Seeing the Teacher

Seeing teacher again.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters depicted are of legal age.

It was a personal ad in the classifieds of counter-culture magazine, the type that grunge musicians, potheads and the rebels advertised in. This was before the net and it was the main way people who had a secret side tried to find others with their own secrets, hoping to match and meet. It was pretty sketchy, but you work with what you got.

It was a pastime of mine, answering the most weird, most unlikely adverts, seeing what improbable situations I could get into. And there were some all-stars.

One wanted to follow whoever would respond.

Another wanted to invite whoever would answer to some unrevealed adventure. Nothing came of it. Maybe the guy was as odd as I am.

And still another seeking a dance partner. I thought, this is odd. Why not just go to a dance? I answered, and we had a partnership that became quite entertaining and rewarding, and that's all I can say.

Then there was another that caught my eye

"Strict teacher accepting students. Serious people only."

I had an idea what this was about, and being an old spankee, I answered,

And a phone number. I took it down and called later that evening, when most people were home from work, and also when I'd gathered the courage.

"Yes."

It was a man`s voice, maybe a bit high.

"Hi. I saw your ad in the paper."

"Very good. What do you want to know?"

"I, um, well, I guess I'm curious. What are you offering?"

"I'm offering a scenario, for people like you who want to relive childhood fantasies. Now you tell me, were you ever spanked?"

"What? Was I spanked?"

"You heard me correctly, were you spanked? Paddled, whipped, caned, did you receive corporal punishment?"

"Yes, I was spanked."

"And I take it that you hated it and liked it at the same time, am I correct?"

"Yes, you're correct."

'Yes sir. You are to address me as Sir."

"Yes, sir."

"What implement was used to spank you?"

"Bare hand, belt. Sometimes a yardstick."

"And you were spanked on your bare bottom, or through your clothing?"

"It depended. Sir."

"That's not a valid answer."

"At times I was spanked through my clothing, other times I was spanked on my bare behind."

"Did these spankings leave marks?"

"Yes, sir. They left marks."

"Did you cry because of the pain?"

"Sometimes, sir. As I got older, I stopped crying, sir."

"Very well, I'm booking you for tomorrow evening, seven sharp. I'll need your name."

I told him. Phil. Phil, sir. I was already scared, but I promised myself not to chicken out this time.

And he gave me his address, without asking me if I was available at that time. He was taking charge immediately.

I showed up promptly at seven, and looked at the register. No name, only 'occupant'. I buzzed, and he buzzed me in.

He lived on the top floor, and the thought crossed my mind that he didn't want any noise seeping through his ceiling.

He was a fifty-something man, ramrod straight and dressed in a well-fitted suit, white shirt and cufflinks. Nothing shabby here. He greeted me with a slight bow and motioned me to come in. The room was a bit spare, with a desk, executive chair on one side and a straight-backed wooden chair opposite. Behind the desk was a pegboard with various implements hanging from it.

"All my students strip before the interview. Please do so now, and pile your clothes neatly on the desk. Shirt, trousers, shorts, socks and shoes. Quickly, now."

Now, this was unusual. But then again, I didn't ask for many details. I got naked, all the while trying to act nonchalant about it, and stood before him. He appraised me quietly, front and back, and this put me in my place.

He stood behind his desk, after directing me to remain standing opposite him. He leafed through some notes he had and began to interrogate me.

"Do you drink?"

"No sir."

Not even a little? Be honest now.:

"Sometimes, maybe once every other week. With friends."

"That means you drink. You have several drinks, I assume?"

I guess I do, yes."

"You drink regularly, then. Do you smoke?"

"Never."

"Good. What time do you get out of bed in the morning? Not wake up, get out of bed."

"Six-thirty. Seven if I'm still tired."

"Hm. That's a bit late, I'm afraid. Any exercise? In-place running, weights, push-ups, any sort of exercise?"

"I walk to the bus stop, five minutes from where I live."

He made some notes in his pad and walked to my side of the desk and stood behind me.

"You are in decent form, but you could do better. I intend to see to your improvement, and the first lesson will be about a disciplined view of time. Now lean over the desk and present your bare bottom. Your discipline is about to commence."

With that, he walked to a pegboard and removed a yardstick. This was getting very serious, very quickly. He meant to give me a whipping.

Then he reached into his desk and pulled out an egg-timer and set it for two minutes.

"Two minutes, Philip. I will now deliver as many strokes with this yardstick on your bare ass as possible inside of two minutes, so that you learn the value of time."

He meant what he said, and I knew I was in for a whipping. That frightened me and also excited me. I hadn't been spanked in too long.

I leaned over the desk and got ready. He tapped the yardstick on my bottom and must have seen my cock between my ass cheeks and commented.

"You seem to be aroused, Philip. Have you ever been punished before while nude?"

"No sir, I haven't."

"Very interesting. We'll deal with that later. But for now, shall we begin?"

One more tap. Then a second, and then he swung the yardstick for real.

A whoosh and a crack and it seared my butt. The sheer force shocked me, and before I could gasp, he landed a second smack, right on top of the first.

"No squirming, and no complaining. Bear down and take what you have coming."

I grunted and winced as he kept up the beating. This was intense, and more painful than anything I could remember.

"Halfway through. You've received thirty strokes so far."

Somehow I made it through the next minute. I could feel my skin starting to blister, and wondered why I had gotten into this scene. Then the timer beeped, and it was over.

"You may stand now, Philip, and rub your bottom if you feel the need."

I very much did feel the need, and I carefully passed my hands over my contused butt. Even brushing it was painful. He watched me carefully.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself here. You have a sensitive ass, but your capacity for pain is quite impressive."