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This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between adult males. As such it is homoerotic, designed for the entertainment of mature adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, please leave now.
Last week Billy came to see me. We'd talked on the phone after he saw my ad, and fixed a visit.
My regular ad is pretty clearly worded: "Male, ex-teacher, mid fifties, will spank and punish straight young men."
Just call, the ad said, and he did.
"Hi..." then a nervous cough. "...are you the man advertising, you know...?"
Then silence.
I waited.
"Er... punishment..?"
"That's me." I left him in silence for a good few seconds. "You want me to do it to you?"
He stuttered a bit, then muttered "What d'you do, then?"
I'd told it a more times to more young men than I care to remember. "You tell me what you did wrong, and I punish you for it. You get out of your clothes, I put you across my knee and give you the hardest spanking you've ever had. You tell me how sorry you are, maybe cry a bit. I pat you on the head and tell you that everything's alright, and you feel better."
I let him wait, then added, "A lot of boys need discipline. Doesn't matter how grown-up they think they are."
I've listened to hundreds of guys across the years, mumbling and stuttering as they tried to cope with the sheer embarrassment of what they wanted me to do to them. I fixed him an appointment for later that afternoon.
"Make sure you're on time, clean, respectful and polite – those are my rules." I hung up.
He was one of the best looking men I've ever seen. Probably in his early twenties, dressed in jeans and work shirt, he had a tough, handsome face, closely cropped dark hair, and a body that, even under his loose clothing, was plainly fit and muscular. I reckoned him to be a building site worker.
I said nothing, just gestured that he should come in. The poor guy looked scared witless. I led him into the room I use for my work – bright and airy, looking over the garden, but not overlooked by any neighbouring windows.
He just stood - stock still. Terrified.
"You're Billy?" I broke the silence.
I scarcely could hear his muttered "Yes, sir."
"You're going to have to speak up, Billy. I need to hear you."
"Sorry. Sir."
There was no ring on his finger, but the mark where it usually lived showed white and clear.
"So tell me about it. Why are you here?"
He just stood, wringing his hands - red-faced, looking down at his feet.
I helped him out. "Sometimes a boy just needs some discipline in his life – is that it?"
"Yes sir."
Still looking down, still whispering.
"Billy, I want you to get stripped, and I want your clothes neatly folded on the chair. Quick as you can..."
I gave him a few moments, then reminded him. "Just do it now, Billy!"
I watched him undress.
He got out of his shirt, boots and jeans, folded them as ordered. He glanced shyly up at me, unsure, blushing.
I just watched. Billy's body was living up to its promise. Tight, smooth and well muscled, like a boxer's. I guessed that the boy could look after himself pretty well in a fight.
The air of scowling toughness that he'd exuded when he arrived was gone now. He just stood there, in his loose chain-store cotton shorts. "Can I keep my shorts on, please?" The scarlet flush now extended down over his chest.
I waited.
He just stood, hands clenching and unclenching, eyes down again.
"Please, sir. Don't make me."
I moved towards him, face close to his.
"Look at me."
The frightened grey eyes flicked up, and looked.
"I told you what I wanted you to do, Billy."
I paused for a couple of beats.
"Strip."
Eyes still locked with his. If this was going to a battle of wills, then I sure as hell was going to win. This was territory I knew like the back of my hand.
"Aw, please sir." Pleading, wheedling, desperate. "Please. Don't make me."
I just stepped back from him, watching and waiting.
As if he'd made the most important decision of his life, Billy bent over, slipping out of the shorts, clutching a hand over his genitals. Then standing up straight, both hands covering himself, eyes back on the floor in front of him.
I knew how to deal with him now. He started with surprise as I raised my voice, his eyes jerking towards me.
I shouted, letting anger into my voice. "Billy. Do what you're fucking told. Stand up straight. Hands by your side. Just do what I tell you, for fuck's sake."
The obscenities startled him. He did what I told him.
I looked at him for almost a full minute, saying nothing. I watched as his neat little cock stiffened and hardened, pushing out from its bed of black curls at the base of his belly. His body was tense, buttocks clenched, jaw set, hands balled into tight fists. He stood, eyes cast down and bright with tears, beaten.
I understood his need for punishment now. The tough, straight married boy, so desperately ashamed of his little cock, just stood waiting for me to do what I was going to do.
I walked round behind him, pushing my face close to his ear. "I am going to give you a spanking that you aren't going to forget till the day you die."
Billy lowered himself onto my lap, crying openly now, "Please, sir, I'm sorry..."
He spurted his cum on my knee as I smacked him, then came a second time as I massaged soothing lotion over his buttocks after the beating. He lay silently weeping, sprawled over my lap, as I told him everything was going to be alright.
"Get up Billy, and stand in front of me."
This time there was only a brief hesitation. He stood there, face tear-streaked, watching me look at him, his beautiful muscled body now glinting in sweat and cum, his pretty cock shrivelled back into its small nest of hair. Tough guy Billy just stood there waiting for me to tell him he was allowed to leave.
I took a last long look, ruffled his hair, and told him "Time to go, Billy."
He went.
He'll be back.