Chapter 1

Leo was a few metres ahead of me as we ran up the hill. We were both panting because it was a steep and lengthy ascent and we had no breath for conversation. My focus was almost entirely on the tall tree to the left of the lane which I knew stood near the summit; but there was still a tiny piece of my attention left over to enjoy Leo's long, muscular legs as he led the way steadily to the top.

It had been a chance meeting as I was coming out of the gym changing-room and he was bursting violently in, almost sending me flying with the impetus of his arrival. He was charmingly apologetic, introduced himself as Leo, gave me a stunning grin from beneath a sunburst of blond hair and asked if I'd like him to accompany me on my run. I couldn't have said no if I'd wanted.

“Half a tick till I get changed,” he muttered and was already throwing off clothes as he crossed the room. In a blur of movement, shoes, jeans, shirt were discarded and he was pulling shorts and a running-top from his bag and hauling them on. Only his trainers slowed him down as he paused to tie the laces and then he was beside me at the door.
“You set the pace,” he said and I did so. He seemed comfortable with it and so I told him where I intended going.
“Great,” he nodded.

We ran well together, not taking it too easy, but not driving ourselves too hard either. Like me, he stood about the six-foot mark and was of similar athletic build. I found out as we talked on the level sections of the run that he was a first-year college student like myself; but he lived at home in the town whereas I had a place in a flat with two other guys, because my home was many miles away. We sprinted the last few hundred metres, making a race of it, which I just won, and was rewarded with a good-natured clout from Leo and a warning that he'd leather me next time.
“If you'd like to run with me again,” he added.
“Sure,” I said.

In the shower I admired his well-muscled body surreptitiously; and was excited to observe that he seemed to be eyeing me too. It appeared that there might be possibilities here. When he asked if I had time for a coffee, I was only too eager to accompany him to the gym's café. I noticed that although I felt happy to reward myself for my efforts with a slice of fruit-cake, Leo had a banana. It seemed that this boy looked after himself; and was pretty good at the self-discipline too.

I greatly enjoyed his company. He was entertaining, yet had a serious streak; and over the coming days I couldn't help noticing how well-mannered he was, unusually so these days. Apologising for bumping into people, which he did frequently owing to his propensity for doing everything at high speed, seemed to be second nature to him; and yet the way he did it at least gave the impression that he genuinely regretted his carelessness; and only the fact that he appeared to make no effort to slow down and lessen the chances of future collisions, made me wonder if it was all an act. He held doors for people and was punctilious in his gratitude when anyone did anything for him; and although it could all have seemed nauseatingly goody-goody, he did it so effortlessly and with such smiling charm, that it just seemed a natural part of who he was.

Of course I wanted to get to know him outside the gym and its café, but I was scared of losing him if I was reading him wrong; and beyond the feeling that he was looking at me in the showers, he neither said nor did anything else to indicate an interest in me apart from that of friendship. I tried through conversation to see if there was any interest in girls, but nothing specific emerged except that there appeared to be no girlfriend; nor boyfriend for that matter.

When we met two days later, I decided before we set off that today I'd ask him out. My resolve to do so hardened as we were straining for the top of the long hill while I gave a little bit of my attention to Leo's legs, golden-brown from the top of his socks to where they vanished above the hem of his shorts. They were the same shade all the way up, I knew. I imagined the taut, young buttocks, the lean thighs, the smooth, flat belly. Today, I just had to ask him.

As so often in life, however, things didn't work out quite the way I expected. We'd scarcely got seated in the gym café after our run when Leo's mobile rang. He listened for a moment or two and then,
“Okay, I'm coming,” he said.
He looked at me apologetically.
“I'll have to go home,” he told me. “My dad's forgotten his key and he can't get into the house. See you Thursday.”
And he was off , turning hastily as he rose from his seat so that he bumped into the chair of a girl sitting behind him. She turned an annoyed face towards him but it swiftly changed to a smile as she took in his apology and handsome grin.

I sat and drank my coffee slowly, thinking of the opportunity which had passed me by; and then I noticed that in his hurry Leo had left his sports-bag behind. I reached down, picked it up and unzipped it to see if there was any address inside. Sure enough, there it was, neatly written in indelible ink, along with his name. I didn't know the town well enough to have any idea where the road was, but I suspected it couldn't be too far away because I knew that Leo walked home. I asked the girl behind the cash-desk if she knew where the road was and she gave me directions and the information that it should take me about twenty-five minutes to walk, further than I'd expected.

I set off and realised after about a quarter of an hour that I was heading into quite an expensive-looking residential area on the edge of town. There was more surprise to come; for when I eventually reached the road, it turned out to be an exclusive cul-de-sac of huge houses, each hidden behind trees and shrubs at the end of a driveway. I hesitated. Surely this couldn't be right. And yet, why not? Wealthy youngsters, or at least youngsters from wealthy families, had to get their tertiary education along with the rest of us common folk.

I headed up the drive and shortly a handsome mansion came into view, fronted by a sweep of verdant lawn and slumbering in the late afternoon sunshine. I wondered if I ought to look for a tradesman's entrance; but then decided that was silly these days. I approached the house and pressed the bell, but could hear nothing. A few seconds later, though, I heard running feet and the door was yanked open; and there stood Leo.
“Ross!” he exclaimed; and then, noticing his sports-bag in my hand. “Oh, thanks, mate. Come in!”

“I don't want to bother you...” I began.
I was interrupted by Leo grabbing his bag with one hand and a handful of my hair with the other and hauling me into the hallway.
“Do as you're fucking told,” he said, grinning. “Coffee?”
“Sure,” I replied and followed him through a door at the side of an impressive staircase into a short passage off which opened the biggest kitchen I'd ever seen.
“Wow!” I said. I couldn't help it.
Leo grinned again.
“I know,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “My parents are loaded.”
“But you still walk to college,” I observed.
“I didn't say that I was loaded,” answered Leo. “They make sure I've got all I need and I've got a bloody comfortable life; but I don't get loads of pocket-money; and they don't believe in buying me cars and the like; not like some others around here.”

“You resent that?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“Course not. Why should I? I like to get exercise. You know that. Even if I had a car, I wouldn't be using it between here and the town. No, they want me to know the value of money; and, okay, I know it sounds soft, but I respect what they're doing and I'm not complaining. Anyway, I've got a hell of a lot more than most people.”
He put a mug of coffee in my hands.

“Come through here,” he told me. “You might as well see just how hard my life is.”
I followed him into a huge conservatory, filled with plants, coloured blooms, even a small water-feature, tinkling softly in the corner.
“Wow!” I said again as he led me to a couple of recliners by the wall, overlooking the garden.

“Sorry I had to rush away like that; but dad had to get in so that he could get changed for some appointment. I had to run all the way back here after going near eight miles with you. And he had the cheek to ask me what kept me! And I near got my tail leathered for saying it was his own fault for being so forgetful. Probably would have if he hadn't been in such a hurry.”

I looked at Leo quizzically. “Tail leathered?” I enquired. “You mean...?”
“That he thrashes me? Sure he does. Fucking hard, too.”
“I didn't think fathers did that kind of thing nowadays,” I said, moving slightly in my seat to cover the growing bulge in the front of my jeans.
“And not when you're eighteen.”
“He's always believed in corporal punishment,” Leo told me. “That's why I've turned out so well,” he added, grinning mischievously.
“You don't mind?” I enquired.
“Hell, no. It's quick; better than being grounded any day. Hurts like fuck at the time; but I'm used to it; and I only get it when I deserve it,” he added seriously. I wasn't sure what to say.

Leo continued. “See, when I got to sixteen, he said to me I was too old to be thrashed any more unless I was willing to be punished that way; but as long as I lived at home, I had to accept his discipline; so I had the choice, either to continue with getting tanned or to work out another system of discipline, like getting grounded or losing pocket-money; or cutting the grass. Well, look at the size of that lawn,” he said, indicating the extensive greensward stretching away beyond the windows. “Which way do you think I chose?”

“You've got a point there,” I agreed. “Sorry, I'm being rude asking you about all this; it's none of my business. And, you know, I wish my dad had beaten me instead of grounding me. Sounds a lot easier.”
Leo looked at me seriously. “Ever had a cane used on your bare bum?” he enquired.
“No!”
“Well, don't make silly statements about things you know fuck-all about,” he continued.
“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, annoyed by his tone.
Leo immediately looked contrite.

“Sorry. I didn't mean that to come out the way it did. It's just that getting a thrashing, a real thrashing I mean, isn't easy. I never said it was. I said it was quicker than grounding, not easier.” He paused. “I do know what I'm talking about,” he added.

My erection was now so massive that I had to try to adjust things manually and inevitably Leo noticed.
“Hey,” he said; “so you like the thought of getting it. Don't be embarrassed,” he added. “So do I. Just knowing I'm up for it gives me a hell of a boner; always has since I was eleven. It's not just because it's quicker that I go for a hiding rather than grounding.”

“I don't know if I'd really like it,” I answered. “I mean, I think I would; but I might find I couldn't take it after all.”
“Only one way to find out,” said Leo cheerfully.
“I was rather afraid of that,” I replied; “but anyway, I probably never will.”
“Why not?” Leo asked with an expression of genuine surprise.

“Well, my parents didn't go in for it. Nothing more than an occasional slap on the bum; and that never since I was about ten. I suppose I could answer one of these adverts on the web; men offering to give a belting to willing recipients.”
“Ah,” said Leo. “So you know about that. You're more into this than I thought. But what do you mean your parents didn't...I mean, are they..?”
“Dad died about three years ago. Mum's found another guy last year. He's okay, but they've got each other and I kind of felt in the way; so I was quite glad to come here this summer,” I said.
Leo looked upset. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn't mean to pry.”

“So,” I said changing the subject back again, “do you get thrashed often?”
He grinned at me.
“I suppose I do, fairly often. Dad's pretty strict and I am liable to act first, think later, which leads to trouble and a sore behind. Dad hits hard and it hurts like fury when he takes the cane to me.”
As he said this, I could see he had a massive erection tenting his jeans; and I was struggling with something similar. It was hard to believe he was really saying all this. I was just about to tell him I'd like to find out if I could take corporal punishment, when a door banged and Leo called out, “Hi, mum!”
He tried to get up but his cock had rather taken control.

“Fuck!” he swore under is breath, rearranging himself and pulling his tee-shirt down to cover his bulge.
Then he stood up and dashed through to the kitchen. A few moments later he came back with a very attractive-looking woman whom he introduced as his mother. I stood up to shake hands with her, mindful of Leo's notable politeness and not wanting to appear boorish.
“Nice to meet you, Ross,” she said with a smile as radiant as her son's from under the same fair head of hair.
“Coffee, mum?” Leo enquired and when she nodded, he bounded off to the kitchen again and reappeared shortly after bearing a huge mug.

While he was away, Mrs. Barnes asked me what I was studying and asked how I'd got here.
“I walked,” I explained.
“I'm so pleased,” she said with surprising enthusiasm. “I do like a young man who knows what his feet are for.”
Before I could respond to this disconcerting statement, Leo had come back. We talked for some time, nothing specific, just desultory conversation, but very enjoyable. Leo's mum was as engaging as he was and as easy to be around.

It was while I was telling her about the flat I shared, that Leo farted. Not too loudly; but definitely an audible fart. For a moment his mother's attention slipped away from me as she gave him a swift glance; a glance which seemed to have a message in it which Leo understood, for he at once rose silently and went out of the conservatory. I suppose something must have shown on my face, revealing to her my thought: “Surely he's not getting sent out of the room!”

When I stopped talking about the flat, she said to me,
“I'm afraid you'll probably find us rather old-fashioned in the way we treat Leo. Being hard on boys isn't the done thing these days, is it? But you see, apart from the fact that my husband and I both believe that lack of firm discipline in the home lies at the root of a lot of society's problems with young people, there's also our special circumstances. You must have noticed that we're very well-off; but we don't want Leo to be spoiled. So we agreed that we'd keep him on a fairly tight rein, let him share in the privileges of money to some extent; but make him live a bit more like the average lad without money at home; no expensive bikes or a car of his own, or expensive clothes bought just because we could afford it.” She hesitated. “I think we're succeeding. And there is another reason. You see....”
But at that moment Leo reappeared, and she broke off.

“Sorry about that,” he announced. “I'll try to keep myself under better control.”
His mother smiled warmly at him and he threw himself into a chair.
“Have you shown Ross your room?” enquired his mum. Leo glanced at me.
“Sure.” I said. “He doesn't have to sleep out in the shed, does he?”
To my astonishment Leo and his mum both went into paroxysms of laughter at this.
“What,” demanded Leo, when he had stopped giggling, in mock annoyance at his mum, “have you been telling him?”

“Nothing much, dear; just that you're a spoiled young brat and we have to keep you very firmly in your place in case you get out of control.” “Oh, great!” responded Leo. “Thanks a lot, mum.”
“Happy to oblige, darling,” she replied.

Leo and I got up to leave. “Oh, and Ross,” she said as we made for the door, “if he doesn't behave himself, just you let me know when you come back down and I'll lock him in the coal-cellar for a few hours.”
She grinned broadly at me and a mischievous twinkle sparkled in her eyes.
“I will, Mrs. Barnes,” I promised. “I believe a boy needs firm discipline too; and I'll help you to get him into the cellar if he gives any trouble.”

Leo suddenly leapt on me and wrestled me to the floor of the conservatory. He took me by surprise and it was a moment or two before I was fighting back effectively. We were pretty well-matched and rolled around in an energetic and very enjoyable bout. But what astounded me was that Leo's mum just watched us indulgently; and when eventually we fell apart, panting, she just said,
“Off you go then.” Leo, however, wasn't ready to go off.
“What happens to him if he doesn't behave himself?” he demanded of his mother. “Going to lock him in the cellar too, are you?”
“Of course,” she replied; and then took me aback by adding, while looking straight at me, “Understand, Ross?”
“Yes, Mrs. Barnes,” I found myself saying, like a kid at school.

Leo grinned at me, grabbed hold of a handful of my hair and hauled me from the conservatory. In the hall, he let go.
“What the hell was all that about?” I enquired, unable to entirely cope with the things which were happening.
Leo looked somewhat contrite. “I suppose we do take a bit of getting used to,” he admitted seriously. “You're not offended at us making fun of you, are you?” he asked anxiously.
“Course not,” I told him. “It's just that after what you said about being kept on a tight rein and your mum more or less telling me the same while you were out, being allowed to get away with that horseplay and that cheek about what was going to happen to me if I misbehaved, all threw me a bit. And she even sounded serious about locking me up too!”
Leo looked slightly alarmed.
“She was serious,” he said.
“Oh!” I wasn't sure how to respond to that. But Leo seemed to think the whole matter was now clear as glass and set off up the imposing staircase. I couldn't do anything else but follow.

At the top, he turned left and we went along a passage and then down a side passage with a door blocking the end. This Leo threw open to reveal a huge, sunny room. One side was furnished as a bedroom, the centre as a little sitting-room and the other side as a study with book-shelves and a desk.
“So, what do you think of my hovel?” he enquired with wry grin.
“Wow!” I said, and felt a stupid pang of annoyance that I seemed to be incapable of expressing surprise in any way other than the same, trite monosyllable. “They obviously don't deprive you of all the benefits of wealth.”
“Just the ones they think are bad for me,” said Leo. “Come and sit down.”

We'd been talking for several minutes and were sitting by the window discussing a forthcoming half-marathon, when there was a knock at the door.
“Hello,” called Leo and the door opened to admit a tall man who appeared to be in his late thirties. He had very short, black hair and bright eyes. His body was trim and well-muscled and close-fitting tee-shirt and jeans revealed a man who looked after himself.
Leo immediately rose to his feet.

“Hi, dad!” he greeted him. “Come and meet Ross.”

So this was the man who caned Leo's lovely buns and who seemed to have tamed him very effectively. I too rose to my feet; this looked liked the kind of man I should respect. He had a strong grip when we shook hands; and then he threw himself into a chair. Leo and I sat too.
“Lager, dad?” enquired Leo, while my eyebrows rose.
“Great, thanks,” he answered. Leo glanced at me.
“Yes, please,” I said.

He fetched three cans from a little fridge in the corner and handed us each one; then sat down. I didn't quite get this. Leo was kept on a tight line; for goodness' sake, he even stood when his father came into the room! Yet he could wrestle me on the floor in front of his mother with impunity and drink lager with his dad in his bedroom. The contradictions were doing my head in; and making me nervous; for I wasn't sure how to behave myself.

Leo's dad asked about our running and we told him our plans for a half-marathon.
“What's your best time?” he asked me.
I told him and he looked impressed. “You can equal that?” he enquired of Leo. Leo looked doubtful.
“I'm not sure. But I'll give it a good shot. Can't let the boy beat me.”
“He's being modest,” I interjected. “We're pretty well matched actually; and since we've never done a half-marathon together, it could go either way. Not that he'll win if I've got anything to do with it,” I added.
“Good for you,” said Mr. Barnes. “You show him.”

A phone rang and Leo picked it up.
“Hi, mum. Sure, I'll ask him. You want to stay for dinner?” he enquired of me.
“Oh, but I can't just....”
“He'd love to,” Leo told his mother and put down the phone. “Never turn down a good feed,” Leo instructed me solemnly; “especially if the alternative is beans on toast in your flat.”
“I'll have you know I'm quite a good cook,” I replied indignantly, “and I don't have beans on toast very often. Not that there's anything wrong with beans on toast,” I added. “It's very nutritious.”
Mr. Barnes grinned at me.
“I can see you've got what it takes to keep Leo in his place,” he said.
Leo scowled; but underneath I'm sure he was smiling.

Later on, we were called down to the big kitchen where Leo's mum fed us like kings. I really am quite good at the cooking and I enjoy experimenting; but this was something else. Boy, could she cook. It was while we were having coffee that the conversation turned back to the half-marathon and Mr. Barnes said to his wife,
“Ross here reckons he can beat Leo.”

“Oh,” I protested, “I just said that I thought we were pretty evenly matched; but I'd give him a run for his money. No offence, Mrs. Barnes, but if you feed him like this every day, he's going to be slower than a hungry guy like me who just gets enough calories to get by.”

“Listen to him!” exclaimed Leo and threw his arms up in mock disbelief. Unfortunately his right hand caught the rim of his wine-glass, which still had a little in it, and splashed it over me as it fell and broke.

“Fuck!” I said automatically. Then, realising it was hardly appropriate language, “I'm sorry. That was very rude.”

Mr. Barnes looked at Leo, who was mopping up the damage with his napkin.
“I don't know what you think you're playing at, young man, but you know that sort of behaviour is unacceptable, don't you?”
“Yes, sir,” Leo replied quietly. Mr. Barnes turned to me.
“Leo and I have an understanding that he gets corporal punishment if he misbehaves. Obviously, I can't leather you, but you're banned from coming here for the next four weeks. You may not like it; but I think it's important you learn that swearing isn't on. At least it's to your credit that you seem to realise that.”

“I do, sir,” I said “but if you're giving me a choice, I'd rather have a leathering along with Leo than be banned for a month.”
I swallowed hard, feeling my face hot. I'd committed myself now, provided he took me up; and I suspected he would.
He did.
He looked straight at me for a moment and then said,
“Okay, if that's how you want it. Go to your room, Leo, and take Ross with you.”
Leo looked stunned as he led the way out of the kitchen. As soon as we were in the hall, he turned to me with a furious face.

“What the fucking hell do you think you're doing?” he demanded.
“Well, if you're getting it, so am I,” I said. “I'm your friend.”
For a few moments as we climbed the stairs, Leo seemed at a loss.
Then, “Thanks,” he muttered.

In his room, he turned to me.
“Look, I've let you in for this. It was my stupidity that caused it all. It's not right you should get belted too.”
“But I swore,” I said, “and that was entirely my bad behaviour; and I do know better, Leo. I may not have got thrashed at home, but they taught me how to behave. Maybe,” I added, “if they had thrashed me, I'd have learnt better self-control and it wouldn't have happened. Anyway, I did want to find out what real c.p. felt like. So this works out fine.”

“Getting walloped by dad hurts like hell,” said Leo. “But if you're determined, we'd better make the best of it. And I do appreciate you not wanting to be banned for a month. I'd have missed you, 'cos I was hoping you'd be here a lot in future.”

“So was I,” I replied, grinning at him. “So when's he going to come and punish us?”
“He'll give us a few minutes,” Leo answered. “He always likes me to have time to think about why I'm to be punished; and about what I've got coming,” he added ruefully.

He went over to a chest and pulled open the top drawer and took out a dark brown leather strap. He handed it to me and I turned it over in my hands. It was heavy, about twenty inches long, slit into two thongs at the business end; and it was thick. This was no toy and I knew what it was though I'd never seen one in the flesh as it were. A genuine school tawse. Leo pointed out the “H” embossed on the handle end.
“Stands for”heavy“, he informed me grimly. I swallowed.

“Right,” he said. “I'm pretty certain this is what we're going to get; and we'll be getting it on our hands. He doesn't usually take it to my buttocks except for more serious offences. He might do me first, so you see what's expected, seeing you're not used to it. Although,” he added as a thought struck him, “he might do you first so you don't have to watch me getting it and know yours is still to come. Anyway. When he tells you to come here, go and stand in front of him with your hands behind your back; and don't say anything. He'll tell you to hold out your hands; then you hold them out, right hand on top of left, palms upwards, arms fully extended. Bend the fingers of your right hand down a little; that's to stretch the skin over your palm; it hurts more that way. Best if you do it without having to be told.”

I glanced at him. His face was serious. He meant this; and he could read my thoughts.
“This isn't a fucking game, Ross.”

“I know,” I reassured him.

“Well, stop gaping at me as if I'm daft. I'm fucking well trying to help you here!”

“I know. I know.”

“Well, fucking listen to me, okay?”

“I'm listening,” I told him; and I was.

“Now when the belt hits you it's going to hurt far worse than you're expecting. Trust me; I know. And I really mean far, far more than you're expecting. It'll hurt like hell and then some. But keep your hands as steady as you can; and keep them out. You'll probably have to work like shit to do it, but if..........look,” he suddenly burst our angrily, “if you're not going to take me seriously, then you can fucking well go it alone!”

“No, Leo, please. I am taking you seriously. Honest!”
 

“Look, mate, I've had the belt hard across my hands more times than I can remember and it still scares me; and it still hurts like fuck; and I still have to struggle to keep my hands out until he's finished with me. But I know that if I withdraw my hands, I'll get a repeat stroke and a penalty stroke; and that's not fucking funny. So, I don't pull my hands back, however much it hurts and however hard it is to force myself to keep them out. Do you get me?”

“I get you,” I said, subdued by his patent seriousness.

“Now you'll probably get two; and the second will be even more horrendous. I hope he'll not make it three; for that's excruciating. Just concentrate on keeping your hands out. When he says”change“then you put your left hand on top; and you'll probably get the same again. But whatever you do, don't put your hands down after two. Keep them out until he tells you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said and added, “Leo, you're scaring me.”

But all he said was, “If you're scared enough, you might take it seriously and then you might listen to what I'm telling you and have half a chance of getting through this without fucking up.”

He turned away from me and stood looking out the window. “Better put that back in the drawer,” he muttered and came and took the tawse from me and returned it to its place. He'd scarcely turned back towards me before we heard his father's footsteps on the stair.

(To be continued)