It was now summer term in Steve's final year at Oxford. His final examinations were coming up in two weeks time. He had worked hard and with a bit of luck he would get a first. He did not like swotting right up to the exam day, he preferred to relax and go into an exam fresh.
That summer in England was a scorcher with temperatures regularly hitting the 90s. One particularly gorgeous sunny day he and Samantha decided to spend an afternoon on the river. It was by far the best place to get cool during the present heatwave.
On fine summer days the River Thames at Oxford is crowded with punts – long, narrow, flat-bottomed boats propelled by a pole, which is pushed at an angle onto the bed of the river. Steve had reserved one of his college punts - a really nice comfortable one. He guided Samantha on board and carefully positioned the picnic hamper. Then he cast off and headed upstream to the place where the River Cherwell meets the Thames. As they glided past the dreaming spires of Oxford, the gentle rippling of the river mingled with the muffled chimes of a distant clock. What a magical place that city is! Steve paused momentarily to take in the scene, then continued to punt slowly but steadily upstream. Soon he left the crowds far behind. A few miles up the Cherwell he knew a nice secluded nook, where they could quietly enjoy their picnic away from the hordes. As soon as they reached the place, they checked to see they were alone, then stripped off stark naked and dived into the river, splashing each other and giggling. It was a perfect summers day: hot and sunny, but with a pleasant cool breeze.
By an amazing coincidence, less than 200 yards away round a slight bend, hidden by a lush willow tree, sat Winston, a first-year black student whose discipline Professor Andrews had entrusted to Steve. Winston was a keen member of his black Pentecostal church and also of the Oxford University Christian Union. No doubt the more sober-sided brethren he moved among would have been horrified to find out about his spanking fetish! He, on the other hand, could not see anything obviously wrong with it. He had very high _s_e_x_ual morals, higher even than some of his Christian friends. In fact he was still a virgin! For him spanking was a wonderful way of releasing his _s_e_x_ual tension, thus enabling him to maintain his spiritual integrity.
Though a gregarious, fun-loving individual, Winston also had a need for being solitary sometimes. He often went fishing on the Cherwell and the willow tree was his favourite spot. Few punts ever came up that far, in fact he had only once ever been disturbed by one. Before long he noticed Steve and Samantha swimming in the river. At first he disregarded them and just carried on fishing, though he wasnt having much success that day. The fish just werent biting. After a while Steve and Samantha got out of the river, dried themselves in the sun and had their picnic.
Eventually Winston, bored with not catching any fish, decided he would go and say hello. He waded through the dense undergrowth by the river bank towards the place where he guessed they had sat and had their picnic, but before he got there, they had decided to have another dip in the river. Winston saw their two neat piles of clothes lying on a flat rock near the river bank and he couldnt resist the mischievous thought which came into his mind. He checked no one was looking, then quickly grabbed both piles and headed back to his fishing spot.
A few minutes later Steve and Samantha swam back to the river bank. When they got out, they saw their clothes had gone. Steve let forth an amazing stream of expletives from his vast vocabulary and Samantha, in slightly less colourful language, also made it clear what she thought about the bastard who had stolen their clothes. Under the willow tree two hundred yards away Winston could clearly hear every word they said and suppressed a chuckle. He wasnt mean, though. Hed return their clothes in 10 or 15 minutes – just let them stew for a while, thats all.
"Steve, what ARE we going to do?" said Samantha with a touch of panic in her voice, which was unusual for her. She was normally very cool, calm and collected.
"Dont worry" said Steve, putting his arm round her. "I was in the boy scouts and learned a thing or two about tracking. Ill see if I can catch the culprit. You stay here and hide somewhere."
Steve then set off stark naked through the undergrowth, painstakingly following Winstons trail, yet trying not to go slowly in case he gave the culprit too much time to get away. At one point he had to use a stick to beat down an enormous clump of stinging nettles blocking his path. It was agony to sprint barefoot through them. His legs and ankles were covered in nettle stings.
Meanwhile Winston was getting ready to return their clothes. He had picked them up and was just on the point of setting off when Steve appeared through the bushes. He was barefoot, so Winston had not heard him coming. Winston was so shocked he dropped most of the clothes in the river and had to scrabble around to retrieve them. They were soaking wet.
"Er.. Sorry Steve. It was just a little game. I was just going to bring the clothes back to you. Honest!"
"Im sure you were, but this is going to cost you, Winston. I would say its going to cost you at least couple of layers of skin on your backside!"
Winston hung his head in simulated shame. "Oh, please gaw easy on me, young masser. I din mean no harm!" he said in a pseudo-Caribbean accent as he handed the clothes back to Steve.
Steve rummaged around in his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Deftly he cuffed Winstons wrists together and led him by the ear to a fallen tree trunk.
"Bend over there!" said Steve.
"Oh masser, you aint gwain to whip me, are you?"
"I mostly certainly am" said Steve, taking a length of rope out of Winstons fishing gear. He proceeded to tie Winstons arms to the tree trunk, looping the rope round a side-branch and expertly knotting it as he had learned to do when he was in the boy scouts. He then turned to the willow tree and using a sharp knife, which he had also found in Winstons fishing gear, he cut a dozen or so willow withies, which he bound with fishing twine into two stout bundles, each about four feet long (just over one metre).
Winston craned his neck round to see what Steve was doing. "Hey, man, what yous doin?" he said.
"Oh, just making a couple of willow birches for me and Samantha to have a bit of fun."
After Steve was satisfied with the instruments of chastisement he had made, he unbuckled Winstons jeans and let them fall to the ground. He then peeled down his underpants, untangled both them and the jeans from Winstons legs and threw the clothes to one side. Winstons beautiful smooth black bottom was pointing in the air at a perfect angle, almost begging for punishment. Steve cut a couple more willow withies, each about 7 or 8 feet long. They were thin, but tough, and did not break easily. He looped one end of them round Winstons ankles and the other round the side branch which jutted out of the other side of the tree trunk. Both Winstons arms and legs were now firmly tied, though he still had considerable freedom of movement. "Just stay there. Ill be back in a mo!" said Steve.
"I aint gwain nowhere, masser" said Winston in his mock Caribbean accent. He had played black slave boy – white master scenarios before with Steve. In fact, Steve had got special permission from Professor Andrews to dispense with Winstons school uniform which all "pupils" were supposed to wear when reporting for discipline. Uniform just didnt seem to work for Winston, who had never worn one and had no experience of private schools (which the British quaintly call public schools). Instead Winston reported to Steve wearing only a loin-cloth. When he reached the porch of the old Victorian house where Steve lived, Winston would remove all his clothes and change into the loin-cloth there before knocking on the door. The sort of games they played were hardly what you could call politically correct, but that did not seem to worry Steve and Winston!
Steve got dressed in his wet clothes, picked up Samanthas things and headed back to where she was hiding. She then got dressed and they both walked to the tree trunk where Winston was securely bound. Samantha could not help laughing when they rounded the trunk of a huge oak tree and suddenly saw Winstons lovely bottom sticking out at her.
"What are you planning to do with him, Steve?"
"Ive made a couple of willow birches. Were going to give this naughty lad a jolly good hiding with them."
"Please don be too hard on me!" pleaded Winston.
"How many, Steve?"
"Well, we havent had time to properly soak the birches, so they wont hurt as much."
"A couple of dozen, then?"
Winston groaned.
"Each, of course!" said Steve.
"Now just you wait a minute! Please! Not so many!" said Winston, his eyes popping with terror. He had dropped his pseudo-Caribbean accent and was now genuinely concerned for the well-being of his rear end.
"Well need to practise first to get the hang of it" said Steve, ignoring him and swishing his birch rod.
Samantha also started to do some practice strokes. When they had both decided their birching technique was up to scratch, they stood either side of Winstons quivering buttocks. As Samantha was left-handed and Steve right-handed, they were the perfect birching duo. Winstons quivering bottom was about to receive a severe, but very even thrashing from two experts. His chastisers took care to position themselves the right distance away from his buttocks to prevent the birches from swinging round too far.
"Ready, Winston?"
"Yes, masser!" said Winston miserably, returning to his mock Caribbean accent.
"What do you say?"
"Im really sorry for bein so naughty and stealin yo cloz. Please beat me so Ill learn ma lesson."
"OK then. Now kiss the rods, stick your bum out and ask for the first stroke. Then continue asking for the next stroke until youve had 48. Any miscounting and youll get more. Understand, boy?"
"Yes, sir." Winston kissed both Steves and Samanthas bundle of willow withies and stuck his bottom out as far as he could. Though he dreaded what was coming, he bravely asked for the first stroke.
Steve did not respond immediately. He did a few more practice strokes, then tapped Winstons bottom to take aim. Suddenly he drew his arm back and brought the bundle of willow withies down with a loud swish and crack onto Winstons naked black bottom.
There was a momentary silence and then a loud "Yeoouch!" as the sharp stinging pain of the willow birch spread over his buttocks. Unlike a spray-end birch, the effect of a willow birch is immediate, it does not take several strokes for the pain to build up.
"One! Thank you, Steve! Please may I have my first one from Samantha."
Samantha duly obliged and brought her birch down on the tender spot where buttocks and thigh meet.
"Yeoooow! God dammit! That hurts!" cried Winston.
"Language! Language, my boy! Blaspheming the deity. And you, a Christian, too!"
Winston hung his head in genuine shame. "Sorry, Steve. Youd better give me some extra for that."
"Ask for them nicely, then."
"Steve and Samantha, please punish me for my bad language."
"How many extra shall we give him, Sam?"
"Oh, just another half dozen each should be all right."
Steves next stroke also caught Winston on a tender spot, but Winston managed to grit his teeth this time and just call the number of the stroke. The next seven or eight strokes were truly agony and Winston wondered how on earth he was going to last the full 60 strokes. After a while the pain reached a plateau. Steve and Samantha built up a steady rhythm – Swish, swish! Swish, swish! - until about the thirtieth stroke. Then Steve ordered Winston to spread his legs further. Taking a stout branch which was forked both ends, he used it as leg-spreader, tying it with twine to Winstons ankles. Winston was acutely conscious that all his tackle was now on show and that some of the tenderest skin on his body was now vulnerable to those murderous birches!
Steve and Samantha then went round to the other side of the tree trunk and stood a couple of feet to the left and right of Winstons head. They ordered Winston to lean forward as far as he could and stick his bottom up as high as it would go. Their idea was to bring their birches over Winstons back onto his buttocks. Areas of his bottom hitherto untouched by the birches would now be vulnerable. Steves next stroke was a real beauty. He aimed the end of the birch at Winstons crack. The willow withies curved round into the tender skin on the inside of Winstons thighs, introducing him to a new level of pain. Winston screamed in agony and only just managed to count the stroke before Samantha expertly landed her stroke on the exquisitely tender skin of the perineum, narrowly missing his anus. Winston screamed again. His skin on those extremely sensitive spots was set ablaze, yet the odd thing was that he was actually loving every moment!
By this time Winstons buttocks had swollen up and were turning white in places, especially where the ends of the birches had left their fierce sting. Blood was seeping out of a couple of cuts, nothing too serious. Samantha tenderly dabbed it with an antiseptic wipe which she had extracted from her handbag. Pretty soon she and Steve found their rhythm again. Winstons bottom had gone numb and only strokes which hit his thighs or the tender skin around his anus evinced a yelp of agony. In fact Winston was sticking his bottom out each time to receive the next stroke and he was thanking his chastisers for such a good beating even though he was by now sobbing like a child. He had a ball-busting erection and by about the 52nd stroke he exploded in the best orgasm he had ever experienced. Steve and Samantha made sure the last strokes were extra hard. One or two struck Winston full on the anus, causing him to roar with agony. Blood was now trickling freely down his thighs and once again Samantha dabbed it with an antiseptic wipe.
When Steve and Samantha had finished and released him from his place over the tree trunk, Winston knelt in front of them stark naked with tears streaming down his face, thanking them again and again and kissing their hands and their bare feet in pure submissiveness. Steve and Samantha revelled in their sense of power and ruffled Winstons lovely tight dreadlocks.
"I hope slave boy has learned his lesson" said Steve, playing along with Winstons fantasy.
"Yes, masser!"
"What did you think of the birching?" asked Samantha.
"It was awesome!" said Winston. "Ill never forget todays punishment! You guys are sooooo good! What ever am I going to do next term? You may not be around any more."
"Well, Samanthas got another year and if I get a first, Ill stay on and do a PhD."
"You know, its weird, but I really need a regular thrashing to stop me falling apart."
"Dont we all!" said Steve and Samantha as they nodded in agreement.
Truly its no shame for adults to acknowledge the child in them and to seek people who can discipline that child. Nor does the fact that they derive erotic pleasure from being thrashed diminish the effectiveness of corporal punishment in correcting their faults and changing their lives for the better. It may be weird, but it works!