Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2023 14:52:09 +0000 From: Mat W Subject: The Life Coach Part 3 It has taken me a while to get back to this story, but I got an inspiration, so I hope to have some further instalments coming up. Any ideas for how to develop this gratefully received -- mattspank74@gmail.com =========================================================================== "As we've just agreed, far too much lager goes down your throat, Mark. You're going to drink a pint now." He picked up a full pint glass from the table next to him and held it in front of me. "The difference, though, is that this is recycled lager." My eyes widened and I looked him in the eye in alarm. "That's right, Mark. You are going to drink a pint of my piss. Nice and fresh and warm." He held the glass out to me. I took it uncertainly. It did feel warm as I held it. I looked him in the eye again. "Next time you down a pint, you'll think of this and remember to moderate your intake," Paul said sternly, "Now drink up." I looked at the glass in front of me and my stomach turned. I could smell the piss, even though it was the colour of a light pint of lager. I knew, though, that I needed to learn and get back on the right track, so I took the glass from Paul. It was warm to the touch as I raised it to my lips. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath and began to drink. I thought I would retch and gag. But it wasn't actually as unpleasant as I had expected. The humiliation and embarrassment that I had felt whilst being spanked came back in floods, though, as I drank this pint of urine that my coach had `prepared' for me. After a herculean effort, I drained the whole glass and handed it back to Paulk, empty. The taste of piss in my mouth was strong -- salty, acrid and unlike anything I had tasted before. "Well done, Mark. Now, as we have agreed, you will not drink more than one pint of lager a night and no other alcohol. If you want to have more than one pint, you need to save up for it. If you want to drink anything else, you will text me for permission in advance. You will log all your drinks on the Drinkaware app. Be truthful -- you are not going to learn and improve if you lie. If I discover you have lied, you will be punished. "If you drink more than your allowance, you will be punished. Is that clear?" "Yes, Paul," I said, feeling humbled. "Next time you drink my piss it will be direct form the tap, not from a glass." I gulped again. Somehow having to swallow Paul's urine directly from his penis felt much more humiliating than drinking it from a glass. "Now, as I told you in my email, part of our sessions will be physical exercise. This is for two reasons, firstly, so that I can see how you are improving between sessions and partly because it is necessary for you to display yourself to me to help you learn discipline." Paul stood up. "Follow me, Mark," he said Paul walked out of the room and down the corridor to the door on the left of the entrance door to the flat. It opened onto a staircase and he led the way up. At the top were two doors. He opened the one directly in front of the stairs and we went into an airy room with French windows at the back open onto a balcony. The room was a well-equipped home gym. For the next hour and a half, I exercised in Paul's gym. Naked, getting sweatier and worn out. Very aware of my sore bottom as I sat on the exercise bike. I used the bike, the skiing machine, did squats, press-ups, lunges, leg raises, sit-ups of various kinds. He coached me using dumbbells for free weights exercises -- something I had never done before, only ever having used the resistance machines at the gym. If he thought I was not trying hard enough, he bent me over and applied a small wooden paddle to my already sore red bottom. When I was doing press-ups, I collapsed onto the floor, and he paddled my bottom until I pushed myself up and did another 5. All the while the French windows were open -- giving some breeze and colling me a bit, but also making me very aware that the sound of wooden paddle meeting fleshy bare bottom was being broadcast to the neighbourhood on this quiet Sunday afternoon. When Paul wasn't coaching or disciplining me, he sat in an easy chair by the French windows, watching my progress and drinking from a pitcher of what looked like lemonade. He was never loud or threatening, or impolite. It was just `normal' for him to be coaching a naked guy, paddling me when I failed to meet his high standards. Finally, after 5 minutes of sprinting on a self-powered treadmill, I was allowed to stop. Paul opened the door at the end of the room and came back with a glass of water, which I drank gratefully. Indicating the door he had just used, he told me that I should go and take a shower, but that only cold water was permitted. I was a sweaty mess, but a cold shower was not going to be fun. But I did as I was bid, reminding myself that I was doing this for my own good. The cold water was a shock, and I washed as quickly as I could, using the bar of carbolic soap that was left out for me. I hurriedly dried myself off and Paul led the way back downstairs. "Back in the corner, Mark," he said as we walked in. I went back to where I had stood before and put my hands back on my head and my nose against the wall. This time, though, Paul came over with me. He stood beside me and put his finger between my nose and the wall. "Take a step back, Mark," he instructed, and so I did as I was told. He had a pencil in his other hand and he put a small dot on the wall in green pencil and wrote a MH (my initials) above it. It was very faint and small, and you wouldn't notice it unless you were almost touching it. As he did so, I noticed five other similar marks in different colours with different initials above them, all at slightly different heights and positions on the wall. Paul obviously noticed me noticing as he said, "Yes, Mark, you are the sixth lad who has taken me up on my offer. In fact, I have decided that I am not going to take on any more of you. Each of you has his own nose spot on this wall now. Whenever I tell you to go to the corner, I expect you to make sure that your nose is planted firmly and squarely on your mark." He laughed softly at the fact that his words matched my name. "At some point, I will probably get you all together, but for now it'll just be you and I, Mark. Get your nose back onto your mark, Mark" I did as I was told, feeling the burn and itch in my bottom as I stood there. After a little while, Paul's phone rang and he had a conversation with what sounded like one of his `regular' clients. Again, I stood in that corner for what felt like ages, my senses hyperaware and still very conscious that I was naked and my bottom (which I had looked at in the mirror after showering) was bright red. Thankfully, the taste of Paul's piss had more or less gone after I gulped down the glass of water he gave me, but the thought of it was enough to make me blush as I stood with my nose on my mark. Eventually, Paul called me over and told me to kneel before him as he sat in the chair he had used to spank me. "Well done, Mark, I am impressed that you have stuck with it today, have barely complained and have taken your discipline well. I will email you later today with your objectives for the next month and a few bits and pieces, including the tracking apps you will need. Do you have an Apple Watch?" I said that I did, "Good, then you will pair that with mine and I can see your exercise live as well. I will see you in a month's time. You may dress and go." I got up, stammered a goodbye to which he responded pleasantly, and walked back into the hall, got dressed and left his flat.