A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY by Nigel - takemypantsoff@hotmail.co.uk

Hi there guys - here's my latest little tale which I hope you enjoy. Please let me know: takemypantsoff@hotmail.co.uk.    Quite a bit of this story is true ! I actually have all of the magazine articles, pictures and video clips I talk about in the story.  If you want to see them just e-mail me, I'll be happy to show you.


Do you believe in destiny ?  Some all controlling force mapping out our lives for years ahead ?  Or are you someone who subscribes to the theory of coincidence ?  Whatever, and I am not certain which course I am following, a train of events in my life inexplicably transpired a few weeks ago sending me on the most incredible voyage of discovery.  Let me explain.

I had set my video recorder to catch a programme I particularly wanted to watch while I was away.  I would be abroad for a few days so carefully programmed the date and time, double checking with the TV magazine listing, so I would be able to watch it on my return.

The trip was good, I had secured the renewal of the contract and the certain pleasures of my bosses when I got back to the office.  I could look forward to a pay rise and good bonus at the end of the year, something I could squander on one triviality or another.  In the airport lounge I browsed the bookstalls and invested in a couple of magazines to help pass the long flight. But there wasn't much in those magazines to interest me save for one article.   It was a debate on judicial caning in the Far East and contained a strip cartoon autobiography by Michael Fay, an American who had been caned in 1994 in Singapore when he was nineteen years old.

Corporal Punishment was phased out of schools in England back in 1986, I was only eleven years old then, so never knew what it was like to have one's school career dominated b y the daily threat of the cane or the slipper. Although there were kids stories about them neither were used much, if ever at all, in my junior school but I knew they were a central feature in the secondary school I was about to join.  However, when I graduated to the senior school they were gone, older boys used to enjoy relating to we younger lads stories of their thrashings given for the most minor misdemeanors but it was nothing I ever experienced first hand.

Michael Fay's caning in Singapore had been ordered by the court, such floggings in England ceased many decades ago and are nothing at all in my field of memory.  But the concept of corporal punishment as related in that magazine article, coupled with the myths and legends from my school days fascinated me.  But I would soon forget about it, well I would have had it not been for the second coincidence.

After my day of triumph on returning to the office I had to go to Manchester to see another client.  I like Manchester, it's a great city, and I decided to drive rather than take the train.  When I switched on the radio, tuning to BBC Five Live as the best station for traffic reports there was a phone-in debate on the merits of corporal punishment.  The presenter tried hard to put over a balanced point of view but contributors by phone, text and e-mail were nearly all strongly in favor of the cane being brought back into schools and the birch being a punishment via the courts for juvenile and young adult offenders.  Person after person told the programme how they had been punished at school in their youth and how it hadn't done them any harm.  I was sad that I had been born too late to have my own bottom caned or at the very least slippered when I had been a teenager.  I am sure there were many times when I more than deserved it !

These thoughts, combined with those from the magazine article, hovered in my brain for most of the day only to be pushed aside by the ordeal of the journey home.  How I then wished I had taken the train !  An accident had closed the M6 Motorway with a three hour helay via a diversion along roads never designed to take such a heavy volume of traffic.  Lorries, buses, cars and whatever else clogged the way forward.  I would be so pleased to get home, I would treat myself to a takeaway and watch the programme I had recorded while I was away.  I really should have taken the train.

The food smelled good, I grabbed a fork and couple of cans of beer.  Never mind a plate, I would eat straight from the little plastic boxes.  I pointed the remote control at the television, pressed the appropriate buttons and settled down to enjoy the programme.  The TV glowed into life:  

"In a change to our advertised programme," the announcer said, "we bring you the 1968 satirical film IF telling of life in a British public school."

"Sod it !"  I said aloud.  "Why can't you leave the schedules along ?"  I had been looking forward to watching my programme, so what's this crap instead ?

I let the tape roll.  I knew of Rudyard Kipling's poem IF but had never heard of this film before.  But within moments I was riveted !  It was a dark and sinister tale with undertones of meaning so typical of a 1960's drama.  The plot centred round three rebellious sixth form boys and their battle of wills with a group of sixth form prefects.  At one point the prefects cane the three heroes as a punishment for their non-conformity.  I stopped the tape, ran it back and watched that particular scene again.  God, they may have been actors but that thrashing was real enough !

So the film became the third event in this string of coincidences: The Michael Fay magazine story, The BBC Five Live phone in and now this !  Why had they abolished corporal punishment just at the point where it was about to become a rite of passage in my life ?  I would have loved to watch someone receive the cane or the slipper.  I would have loved to receive the cane or the slipper.

I use the internet extensively for work but never for leisure, I am not someone who surfs hour after hour, who chats to cyber buddies or buys anything from the countless on-line purchasing websites.  I was, of course, aware of the claim that you can find anything on the Net so what about a bit more information on corporal punishment ?  Some facts ?  Some history ?  The subject was fascinating me.

When the film was over I went to my PC and typed in the words Corporal Punishment into a search engine.  WOW ! The search brought up 1,290,000 pages. I began to check through the sites at the top of the list.

I am thirty-two years of age, successful in my job, well educated, widely traveled and yet I suddenly realised how incredibly naive I was. Corporal Punishment may have been withdrawn from the school and legal systems here in England but it was alive, well and flourishing ! My newfound interest was apparently shared by thousands of others, many even partook of real punishment sessions.  There were clubs that organised caning sessions.  As I read more, moving from website to website a stiffness developed between my legs.

"Refine the search,"  I said aloud to myself.  "Try something involving on-line chat."

Amazing !  There were several chatrooms totally dedicated to guys interested in giving and receiving spankings.  I went into one of the chatrooms, sat back and waited to see what took place.

So how much of it was bullshit ?  How many of the guys chatting away were just horning themselves up with talk ?  How many were genuine ?  My interest was genuine !   How many of them actually did anything ?  Some must for sure, they had their pictures of spanked backsides and a couple even gave links to video footage they had made of themselves.

"Bloody hell,"  I said, "I wouldn't mind having some of that !"

I engaged one of the guys who had given out a picture of his caned backside and quizzed him as to how I could receive my first spanking.  I have to say he was very helpful. He told me that he was regularly spanked by someone he called The Demon Headmaster.  I was told this Demon Headmaster lived in a large house in the country, a little North of London, where he had a room set up as a traditional headmaster's study.  If I wanted to I could go there and be spanked, my new net buddy assured me I would be welcome. And this Demon Headmaster had his own website. Is there anything you can n ot find on the Internet ?  My using the Net just for business had tapped into but a tiny fraction of it.

I desperately wanted to look at the Demon Headmaster's website so as courteously as I could I brought the conversation to an end and closed down the chatroom.  My fingers trembled as I typed in the new website address and hit Enter. Oh my god !  My heart beat even faster and my bum cheeks twitched at the thought of being spanked in the Deamon Headmaster's study.  The site gave a location for the study within easy traveling distance from my home.  There was contact information including a telephone number and an e-mail address I didn't have the bottle to pick up the phone and speak to the Demon Headmaster, instead I sent him a detailed e-mail. I so much now wanted my fantasy to change into a real punishment.

It was late, it had been a heavy week and thank got it was Friday tomorrow, or rather today, but I did have to go to work in the morning. Better head for bed.  But I could not sleep, my mind was spinning and at its centre were all the thoughts and the burning question: How long would it be before The Demon Headmaster responded to my e-mail ?  I guess I did manage some sleep but when the alarm woke me my mind was in a dream and still filled with the burning desire to bend over the desk in the Demon Headmaster's study and have my backside soundly spanked.

Naked in the shower I ran my hands over my buttocks and tried to imagine what a spanking would feel like.  It would hurt, of course it would, but I knew any pain would only be external, a mask to the real pleasure.  I twisted to look at my bottom in a mirror then slapped it with the palm of my hand as hard as I could Owch !  I did it again. Very nice.

There wasn't a reply to my e-mail by the time I left for work and there wasn't time when I was alone during the day to check if anything had come in.  I had access to a computer of course and could have logged into my personal e-mail account but feared being overseen.  I had to use every power of patience I could muster in order to wait until I got home.

What a way to end the week ! A tiresome meeting dragged on late into the afternoon, I wasn't giving it my proper attention as I willed there to be a reply waiting for me at home.  The very moment I got in I raced to the computer, there were three new e-mail but not one was from the Demon Headmaster.  Shit !  I was deflated.  Totally deflated.

The flat stank of the previous night's takeaway, stale food in plastic cartons and empty beer cans littered everywhere.  I was trying to think what to fix for something to eat that evening then gave up and settled for phoning out to have a pizza delivered.  Every few minutes I checked my e-mail inbox but nothing new appeared.  I ate the pizza, drank some coffee and decided I would have to go back to the chatrooms, find some new contacts and start all over again.  My anticipating backside would have to wait a little longer before receiving its first spanking. What an anticlimax. 

The confused feelings I had as I went back to the PC were a strange combination of deflation interwoven with anticipation for my second attempt.  I pressed the round button on the screen and the colours faded up from darkness  and there it was !    A new e-mail !  Yes, it was from the Demon Headmaster.  Dare I open it ?  Dare I read what he had to say ?  Of course !  I trembled as a click of the mouse changed the window from my inbox to the specific message.

"Yes !" I screamed. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes !"

The Demon Headmaster was inviting me to visit his study and have my name entered in the punishment book.  He offered a series of possible dates and times but only one was of interest to me, the first date that Sunday afternoon - the day after tomorrow.  There was a number to call and confirm the appointment.

My stomach filled with giant butterflies in a frenzied whirl of flight as I picked up the phone and punched in the number.  This must have been how naughty boys felt waiting outside the headmaster's door.  But our conversation was relaxed and friendly, I explained this would be my first spanking and he offered a variety of punishments.

"I'll take them all if I may,"  I replied confidently.

We then finalised the logistics of time, location and that was that.  All I now had to do was to wait until Sunday afternoon.  However was I going to get through such an extended period of time ?

I knocked on the study door, just once with a soft nervous knock as I announced my presence.  A few moments passed as a age before a dep and stern voice called, "Come in."

I twisted the round knob and pushed the door ajar.  I could see the headmaster standing behind his desk waiting for me.

"Come on in,"  his voice was harsh and unforgiving.  "And close the door behind you."

I did as I was told.

"Every day I have to punish boys."

I hung my head.

"But never do any of hem learn. So this is to be your first spanking, perhaps if we make it a good one a really sound thrashing, you will prove to be the exception and not return to my study for a second dose."

"Yes Sir."  Or should I have said No Sir ?

He picked up a long thin rattan cane and pointed to the front of his desk.  "Bend over there, we'll start with six strokes of the cane."

I did as I was told.  So this was it, my fantasy now turning into reality.  Behind me I heard the terrible swish as the headmaster tested the cane on the air.  Soon it would be landing on my bottom.  I felt the end of the cane gently rest across my buttocks as the headmaster positioned it and carefully took aim.  Then it lifted up and I knew the first stroke of my career was but seconds away.

The swish as air parted in front of the descending cane filled the room, it was as if that sound lasted for ever, certainly I had plenty of time to hear it and register what it was before a loud crack exploded and took its place.  I definitely heard the sound before I felt anything and wondered when the pain would come, it was a tiny micro second then shit it was as if somebody had laid a red hot poker across my behind. God it hurt !

"Count the strokes boy !" A voice thundered from above me.

"One Sir," I said as I gasped with pain.

I had scarcely said the words when the swishing sound came again.  Christ what had I let myself in for ?  Crack ! My arse was on fire, pain now surging through me.

"Count boy !"

"Two Sir."

Swish, crack !

"Three Sir."

I was in absolute and total agony yet the experience was every bit as thrilling as I had hoped it would be.  I was taking my caning through the protection of both trousers and underpants, I thought of those I had seen pictured on the Demon Headmaster's website and taking it bare arse !  God what must that have been like ?

Swish, crack !

"Four Sir."

Two more to to go. Don't misunderstand me, as I try to share with you a few small details of the excruciating pain the cane was imparting to my bottom, I was enjoying the experience.  I was on a voyage of discovery exploring my fantasy and......

Swish, crack !

"Five Sir."

It was hard to speak the words and simply not yell out in pain.  God how my backside was hurting.  Just one more ! Emotions mixed,  I wanted more - the pain was bringing pleasure but how many more strokes could my agony-filled behind take ?

Swish, crack.

"Six Sir."

"Stand up boy."

I did as I was told and experienced a new pain as the contours of my buttocks moved, twisting the thin lined areas were the cane had struck.

"Drop your trousers boy, let me see what marks you have."

I unfastened my waist and allowed my trousers to fall to the ground.  Before I could move to slip off my underpants the Demon Headmaster had hold of them, pulling them away to expose my naked flesh.  The cool air felt soothing on my fiery backside.

"Mmmm," he said.  "Not very impressive.  Six of the best do not appear to have left any significant marks"

He had to be joking !

"Come over here and bend across my knee.  He sat himself down on a polished wood chair with a green leather seat.  I watched transfixed as the Demon Headmaster settled himself on that chair then held o ut his right arm directing me to rest across his knees.  I made to pull up my trousers and pants.

"You needn't bother with those, in fact take them right of !"

"Yes Sir."

I did as I was told and stepped out of them, kicking my shoes off across the study floor.  The caning had made my cock stiff and I was obliged to position myself carefully as I settled across the headmaster's knee.  A hand felt its way across my stinging bum cheeks.  I was certain six lines were imprinted on the tender flesh.

"Yes,"  a voice said from somewhere above me, "very good."  Had he not just said it was not impressive ?  Confusing.

There was a nice relaxing feeling as the hand stroked my buttocks but I knew it wasn't to bring any long-term relief to my suffering.  I was right, very soon the room was filled again with sound - this time a loud slapping as the headmaster's palm hit first my right buttock and then the left.  This slapping developed into a rhythm: Left buttock - Right buttock - Left Buttock - Right Buttock..... A faint stinging sensation began to penetrate the searing pain of the cane which still fired hot in the six lines across my arse cheeks. I had not been ordered to count the strokes within this element of my punishment, how many slaps had the Demon Headmaster given me ?  I had no idea, dozens and dozens.

And then it stopped  I felt the headmaster moving, his body reaching to his right.  I tried to peer and see what was happening but everything was outside my peripheral vision.  I knew soon enough as the rubber sole of the slipper whacked down on my right cheek.  After the lesser and regular hand slapping this brought a new pain to add to my agony.  My body twitched as muscles instinctively tightened.  The pain was not so great, at least I don't think it was, as the cane but the cane had been delivered through the dual protection of trousers and underpants, this new punishment was being awarded to my bare arse !  A second whack and I felt six distinct lines where the cane had earlier imprinted itself, perhaps they were calling out to the slipper in protest demanding a right to be the superior form of punishment or perhaps it was simply that the broad impact of the slipper sole hitting the already bruised flesh made it hurt even more.

The Demon Headmaster delivered six very firm and hard whacks with the slipper after which I was told to stand up again.  I was totally naked from the waist down and my cock stiffer than it had ever been before in my entire life.  Much more punishment and I was sure to explode sending a violent ejaculation of jizz across the room.  The headmaster did not appear to notice my predicament, if he did he made no comment.  I guessed it was likely that all lads punished in his study became aroused like this.

"Have you ever been to the United States of America boy ?"

Had I been to the United States of America ?  What a stupid question, I went there on business six or seven times a year !

"Yes Sir."

"Do you know what this is boy ?"

I didn't have a clue.  He was holding a long spatula of wood, about four to five inches wide and fifteen to eighteen inches long.

"This is a paddle boy.  Our American cousins use it in their schools to keep discipline.  It's a poor second to a British cane and they seldom put any strength into their punishment but do not fear I will use it properly and to its full extent.  Bend back over the desk."

Could my poor bottom take any more ?  I willed that it could and resumed my stance at the desk.

"Tighter boy ! Pull your buttocks together tighter !"

How the hell was I supposed to do that ?  My arse was so bruised and battered any muscular control I had evaporated ages ago but I did my best and waited for the first stroke.

This time there was no swish, no warning of the blow to come as the wooden blade landed across both buttock cheeks simultaneously.  A crack came seconds before a new surge of pain racked my body.  This time, for the first time during my punishment, I cried out in pain.  But there was no mercy as a second whack landed directly on top of the first.

"You are not counting boy, perhaps we had better rely on my counting.  That was number two."

I did not reply.

"Three."  he said the word before the paddle struck.  Shit I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.


I was going to cum, I could not help myself.  Such was the pleasure the pain was bringing I was going to cum.


My brain blotted out the fire burning in my behind as it fought to control actions between my legs.  But this was in vain, I knew it was oh so terribly in vain.


I came. Instinctively I stood up as my cock jerked with a will all of its own and fired hit jizz out and over the headmaster's desk.  There was silence as it slowly exhausted itself.  Finally, finally I stepped back. The Demon Headmaster moved round me to stand behind his desk, a desk now covered in jizz.

"Put your clothes back on."  His words were no longer stern but had a note of kindness in them.

I pulled my underpants over my sticky cock then stepped back into my trousers.  As I pulled up the zipper the Demon Headmaster spoke.

"I am proud of you young man,"  he said.  "You have taken a sound thrashing and taken it like a man.  Well done !  But do not take that as praise, I do not want to see you back in my study to be punished again.  I trust you have learned your lesson."  He winked an eye and smiled.

Oh yes I would be back, he could count on that - just as soon as my bottom had recovered.  I would be back !

Well I do hope you enjoyed the story - please let me know what you think: takemypantsoff@hotmail.co.uk and remember if you want to see the pictures, video clips and magazine article I refer to in the story just ask and I'll be happy to forward them to you.  All the best:  Nigel