A Caning

CRAIG is the only man who punishes me whom I can say I don’t actually like!  I very much like what Craig does with me but I don’t like the person himself.  Now the BODY is another thing, for Craig is about 5’11" 170 lbs, athletic build and very very handsome with a square jaw and a really masculine face.  He is dark haired which he wears very neat, and is in every way the clean-cut young married lawyer that he is.  He’s about 35 years old.  He’s also an utterly  spoilt young man who, as the grandson and great grandson of solidly middle-class legal figures  was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has never had to worry for income or question what he would do in the world.  I imagine if he hadn’t walked into his family’s long-established law firm he might have struggled to make a living, but this not being the case he is wealthy and carries it all with an arrogance which I detest --- but he’s irresistibly sexy!  He’s also DEEPLY in the closet.  Though married and with two young daughters he is decidedly bisexual and certainly well into CP.

I met him via his answering an ad of mine but the whole process of PO boxes and subterfuges almost stopped me making the effort.  There was something about the covert nature of it all which fascinated me and as he came to realise I was more or less of the same "class" as him, so he opened up more.  Now I think if I stopped seeing him he would miss me more than I he, for being as closeted as he is it’s not easy for him to make contact with people he can trust.  Anyway, not liking the guy on a personal level doesn’t stop me enjoying his attentions.

Craig went to a very good British prep school [what we in the UK would call a "Public School" - but by this we mean very much a private, fee- paying school.]  where he was a boarder.  As such he knew the joys of traditional "public school" CP in the form of canings given out by teachers and senior boys.  Craig was caned as a boy by older boys and hated the pain but grew to love the fear, humiliation and sexual power of the situation and just as he was reaching the point in his schooling where he would have been able to give these beatings himself – the Government banned CP in all schools in this country!!  It wasn’t unexpected and brought Britain in to line with the rest of Europe, but it none the less was immediately the law and as such all school CP had to stop.  Like many teachers and doubtless many older boys, Craig was overnight deprived of giving what he had received, and the urge to do so never left him and had to be fulfilled privately in later life.  This is where we begin.

About three times a year I’ll get a telephone call: "Hello, Michael,  Craig XXXX here.  I think it’s time you called into the office to see me."  We arrange a date - the time is always late in the afternoon.  My pulse quickens but there is an element of fear too, for Craig canes only and very hard and authentically indeed.

On the arranged day I’ll bath and change in the afternoon and dress in an impeccable business suit, white shirt, conservative tie etc.  Like any client at this very up-scale law firm. Craig’s office is as pompous as you’d expect, wood panelling and so on and he sits behind a big desk - a desk I shall soon be bending over! We have a cup of tea and make small talk until his colleagues and secretaries have gone and Craig has said he’ll lock up.  It’s then I stop being a "client" and become an inky schoolboy being roundly told off by Head Boy, Craig!

I stand up and am duly accused of all sorts of negligence, carelessness and so on and all I do is hang my head and mutter "Yes, sir... sorry sir.."  It’s a great feeling but I grow fearful by the minute for I know that right at the back of Craig’s locked bookcase, behind those legal tomes hides a couple of rattan canes, three foot long, three-eighths  of an inch thick, very very flexible and capable of leaving my backside wealed.  And I know by how he’s going on that it’s not but minutes till these appear.  It’s about this stage that I almost wonder why I’m allowing this awful man to do this to me.  But then He’ll take off his coat, walk to the cupboard and get out the canes and as he flexes and bends them and prepares to beat me that I see a handsome sex-dog before me and know why  I’m there.

Still talking to me as if I was the lowest form of school-boy he’ll clear his desk. "Get over here!" he’ll bark pointing to the end of the desk with the cane.  "Bend right over - grip the other end..."

It’s a big desk and I have to stretch out my feet  are almost off the floor.  I can feel my trouser seat stretch tightly across my bottom.  "Tighter than that.  Get  your backside up, boy!"  I stretch another inch and feel the cloth of my suit pants tighten right up the crack of my butt.  "Now, stay down and don’t make a noise!"

A few more practice strokes through the air and then    Swooosh --  CRAACK!!  The first stroke lands.  If you’ve never had a classic British school-type caning, you’ll never know just how painful these first few strokes are.  "SWOOSSH – WHAPPPP!"   The sound is like a pistol shot and as everyone who has experiences it will tell you, there really is a split second before the hard cracking sound of the impact and the PAIN!! But what a pain when it comes.  You feel as if your bottom has been cut in two  And it goes on.  Three, four, five and SIX!   Jesus!  The pain is awful, but traditionally at six, there is a break.  Sometimes Craig will  just let me lie there, breathing deeply, other times he’ll make me stand up but I must NOT put my hands anywhere near my throbbing backside. 

There is more lecturing and then, just as the pain has subsides, the warmth is growing and so is my cock, I’ll either be told to get back into place again or, depending on how long he intends to make this stage of things I’ll be ordered to drop my trousers before bending over.

"Right, let’s see how you do NOW," Craig almost sneers as I stand with my trousers around my ankles.  I assume the same position, but this time my bottom is protected only by thin white cotton briefs!  As before, there’s pause, more lecturing, more practice strokes, and the finally when I feel so tense I could explode, "SWIISSH --- "WHAAAPP!!!"  The first of six more killing strokes.  [Have you ever noticed how thin the fabric of dress suit pants is but how MUCH more it hurts when you don’t have them on ?]   Six, even harder, delivered with relish by a strong, fit young man.  Where these strokes fall on the site of a previous one it’s almost unbearable, and Craig is bastard enough to aim for those places, or to give angled strokes that cut across several previous sites.  Wow, this is punishment – but I have to admit it is exciting.  I almost never get a hard-on during the caning itself for the pain takes up all my mind, but as soon as he stops, I feel my dick stiffen. 

I will have at least two lots of six across my briefs, sometimes more, but eventually, I will get to stand for a time and then be told to "get those underpants down .... now, get back across the desk."  I shove my shorts to join my trousers, all too aware of my shrivelled dick and get quickly over the desk.  Frankly, by now my behind is so numb that the pain isn’t as  great as at the beginning, but it still hurts and every now and again a stray stroke will land really low on my bottom, perhaps at the top of my thighs.  Then I yell fit to lift the roof and am duly lectured for my cowardice and a further six strokes will be awarded - at least one of which will, "accidentally" hit the same place.

No blood will be drawn.  No stroke will actually cut me but by the end of this session my backside will be wealed with broad stripes, each one a double stripe {what schoolboys traditionally called "tram lines"} and on the lower part of my bottom cheeks will be an area about two inches wide which is deep red or purple swollen flesh where most of the strokes have landed together.  This will take two weeks to go away and sometimes even longer.

"Now, what do you say ?"  Demands Craig.   "Thank you sir.  Thank you for giving me what I deserved."

"Show your appreciation, boy"   This is Craig telling me to get down on my knees in front of him which I gladly do.  I open the front of his flannel  trousers and  ease Craig’s stiff dick out through the fly of his boxer shorts.  Once in my mouth his dick stiffens entirely and I’ll usually then open and lower his pants entirely.  He has a cut dick which is a good 7" I’d say, and thick - it makes a real mouthful.  I also love to run my hands up his very muscular thighs which are covered in soft dark hair.  He loves having his balls licked and, of course, his dick sucked long and well.  But, "married man" that he is, I must never attempt to take his boxers down – that would be "queer stuff" (!) so instead I lick up his thighs and tongue his cock and balls and finally bring him off – though I don’t take his cum in my mouth.

After that it’s quickly clear up and then separate.  My sexual pleasure, as far as he sees it, is to serve him either by providing a bottom to cane or by gratifying his sex-needs.  He is, in his way, right and I adore both aspects of the business.  As I said at the  beginning of this account, I couldn’t like this arrogant young man  but sexually he drives me crazy.  He beats hard, but there is a sexual current flows through that cane from him to me and, frankly, I would suck the dick and balls of a sex-god like him any day of the week even without the CP which I enjoy and need.  I like being treated as the most awful schoolboy, almost beneath this "prefect’s" contempt, and Craig certainly knows how to make a "boy" know his place!