A different approach

As those of you have read my earlier posts will know, I was caned at school and the plimsoll (trainer) was used frequently  in the classroom. I never thought much about it. That's the way naughtiness was dealt with in those  days. Whether or not this type of punishment triggered my "spanko gene" I will never know, but I was on the receiving end of a caning quite a few times in my school career.

Whilst I am very much an F/M sort of spanko I do occasionaly venture into thoughts of being caned by a Headmaster figure. (see Sunday Spanklet - Preparation ) and I sometimes take a peek at the odd M/M spanking blog. I had some adolescent experiences with a male friend but these were mainly holding genitals and bumming to orgasm. Nothing along the lines of penetration and I can't recall any boyhood m/m spankings taking place.

There must be a small element of homosexuality somewhere inside of me because I do enjoy being dildo'd in the rear and my wife is aware that I would love to be taken by her with a strap-on.

The appealing thing about M/M spanking web sites is that the bottoms are always very attractive and the spankings are very red indeed. They are taken to a level of soreness and pain which I enjoy in my own punishments.




If I had a carte-blanche to visit disciplinarians then I would certainly include a Headmaster amongst them. This is not likely to happen as I cannot see myself coming home with a well whipped bottom and then explaining how it got there, so I will just have to continue to fantasize about visiting Dommes..

When, in my head, I do make a visit to a male spanker, I often include a female in the mental picture. She is either supervising the scene or participating as a spanked bottom.  I came across a South African couple advertising spanking vacations a few months ago. (They seem to have gone off-line now) Their videos and description provided hours of fantasy as she was the disciplinarian of him and he also offered to cane the house guest. Ah well - there may be a Sunday spanklet story somewhere in this scenario.

This post was triggered when I was browsing this weekend in spanking personal ads and discovered a retired Headmaster in the UK who would give thrashings for a token fee. He asked for the e mail to set out a scene that the visitor would like to enact. I have spent (wasted) some time setting this out in my mind.

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I would be summoned to the Masters house for breaking the rules and offered a punishment rather than expulsion from the school. He would describe in detail what was to happen and whilst I had my reservations I would accept a beating. I would be made to strip to my shorts and then left stood waiting in the corner of the study for half an hour, whilst he did some work at a large desk that was positioned in front of a large bay window. 

I would hear the chair scrape back and then the sound of different canes swishing through the air as the Master experimented with them before making his choice. Calling me over I would stand in front of the desk. Through the net curtains of the window I would see people passing by on the walkway, totally unaware of what was going on in the house.

 On his instruction I would slowly peel down my shorts until they fell to my ankles and then bend over the desk, resting my weight on my forearms which are placed  flat on the desk, palms down, fingers outstretched for balance. My erection would be clear to see with my penis stood out in front. 

From a small wooden box on the table he would take out ten  glass marbles and then place one under carefully under each finger and thumb. I would be told that if a glass marble escaped my grip and rolled away i would be awarded an extra stroke. In brief I had to remain perfectly still during the caning.

After placing the last marble the Masters hand runs back across the desk and lightly touches my stiff prick. He comments that it will be interesting to see how long it remains hard. I shiver with expectation and a sexual thrill.

The Master picks the cane up off the desk and steps to one side. He asks me if I wish to continue or if I would prefer expulsion. In a shaky voice I confirm that I want to be punished. The Master awards me 12 strokes and the tip of the cane rubs up my left leg and across my flank. I wince and concentrate my attention on the marbles under my fingers. I do not want any extras. 

After a long pause I see something rise into the air beside me and then with a crack the first stroke lands full across the centre of my bottom. I grunt and bend my knees forward and stare hard at my hands whilst the pain flashes through my body. It is exquisite but awful at the same time.

The strokes are applied with long pauses and each one is excruciating. I start to cry out softly. At the fourth stroke I jolt forward and a marble slips away from my little finger on the left hand. Not surprising because those fingers have the least grip. I watch as it rolls to the end of the desk and falls off the edge. Neither of us make any comment. 

I tense and the next stroke whips across my bottom, low down where the thighs meet the curve of the buttock. I move again and another marble trickles away from under my right hand. There is a longer pause, whilst the Master allows me to think of the extra stroke I have incurred and the caning continues. By the time the twelfth stroke lands three more marbles have escaped my fingers and dropped to the floor.

The Master places the cane on top of the desk. He tells me that he will leave the room now for ten minutes and I can exercise if I wish. He places a box of tissues in front of me. He reminds me that I should be in the corner when he returns and he will then give me the extra  strokes I have earned.

As the door closes behind him I stand up and gather up the remaining marbles including the ones from the floor. Carefully I place all 5 of them back in the wooden box. I know the conesquence and I am half excited, half concerned.

My bottom aches with the pain but my head buzzes with the pleasure of the endorphins whizzing through my brain.With one hand I rub my sore left cheek and my right hand gravitates to my cock and it springs to life. I stand there gazing at the cane and imaging my bottom bent over the desk with the rod whipping red lines across it. 

In only a few moments I have stiffened myself with rapid hand movements and then come in a spurting orgasm, which I manage to catch and cup in my left hand. My legs buckle and I am drained of energy in my muscles. I reach for the tissues and clean myself up, licking my palm and fingers clean and then placing the scrunched up paper in my jacket pocket. I leave no evidence of my pleasure but the Master will surely know.

I pick up my shorts and place them with my other clothes and then take my place in the corner to wait. The room suddenly feels chilly and I shiver. I no longer have that excited feeling which comes with an anticipated spanking or caning, just a dread in the pit of my stomach. 

On his return the Master summons me to stand in the middle of the study. He looks me up and down and I can see him consider my  shrunken appendage.  

From his experience, he says looking directly at me fully aware of what I had been up to in his absence, the next part of the proceedings will be painful, more painful than before. 

He orders me to bend and grab my ankles and spread my legs. He moves across to the cupboard and the rattle of bamboo tells me he is selecting a fresh cane. I hear him testing  it with swishing strokes and I clench my bottom in anticipation.

The five extra strokes will be delivered by the Dragon Cane he informs me. A cane which delivers a special message, he says, and one which I will not easily forget. 

Looking through my legs I see the end of the cane and his shoes. Then the tip of the cane runs up the back of one leg from ankle to bare bottom cheek and then up the other leg. I shiver with excitement. I want this caressing of bamboo to continue and yet I know it will not. Again he plays with me running the cane around my bottom and I reach out for the pain by arching my back and pushing my bottom further up into the air.

Suddenly he strikes and the sting of red hot pain is like no other. I yowl and lean forward. I don't think I can take this but I know that I yearn to fulfill my side of the bargain. I push my bottom up again, begging for the next stroke. .

The cane lands like a hot sweeping arc of fire four times more and I am left gasping for breath. A caning after ejaculation brings no thoughts of pleasure - it is just a beating of rattan on bare red skin.

He runs a cool hand over the weals on my bottom. 

I don't expect to see you in my study for some time to come, he says. I hope you have learned your lesson.

With trembling legs I put on my clothes and the Master, who is sitting at the desk once more, does not look up as I leave the room and close the door behind me.

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So that's who I am as regards M/M spanking. Any others of you out there who have a penchant for same sex spanking, but mainly do it hetrosexually?