Date: Sat, 27 Feb 2016 12:53:20 +0000 (UTC)
From: Walter King <edmundb45@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Jim's Growing up

			     JIM'S GROWING UP

Dedicated to Jim - a Nifty reader and supporter.


   I remember thefirst day I saw Jim. He was sitting with some friends in a
pub that was popularwith the undergraduates. I was on my own, enjoying a
pint and some peanuts.That was my lunch. Jim was opposite me, so it was
easy just to gaze at him –and why the hell not? He was certainly easy on
the eye. Big, wide apart eyesand wavy brown hair. His nose was of the
Grecian type – high set and long –that grand ladies use to pay
thousands to have grafted onto them. And the lowerlip jutted out, almost
overwhelming the thin upper lip. I was wondering whatexperts believed could
be told by such a nose and such lips. I had no idea.

   He saw me lookingat him, but I refused to look away. I was enjoying the
sight of him and you getfew enough enjoyments as you get older. Young guy
need to let their beauty beadmired by older guys like me and not fuss.

   After a while, hisfriends got up to go. Jim got up too but, as they
left, he sat down again andlooked across at me. It seemed silly to pretend
that I hadn't been looking athim. I smiled and lifted my glass in a sort of
toast. He smiled back. Iwondered if he would come over. I finished my beer
and was about to get up whenhe came across.

   `I couldn't helpsee you looking at me. Do I know you?'

He wasn't too tall – slim, slight build. There was a mildScottish
accent.

   `No, we don't knoweach other. I was just admiring you. I hope you don't
mind. You're agood-looking lad.'

  `Thank you', hereplied. `No, I don't mind at all. It's rather
flattering.'

  `I love your nose –your lower lip - and your wavy hair.'

  He sat down oppositeme.

   `Do you often dothis sort of thing?'

   `What sort ofthing? Admiring young lads, and telling them how good they
look?'

   `Yes I suppose so.'

   `I admire younglads, but I don't often tell them. The opportunity
doesn't arise. I'm glad youdon't mind. What are you reading?'

   `Accountancy andBusiness studies. I hope to get into corporate banking
when I graduate.'

   `That shouldprovide you with a good living – even today. I wish you
well. But don't mess itup.'

  `I hope I won't –but it's sometimes hard to stay focused.'

   `Have you thoughtof getting yourself a mentor?'

   `No. Why do youask?'

   `I've mentored anumber of young guys in my time – and I'm proud of
what they've achieved intheir lives. Some of them didn't start out with
many advantages, but all ofthem have done well. It's not about making
money. It's about growing up,becoming a man, and building a decent life for
yourself.'

   `I think I'm a manalready!' He laughed.

   `You're way offthat. You're very young, in years and in development.'

   `How do you knowthat? You don't know anything about me.'

   `I've dealt withenough young men to be able to guess where they are and
what they need prettyquickly and pretty accurately. I think I know what you
need.'

   `That's spooky.' Helooked nervous. `What do I need?'

  `You need an olderguy to take you in hand. You need a mentor. Otherwise I
can see you messing upyour life and that would be a pity.'

   `Are you offering?'He smiled. `Would it cost me?'

   `Yes, I amoffering. And no, it wouldn't cost you. I don't need
money. I'm not rich, butI've enough for my needs.'

   He looked at me. Icould tell that he thought I might be just an old
perve who wanted to get intohis pants, but I could also tell that he was
interested.

  `OK. Let's give it atry. What do I have to do.'

   `You need to agreea month's probationary period. By that time either one
of us will know whetheror not it's working. After that, we'll each commit
to a further year,renewable.'

   `Sounds OK. When doI start?

   I gave him my card.

   `All the sessionswill take place at my flat. What are your commitments
tomorrow?'

   `I've got lecturesin the morning, but I'm OK after that.'

  `Good. Let's say 2pm – precisely. I expect punctuality.'

   `Right, Mister.I'll be there.'

   `Call me Sir.What's your name?'

   `Jim, Sir.'

   `Right, Jim. I'llsee you tomorrow at 2 pm.'



   He arrived at 2 pmprecisely. It was a good start. I took him into my
sitting room and got him tostand in front of the fireplace, facing me, in
an at ease position.

  `We'll startstraightaway, Jim. All young men need discipline – and a
key part of disciplineis beating. Young men need regular beatings. It's one
of the tragedies ofmodern life that beatings have more or less
ceased. Fathers no longer beattheir sons. Did your father ever beat you?'

   `No, Sir.'

   `Few fathers do.And yet a young man needs to be able to take a
beating. Years ago, in the armedforces, the ability to take a beating
without complaint marked out a man. Hewas respected and admired by his
fellows. And he was the better for it. Thebeating might be administered for
a particular reason, but its real purpose wasto maintain the mental and
spiritual health of the man who received it.'

  `I understand, Sir.'Jim was beginning to look nervous. I could tell that
this was not at all whathe had expected. I wondered if he was going to cut
and run. I would have beendisappointed if he had. Under the pretty boy face
and slim body, I had seen ahint of a tough and determined young man. Still,
he had to freely accept what Iwas offering if this was to work.

   `You need abeating, Jim. You deserve it a number of reasons. You know
what they are. Idon't need to spell them out, and I'm not interested in the
detail in any case.If you can take this beating without complaint, you'll
be a better man – andyou'll know that straightaway. But remember, I
don't want to hear any yelps.You need to take this punishment in silence.'

   `I've never beenbeaten before, Sir. What will you use? And how many
strokes will you give me?Will I be marked?'

   `For these earlysessions, I'll use my belt. I'll judge the number of
strokes, but will tell youin advance. And, yes, you will be marked, but the
marks will go in a few days.'

   I enjoyed watchingpoor Jim struggling with conflicting emotions. He was
clearly a lad out foradventure. I suspected that he had experimented quite
a lot already, and thatthis wasn't so far from what he already knew. But he
also wasn't sure how toughI was going to be on him and how well he would
stand up to it.  I was glad then when he took a deep breathand said with a
voice that tried to sound more relaxed and sure of himself thanI knew he
was.

   `OK, Sir. Tell mewhat I have to do.'

  `Take down yourjeans and pants and lean up against that chair.'

  It's a specialmoment when a young man takes down his trousers. It's the
moment when he handsover power to another man, when he accepts submission,
when he acknowledges anauthority greater than his own. And of course there
is also the interest inseeing his butt cheeks. I never tire of the butts of
young men. They are of aninfinite variety, but all of them are for me
intensely erotic. Jim's butt wassmooth and hairless, as I expected. But it
had a plumpness about it that I hadnot expected. British guys are famed for
their plump butts – it's what makesthem so popular in the market –
but I had guessed that Jim's might be one of theskinny ones. I was glad I
was wrong. Those rounded cheeks would offer a tastytarget, and would likely
redden up very nicely.

   `For the firstround, I'll give you twelve strokes, six on each cheek.'

   There was silence.

   `It's usual to say,"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir", and at the end of each
round to say, "Thank you,Sir"'

  `Yes, Sir. Thankyou, Sir.'

   I took off my beltand folded it. It was a moment I had experienced so
many times before, but itnever ceased to excite me. I liked using my
belt. I didn't need it to keep mytrousers up – and I certainly didn't
need it to be as broad as I was. I wore itas a sign of my authority, as a
subtle message to those who saw it andunderstood its purpose. I took aim at
the white, unmarked butt cheeks that werenow waiting for me, and started.

 I hit hard. There'sno point in giving any butt a tickle. A young man needs
to feel the power of astroke and of the man who's giving it. I much prefer
to administer fewer andharder strokes than to endlessly tickle a young
man. After the first four, Iwas glad to see the red marks appear. His fair
skin marked easily, but not soeasily that I felt I ought to be gentler with
him. I was also glad that Jim wasmaking no sound. After the first stroke,
he gave a quick gasp – as quicklystilled – and after that, nothing.
AfterI had finished, I felt his cheeks. They were red and satisfyingly hot.

  `Thank you, Sir.'Jim was clearly a quick learner.

  `We'll try a furthertwelve, Jim. Remember to breathe deeply and blow the
pain out.'

   `Yes, Sir. Thankyou, Sir.' The voice was muffled. It was clearly a
struggle for him, but I wasimpressed. I could see that I was not going to
be disappointed in Jim. The nexttwelve were tough for him. His butt was
already tender and I didn't let up onthe force of my strokes, but I could
see he was determined. He was gripping thechair tightly, and was blowing
hard. This young man didn't need to be toldtwice. He was clearly bright.'

  `Well done, lad.Stand up and pull your jeans back up.'

   He did so andturned. His face was red and there were tears in his
eyes. I pulled him to meand held him. I was 6ft 3in and more than half as
heavy again as he was. It wasgood to hold this young lad who was just
starting out on his journey tomanhood. I buried my face in his hair. It
smelt clean, unscented – just ashe did. I hate scented men. That was one
lesson I could skip.  I felt him clinging on to me, lost in a stormof
emotion, wanting not to be let go of.

   `I'm proud of you,Jim. I wasn't sure whether you'd be up for it, but I'm
glad you were. Are youOK now?'

   `Yes, Sir. Thankyou, Sir.' His face was buried in my chest. The voice
was muffled, but I couldhear the firmness in his reply.

   `Return to yourfirst position, at ease, by the fireplace.' I felt the
reluctance, but he letgo of me and took up his position. He was looking
down at the floor.

   `Look up, Jim. Lookat me. There's nothing to be ashamed of. As I said,
I'm proud of you.'

   He looked up thenand our eyes met. There was shadow of a smile, but the
tears still glistened.He looked more beautiful than I had ever seen him. He
seemed to understandsomething – that this wasn't just about getting
fucked by an older man, thatthis was going to be a real adventure. He
didn't know where it would take him,but he was keen to continue on the
journey.'