Massage with a Difference

Massage with a difference. Part 1.

Ken visits a massage parlour

Ken visits a massage parlour and receives more than he expected. He revives some of the delights learned across the desk of his school headmistress and learns another one. For those who are not interested in corporal punishment, this story is not for you.

Well, that was a surprise. I went to the massage place, a different one from last time and was told to sit on a chair in the lobby and wait. I was only there for a few minutes before a masseuse, dressed in a white wraparound, knee length coat came through and pointed at me.

"I will be your masseuse." She informed me. Normally I would have expected to be the one choosing her, but here it seemed there was a rota to ensure fairness for the staff. However, I wasn't too disappointed with this one. She was slim and angular, with a pretty face, shoulder length raven black hair and the hint of reasonably sized breasts pressing at her cotton coat. I guessed she was around thirty, certainly a few years older than me and an inch or two taller, perhaps five, nine. She was a little intimidating and I felt a small shudder of lust pass through me.

I stood up, not knowing what next to do, and followed her through a doorway and into a room containing about half a dozen masseuses all dressed as mine was. They looked up and watched me as I walked past them, still following the one selected for me. So far, the only decision I had made was the one to enter these premises. Since then, I was just doing what I was told to do. Interestingly, I felt that the control had been taken from me, and I rather liked that. It suited my character.

Lamb to the slaughter! Haha. That's me!

This was a large room, with sofas and easy chairs spread around it where the unoccupied staff were relaxing, and with many doors leading off it. She led me to the back of the room and the other staff members watched my progress with an interest which baffled me.

What are they staring at? Am I their first ever client?

My lady opened a door and ushered me in.

It was larger than I had expected, with a massage table set in the centre of the room. It looked slightly unusual in that it was divided into two halves, one solid with what appeared to be a padded hole cut out for the head to rest into. The lower half was divided again into two, lengthways and at the convergence of these three parts, another hole about nine inches in diameter.

Oh my! I guess that's where the cock goes. Actually, that makes a lot of sense - better than lying on it, or having it pressed backwards down my leg like the last place.

"My name is Layla." My masseuse informed me. "You will remove your clothing and put it into this closet." She told me, opening a door in the wall of the room.

"You will then take a shower before your massage. I understand you have requested an oil massage with special attention to a sciatic discomfort. Please take your time in the shower and clean yourself thoroughly, everywhere!" She smiled at me.

"I will take you to the shower room, and then wait for you here." She laid a towel on the table and turned her back as I disrobed. It seemed stupid to ask if I should take everything off - I was about to have a shower, so off it all came and I quickly wrapped the towel around me, as much as it would go.

I couldn't believe this was the best towel they could offer me. It was very thin as if it were years old, and it only measured about one foot by two.

It's a bloody hand towel!

I needed both hands to hold it to preserve my modesty, the gap exposing my entire left hip and half my ass. And it was becoming necessary to hide my modesty, as I found this girl very attractive, and the very fact that I was naked, and she was dressed was beginning to have an effect I hadn't planned on. My cock was rising.

She gave it, and then my towel, and then me a challenging look, enough to silence any protest I might have felt brave enough to make and opened the door, ushering me out. I followed her as she crossed through the room filled with her colleagues and at the opposite end, opened a door similar to all the others.

I was acutely conscious of my nakedness and the stares and smirks of the assembled ladies who couldn't help but see my half-bare ass and the way the towel was tenting. I made no eye contact and slipped quickly into the bathroom. Layla closed the door behind me and left me to it. There was a shower behind a plain glass wall, a nice one with a rain shower attachment above and a stronger handheld one at waist level. I placed my towel - towelette! - on a chair by the door and stepped into the shower, turned it on and basked a moment in the refreshing warm flow of water.

A change in light made me look to the door. It was Layla, who entered and handed me a bar of soap around the side of the glass panel. "Sorry, Ken. One of the girls told me we needed some new soap." She affected not to look at me, other than directly in the eye and I thanked her. I hoped she hadn't noticed my now full erection.

Emerging after a good five-minute scrub, everywhere, I reached for the towel. It wasn't the same one I had started with. Layla must have swapped it, and this one was even smaller. It would literally wrap around less than half of me and didn't do half the job it was designed for. It was soaked through before I was ready to run the gauntlet past all those ladies again. I wrung it dry and dried myself some more. Happily, at least my erection had faded. Finally, I held the ends and tried to open the door. Of course, I needed one hand to do that and the towel fell away as I opened the door wide. Every eye was on my exposed crotch as I grabbed at the loose end and pulled the towel and the door. I was covering my cock and one buttock with towe and hands. One of the girls stood up and approached me, with a very stern look on her face.

"You appear to have torn our towel. Look. There's a rip in it!" She pointed at the edge closest to my dick. It was true. I looked down and could see the sodden material was torn.

I hadn't noticed the tear and it might have been my fault. "I.. I'm sorry. It must have happened when I was drying myself." I admitted, my face reddening. I was suddenly struck with the absurdity of the situation, not made any better by the rise in my pulse as a wave of humiliation coursed through me. My erection had subsided in the shower but now I felt a familiar twinge, and a stronger pulse as the blood started flowing back into my flaccid dick.

Oh my god. There must be half a dozen of them, and they are all looking at my crotch. And I'm getting a hard on again and I can't stop it. And this towel isn't going to hide it.

Stern girl was regarding me with a curious expression on her face. She looked me in the eye, and then let her gaze draw slowly down to my now semi-erection. I had to adjust the position of the meagre covering it was concealed by to cover myself better.

"Give me the towel, boy. I'll get you another one. A bigger one. I think you seem to need that!"

Seeing my hesitation and uncertainty, she raised her voice a little. "Now!" A strict command.

I have a disposition which compels me obey when I am bossed about, particularly by women, and although exceedingly embarrassed and dreading the humiliation, I released the towel into her keeping.

"Hands behind your head!" she barked and again, I obeyed automatically, even knowing that now I was naked, and completely exposed, and sporting an ever thickening, bouncing erection in front of all these women, unable to hide my arousal with my hands or anything else.

A voice beckoned me. "Oh, Ken! I think you had better come over here quickly before you get into any further trouble. You don't want to rouse Miss Tess's ire. You might end up getting a spanking! Come here! But - keep your hands where they are and give the ladies a nice look at you!"

The words came with some force, and I cowered inwardly at the dominance of these two ladies. First 'Miss Tess' and now Layla. And some of those words had a profound effect on me. An effect I had been fighting with myself for some time now. Words like 'trouble' and 'rouse ire' were a good start, but 'spanking' and 'immediately' hit paydirt. My heart thumped in delicious desire and willingness to submit.

Oh my god this is embarrassing. Why am I obeying her? They're all staring at me.

My cock pounded harder than ever and bobbed as I walked as quickly as I could past the greatly amused ladies and dashed to where Layla was waiting. When I reached her, she took me by the shoulders and turned me around to face my audience, once more displaying my iron hard erection.

"Apologise to the ladies, Ken, for exposing yourself to them. I think they are shocked and deserve an apology." She told me quietly.

I did as I was instructed, blushing wildly. "I am very sorry ladies. I am ashamed of myself for letting you see me naked and aroused. I know it was unforgivable, and I humbly apologise." There was a tittering from the assembly, Layla gave a quiet humph and I was led into the massage room.

"Why are you still holding your hands behind your head, Ken?" Layla asked, her voice now clam and soothing. "Is it because I haven't yet given you permission to lower them? Is your obedience to our commands more powerful than the polite requirement to cover your shamelessly exhibited, very hard penis from my view?"

I couldn't have put it into more astutely chosen words myself. I had no great experience and hadn't formed the thoughts fully enough before now. No matter the extensive trawling through porn sites and associated reading material, I hadn't analysed my own submissive psyche.

"I don't know how to answer that, Layla." I replied. "I guess I have much to learn about myself."

"Do you always like to expose yourself to young women, Ken? Surely someone has told you it's very naughty to do that. Have you never been punished for your misconduct, Ken, by a girlfriend perhaps, or someone more professional?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye, leading me deeper into the maze. She could see the reaction of her suggestion by the throbbing of my cock.

"No. Not for the past couple of years at least. Not since school, but that was a very different kind of thing. I got disciplined by the headmistress for smoking a few times. Just three, or sometimes six strokes from her cane. Once it was twelve strokes which was sore, but not too awful!" A drawn-out silence ensued. Then a dawning of understanding.

"Am I going to be punished today?" I had to ask it. My hands were still behind my neck and as I faced this wonderful woman, without realising what I was doing, I parted my feet and stood in what I now know is what she calls the 'punishment position'.

She looked at me appraisingly, taking in the position I had now adopted and gave what I could only describe as a smirk.

"Would you like to be punished, Ken? Is that what you want? From what you told me about your schooldays, one gentle little caning wasn't enough to cure you, was it?"

I was too scared to say, although I was beginning to faintly hope that this might be the outcome of this day's adventure.

"I don't know. I really don't know." I was in two minds, remembering how deeply thrilling it had been to drop my pants and take a bare-bottom caning from Miss Campbell. She never caned us very hard, and never commented if, or in my case when, we let our excitement show, although she always made us stand up and face her, naked from waist to knee and thank her for disciplining us before we were allowed to pull our pants up again. There were very few occasions when my cock wasn't fully tumescent by that stage and the shame of her looking scornfully at it burned my cheeks more than the caning had burned the other ones.

Thinking back on it now, as I stood in front of Layla, I remembered that there were times when I had wanted to be caught smoking or some other such crime so that I would have to report to Miss Campbell. She was beautiful - around her late thirties and fit with it. Dark blonde hair and a smattering of freckles. She always wore a trouser suit and most of the boys reckoned she was a lesbian.

I enjoyed my submission to her strong character, the sting of her cane and having my youthful manhood shamefully exposed to her, knowing how it would react to her ministrations. Was I, am I, an exhibitionist? Not really. More of a submissive, wanting to be forced, seemingly against my will, to exposure and punishment. And now, just a couple of years later, falling under the same kind of spell in this massage house.

I looked at Layla but couldn't make out the expression on her face.

"Do you think I should be punished, Layla?" I asked sheepishly. It struck me that such a question suggested I was prepared to accept it if she said yes. Definitely me - passing the buck. Seemingly reluctant; secretly thrilled, awaiting her confirmation.

"Hah! You aren't ready to ask for it, but you would take it somebody else awards it, eh?" Rumbled! She knew exactly what was going on in my head! She continued, drawing it out a little more as my heart pumped with the sensations of embarrassment, humiliation and the possibly of a small degree of pain in the very near future.

"Personally, I think some discipline would do you some good, but I am not the only one who has been privy to your display, so I think I may have a solution to your question. Shall we ask the girls you offended so disgracefully? Shall we let them decide?"

Devious bitch! Really dragging it out!

"Oh! Okay. Yes. That sounds reasonable." I wasn't convinced but it seemed like a compromise, and I certainly wasn't ready to ask for it myself. Layla had mentioned a spanking, and I reckoned that might be okay. Nothing too serious. More like fun, really.

Really? Didn't I just tell her about being caned? Isn't that what I'm hoping to get? But why would they have canes in a massage place?

"But, before we do that, Ken, you must accept the verdict if we put the question to a vote. The girls may allow you a reprieve as this is your first visit here, but if they don't, you must submit to the punishment that is selected for you. Do you accept these terms?"

This was getting more serious, but I maintained my position without having to be told to. My raging erection told us both the answer to that and indicated the decision it truly wanted me to make. My heart was thumping as I spoke the fateful words.

"Yes, Layla. I agree to your terms. If the staff agree that I must be punished for exposing myself to them, I will submit to whatever punishment they choose."

It struck me how unfair this all was, and so unexpected. I had come in here innocently looking for a massage to ease my backache, and in less than fifteen minutes found myself anticipating a caning. I had no chance, from the very outset. It's like they had it all planned in advance. The towel was far too small to begin with and when Layla slipped me the tiny replacement one, well, what did they expect? And then stern girl, Miss Tessa, demanding that I give her the cloth.

Is it my fault I got a hard-on? I guess so. Maybe some folk wouldn't have - maybe they don't enjoy being exposed naked against their will. So, okay, it's my fault and now I have to face the music.

I was led out into the large room once again and without being told to, I resumed the position with my hands and feet. Layla addressed her colleagues.

"Attention, everybody. Listen, please." A silence filled the space, and all eyes seemed to be on my still pulsing erection. No matter how much I wished it would subside, it had been tumescent for quite a while now.

"Ken here has already apologised for this disgraceful and shameless exhibition which he is obviously extending by standing here now, but he is not sure if his apology has been sufficient for you all. He wonders if he shouldn't be punished as well. He has asked me to have you all vote on the subject and has agreed that if you decide that he should face punishment, he will submit to whatever we see is fitting. Is that correct, Ken?"

Oh, lord. She says it like I'm requesting it, and now she's making me beg for it.

"Yes, Layla. That is what I said. I agree to accept whatever punishment you think I should be given."

Damn! I forgot to mention that there was the option of a reprieve.

Layla wasn't finished. "Ken also informs me that he used to be caned regularly at school. We all know that isn't information normal people so readily give out, but he also confesses that he didn't learn from it sufficiently and was summoned frequently to be disciplined again and again by the headmistress! He asked for my opinion, and I have already told him that I would have him punished for the naughty boy he is. However, it is over to you to make the final decision, ladies."

Dear god! What is she saying? I didn't tell her half of that! It's all true of course. Oh my, she's good. Has she really worked me out so easily?

A murmuring of voices. Half a dozen attractive young ladies deciding amongst themselves what to do with this foolish boy.

After a few minutes there seemed to be some agreement. It was stern girl, Miss Tess who appeared to be their spokeswoman.

"We are unanimous, Layla. We all agree that Ken must be punished for his behaviour."

Oh god. It's going to happen!

"

Ken, we can see you standing there, persisting with your disgraceful exhibition. It is obvious that you know what you are doing. You are deliberately taunting us. And you should know you are not the first client to have so rudely exposed himself in this establishment. As it happens, we agree with the methods of your headmistress, and we all believe the cane is an excellent instrument of punishment. Therefore, we have made sure that we are adequately equipped for occasions such as this." She paused, giving me time to absorb this bombshell information.

They are well equipped ... with canes? This has happened before? Oh lord, and they have decided that I am to be their next victim? Am I a victim? Or a volunteer? I basically invited this, didn't I? God I'm horny! What am I meant to do now?

Something in my head snapped and before I could control my mouth, it was blabbering things I never thought I would hear myself speak again.

"Thank you, Miss Tess. Thank you, ladies. I know I deserve to be punished. Please make sure I learn my lesson."

Oh, god no, yes, yes I said it and yes I meant it, but I didn't really. It's what Miss Campbell used to make us say. Now I think it's going to happen again. I've asked to be caned! My cock is still raging.

"Oh, sweet! The boy wants us to make sure he is properly punished, and I for one will be delighted to do just that!" It was Miss Tess again.

"Ken. There are a total of eight masseuses here just now, and you may be relieved to hear that as you are our only client at the moment, there is nobody else here to witness your shame. We have each proposed that you will be caned just three strokes."

She gave a pause for me to let that sink in.

Just three strokes? That isn't so bad. I'll bet Miss Campbell would have awarded more.

"Yes, Ken. Three strokes for each lady you have exposed yourself to. The ladies have elected me to be the one to deliver your punishment. I am going to give you twenty-four strokes of the cane, Ken, and I am going to make sure you have learnt your lesson! Layla, please prepare him for his caning."

"Oh my god. Does she really mean it. Am I going to be caned, Layla?" I was floating in a sea of disbelief. She snorted scornfully.

"Well, Ken, look at it this way. You are naked and your clothes are locked away in the closet to which I have the key. You made it clear to me that you were willing to submit to the vote, and you were the one who mentioned the cane. You might have got away with a simple hand spanking if you hadn't done that. My interpretation is that you want Miss Tess to cane you and that you won't object to her caning you hard. So, yes, Ken. You are going to be caned!"