Not a chance meeting

Tony was nineteen and a bit wet behind the ears and he didn’t think anything of it when one afternoon as he was walking back from the shops he noticed Mr Higgins an elderly bachelor neighbour was still at his front gate sweeping the pathway.

Tony didn’t know Mr Higgins but being a well-behaved lad when the old man greeted him Tony stopped for a chat. They talked a little about football (Albion had been relegated but had high hopes for the season just starting) and Mr Higgins suggested Tony might like to come inside for a glass of wine.

Tony was flattered. He didn’t know many adults and it seemed a very grown-up thing to do. Soon they were seated at a table in the garden and Mr Higgins poured Tony a very large glass of red. Unlike so many other teenagers Tony wasn’t the kind to spend all weekend in the pub drinking endless pints of beer before chucking up in the gutter at closing time. In fact even after a few sips he felt the wine was going to his head. Mr Higgins poured him a second glass.

Suddenly, as is the way with an English summer, the skies darkened and the heavens opened. “Quick,! Mr Higgins grabbed the nearly empty wine bottle, “Come inside out of the rain.” He ushered the teenager through the french windows and into the house. It was a large room and Tony stood unsure what he should do. Then he noticed it. There was a cane hanging from a hook on the wall alongside the fireplace. It was about a yard long, as thick as a ballpoint pen and a shiny yellow colour. It dangled by its curved handle. Mr Higgins invited him to sit on the sofa which faced the fireplace. Tony had never seen a school cane before, corporal punishment had been outlawed years before, but the knew what it was.

He eyes were being constantly drawn to the sleek, shiny, slightly bent length of rattan which seemed to gleam menacingly at him. “Ah,” Mr Higgins almost giggled, “It’s a beauty isn’t it.” He reached up and took the cane from the hook, then as if to demonstrate its specialness he flexed it between his hands. Tony’s eyes popped as he watched Mr Higgins swipe the cane through empty air. Tony’s heart skipped a beat at the terrific swooshing noise it made.

“Magnificent,” Mr Higgins beamed. “Here take it,” he offered the cane to Tony, “Feel how lightweight it is. But, my does it pack a punch.” Nervously, the boy took the cane. Mr Higgns was correct, it was like a feather. Tony didn’t realise he was doing it but he parroted the old man’s actions by bending the cane between his hands. Then he swished it through the air. For something so lightweight it felt remarkably powerful.

“Have some more wine,” Mr Higgins poured another full glass. “Let me take that,” he said and he put the cane back on the hook. “Come sit next to me,” he patted the seat cushion on the sofa. They sat for some moments in silence with Tony staring at the cane dangling on the hook and Mr Higgins examining the teenager’s expression. He saw the boy cross his legs self-consciously. He smiled inwardly and sipped his wine. Everything was going to be fine, there was no need to hurry.

After a minute or so Mr Higgins feigned indifference, “Would you like me to take it down again?” His eyes moved to the cane. Tony tried to say “Yes,” but he couldn’t find his voice. A croak and a nod of the head encouraged Mr Higgins and once more he flexed the rattan rod in his hands. Despite his suntan, the colour drained from Tony’s face.

Mr Higgins pursed his lips, “Would you like to try it out?” He was no novice, Mr Higgins knew men of all ages, young and old had a fascination with school canes. He had read Tony like a book. “Er, ahh, umm,” Tony spluttered, his face now flushing bright red. Mr Higgins cackled and swished the cane through the air three times, quickening the pace with each swipe. “It doesn’t have to be severe,” he said (not for the first time, at least, he thought to himself.)

Tony wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa. The palms of his hands were sweating and the bulge in the front of his tight shorts pressed hard against the snug fabric. Still, he could not articulate his thoughts. Where were the words he needed? Mr Higgins had seen it all before. He flexed the cane once more. “Okay boy stand up,” he spoke quietly but with great authority. Unsteadily, Tony rose to his feet, the wine sploshing in the glass in his hand. Mr Higgins took it from him and placed it safely on a table.

“Over there,” another quiet command and a swish of the cane had Tony standing beside a small armchair. Mr Higgins took a moment to once again admire the boy. Tony was a little shorter than average and as thin as a rake. His disheveled fair hair almost covered his eyes. The shorts he wore were properly short and covered not much more than his underwear. His hooped shirt clung to his lean body. He was a delight and Mr Higgins beamed.

He slipped the cane from under his arm into his hand and tapped it on the arm of the chair. “Now bend over.” Tony looked perplexed. It didn’t occur to him to protest. He had no idea what was going on in his own brain but he knew for sure Mr Higgins was in control. But, the chair was low and quite small and he wasn’t at all sure how he was supposed to fit across it.

“Like this,” Mr Higgins took hold of Tony’s wrist and gently guided him over the arm of the chair so that his body rested on the seat cushion “Rest on your arms,” he suggested, “Bend your knees and make sure your bottom is pointing upwards.” Now Tony had the hang of it it wasn’t at all difficult, but he had to wriggle about a bit so he wasn’t leaning on his stiff cock.

“Good boy,” Mr Higgins licked his lips. What a delicious bottom, quite the best he had seen in some considerable time. The boy’s shirt had ridden up his back revealing a patch of bare, hairless flesh. It wasn’t strictly necessary to do so but Mr Higgins took hold of the waist of the shorts and tugged so that they fitted even more snugly. The old man gasped, it looked like Tony wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Right boy,” Mr Higgins swished the cane and then tapped it gently across the apex of Tony’s bum. Oh how Mr Higgins wanted to flog that cane at great force into the submissive tight buttocks. Tony had a bum that cried out to be flogged. But that would have to wait. “Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.” If he beat the boy’s backside to bits now he would never come back for more. He had to start slowly. He would cane him so it stung just enough to make him gasp. Tony needed to know that he had been caned, but not to his limits. It would whet his curiosity; he must go away intrigued and anxious to return soon to further test his limits.

“Brace yourself boy,” Mr Higgins sawed the cane across Tony’s bottom delighting in the way the nineteen-year-old’s body tensed. Tap-tap-tap-swipe! It wasn’t a hard stoke but the crack of rattan across tight cotton shorts ricocheted around the room. “Urgg,” Tony’s mouth gaped. That hurt. But it was a good hurt. Swipe! The second connected about a half an inch below the first. Mr Higgins was an expert caner and so long as Tony didn’t wriggle around too much he could land the rod on any part of the buttocks that he wanted to. Tony closed his eyes and puffed his cheeks. His bum was hot and the pain was rising.

Tony’s hips swivelled after the third stoke and his knees buckled and he twisted his left leg over his right ankle after the fourth. “Steady boy,” Mr Higgins grunted. “Two more to go.” Tony, determined not to let himself down, steadied himself. His bum throbbed and he so much wanted to give it a good rub. Swipe! Mr Higgins admired his own handiwork, there were five almost-parallel stripes etched into the seat of Tony’s cotton shorts.

“Last one,” he announced. It took all his efforts not to make this one a hell of a humdinger that would have the boy jumping to his feet and stampeding around the room in agony. Mr Higgins knew patience was a virtue. One day, he told himself, one day that will happen, but for now …. and he snapped the cane across the underside of Tony’s bum just where the cheeks and thighs meet. “Ouch!” Tony coughed with genuine hurt.

Mr Higgins tucked the cane under his arm and admired the view once more. Tony was a delightful boy with the most marvellous bottom. He hoped one day to be able to share him with his friends. “You may stand.” Tony rose unsteadily and found the room spinning. He supposed – incorrectly – that he had drunk too much wine. He rubbed his bottom ruefully. Mr Higgins pretended not to notice the drip-stain in the front of the boy’s shorts.

The companiable silence dragged on for a few seconds before Mr Higgins said, “Here, have another glass of wine.”

Picture credit: Unknown

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Traditional School Discipline

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Other stories you might like

The drunken neighbour

Rhys, 21, and the bath brush

Coffee shop memory

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

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