Further education #3

**andymr13** · 06-06-2008, 12:55 AM

I wandered over to where Mr Lamont was seated. I was surprised that my legs were capable of any action as they felt heavy and like lead weights. I passed Donald who was making his way back to where I previously stood and was too shy to look him in the eye – he was rubbing his eyes with the back of his right hand while the other was gently rubbing his bottom in an effort to reduce the pain of the beating he had just endured. I re-assessed how small a bloke he was, little more than 5’ 4” and could only have weighed about 9 stone at most. He really was no match for a huge man like Mr Lamont.

I stood at the side of the chair – my stomach was doing cartwheels by this time and I could feel my face burning crimson with embarrassment. Mr Lamont looked at me and I was not sure if there was a trace of a smile on his lips. I think he was trying to put on a calm but reassuring appearance, trying to make this whole event appear as natural and unsurprising as possible. To him, it was no more an unusual occurrence than reading a book or listening to the radio. I stopped a couple of feet away from him and waited.

“There’s no point in standing there my lad,” he said with a slight laugh in his voice “you’re half way across the room. Stand closer, don’t dilly-dally or we’ll be here all night, let’s get this over with without any fussing”. As he said this he grabbed hold of my left arm and pulled me closer to his side. He was right, I must have stopped about 4 feet away in my nervousness.

“Look I appreciate this is rather unpleasant for you but if you co-operate with me it will be over and done with before you know it. It’s probably been a couple of years since you last had your bottom smacked and you probably thought it was for the last time but you can’t have forgotten how it’s done. Stop dithering there. How long has it been since you were last smacked?” he queried.

“I can’t remember ever being smacked” I replied.

“Really? My goodness you have had a privileged childhood. Never been punished before – surely not – are you being serious?

“I have been belted at school a few times but I’ve never been smacked. My dad died when I was young and my mum never smacked us – boxed our ears maybe but never anything else” I explained.

“Oh well, this is going to be a whole new experience for you” he retorted.

I was now really uncomfortable with the whole situation and I thought I was going to be sick as my stomach was in knots. My right leg began to twitch and I was trying to stand as straight as possible to disguise my nervousness. I was taken aback when he reached forward and gripped the waistband of my trousers and undid the top button of my flies. I instinctively pushed his hands away and covered the area with both hands.

I couldn’t help but exclaim, “Oh no, please don’t. I don’t think I can go through with this”. I could hear in my voice that I was close to tears.

Mr Lamont pulled his hands away and clasped them in his lap. He looked at me in a kindly manner and smiled. He spoke gently, “we don’t want to force you to stay here. It must be your choice whether to stay or not. You are free to go at any time but you must be sure you are doing the right thing. You must weigh up the consequences of your actions. Do you want time to think things over?
We can give you until morning for a final decision but if you decide to stay it will be entirely on our terms – you can leave if you want but you will have to leave the University. It’s your choice” he looked as if he felt sorry for me in my predicament.

There was a silence for a few moments but the truth was apparent to me. I had no real choice. The benefits of staying far outnumbered the disastrous circumstances of giving up the chance of a great education. My pride should not force me into making a stupid mistake that I’d regret for the rest of my life.

I slowly unclasped my hands and returned them to my side – the top button of my trousers was left undone. Mr Lamont waited a couple of minutes – not sure if I was about to do anything else like turn on my heel and walk out of the room.

In a gentle, soothing voice barely more than a whisper he asked, “Do you want me to continue?”

I gulped in a small amount of air to form a reply but couldn’t find the means to speak so I simply nodded twice.

“Good lad, you’ve made the right decision. I’m sure you’ll come to realise that in time”

As he spoke, I could feel him undoing the rest of the buttons of my trousers and he gripped the waistband at each side and gently pulled my trousers over my hips down to my knees. Like Donald, I was wearing white briefs and Mr Lamont soon found the waistband of these and dragged them down my thighs.

“Bend forward and lie over my knees Jim” he said as his right arm moved round to my back and he gently patted my bottom a couple of times to motion me forwards. I placed my hands on his left thigh and lowered myself down onto his lap. I could feel his left hand splayed across my chest to assist me in lowering myself into position. I moved my hands as my chest was 3 or 4 inches from his thighs and gently fell into position. I remembered that Donald had been told to put both arms extended down the left hand side and I reached both arms down to the floor. Mr Lamont shuffled his legs back to a 90 degree angle and I felt myself being lifted up a couple of inches and my toes could just touch the floor if I kept my legs more or less straight.

I then felt Mr Lamont’s huge hands grip me round the waist and edged me forward a few inches further over his lap. My feet left the floor and my head lowered closer to the floor. I could place both palms on the carpet of the study.

“Now Jim, this will be difficult for you I’m sure but try to co-operate as much as possible. It will be best for you if you can keep you bottom as relaxed as possible, try not to clench as this will make any bruising worse. Try not to squirm either or kick your legs too much – keep them still as much as you can. Finally, try to keep you hands at the front. Don’t try to reach back to protect your bottom – you won’t be able to reach anyway. If it helps, grab the legs of the chair and don’t be embarrassed if you feel like crying. This is going to hurt – and hurt a lot make no mistake. Keep in mind why you are being punished – this isn’t being done as pointless exercise, you are supposed to learn from this”

I though it was bizarre that he was reeling off a list of instructions like it was my first driving lesson. The big difference was that instead of sitting behind the steering wheel of a car, I was stretched over a man’s knees with my trousers and underpants at my knees calmly waiting for him to commence smacking my bare backside. However his last point hit home. I realised I fully deserved all that was coming to me – I was almost beginning to feel that justice was being done, which I suppose it was.

He lifted my shirttails and pushed my shirt about 6 inches up my back. My face was burning and must have been the colour of beetroot as I realised the ludicrous situation I was in – 19 years old and upended over someone’s knees about to get smacked like a 10 year old kid.

I couldn’t think for much longer as the first smack cracked down across my right buttock. I exhaled loudly with the shock. I was just inhaling, trying to catch my breath when the second smack crashed into the left cheek. I spluttered out again and coughed a couple of times trying to catch my breath.

Mr Lamont set about my punishment in a steady manner. I could not believe how hard his hands were, the smacks were solid and were crashing into my poor behind and making me gasp for breath with every blow. That’s not just his hand I thought – he must have a hard wooden bat or something like that. The pain was excruciating.

I forgot that he would change tactic after a couple of minutes if he followed the same practice with me as he did with Donald a few minutes before. However, I was quickly reminded when he began concentrating on my right cheek and delivered a series of about a dozen consecutive blows to the one area – top of the cheek (not to high as to hit the spine), middle and lower cheek just at the top of the legs. Again and again the smacks fell and seemed to get harder with each blow. Then the left cheek came in for the same treatment. I began to lose my control and knew my legs were beginning to kick up and I was trying to wriggle from side to side to move away from the onslaught.

“Keep still lad” came the order, “it will be over quicker if you keep still”. His left arm gripped me tighter into his body and I knew I would never be able to wriggle free in a month of Sundays.

The blows rained down harder and harder. I began to wave my arms about trying to put them behind me but I was lying to far forwards over his knees to get any co-ordination going. I must have looked a ridiculous sight.

“At least I’m not letting myself down by crying” I thought little realising that for the last couple of minutes I had been letting rip with several “oohs” and “ouches” and “ooyahs” and pleading “no more, stop”, “stop please” as every smack crashed into my flaming backside. The tears weren’t far away and when they came they gushed out like a flood. I grabbed hold of both legs of the chair hoping that this would alleviate the agony. All it did was keep my hands well out the road which was fine in the long run as I could never have been able to twist myself round to get my hand to protect my backside as Mr Lamont had me firmly in place and by pushing his left shoulder slightly outwards was enough to keep me “ringed” perfectly in position and prevent any chance of my right hand being able to get anywhere near the target area.

Eventually, the pace of the blows began to slow – not that I noticed too much as I was bawling my lungs out. The last minute or so finished as the first minute had begun proceedings with slow, deliberate and extremely hard smacks delivered to each alternate cheek. Mr Lamont really put his full strength into each blow and they all produced an agonised howl of pain. Eventually my torture came to an end. I stopped whatever kicking and squirming I had managed to achieve. My head slumped downwards towards the floor and my shoulders shook heavily with the sobs that I was trying desperately to reign in. My legs relaxed and I could feel my toes reach to the floor.

I must have spent about a minute composing myself still draped over Mr Lamont’s knees. Eventually, he gave my bottom a couple of gentle pats and gently said, “You’d better stand up now lad”. I felt him place his left hand across my chest as I began to lift my torso up and he helped me to my feet.

The strange thing is that I no longer felt embarrassed at my situation. I was standing in front of an older man (who was a complete stranger to me less than 4 hours ago), with a tear-stained face, trousers and underwear at my ankles, crying like a baby. I had just allowed this stranger to put me over his knees and smack my bottom – not just that but beat it to a pulp. I knew that my backside would be marked and bruised for a few days anyway and I had given my consent to allow this man and his wife to repeat the performance anytime they decided to do so.

However, I also felt waves of relief at what had just unfolded. I had made terrible mistakes that could have spelt ruin for me and I was in the hands of people who could help me turn things around. Slowly, I got dressed and with a stiff, ungainly walk I shuffled back to where Donald observed my punishment and stood at his side. He had recovered from his punishment although he still rubbed his bottom a few times – it was evident that the pain was going to take some time to subside.

Mr Lamont rose and walked towards us “I hope you have learnt your lessons boys. Donald, I don’t think you’ll ever learn as you seem to get more absent minded as you get older”. Donald grinned back weakly at this gentle ribbing. “Goodnight Mr Lamont” he attempted a smile as he turned and left.

I wiped my eyes with a handkerchief I retrieved from my pocket. “Goodnight Mr Lamont” I managed to blurt out. Mr Lamont stepped forward and put his arm round my shoulders. “You took your punishment well Jim, especially since this was the first spanking you’ve ever had. You know what to expect in future if you don’t shape up. Believe you me, I will not think twice about putting you over my knee again if I think you deserve it – I hope that won’t be necessary but I will not let you slip up again. This might sound odd after what has just happened but I hope you enjoy your stay with us. You are welcome to stay for as long as you want. If you think you have learned to be responsible enough to cope on your own next year then you are free to find boarding elsewhere but if you feel you still need our support then you are welcome to stay – but you know what our expectations are”

I don’t know what to say in reply or if I could speak rationally so I simply nodded firmly and turned to face him. I didn’t say anything but stretched my right hand out towards him. There was no need to say anything, as it was clear that we understood each other perfectly well. He smiled broadly as he took my hand and gave it a friendly shake taking care not to squeeze it too hard this time.

He ushered me out the door and as we parted, me setting off upstairs to my room to reflect on the days events and he to listen to the BBC on the radio in the drawing room. He gave me a final gentle swat to my still throbbing rear and chirped “Goodnight Jim, sleep well – see you in the morning”.

Considering that I had never set eyes on him before 6 pm this very evening, this final gesture seemed to be a perfectly natural and unaffected habit between an older man and a youth. The former knew how to demonstrate that he had the younger man’s best interests at heart and it was clearly not resented on the part of the youngster who had realised his limitations and who had quickly formed deep respect for his newly found mentors.

I took myself of to bed, my head spinning with a hundred different thoughts but the final conclusion was the same “OK, you have got yourself into trouble and it’s up to you to watch your step. The digs here are great, cheap and comfortable and if you keep your nose clean, you’ll get through the next 3 or 4 years without a repeat of tonight’s performance. You’ve landed on your feet – make the most of it. This could be last time you’ll be belted or smacked like a kid – you’re a man now so prove it”

Of course, there would be many more times when I would be called into the study. A few times that Mr or Mrs Lamont would reprimand me in my bedroom or I’d be sent to their bedroom to fetch Mrs Lamont’s stout hairbrush. There would be other occasions when I’d be standing patiently in a queue while Mr or Mrs L worked their way a few miscreants.

What did come to pass is that Bert was right. Every time I fell short of expectations I was lectured and duly reprimanded. At no time did I ever resent ever having to hold my hand out, fetch a slipper or hairbrush or patiently stand to attention as my trousers and pants were lowered. I soon got over any embarrassment of being punished by them. At each subsequent occasion, I usually became more annoyed at myself for getting myself into the same situation but I never resented the actions taken by the Lamonts for whom I developed a huge respect and admiration.

**tees-spank** · 06-11-2008, 11:46 PM

they were excellant stories!
so good i've read them 4 times now!!
i'd love it if you mailled me to discuss these stories further!!

**borocub** · 19-02-2010, 02:43 PM

i must admite gra8t story. I have not been spanked like that since i was 20 y/o. Now i'm 43 y/o and i still like the ritual of having my pants and under taken down and been spanked by a good hand.