Tales from the Study 1: St. FIGS

St Francis Independent Grammar School St FIGS is a traditional school – traditional curriculum; traditional sports; traditional uniform and traditional discipline. Meet John Allison, eighteen years old and a new boy at school, as he discovers just what that means. The thwack of the cane against stretched buttocks echoes through the passageways. No naughty sixth-former … Continue reading Tales from the Study 1: St. FIGS

The Private Tutor

The Private Tutor What can fathers do when their sons fail their school exams because they spend too much time out with girlfriends, clubbing and playing in a rock band? Call for The Private Tutor. Using traditional educational approaches, he will soon lick them into shape. The whippy rattan cane, the taws, the paddle and … Continue reading The Private Tutor

The older man

It pays to be honest, I’ve always believed that. I always knew I was gay and I was open about it at university. I also knew I desperately wanted to be spanked by a much older man. I told some of my pals this one night when we were in a bar. “I’ll spank you,” … Continue reading The older man

Tears before spanking

“No, uncle, no please. I will be good I promise.” Baz covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his unruly long fair hair flopped over his eyes. His shoulders heaved. “Please don’t. Please don’t” Was he really crying? He held his head low, I couldn’t get  a proper look at his face. “No, … Continue reading Tears before spanking

Still spanked by dad aged 25

Twenty-five-year-old Alistair McAndrew fumbled with the buckle of his belt before loosening it; then he released the two clasps at the top of his cream chino trousers. Once the zipper was down they fell to his knees. He lifted his shirt away from his buttocks and carefully lowered himself over the back of the couch. … Continue reading Still spanked by dad aged 25

Getting back on track

So there I was, twenty-two-years old, nearly twenty-three, with my jeans down at my shins and spread-eagled across the table in the front room; my underpants stretched across my firm, meaty buttocks. Nearby, stood Mr Cudlipp swiping a thick, but whippy rattan cane through the air. Mr Cudlipp was my landlord. That is to say … Continue reading Getting back on track

The student’s big fat fail

Stacey clutched the essay in his hand despondently. An “F”. He had an “F”. A big fat fail. He looked forlornly at the professor seated at his desk in front of him. An “F”. Joseph Stacey had nobody to blame but himself. He had written the essay in haste. He hadn’t been near the library, … Continue reading The student’s big fat fail

Late home from a date

Glyn pressed his foot on the accelerator and glanced anxiously at the clock on the dashboard. It said 11.45 p.m. Surely, it must be fast. Where had the time gone? He had promised Mary’s father they would be home by 10.30. They were in trouble; big trouble. It was worth it, Glyn thought. The front … Continue reading Late home from a date

At the vicarage

I was at the vicarage late one afternoon, as I often am, when the vicar told me without emotion that he was expecting a visitor at any moment. I offered to leave but he said, “No, no. Stay. After we can play a game of chess and drink a little sherry.” Having nothing much else … Continue reading At the vicarage

Stand there. Trousers down, lad

“Stand there. Yes, just there. Trousers down, lad. Right down. All the way. To the ankles.” I did as I was told. We did in those days. Eighteen years old and in the headmaster’s study. This wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. The exams were the following month and then I … Continue reading Stand there. Trousers down, lad