I am a normal heterosexual male. 6 foot, fairish hair. I love sex.
However, my first erotic experience was lying over my mother’s lap, as she gave my my bare bottom about fifteen hard strokes with her long-handled hairbrush. It hurt like hell.
Usually, Mummy was very loving. Some holiday, or weekend mornings, my twin sister and I would join her in bed, one each side. She’d suggest an outing, or some other treat. When she laughed, her breasts jiggled under her nightdress. I’d see dark glimpses of her pubic hair and once, I saw that it went right down, round her vulva. I wanted to touch, but didn’t even dare say what I’d seen. Mummy never beat my sister, who was just as naughty as me.
Because they signified true anger or distress, I feared Mummy’s spankings. But our bottoms are erogenous. We love them being stroked. Mild slaps enliven foreplay. And because I loved her, I associated my stinging buttocks with an erotic pleasure that I did not understand.
But I knew I wanted more. A friend’s mother was very hot on “bare spank bottom”. I wondered how could I tell her that my mother wanted her to discipline me if necessary, when I was on her premises. Of course I never solved that one.
At the little private school that my sister and I attended, discipline was firm. The headmaster caned the boys; the headmistress slippered the girls. One day I was sent to her after making too much noise in class. Since Sir was away, she would deal with me herself. “Take down your shorts and pants!” I did not hesitate. She was a large woman who seemed old, but was probably about forty. As she sat down, she hitched up her skirt, rather as men hitch up their trousers. I saw her large white thighs and when I went over her knee, I could feel them. She gave me twelve of the best and when I stood up, I had a little erection. I am circumcised, with a prominent penis head. She tweaked it between her thumb and forefinger. I felt something new and thrilling. “You’ll make a good husband one day. Now be off and don’t come back.”
Though I had no idea what she meant, I came back – often. And I had discovered the joys of masturbation.
Like most twins, we were pretty close and shared a bedroom until we were eight or nine. We played the usual childrens’ sex games – mothers & fathers – and one or two others, as well. I invented a game we could play with other children. It was called Cane Races and ideally, I would recruit an older girl. The rules were simple. The competitors would race across the lawn. The adjudicator who must be female - would sit on a stool in a tent, holding a cane. Whoever was last got six bare-bottom stroke s. If an older girl was adjudicating, I’d make sure I was last.
I introduced a number of children to this game and amazingly few of them were shocked, not even a very pretty grown-up, who was probably about fourteen. Punitive CP has always been paralleled by the recreational variety.
One day, Mummy told me that she was getting a cane of her own. She ordered it from ESA, the school supplier. It was called The Little Stinger – “suitable for female teachers in elementary schools”. Possibly fearing the ferocity of this instrument, she stayed her hand slightly, so it was a lot less painful, especially after the cold cream.
“Bend over, touch your toes.” A ritual school-type beating, up to a maximum of twelve strokes. Mummy was very aware of tradition. Was she beaten as a child? Quite probably, since she went to a convent.
Since then, I have enjoyed a lot of sex and some fulfilling adult relationships. But nothing has come close to the traditional, bare-bottom beatings I received until recently from my partner. According to her, my erection grew with every stroke of her cane.
Now that we are parted, I long for that fear, anticipation...the bending over to reveal everything to that intoxicating rhythm of Swish! Pause. Swish! Pause. Swish! “Are you sorry?” Swish! Swish! Long pause. Swish!
And then the waiting, while the Head Mistress decides how to deal with that unruly erection...
I need a damn good caning.