided to go reasonably easy on him. Six lashes on his front followed while the tears flowed, then a final six across his butt and the tops of his thighs then it was over and I was releasing my naked boy. The moment he was free he flung himself into my arms and we sat together in the large old soft leather chair that was there for any spectator present. I removed his ball gag, and my hand went to his straining penis. Four or five pumps and he came, hugging to me and squirting a small jet of boy cum over my now sweating naked body. His hand quickly found my cock and as he did so I came again also with jets of cum, shooting it all over the boy until we were both spent and simply lay in each others embrace in the old chair. I could not resist whispering to him a final question of this session.

"Jon, did you ask for mercy on purpose to get that extra whipping?"

The tear stained face gave me a quick grin. I heard his little voice then, "How did you guess that Sir? But wow Sir, wow, that was fantastic sir, thank you sir."

I hugged this delightful boy to me, my mind already starting to fantasise on the next escapade.

Chapter Four

I know you remember that I was also the school's Discipline Master. Individual teachers and masters didn't punish the boys at the school. I did. You remember the reasons given for this, don't you? It was meant to prevent unduly severe punishment being inflicted by a staff member in a fit of temper, and it guaranteed fair and standard discipline. I maintained a "catalogue" of appropriate punishments which gave consideration to a boy's age and size, to his record of recidivism, and to his general attitude. It was all nice and formal. And all mine. These were the only dealings I had with the boys. I didn't have the opportunity to know them otherwise. That's another reason I had the job. As the policy said, I could assess each case without consideration of a boy's academic or other achievements or failures, and without having favourites, or personal likes or dislikes. Well I wasn't supposed to have favourites, but I did see them around all the time, and I certainly did have favourites.

A discipline problem had to be brought to me. A detailed report had to be completed describing the offense and the circumstances. Then I would assess the report, discuss it with you and the boy, then I determined the appropriate punishment, and carried it out. Of course the punishment could be a loss of privileges, extra academic or physical work, or corporal punishement. Ah yes, corporal punishment! That was why I jealously protected my position, to administer corporal punishment on those beautiful young boys. They could also be suspended, or even expelled, if I recommended that to the Head Master, but I never did. Why would I send those trouble makers away, when I could look after them so well myself? The troublesome ones were my favourites. Oh yes, I found some of those older boys to be very attractive and I yearned to be with them, and to punish them. I took my responsibilities seriously. I reported only to the Head Master, you remember, and he always fully supported me. What a great job I had, and I had it all to myself. Until I met you.

I know you remember what happened, what I'm talking about. I've been reading your story. But I want you to know the story from my point of view. How I found you. How I felt when I found you. And how I felt that night in your cellar with that beautiful young Jon.

It was summer break. I usually stayed on campus during breaks with only one security guard. There were a few boys who had not been able to go home for the full break, so remained on campus. Whenever any boys remained, there had to be one master on duty. On this occasion it was you, Assistant Head Master, the young modern hotshot educator.

I remember that morning. My security guard reported to me informally that he had seen one of the boys, a senior, entering the AHM's house early the previous evening, but didn't see him come out again. I assured him there was nothing to worry about and I'd follow up on it. I wandered into the residence a few times that day, looking for the boy, but didn't see him.

In the afternoon the guard reported he still hadn't seen the boy come out, and couldn't see whether or not the boy's bike was still behind the house where he thought he had seen him leave it. I continued looking for him in the residence, knowing the guard would let me know if he saw him anywhere else. At curfew hour that night, if the boy wasn't in the residence, I would have to visit the AHM to determine if he was there. If he was, there was going to be trouble. Either I had been scared for the boy's safety unnecessarily, or that young pretty-boy AHM was fooling with my boys, cutting into my territory, and for that he'd pay. At the time I didn't know how you'd pay, but I'd worry about that later.

Shortly after curfew I went to find the security guard and was told the boy still hadn't been seen. I told him to go on about his rounds and I'd look after it. I went to your house and crept quietly around to the back and found a boy's bike. Then I knew where he was, and had a pretty good idea what was going on. Of course I didn't realise the extent of what was going on, or the depravity of it. That shock still awaited me.

I went to your front door and listened. I could hear nothing. I knocked. Waited. Nothing. Then I knocked again. And again. Still nothing, and no sound from within. Finally I took my keys from my pocket, found the one for your house, and unlocked the door. Then slowly, quietly, I pulled the door open, and crept inside. Still no sound. Your car was there in the driveway and the bike behind the house, so you had to be there. I walked softly into the hallway, down the hallway. Then I barely made out muffled sounds behind a heavy door. I assumed it led to the cellar. I vaguely heard a voice speaking softly, and someone else sobbing. I gingerly opened the heavy door which creaked. But the voice and sobbing, more distinct now, continued. I stepped down to the first step. Then the next. Slowly I crept down the stairs, while the sounds continued below me somewhere in the dark. About halfway down the staircase I could make out a door with dim light showing around it.

"They're in there", I thought. I moved more quickly to the bottom of the stairs and over to the door. I listened. It was your voice speaking, but too softly for me to make out the words. And there was definite sobbing. Not out-and-out crying or screaming, just soft sobbing, apparently from a boy, no doubt my missing boy. It was time to move.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. As the light from within hit me, your head spun around and you saw me. I'll never forget you kneeling on the floor with that ludicrous look of panic on your face. The boy was in front of you laying on some kind of bench, but didn't budge, though he did stop sobbing. Only after I moved into the room did I see that he was tied down to that bench and couldn't move. As I walked over to him, you began to rise, so I grabbed my cuffs from my pocket and snapped them quickly on your wrists behind you, and pushed you back down to your knees. You looked very vulnerable on your knees in a leather g-string.

You began to sputter. "I've been trying to help young Jon with some emotional problems he has," you explained lamely.

I told you, "you aren't authorised or qualified to help the boys with problems unless they're academic. We have the health services for emotional or health problems, and I look after discipline problems. From the looks of it, this is a discipline problem which you seem to be handling in a way I'd say is somewhat irregular. Do you usually provide your emotional counselling dressed in a g-string, and with your student tied down and wearing only a handkerchief loincloth?

"Well, we were just relaxing after our discussion," you said.

In reply to that nonsense, I swung my arm out wide and fast and brought my hand back sharply across your cheek. "I know damned well what you're doing, you pervert, so stop the bullshit! This poor boy doesn't deserve to be tortured and abused by you, and you're going to pay for what you've done to him to satisfy your filthy lust."

The boy's voice was so low and soft, but when he spoke out, it was like an explosion in the room. We both stared at him. "Please don't hurt him. Don't blame him. Its my fault. I begged him to do it to me. I made him do it. Please Sir, it's all my fault." Then he broke down in convulsive sobbing.

I certainly was shocked, and I believe you were too. You and I looked at each other. Then you told me what had been going on. How the young boy, Jon, had led you into the woods and posed in bondage. How you invited him home, and he willing, even begging, did what you suggested, and continually encouraged you. Throughout your story, the young boy was nodding and sobbing.

"Is that true, boy?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir, it's all true. I want it. I need it. I need older men to tie me up, imprison me, abuse me, use my body, beat me, make me hurt, make me cry. I need that so much. And I want to make them feel good. I'll do anything to make them feel good, and to encourage them to do the things I need them to do to me."

`Are there others here in school who do these things to… er… for you?" I asked.

"One of my classmates has done it, Sir, but he doesn't really know how, and he doesn't like it, so he doesn't want to do it again. Sir here, the Assistant Head, is the only one who has been able to make me happy. So far. Please understand Sir. Please."

I was puzzled. "What do you mean, so far?"

"Sir, you are in charge of discipline and punishment here. You must know how to make me feel good too. I've seen you around and wondered how I could get to meet you, and have you punish me. I was afraid I'd just get myself suspended or expelled if I started acting up too much. Can you help me too, now that I've met you?"

I simply stammered, unable to find or form words. So much raced through my mind. All the images and fantasies I'd had ever since I had come to the school. This boy seemed to embody them all. But this was dangerous. I could be ruined by this boy and this young schoolmaster.

I turned to you. "What about you? Do you have anything to say for yourself? You know what could happen to you, don't you? And you know it isn't young Jon who should be punished, it's you."

That's when you started to show the other side of you. You began to whimper. I don't know if I was more surprised or Jon was. "I know I have to be punished, Sir," you said, "and I hope you will carry out your responsibilities and punish me. Please, Sir. Punish me for what I've done, Sir. I deserve your most severe punishment, Sir."

Again my mind went numb. Young Jon recovered faster than I did. "Yes Sir, will you punish him and me both? Please Sir? I'll do whatever you ask if you will, Sir. Anything."

Now I admit at that moment I didn't know what to do. I tried to ignore what was happening in my trousers. I could feel myself getting erect at his words, and the situation before me. I looked down at young Jon, and for the first time I let my eyes run down his body. So beautiful, so smooth, so white, so tender and soft, the body of my fantasies, my dreams, and here it was ready to be taken, to be mine. I couldn't help noticing the motion inside that little handkerchief he was wearing. I could see the effect of his young penis pushing against his makeshift handkerchief loincloth covering. I was excited.

Then I looked back at you. A goodlooking young man at my complete mercy. I certainly could do what I wanted with you, or to you. I was accustomed to giving these boys at the school spankings and beatings, but you would be a new experience. And you looked vulnerable and desperate for a good beating from me. This might work, I thought. Just might. But I wanted to humiliate you completely for what you had done to one of my boys. For taking what should have been mine. Yes, you'd get a beating, and maybe more, if I could get this equally desperate young boy to cooperate. I decided I was ready now to live my fantasy.

"Okay little master, show me what you have here to help me." I started to wander around and you stood and joined me. You didn't speak, you merely led me around so I could see all the things you had on a big table, straps, canes, whips. I was impressed. I picked each up to get the feel of it in my hand. Then you showed me ropes, leather straps, hooks and clips and rings of steel. From your face I could see you were anticipating each as you pointed it out to me.

"You've used all these things on your boys, but never had them used on you, right?" You nodded. "You really want them used on you, don't you little master?" You nodded and your eyes teared a little. I was enjoying this already.

Then you led me away to where there was a steel cross frame standing against the wall. I didn't know how this figured in all of this, but somehow thought I might enjoy it. Surely young Jon could enlighten me. I looked over at him still laying there bound to the bench. "If I beat little master, will you help me?" He managed a little shrug of the shoulders. "If you help me, then I will be able to punish you too." Then his head nodded vigorously. Yes, I thought, this is really going to be good.

I walked over to young Jon. "Well, my boy, are you ready to help me?"

"Yes Sir."

I untied all the straps holding him down. "Were you on that cross?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I want to allow little master to be on it. Can you help me do that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You'll have to show me how to do this." I walked over to you and took you by the arm. You were so submissinve. I led you to where the cross was. "Come on Jon." He walked over and started to pull the cross to the floor. I helped him and we laid it on the floor.

"You must tie him to it", said Jon. I pushed you down to the ground, removed the cuffs and with Jon's help got you secured on the cross. Then Jon explained how the cross had to be lifted and placed in the holder. He helped me and although it was a struggle to get it upright and in the right spot to slip into the holder, we did it.

"What happened when you were up there, Jon?"

"He just let me stay up there until I couldn't stand it anymore. Then if it wasn't long enough he whipped me the next morning."

"I see. Maybe we can do it differently. We can beat him while he's up there, then leave him up there while I deal with you."

"Yes Sir, that's good."

"You realise he wants to be beaten the way you do, don't you Jon?"

"Yes Sir, I know how he feels, Sir."

I went over to the table and chose a long heavy leather whip, a single long thick thong with a comfortable handle. I walked back to you to show it to you. This is what I've chosen to use, little master. Then I went behind you and started. I raised the whip in the air, way out and up, then down on your back. Kraaak. Then I walked across to the other side and did it again, this time hitting your back from the other side. Kraaak. Then again and again, from one side to the other, until you had six hits on each side, and twelve red welts neatly lined up on your back, just neatly divided by the thin shiny metal upright of the cross. Jon just stood quietly, watching intently. Then I took the handle in both hands, and using the power of both my arms, I started applying the whip to your butt. The sound of the kraaak was louder and the welts were deeper. Again six on each side.

But I tired of the whip, so went back to the table and selected a long thick leather strap. After showing it to you, and enjoying your tears, I swung the strap high and wide in front of you and landed it on your chest. Whaaap. Then again, the other side. Whaaap. And two more on each side. Then another six on your stomach. I liked beating your stomach because I know it really hurts and I could never beat the boys on the front of their bodies. With you, there were no rules. Still Jon gazed mezmerised at what I was doing. Whaaap. Whaaap. Whaaap. Until there were a total twelve red stripes on the front of your body.

I returned the strap to the table, and walked over to sit on the bench and rest. Jon followed me and indicated he wanted to sit on my knee. I let him, and put my right arm around his soft warm shoulders, the left across his front, with my hand holding his waist. You were watching us from your cross, looking very uncomfortable hanging there.

Jon seemed apprehensive. "Are you all right Jon?" I asked.

"Yes Sir."

"Did you enjoy seeing little master getting beaten?"

"Yes Sir, but are you going to beat me like that?"

"No Jon, with you I'll do it differently. I want to hold you while I punish you. I'll do it over my knee, or with you laying down, always with my hand on you. Is that all right?"

"Oh yes Sir, that sounds really nice. Thank you, Sir."

"Now I just want to hold you while I rest a little."

I looked down at his little loincloth, which seemed to struggle to hold his erect penis. "Your penis seems to be always hard, Jon. You must really enjoy this."

"Yes Sir. Uh… Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to touch it?"

"If you like."

"Thank you Sir, I'd really like that."

I played with the handkerchief and undid the little knot of the loincloth from his hip, and let it fall to the floor. Then gently touched the smooth soft skin of his penis. It was already quite large for a twelve year old kid, and obviously would be a really good size in a couple of years. The foreskin was neat and not too long, not quite reaching the tip of the head. I fingered it and pulled back the skin. The head was pink and smooth and clean. I stroked it with my finger a few times then covered it again with the skin.

I looked up to see your intent gaze, and thought I saw jealousy in your eyes. "No doubt last night you were enjoying this boy, but tonight I'm the Master and you're just a worthless little slave. I'll enjoy the boy now, and let him enjoy you too, any way he wants."

"Jon, what would you like to do to him?"

"I don't know Sir. He was nice to me. I really like him, and you too Sir. I want to make you both happy."

"That's good Jon. But right now I want to start your punishment. I hope our audience can hold on there for a little while longer."

"Sir, it's very difficult to stay up there; it's uncomfortable and painful."

"Well, I think he needs a little more time. Let's go to the table and get something for me to start with." We walked over and I selected a wide studded leather paddle, showed it to Jon, then we returned to the bench. I was getting warm and starting to sweat, so I removed my trousers and shirt, and sat with only my white briefs on.

I told Jon to stand on my right side and then bend over my knees. I helped him, pushing him forward until his head and shoulders were extended beyond my left leg. Then I held him with my left arm across his body, my elbow bent, and my forearm under him with my hand flat on his stomach, low enough that the tip of his penis was just touching.

"I'm going to spank you now with the paddle Jon."

"Thank you Sir."

I raised the paddle and brought it down on his bottom. Smaaack. I could see, and you could see too, the spring of his cheeks as the paddle hit them and bounced. I repeated with the paddle a full six times, each time hitting a different spot on those beautiful bouncing cheeks. With my left hand I could feel his penis bounce too every time the paddle hit his bum. When I looked up at you I could see you staring enthralled at those pretty soft bouncing cheeks, with tears in your eyes. They were getting red. I laid down the paddle and ran my hand over his buttocks. They were hot, and the heat of them and the way they seemed to quiver under my touch, was exciting me tremendously. I could feel my dick pushing against the crotch of my briefs and Jon's stomach.

"Are you okay Jon?"

"Oh yes Sir. Thank you Sir."

"Do you think we should let our friend down from the cross now? Or would you like a few more with the paddle first?"

"He must be so uncomfortable there, Sir, but I'd really like more of the paddle please Sir."

"Very well then."

With that I moved my hand a couple of inches further down his stomach so I could encirle it around his penis. Now holding that rock hard warm boy dick in my left hand and the paddle in my right, I began again. I gave him six more hits, about the same locations as the first time. Then I surprised him with two more, these on his soft white thighs. The sting on the more sensitive thighs made his legs swing in the air each time. But he quickly settled them back down and apologised.

"Sorry Sir."

"That's okay Jon, you're being very good. I know the thighs hurt more."

"Yes Sir, but I really loved it there."

"Okay Jon, we'll get up now and see how the little master is doing."

We got to our feet and went over to you. I absent-mindedly wiped my left hand on my briefs. There was a little sticky liquid from the boy's penis, and I was thinking to myself that the kid could probably ejaculate already. Together we struggled with the cross until we were able to lower it to the floor, then looked down at you laying on the cross, still firmly bound, staring up at us.

"What do you think we should do with him, Jon?"

"Sir, I'd like to lay on top of him, if that's okay."

"Very well, Jon, you can lay on him and I'll get a strap and beat your bottom while you lay there."

"Oh Sir that sounds wonderful. Thank you, Sir."

I went over and got a small strap and returned as Jon was laying his body over you. He positioned his face over yours, then lay his soft smooth cheek down on your face. His penis was against your stomach. I knew you'd be happy when I began to strap him and his penis would start to bounce and poke into your stomach.

I knelt beside you and began with the strap. I held his head and began with his upper back and shoulders. High in the air, then down hard. Thwaaack. The strap laid six hits on his shoulders and upper back. Thwaaack. Thwaaack. Then six on his lower back. Thwaack. Each hit left a narrow pink stripe behind. Finally, my hand on his lower back, I delivered the strap six times to his already red bottom. As I did this, he bounced considerably. I wasn't sure how much it had to do with the pain and how much it had to do with the feeling he experienced rubbing his penis against your stomach. But I enjoyed watching his bouncing cheeks, so I wasn't about to complain.

"Okay Jon, get up."

"Already Sir? Sorry Sir, I shouldn't complain."

"That's okay. We aren't finished. I want to use the cane on you now Jon."

"Really Sir?"

"Yes. Come with me." I glanced at your stomach when Jon got off you and saw the little sticky wet spot I expected.

Jon and I went over to the table and I selected the thinnest cane. I swung it in the air and it was very flexible and made a great whoosh sound. "This is perfect. Would you like to lay on him while I cane you, Jon?"

"Oh yes Sir."

"Okay, but this time I want you to lay the opposite way, so your face is laying on his stomach. Now get over there and into position."

He got down and did what I had told him, and as I had expected, his penis landed in your face. The look on your face seemed to say you couldn't decide what to do with it. I didn't say anything but wondered whether you'd keep your mouth closed or make use of your tongue or lips. He covered your face entirely with his hips so to this day I don't know what, if anything, went on under there.

I got into position kneeling beside your head. I placed my hand firmly on his tailbone. Then I raised the cane in the air. Whooosh. Kraaak. It landed on his bottom, right over your face. I knew you'd like to see the thin red lines forming on his buttocks, but you'd have to be content with feeling the recoil of his body in your face with every hit. I continued caning his backside. Whooosh. Kraaak. Whooosh. Kraaack. He kept recoiling with each hit and then wriggling between hits. I didn't try to still him because I so enjoyed watching him move so much in pain. I decided I'd keep it up with the cane unitl he began to cry. Well, I still remember he took 13 hits with the cane before he began suddenly to bawl. I laid the cane down beside me and gently stroked his backside. Those cheeks were so red. Red from the paddling and the strapping, with the thin dark red lines of the cane on top. And they felt so hot.

I couldn't help myself from doing what I did next. I stood and removed my underwear, then swung one leg over your head and lay on top of him. My hard cock was nestled along the crack of his behind. I positioned my body so his face was against my chest. I was surprised when he opened his mouth and began to lick the hair on my chest. It felt so innocent and so nice. The heat of his burning buttocks under my hips was so beautiful, I can still feel it when I think about it now.

We all lay there for quite some time. Nobody was looking at a watch, so I can't say if it was a few minutes or an hour. Finally I knew I had to get up, and struggled to my feet, naked and hard. Come on Jon, time to get up. He reluctantly pulled his body off you and stood up. Finally I got to see his penis in the flaccid state. It was soft. At the tip there was a drop of sticky semen forming and I watched entranced as it enlarged and finally fell to the floor. He blushed as I watched, then we both looked down at your face, at the sticky mess on your chin and cheeks. I was thinking he must have ejaculated at least partly into your open mouth, but as I said, I don't really know what happened under there.

"I'm sorry I did that, Sir, it was very bad of me to do that on him."

"Don't worry, I don't think he's angry. He understands there are some things men just can't stop from happening. I'm surprised with you on top of him it didn't happen to him too."

"Really Sir? Can I do it for him? Can I touch him and make it happen? Please Sir? And then I can do it for you too Sir."

"If you'd like to, I think he'd appreciate it. Go ahead." He knelt down and began stroking your dick gently. You were hard and had been most of the night, so I didn't expect it to take him long. He obviously wasn't experienced, but he was a twelve year old boy and they all know how to masturbate.

I watched him, knowing I was going to get together with this kid again and do all the things I have dreamt about. But as he was masturbating you, doing it so attentively, I looked at your face and saw there a look of pleasure. You had been through so much that night, so much you hadn't planned on, but now you were happy. Then on an impulse I walked over to your head, stood over your face, and started to masturbate myself. Watching in turns your face and Jon's face as you and he shared your experience made me want to ejaculate too. So I continued to stroke myself, hard and fast. At the same time Jon was picking up the tempo.

Eventually I saw in your face that you were about to explode, and that made me ready too. Just as you cried out and your mouth fell open with ecstacy, I sent a heavy splash of semen into your face. It hit hard and was followed by a second smaller splash. I could see it all over your face, your forehead, your eyebrows, your nose, cheeks, lips, chin, slowly running down. I looked at Jon who was licking his fingers.

"Jon, you have to clean this off the little master's face. Come on boy, then you're finished." He slowly crawled up and licked my semen from your face. It gratified me to watch him. Such a good boy.

It was very late. I dressed to leave. I told you both that I'd see you both again. I knew too that I'd see that beautiful boy alone one time, someday. Then I turned and left you both laying there on the floor.

I'll never forget that night. But as you know there were more, weren't there? Maybe you'd like to talk about it some time?

The End