Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2001 16:38:28 -0800 (PST)
From: Ukboy <moonspender2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Clocked by Knightspanked (Incest) (M/t anal, spank)

(Usual disclaimers apply)

From my own experiences in the 1930s of having to
bend over for canings from teachers, even
prefects, I found the pain inflicted to be
tolerable and mercifully short in duration. Mind
you, those were only two or three stroke beatings
over two layers of clothing which absorbed much
of the hurt.

When I was 14, my guardian, a brother, twelve
years my senior, caught me smoking. What upset
Ronnie the most was I'd stolen a packet of his
cigarettes. Actually I'd stolen more than a few
packets but he'd only just caught up with me.
He gave me six hard strokes with a school-type
cane on my small, bare buttocks. That was in the
evening. Early the next morning, before he left
for work, Ronnie gave me another six. My backside
was still on fire from the beating the night
before. He had the knack of waiting until each
stroke had reached maximum hurt before
admininstering the next one. Diabolical.

I never touched another cigarette.

That Friday morning I dragged myself off to
school. It was painful sitting on the hard
wooden seat and I couldn't stop squirming.
Lofty Hargreaves the Maths teacher warned me
twice about 'fidgeting'. The third time he took
me outside the room and gave me three good
whacks with his cane. The sound ricocheted like
gun shots around the empty corridors. I yelped
and tears flooded my eyes as he reignited the
forest fire blazing in my backside.

After school a monitor took me to the head
prefect. I'd earned enough demerits that week
for a beating. Three more strokes, cheerfully
inflicted by the muscular Captain of the Rugby
First XV. I yelped and bawled which must have
pleased him because lads usually accepted their
punishment without complaint.

The bus taking me home was so full it was
standing room only. I was surrounded by burly
young soldiers on their way into town. I felt a
hand fondling my sore backside through my uniform
shorts.

"You've got a hot little arse, sonny", a
masculine voice whispered in my ear. He pushed
his hand down the back of my shorts.

"Strewth!", he marvelled, "You got the cane
today".

A finger entered the crease and fingered my
pucker.

"Twenty quid for a shag".

I thought of all the things I could buy with the
money and was tempted. Then I thought 'Ronnie
will murder me' so shook my head. The hand
painfully squeezed my swollen bum-cheeks and was
withdrawn.

"Bloody little tease, that's all you are", the
voice hissed, disappointed.

The soldiers all got off the bus. I tried to work
out which man had tried to seduce me but they all
looked so manly it was impossible to tell. I sank
onto a spare seat and winced when my lacerated
rump made contact with the hot leather. On
impulse I pulled the cord and got off at the next
stop. I ran back and saw the military men coming
down the street towards me. I stopped and rubbed
my sore bum through my shorts. A good looking
young private peeled off from the bunch and came
over to me.

"You that nipper who got his arse tickled today?"
he asked, bold as brass.

"Yes", I said.

"Wait two minutes and then follow me". He
disappeared up an alley. I counted to 120 and
traced his steps. The alley was deserted.

"Psst!" The soldier stepped out from an open
doorway. He took me inside, into an abandoned
factory.

"This'll do".

He undid my belt and pulled down my shorts and
underpants.

"Cor! You copped a real good hiding". His hands
felt my corrugated flesh.

"What made you change your mind, about coming
with me?"

I shrugged. The hand continued to fondle my
backside. He cupped each swollen cheek in his big
hands. Then I heard the rustle of clothing behind
me. He pushed me forward, his fleshy penis
pressing against my backdoor. With one powerful
movement he pulled me back onto his flesh-pole.
The massive mushroom shaped head prised open my
virgin ring. I started to protest so he shoved
his hanky in my mouth. Another massive lunge and
his balls were against my bum cheeks. His bloated
member filled my rectum and stretched my anus.

"Tighter than any tart's twat", he marvelled.

Then he started thrusting, long powerful strokes
that almost knocked the breath out of me. When
his big penis caressed my prostate the pain was
replaced by wave after wave of sensuous pleasure.
My own five-incher stiffened. When I heard the
soldier groan and felt his wetness spray my
bowels, my cock erupted with a stupendous orgasm.

He pulled out of me. The hanky was removed from
my mouth and the soldier used it to first clean
himself and then me. We both got dressed.

"Don't turn around".

I heard the rustle of notes and he pushed some
into my hand.

"Thanks, nipper!" and he was gone. I looked at
the notes, 20 pounds just for letting him up me!
I walked home.

The atmosphere was still frosty on the home
front. My brother's wife Kay was a bit of a shrew
and kept on at him about letting me off too
lightly. The upshot was, after I'd changed into
my jammies and was ready to crawl into bed,
Ronnie came into the room with his cane.

"Kneel on the bed. Leave your pjs on. I don't
want to see the bruises on your backside. Might
stop me from giving you the hiding you deserve.
Stick your bum up higher".

Man, he really laid into me with six more
powerful whacks. I yelled myself hoarse. I'd
taken 24 strokes in as many hours.

"No more stealing, ok?"

Tearfully, I nodded my head.

After that, I did my best to stay out of
trouble at school. At home though I got a
hiding with the cane once a fortnight. While I
hated being hurt, part of me needed the
intimacy of my brother whacking me on the bare
bum. Hard to explain it. I always had a good
wank after he'd caned me and the sensation when
I spunked was the best, ever.

I was lucky to have a brother willing to take me
in after a family tragedy. He must have quite
enjoyed whacking his headstrong young brother's
tautly clenched buttocks because afterwards,
through the wall, I'd hear Ronnie and Kay noisily
making babies.

When Kay finally did get pregnant, she went right
off marital relations. Ronnie got very
frustrated. One Sunday afternoon while she was
out I told Ronnie about what I'd done with the
soldier. Instead of murdering me like I expected
he joined me on the kitchen sofa and shagged me
himself. After that, he emptied his big nuts up
my little shitter at least once a week.

Ronnie was very grateful for the relief but still
caned me once a fortnight, regular as clockwork.
That's how life was in the good old days.