JIM'S GROWING UP
Dedicated to Jim - a Nifty reader and supporter.
I remember thefirst day I saw Jim. He was sitting with some friends in a pub that was popularwith the undergraduates. I was on my own, enjoying a pint and some peanuts.That was my lunch. Jim was opposite me, so it was easy just to gaze at him –and why the hell not? He was certainly easy on the eye. Big, wide apart eyesand wavy brown hair. His nose was of the Grecian type – high set and long –that grand ladies use to pay thousands to have grafted onto them. And the lowerlip jutted out, almost overwhelming the thin upper lip. I was wondering whatexperts believed could be told by such a nose and such lips. I had no idea.
He saw me lookingat him, but I refused to look away. I was enjoying the sight of him and you getfew enough enjoyments as you get older. Young guy need to let their beauty beadmired by older guys like me and not fuss.
After a while, hisfriends got up to go. Jim got up too but, as they left, he sat down again andlooked across at me. It seemed silly to pretend that I hadn't been looking athim. I smiled and lifted my glass in a sort of toast. He smiled back. Iwondered if he would come over. I finished my beer and was about to get up whenhe came across.
`I couldn't helpsee you looking at me. Do I know you?'
He wasn't too tall – slim, slight build. There was a mildScottish accent.
`No, we don't knoweach other. I was just admiring you. I hope you don't mind. You're agood-looking lad.'
Thank you', hereplied. No, I don't mind at all. It's rather flattering.'
`I love your nose –your lower lip - and your wavy hair.'
He sat down oppositeme.
`Do you often dothis sort of thing?'
`What sort ofthing? Admiring young lads, and telling them how good they look?'
`Yes I suppose so.'
`I admire younglads, but I don't often tell them. The opportunity doesn't arise. I'm glad youdon't mind. What are you reading?'
`Accountancy andBusiness studies. I hope to get into corporate banking when I graduate.'
`That shouldprovide you with a good living – even today. I wish you well. But don't mess itup.'
`I hope I won't –but it's sometimes hard to stay focused.'
`Have you thoughtof getting yourself a mentor?'
`No. Why do youask?'
`I've mentored anumber of young guys in my time – and I'm proud of what they've achieved intheir lives. Some of them didn't start out with many advantages, but all ofthem have done well. It's not about making money. It's about growing up,becoming a man, and building a decent life for yourself.'
`I think I'm a manalready!' He laughed.
`You're way offthat. You're very young, in years and in development.'
`How do you knowthat? You don't know anything about me.'
`I've dealt withenough young men to be able to guess where they are and what they need prettyquickly and pretty accurately. I think I know what you need.'
That's spooky.' Helooked nervous. What do I need?'
`You need an olderguy to take you in hand. You need a mentor. Otherwise I can see you messing upyour life and that would be a pity.'
Are you offering?'He smiled. Would it cost me?'
`Yes, I amoffering. And no, it wouldn't cost you. I don't need money. I'm not rich, butI've enough for my needs.'
He looked at me. Icould tell that he thought I might be just an old perve who wanted to get intohis pants, but I could also tell that he was interested.
`OK. Let's give it atry. What do I have to do.'
`You need to agreea month's probationary period. By that time either one of us will know whetheror not it's working. After that, we'll each commit to a further year,renewable.'
`Sounds OK. When doI start?
I gave him my card.
`All the sessionswill take place at my flat. What are your commitments tomorrow?'
`I've got lecturesin the morning, but I'm OK after that.'
`Good. Let's say 2pm – precisely. I expect punctuality.'
`Right, Mister.I'll be there.'
`Call me Sir.What's your name?'
`Jim, Sir.'
`Right, Jim. I'llsee you tomorrow at 2 pm.'
He arrived at 2 pmprecisely. It was a good start. I took him into my sitting room and got him tostand in front of the fireplace, facing me, in an at ease position.
`We'll startstraightaway, Jim. All young men need discipline – and a key part of disciplineis beating. Young men need regular beatings. It's one of the tragedies ofmodern life that beatings have more or less ceased. Fathers no longer beattheir sons. Did your father ever beat you?'
`No, Sir.'
`Few fathers do.And yet a young man needs to be able to take a beating. Years ago, in the armedforces, the ability to take a beating without complaint marked out a man. Hewas respected and admired by his fellows. And he was the better for it. Thebeating might be administered for a particular reason, but its real purpose wasto maintain the mental and spiritual health of the man who received it.'
`I understand, Sir.'Jim was beginning to look nervous. I could tell that this was not at all whathe had expected. I wondered if he was going to cut and run. I would have beendisappointed if he had. Under the pretty boy face and slim body, I had seen ahint of a tough and determined young man. Still, he had to freely accept what Iwas offering if this was to work.
`You need abeating, Jim. You deserve it a number of reasons. You know what they are. Idon't need to spell them out, and I'm not interested in the detail in any case.If you can take this beating without complaint, you'll be a better man – andyou'll know that straightaway. But remember, I don't want to hear any yelps.You need to take this punishment in silence.'
`I've never beenbeaten before, Sir. What will you use? And how many strokes will you give me?Will I be marked?'
`For these earlysessions, I'll use my belt. I'll judge the number of strokes, but will tell youin advance. And, yes, you will be marked, but the marks will go in a few days.'
I enjoyed watchingpoor Jim struggling with conflicting emotions. He was clearly a lad out foradventure. I suspected that he had experimented quite a lot already, and thatthis wasn't so far from what he already knew. But he also wasn't sure how toughI was going to be on him and how well he would stand up to it. I was glad then when he took a deep breathand said with a voice that tried to sound more relaxed and sure of himself thanI knew he was.
`OK, Sir. Tell mewhat I have to do.'
`Take down yourjeans and pants and lean up against that chair.'
It's a specialmoment when a young man takes down his trousers. It's the moment when he handsover power to another man, when he accepts submission, when he acknowledges anauthority greater than his own. And of course there is also the interest inseeing his butt cheeks. I never tire of the butts of young men. They are of aninfinite variety, but all of them are for me intensely erotic. Jim's butt wassmooth and hairless, as I expected. But it had a plumpness about it that I hadnot expected. British guys are famed for their plump butts – it's what makesthem so popular in the market – but I had guessed that Jim's might be one of theskinny ones. I was glad I was wrong. Those rounded cheeks would offer a tastytarget, and would likely redden up very nicely.
`For the firstround, I'll give you twelve strokes, six on each cheek.'
There was silence.
`It's usual to say,"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir", and at the end of each round to say, "Thank you,Sir"'
`Yes, Sir. Thankyou, Sir.'
I took off my beltand folded it. It was a moment I had experienced so many times before, but itnever ceased to excite me. I liked using my belt. I didn't need it to keep mytrousers up – and I certainly didn't need it to be as broad as I was. I wore itas a sign of my authority, as a subtle message to those who saw it andunderstood its purpose. I took aim at the white, unmarked butt cheeks that werenow waiting for me, and started.
I hit hard. There'sno point in giving any butt a tickle. A young man needs to feel the power of astroke and of the man who's giving it. I much prefer to administer fewer andharder strokes than to endlessly tickle a young man. After the first four, Iwas glad to see the red marks appear. His fair skin marked easily, but not soeasily that I felt I ought to be gentler with him. I was also glad that Jim wasmaking no sound. After the first stroke, he gave a quick gasp – as quicklystilled – and after that, nothing. AfterI had finished, I felt his cheeks. They were red and satisfyingly hot.
`Thank you, Sir.'Jim was clearly a quick learner.
`We'll try a furthertwelve, Jim. Remember to breathe deeply and blow the pain out.'
`Yes, Sir. Thankyou, Sir.' The voice was muffled. It was clearly a struggle for him, but I wasimpressed. I could see that I was not going to be disappointed in Jim. The nexttwelve were tough for him. His butt was already tender and I didn't let up onthe force of my strokes, but I could see he was determined. He was gripping thechair tightly, and was blowing hard. This young man didn't need to be toldtwice. He was clearly bright.'
`Well done, lad.Stand up and pull your jeans back up.'
He did so andturned. His face was red and there were tears in his eyes. I pulled him to meand held him. I was 6ft 3in and more than half as heavy again as he was. It wasgood to hold this young lad who was just starting out on his journey tomanhood. I buried my face in his hair. It smelt clean, unscented – just ashe did. I hate scented men. That was one lesson I could skip. I felt him clinging on to me, lost in a stormof emotion, wanting not to be let go of.
`I'm proud of you,Jim. I wasn't sure whether you'd be up for it, but I'm glad you were. Are youOK now?'
`Yes, Sir. Thankyou, Sir.' His face was buried in my chest. The voice was muffled, but I couldhear the firmness in his reply.
`Return to yourfirst position, at ease, by the fireplace.' I felt the reluctance, but he letgo of me and took up his position. He was looking down at the floor.
`Look up, Jim. Lookat me. There's nothing to be ashamed of. As I said, I'm proud of you.'
He looked up thenand our eyes met. There was shadow of a smile, but the tears still glistened.He looked more beautiful than I had ever seen him. He seemed to understandsomething – that this wasn't just about getting fucked by an older man, thatthis was going to be a real adventure. He didn't know where it would take him,but he was keen to continue on the journey.'