'Hey , Martin ; keep an eye on the ball ,are you playing or what?!'

Standing in the middle of the concrete play ground of his old school , Martin suddenly realised that this was to be the last game of football he and his mates played here before they all went their separate ways. Only last week He had had the double celebration of his 18th birthday and passing his A levels . Soon He'd be on his way to university leaving his old School life at St. Joseph's behind him . Not that he looked 18 . At 5' 6" ,with a slim boyish figure and smooth skin that had barely felt the touch of a razor , Martin could pass for much younger . However , it wasn't these thoughts that took his mind off the game .

He'd just been distracted by the sight of Mr Marks ,the School caretaker , who had just walked by on the way to his house which stood in one corner of the playground. Something stirred in Martin, a feeling he didn't understand . It had been the same from the moment Martin first clapped eyes on Mr Marks two years ago . Was it that the Caretaker reminded Martin of His Father ! Just like his Father, Mr Marks had been an officer in the army. Barely 30 years old,this 6 ft tall figure with short cropped hair, certainly cut an imposing figure .

The sight of Mr Marks striding across the playground brought back memories of being summoned to his Father study to be punished for some misdemeanour. Martin always seemed to be getting into trouble. His Father had been a strict, old fashioned disciplinarian and He couldn't begin to count the number of times He had lain across his Fathers knee, struggling, unable to do anything about the imminent punishment. How could He forget the sharp pain of his Father's strong hand as it came down over his trouser less bottom, and his unheeded cries for forgiveness as the redness on his bum cheeks grew. If he'd been particularly naughty the spanking would be followed by six strokes of the slipper or even the cane !. That thought sent a shudder through Martin as he remembered the sound the cane made as it flew through the air towards its intended target ; and the jolt of pain as it stung into his arse cheeks forming welts which He would later examine, with some pride, in the three way mirror in His bedroom. Martin missed his Father and often wished He could return to those strict, but happy days.

Martin sighed and turned back to join in the game. Out of the blue the ball came towards him .Taking out all his frustrations on the ball He sent it soaring into the air. The boys stood motionless as they watched it's steady decent, then crash !! As it flew through the Caretakers bedroom window sending glass flying everywhere. The silence that followed was cut short by the sound of the front door opening and the laughs and screams of his mates as they ran away; Martin stayed rooted to the spot. The ball had travelled with such force, who knows what further damage it could have caused inside the bedroom !? and for once he was determined to stand up to his responsibilities.

Mr Marks stood in the doorway. Martin felt himself staring at the sight of this masterful figure. 'He certainly still keeps himself in shape ', He thought , admiringly ,as he examined the firm body clearly visible thought his tight fitting jeans and T Shirt. Dressed in his favourite Manchester United football kit, Martin felt like a naughty little Schoolboy again, about to be chastised by His PE teacher , His baggy shorts concealing he sight of His manhood rising at the prospect of what could happen next.

'I'm sorry ... I'll pay for the damage ,..' . Momentarily forgetting what he was wearing Martin went the wallet He always kept inside his trouser pocket . His cheeks turned a bright red with embarrassment.

'I know you will , boy , you'll pay, don't you worry about that.' Martin gulped , the sound of the word 'boy', the emphasis on the word 'pay'. It was like being at home again , with his Father. ' You'd better come in '.

With that Mr Mark turned and walked inside. Martin followed carefully shutting the door behind. He could feel the tip of his cock pushing against the material of his shorts in anticipation of what was to come. ' Well boy ,what have you got to say for yourself ?

' It was an accident Sir, We were just ...'

'An accident ? Big boys like you should know better. What would your Father say ?

'He'd punish me sir'. The words just came out ...!!

'and how would he punish you boy ?'

'He'd spank me Sir '. He didn't know why but more than anything Martin wanted to be put over this strong man's knee and given a sound thrashing. Licking his dry lips ,Martin bowed his head and put his arms behind his back in submission.

'Really?'. Mr Marks reached out and grabbed Martin's, now obvious, erection, gripping it tightly about an inch from the end. 'It Seems your bottom's not the only part of you that needs discipline. I'll deal with that later .' With that he let go. Deal with it now !!! thought Martin, his heart racing and his cock aching. He was ready to shoot his load there and then. but he knew he must control himself.

'You'd better follow me boy. It's time I taught you a lesson. Take off your shoes and socks.' Martin did as He was told and followed the Caretaker along the short hallway to a locked door which the caretaker opened. In it stood a row of old fashioned School desks facing a teachers desk and chair. On the teachers desk lay a cane, not dissimilar to the ones his Father had used all those years ago.

'that's right boy, You'll soon feel the full weight of that in a moment, but first I'm going to warm up that recalcitrant bottom of yours. With these words Mr Marks sat down on the teachers chair, grabbing Martin by the arm and throwing his over his knee as he did so. Martin was powerless to do anything about it, not that he wanted to. This is where he wanted to be and where he knew He belonged. It felt so right. At the same time he shuddered at the thought that the thin lining of his football shorts were all that lay between this man's powerful right hand and his pert virgin arse. He felt the gentle caress of Mr Marks' hand as it surveyed its intended target , sending shivers of pleasures all the way down to his groin which was still crying out for relief . Then thwack !! . The first stroke landed on his right cheek . Martin cried out in surprise as much as in pain and before He had time to recover the second stoke landed on the left with equal ferocity . Martin tried to struggle but was helpless in the arms of his Master . Yes his Master , Martin thought , and despite the pain thrust his bum cheeks out to receive more of the punishment he knew he deserved and desired . Mr Marks duly obliged , building up a rhythm with his hand ; the sound of which was interspersed with the gaps of pain and pleasure as Martin felt the heat rising from his , now painful behind .

Suddenly the beating stopped and once more Martin felt Mr Marks probing hands on his glowing orbs. The sensation was almost too much, but he instinctively knew that he must keep his throbbing cock in check or face the wrath of his new Master. Martin lay still as Mr Marks, expertly removed His football shirt and pulled his shorts down to His knees, releasing the warmth of his red cheeks to the cool air of the Schoolroom. Once more those strong hands surveyed their work and Mr Marks gave a grunt of pleasure, a sensation confirmed by the throbbing erection pushing against the material of his jeans into Martins now naked flesh.

Thwack ! ... And the painful punishment recommenced. This time there was no protection against the strong firm hand as it continued its relentless pounding of Martin's already sore arse. Martin cried out in pain, tears formed in His eyes as He pleaded with Mr Marks to stop. 'Please Sir, please Sir, I'll do anything Sir, Anything Sir'; But his cries were in vain as His arse turned an ever deeper red. Martin looked up at the stern face of Mr Marks through his tear stained eyes. He now knew that He was completely under the control of this man and a warm serge of comfort flew through his body.

The sound of palm against naked virgin arse grew into a steady rhythm, punctuated only by the whimpering sounds of Martin as he resigned himself to his fate. Their was no point in putting up a struggle. Not that he wanted to ! This is where He wanted to be.

Once more, without warning, the punishment stopped. Again, Martin felt the expert hands of Mr Marks soaking in the warmth of his glowing orbs; His Masters' fingers moving slowly towards His hole like an exploratory probe. ' Yes Sir , oh yes '. Martin cried out in ecstasy at the thought of what was to come. But his reverie was soon broken as a hand came down hard on his burning arse, a sharp reminder of His vulnerability. Before he knew where he was Martin was standing, naked in front of Mr Marks. He instinctively bowed His head and put his hands behind his back into a position of submission, His cock standing to attention in the hope of some much needed relief. But it was not to be, not yet anyway!

'Stand in the corner boy, hands on head, face against the wall.' Martin hesitated.' Hurry up boy, if you know what's good for you'

'Yes Sir, right away Sir' . With that Martin scampered over to the corner of the room and did as his master commanded. He felt totally humiliated, standing naked in the corner of the Schoolroom like the naughty little boy He now was, arse cheeks glowing and cock rock hard with desire. For a moment silence, then Martin heard the sound of a drawer being opened and something being taken out. It must be the teachers desk, thought Martin. His heart raced as he heard his Master coming towards Him.

'I've given you a few moments to reflect on your behaviour and punishment so far'

'yes Sir, thank you Sir'

'But I haven't finished with you yet, not by a long way. Turn round boy, on your knees, but keep your hands on your head'

'Yes Sir' Without hesitation Martin did as he was told. Perhaps this was the moment He had been waiting for and his new Master would relieve his quivering manhood. He looked up at the imposing figure of Mr Marks holding a three pronged tawes in his left hand and a wooden paddle in his right. His heart sank with disappointment and of fear of what was to come.

' That's right boy your punishment still has a long way to go. But first you may give me pleasure'. With that He undid the fly buttons of his jeans allowing them to slip down to his thighs revealing his enormous erect manhood. Martin greedily took Mr Marks hot member in his mouth, his tongue exploring every contour. Mr Marks let out a sigh of pleasure and Martins own rock hard cock oozed pre cum with the excitement of the moment.

'Slowly boy, I don't want to come just yet'. With tha Martin steadily moved His mouth up and down his Masters' huge shaft trying to take in as much as possible without choking. He'd never sucked cock before and now he intended to make up for lost time and prove his worthiness to his new Master.

'That's enough'. Reluctantly, Martin pulled away, He knew better than to argue or question His Masters wishes. 'Over the desk boy. Assume the position for your final punishment'. With that, Martin slowly walked over to the teachers desk and bent over sticking his still red arse into the air. He secretly hoped that if he took his punishment well His Master would reward him with some more cock action, not to mention the relief his own throbbing member.

'You will get six stokes with each instrument. You will count each stroke and thank Me for your punishment. If you fail to do so, you will receive the stoke again. If you move, you will receive the stroke again. Do you understand boy?

'Yes Sir, I understand Sir, I'... But before He had time to finish, the first stoke of the tawes landed on His unprepared arse. Martin let out a cry and instinctively stood up as his hands moved to comfort the searing pain.

'Back down into position boy. For moving you will receive that stoke again, for failing to count, another stroke.' Martin gasped in fear . The pain of that first stroke had been almost unbearable. He didn't know if he could take one more stroke, never mind seven!; but he knew He must learn to take his punishmen. Slowly Martin returned to His position of submission, sticking his burning arse out as far out as possible and bracing Himself for the onslaught to come. Martin held his breath as he heard the sound of the taws flying through the air towards its intended target. Thwack ... 'One Sir, thank you Sir!' Martin gasped, despite the pain emanating from his red behind. Three strokes followed in steady order. Each time Martin called out the number and thanked his Master, using all His will power to remain still. Five and six followed in quick succession giving Martin little time to blurt out His response. Finally the last stroke of the tawes, delivered with extra ferocity landed on his painful behind. Again Martin cried out in pain, but this time had the will power to remain still and count out His punishment.

'Good boy. You seem to be learning at last. Now let's see how you handle the paddle.'

With that Mr Marks swung the wooden instrument of punishment, landing it right in the middle of its intended target. The pain brought tears to Martins' eyes as he cried out the number of the stroke and thanked His Master . Each stroke , harder and more painful than the last , pushed Martin to the limits of endurance. But as he cried out' Six Sir, thank you Sir', He knew he had passed the test. Tears were streaming down His face, He was now openly crying. He wanted more than anything to rub his hands on his flaming arse cheeks and try and relieve the searing pain. But He remained in position, waiting for His Masters command.

Martin lay there for what seemed an age, bent over the desk, chastised and humiliated, under the firm control of Mr Marks. But it felt right, it was as if He had found what he had been looking for. His whole body throbbed with fear and excitement at the thought of what lay in store.

'Well boy, it's now time for your final punishment. A traditional Schoolboy caning for a traditionally dressed Schoolboy. Open the first desk, take out the uniform and put it on'. Martin did as He was told, opening the School desk to find the uniform of His school. The only difference being that this one came with grey flannel Short trousers and long grey socks. He quickly dressed. The tight fitting shirt clearly outlined His slender, boyish frame. Martin gingerly pulled the trousers over His tender behind. Again there was little room for manoeuvre as He sealed his throbbing cock behind the zipper of the short trousers. When He had finished dressing, Martin stood before his Master, a naughty schoolboy about to receive the ultimate schoolboy punishment. If His friends could see Him now!?! Secretly He wished they could see Him, dressed in the proper attire for a recalcitrant Schoolboy about to receive Six of the best. This thought brought a new round of frenzy to his aching member as it pushed against the lining of his short trousers. However, this mood was tempered by the realisation of what was to come, as Martin recalled the painful canings at the hands of His Father. His arse was still sore, burning from the paddle and taws punishment, and now it was to receive even more. Martin hoped he could take it, but he wasn't sure .

'Bend over boy, touch your toes. Again you will count out each stroke and thank me for it. You know what will happen if you fail to do so or if you move ?'

'Y.y.y. .yes Sir'.

'and I will pull down your trousers and give you the remaining strokes on the bare.' Trembling at this thought, Martin bent over into position and braced himself for the final onslaught on His already painful backside.

The sound of the cane whipping through the air was broken by a cry as it landed expertly in the middle of its intended target. The stinging pain surged through His body but Martin remained resolutely in position and dutifully called out his response. The last thing He wanted now was to lose the protection of His short trousers. The thought of being caned on His bare arse ensured that he controlled His urged to spring up and grab his painful behind. The second and third strokes landed just above and below the first. This was clearly a man who knew what he was doing and was well experienced in the art of caning. The next two landed crossways and proved too much for the now sobbing boy as he leapt up, in a vain attempt to protect his flaming arse from any more pain.

'Bend over boy, I haven't finished with you yet'. Mr Marks voice was harsh, unforgiving. Martin knew He had failed His Master.

'Sorry Sir, Sorry Sir'. He cried over and over again through his tears as he resumed His rightful position.

'Well boy, you can redeem yourself by taking the final stroke plus one extra for your misdemeanour on the bare.' Without bothering to undo them first, Mr Marks, roughly pulled Martin's grey School trousers down to his thighs. In an act of supplication Martin thrust his bruised and battered arse into the air in preparation for its final beating. Both strokes came down hard and fast hitting the centre of each trembling butt cheek.

'Thank you Sir, thank you Sir' Martin cried though the tears and pain. Dutifully, He remained bent over, allowing His Master to admire his handiwork. Suddenly, Martin felt the gentle but firm hands of Mr Marks examining the Weald marks already forming on his flaming orbs, sending a surge of pleasure through his body and down to his throbbing member. Sensing the boy's obvious needs Mr Marks pulled up a chair and sat the still trembling youth on his knee cradling him in his powerful arms. Martin buried his head in his Masters chest just as he had done with his father when He was a little boy.

'Good boy, good boy, you've done well.' Mr Marks whispered in soothing tones as his hand moved down towards Martins' erection. To moans of pleasure He gently worked the hard boy shaft. The moans became a cry of ecstasy as Martins' cock released its thick creamy man juice, shooting it high into the air, to the obvious relief and satisfaction of the well chastised boy. His Master held him tightly in his arms and Martin hoped that this moment would last forever. But Martin was soon pulled out of His reverie.

'Stand up boy, and bend over the desk'. He couldn't understand what He had done wrong to deserve more punishment. But He knew it was not His position to question is master and so obediently, without hesitation, Martin assumed the position over the teachers desk.

'Don't worry boy I'm not going to punish you anymore. It's now my turn to take my pleasure.' Martin felt His Masters fingers working their way inside His tight arse hole; their way eased by a soothing, cool lubricant which acted as a sharp contrast to his still burning arse. A surge of pleasure ran through Martin's body stirring his spent manhood once more into action .Then another moment of ecstasy as Mr Marks gently forced his own stiff member into the boys Virgin arse and began slowly pumping his way further inside.

'Yes Sir, yes Sir, oh yes Sir!!' Cried Martin encouraging His Master to thrust faster and harder into his tight hole . His own cock responded to this joyous onslaught by once more becoming erect and oozing pre cum juice. Sensing the boys excitement Mr Marks grabbed Martins' member and worked it in unison with His own thrusting shaft. Suddenly Martin felt the warm sensation of His Masters' released load inside him , triggering His own erection to reach orgasm.

A few minutes later, Martin was walking out of the house, dressed once more in his football kit. As He slowly made His way home His burning, sore arse cheeks acted as a pleasurable reminder of his encounter with Mr Marks. Martin knew it wouldn't be long before He found himself before his new Master, dressed, once more, as a naughty Schoolboy, about to be punished for some serious misdemeanour.