Date: Mon, 17 Nov 2003 18:11:29 +0000
From: Shy Boy <snbist@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dealing with the Paperboy

I was on the waiting list to be a paperboy at the local newsagent for
about two years, and it was only when one of the established boys moved
out of the area in 1968 that my chance came up. I was nearly 13 by then,
and desperate for some spending money. When David left, he gave me some
wonderful tips on how to maximise the income (look cute on Saturdays
when you collect the money, don't have enough change, have about four
birthdays a year, give everyone a Christmas card, etc.), and one warning
"watch out for the old major at 14 Walnut Lane - he complains about
everything".

The weekday deliveries went fine, all done before school, and being
June, mostly in pleasant conditions. For my first collection round on
the Saturday, I wondered what would be "cute", and delved deep into my
untidy wardrobe. A pair of pristinely ironed white tennis shorts were
selected (a bit small, but without underwear seemed to fit) and then a
matching white tee shirt, short socks and shiny black school shoes
completed the selected attire. I combed my hair, practised smiling in
the mirror, and deemed myself ready.

It was really easy making the extra money, most customers seemed to like
me and gave me a reasonable tip - as much as a whole day's pay from one
bloke (although he wasted ten minutes "using up an old film in his
camera" taking pictures of me posing as a garden elf for his sculpture
work); and the "sorry, I'm short of change" trick worked several times
over too. But, then I came to 14 Walnut Lane.

I rode up the drive on my bicycle (as I had all the other houses with
drives), swung the back wheel round so I could reach the bell push, and
waited.

"Ah, hello new paperboy" he greeted me "I've been watching you ride up
my drive all week, and I don't like the way you swing the bike around
.... you're knocking the blooms off my roses, and endangering my prized
potted plants!"

I was naturally taken aback by this rather aggressive welcome, and with
a tremble in my voice replied "S s sorry Sir, I'll leave my bike outside
from now on and walk up". "Good" he stated. "Now try again". I carefully
reversed a few inches, put my hand under the saddle, and with a leg each
side, lifted and swung the back wheel round again so that I was facing
outwards. CRASH, WALLOP, TINKLE. My heart stopped, as bits of broken
flower pot exploded behind me. "You stupid boy!" he roared "now look
what you've done!"

This was a devastating situation, and I didn't know what to do. But he
did. "Right, that's it boy, I'm calling the shop immediately .... I'm
cancelling the papers, and I'll want this expensive pot replaced by your
boss"

Without thinking first, but knowing I didn't want to lose my prized new
job, I made an immediate offer "Please Sir, I will pay for the pot,
please don't call the shop, I don't want to get fired in my first week"

"Boy" he shouted, "that pot was a classic Georgian urn ....it will cost
more to replace than a year of your pay" and then he calmed down a bit
"but I like your determination to sort out your own problems". He
stopped to think whilst rubbing his chin. "OK, you've been naughty, and
can't pay .... so lets settle this the old fashioned way .... "

"The old fashioned way, Sir?" I quizzed, "Whats that?". "A good spanking
boy, that's what" he replied forcefully, "a few whacks, and its all
forgotten". "Get inside".

I got off my bike, propped it against the wall, walked over the
shattered pot (it looked pretty ordinary to me), and followed him
inside. "Right boy .... shoes and socks off.... then follow me down to
the dungeon". The dungeon!

He opened a door under the stairs, where I expected to find a gas meter
or something, but his had a set of small twisting steps that led down to
another door, which turned out to be for an old cellar. It was warm and
dank and musty, without any windows, but reasonably spacious. Pride of
place was a big iron bedstead with a double mattress, covered with one
of those red rubber sheets like you see in hospitals, with two stout
wooden poles laid on top. The poles were roped together and tied to the
centre of the frame at the head end of the bed, then splayed open and
overhung the toe end of the bed to make a sort of upside down "V" shape.
And there was a series of small metal eyelet hoops in various places
along each pole.

"Right, stand still boy, I'll get you ready" he demanded, then counted
out a set of eight small leather straps from a cupboard, then started
attaching them to me. They were simple small belts, each with a keyring
style release clip hanging off, and he put one strap on each of my
wrists, elbows, knees and ankles.

"OK boy, kneel on the edge of the bed between the poles" which I did
(somewhat nervously, especially with no underwear), "then get down on
all fours, with your arms between the poles too". He then swung the
poles in towards me, and clipped the straps he had just tied to me, to
the pole's eyelets. I was now loosely restrained, but not uncomfortable
as all my weight was on the soft rubber covered mattress, with my feet
dangling off the bottom of the bed.

He then fetched some rope. He tied this around an unused hoop in the
left pole first (just in front of my knee), and tossed the rest of the
rope under the bed. He walked round to the other side, picked it up and
tugged. The left pole (and all the parts of me attached to it) jerked
outwards - then he threaded the rope around the right pole hoop and
tugged again. The "V" opened up, and so did I. My hands were fairly
close together (making a cradle to rest my head in), but my feet were
now stretched wide apart, my bum stuck vulnerably up in the air, and my
crack felt strangely spread. "Good" he muttered "Lets get started".

"As its your first time boy, I'm only going to use things from the soft
box", "none of these hurt much, so maybe a hundred strokes or so". A
hundred strokes!! The most I've ever had before was six!!

He opened a small wooden box and laid out some implements - some I
recognised (a fly swat, a 12" wooden ruler) and some I didn't, but to
start with he used his hands anyway. Some light slaps to my bare legs, a
few gentle smacks on the bum .... and then, surprisingly, some rubbing
better. The rubs were circular and really soft, and with my thigh
muscles being a bit strained, felt more like a tickle .... so I came out
in goosebumps! "Good boy" he said quietly, "nice smooth skin and getting
relaxed".

"Now, let me introduce you to my hot and cold whackers" he said. I
turned my head to look. They appeared to be bits of bicycle inner tube,
cut and tied about a foot long, pumped up and joined to a handle. "These
have got water in .... ones been in the fridge all week, and the others
been heated up in a saucepan". Then he laid the cold one on my left
naked sole, and the hot one on the right. My feet jerked immediately,
but being tied up, couldn't get away from the surprise contact .... and
when he started smacking them up and down my bare legs, the sensation
was electric. I initially thought it was pain, but settled down to
feeling the "can't escape" excitement that you get when being held and
tickled at the same time. I squirmed and wriggled to no avail, as the
whackers wondered freely around my constrained body, ending up being
spanked alternately into my stretched shorts. Another period of rubbing
better followed, and then my earlier crime was discovered. "Have you
come out without pants on boy?"

"Sorry, yes sir .... I was in a rush", "I didn't mean to". "Bloody
disgrace .... " he stammered, "OK, its in the bare from now on .. " He
put the whackers down, stood in the gap between my splayed legs, and
reached under to the front of my shorts and started fumbling with the
buttons (each one took ages, and that tickled too), and then he tugged
them dramatically down to my knees (they just about stretched that far,
but couldn't go down any further because of the knee straps). My bum
felt even more vulnerable, and my privates dangled freely in the warm
air.

"OK, it's the ruler next". But instead of using it like a cane, he used
it as a flicking device, bending it back and aiming the impacts at my
most sensitive spots. From the soles of my feet (again!), to the back of
my knees, up the inside of my stretched thighs, out to the crease where
my legs join my bum (ouch!), and then, most alarming of all, towards the
insides of my crack. As he concentrated the aiming ever nearer my hole
(and got softer with the smacks), my bum suddenly started a series of
uncontrollable contractions, and as this became more rhythmic, a new
horror arrived in view, as I saw my member begin to swell in sympathy!

Luckily he didn't see my embarrassment, and complimented me on "being
good and quiet" and "having nice reflexes". Then he put the ruler back
in the box and said "Now you just wait here, while I get changed ....
it's getting a bit hot down here".

Well, there was obviously nowhere I could go, and with him gone I was
able to think about Geography homework and other horrid problems, which
meant my bum could have a rest from its reflexes, and I achieved a
welcome reduction in frontal stiffness.

When he came back (and locked the door), he was wearing army shorts -
neat khaki ones with a black belt (and something in his front pocket?) -
no shoes or socks (like me) and bare up top too (showing off
surprisingly muscular arms for someone who I thought was probably as old
my granddad).

"OK boy, this stage really won't hurt, its just a flipper" he said, and
showed me the next implement, which was two strips of the red rubber
sheet. However, instead of hitting me with both, he tied the widest one
round my eyes! It was now very dark, and fairly pungent, as he started
spanking me with the remaining narrower strip - following the same route
as the ruler, but being more lightweight it was hardly noticeable as a
smack, just a flip and a "thwacking" noise as it hit my skin. However,
it was the anticipation this time that made me react. The major's
ability to catch me out with the timing between strokes now that I
couldn't see was very evident - so by the time the thwacks had reached
my naked bum, my hole was pumping more vigorously than ever, as if
yearning for the next hit. In fact, as the well aimed flips got close to
the middle spot, I instinctively pushed back several times (which opened
me even further) at false guesses of when the hit was coming. These
straining pushes, combined with the increasing warmth and the smell of
the rubber sheeting around my head, all joined forces to bring my member
back up to maximum rigidity, and worse, I could feel it bobbing up and
down in time to the now immensely strong rear contractions.

Then suddenly a change of mood: "What's that boy?" he demanded, "have
you given yourself a disgusting erection now?"

"Er, sorry, sir, it just came up by itself, I didn't mean to" I muttered
from under the rubber.

"Well, its outrageous .... I'm going to tie it up out of the way .... "

I then heard his buckle being undone and the belt pulled out from his
shorts (I wondered what then held them up?), and as he stood in the gap
between my restrained legs, he slid my tee shirt up my back and pulled
it mostly over my head (I was even more smothered now!) and then he
wrapped the leather belt under my belly enclosing my stiffy and did the
buckle up (loosely) on my back. The belt was about 3" wide, so covered
most of my shaft, but left the circumcised end poking out - which, due
to the lack of belt tightness - was still able to twitch up and down,
but now even more sensitised as the rough leather made contact with the
edge of my knob during its movement.

"OK boy, its another whacking tube now .... "

I guessed it was another hot one that had cooled down a bit, as it
started a new route of spanking. This one bashed from side to side
inside my thighs, then rubbed up and down my spread crack, before being
smacked up under my bottom a few times (where it made me jump when it
accidentally prodded into my dangling balls).

The major seemed a bit breathless as he explained he was now going to
use the new whacking tube even more gently than the flipper, as he
thought "my bottom reflexes" were very interesting. I moaned an
acknowledgement, as another twinge of excitement rushed to my bum. Then
he suddenly did the belt up very tight - compressing my member into my
belly - giving it an enormous surge of power as the shaft fought back
against the pressure with every heartbeat, and the squeezed (but free,
and rock hard) end released a string of precum down to the waiting
sheet.

With the anticipation stakes now even more extreme, I waited impatiently
for the first touch of the whacking tube - my puckering hole anxious for
the contact. But instead of a hit, I felt the majors trembling hands
ever so lightly drag up the back of my legs and then around my bum
(which brought out the goosebumps again), then open my cheeks some more
(quicker pulsations, and another precum dribble), then the warm tube
touched my hole straight on (a virtual explosion of sensitivity). Then,
just as the intensity was about to climax .... he took it away.

As I sighed into my tee shirt, another round of extreme anticipation
began, this time I'm already goosebumped, pumping urgently, and oozing
precum, before the major starts his journey up my legs .... and when he
does, my whole body strains against its straps as the tension is so
great .... waiting .... waiting .... and yes, the tube touches my
frantic hole .... I squirm and pump .... then the magic starts, each
pump of my hole reaches out for a touch, and each relax lets go, the
pace quickens, the tingling is intense .... then just as I am rising to
a crescendo of delight .... the whacking tube burst and sprayed its hot
water all over my bum .... the major gave a huge groan, but I couldn't
stop, and as the water ran slowly down my legs (getting colder), my
shuddering climax arrived and I shot spurt after spurt of cum
plip-plopping all over the rubber sheet .... all the more powerfully for
being squeezed by the belt. Then as the convulsions in my shaft
subsided, I notice the major was rubbing the spilt water in circles up
my still pumping hole (probably to calm it down - which felt good).

"Wow" he said. "That wasn't so bad was it?" He undid the belt, and my
still dripping willy flopped down into the air again. "I'll just put my
shorts back on, then I'll get you cleaned up". I was still blindfolded
as a nice fluffy towel was used to wipe me clean, then he undid the
straps, and helped me off the bed and back on with my tennis shorts,
then finally, vision was restored.

"Well done chap" he smiled. "Now here's ten bob (50p these days, but
worth about $20 at the time) .... see you next week".
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