Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2023 00:04:01 +0000
From: Billie353535 Vegita <shutup_nz@hotmail.com>
Subject: Disciplining Schoolboys (authoritarian?)

Disclaimer: The following contains explicit scenes of male sex and a
variety of consensual activities. This story may not be copied or posted to
any other websites without explicit permission from the author.  If any of
this content is offensive to you or illegal to access in your geography,
please do not proceed.

If you like this story, here are some of my other recent stories

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/confessing-to-father-fred/
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/getting-my-medicine/
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/doctor-tom/
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/tenting-with-sammy/
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/taught-by-dad/

**** feedback always welcome to shutup_nz@hotmail.com ***


There is a fine art to keeping a class of preteens under control. After
30 years of relief teaching, I have become quite the artist. Full-time
teachers can build rapport with their students, but the difficulty is for
us fleeting temporary teachers. All we have is a day or two to gain any
organisation over a class and teach whatever subject matter their usual
teacher has left us.
Between mixed classed and single-sex classes, both categories of teaching
environments have pretty distinct dynamics. With mixed groups, the
opposite genders often try to get one another's attention, whereas all
girls or boys are more of a contest or competition amongst their peers.
For boys, their competition is to see amongst them is  "coolest," so when
it comes to relief teaching in all boys' schools, often their little
games test the limits of their new teacher. Me.

Today's class was an example of such a situation. The lads were all
seated at their singular desks, arranged in a grid-like layout. They were
all dressed in their uniforms in their rows: grey shorts and socks, navy
blue shirts, and black shoes. It was early afternoon. And thus far, the
class has yet to break me. One particularly disruptive boy in the back
had constantly been talking all day, and despite having racked up over an
hour's worth of "detention," he would just not shut up. The class was
also behind him as he told jokes, made silly noises, and ignored the work
I put before him. I was losing control of him, the class, and the
situation, so this was one of those moments where I used the ace up my
sleeve.

You see, having been a teacher for as long as I have, I am one of the
last few holdouts for corporal punishment. It is a style that is becoming
rarer, but one that I would still use as a last resort if I had to. Being
a relief teacher, many of my students found such discipline a shock to
their system, many of whom had never encountered it before. I have heard
rumours that corporal punishment will soon no longer be allowed, relying
instead on only detention as a deterrent. How ridiculous. How one expects
to disciple some of these boys by having them stay after school is beyond
me. It might help as a warning, but some kids simply don't care. For
those boys, what makes them care is the firm hand of an adult male, which
many have never felt.

A sly smile grew across my face as the lead boy continued his antics.
Their usual teacher had warned me of this particular character and his
behaviour. Brad was his name and being nearly a foot taller than all the
other boys, he had found himself the leader of their tribe. He was the
one who had been talking and trying to rile me up all day. Brad was the
one all the boys had been watching, trying to get me to snap. Brad
usually causes his regular teachers much grief, but today he would meet
his match.

It's not difficult to get the noisy types to the front of the class, with
any special attention or spectacle for them often taken as some joke. I
called Brad to the front; his peers were still hollering in support, and
my usual tone changed once he was in position. Gone was the weak threat
of time after school, picking up trash or going to the headmaster. The
meek, mild teacher in front of them was gone as I pulled out my 30 years
of authority and laid down the law. Suddenly, the threat of a spanking
was on the table. The atmosphere abruptly changed as they saw the real
me; the threat of a more severe punishment caused the class to suddenly
hush down. While the other students remained in their seats and became
quiet, Brad did his desperate best to try to fend off my threats.

A reminder of the rules and the realisation that corporate punishment is
still very much an option in boarding school was usually enough, but it
was all too late for that. By tomorrow, Brad would be a new boy, and I
would receive calls wondering about my "secret" technique in no time. I
had no secret; this was just something that time had forgotten.

The class was deathly silent as Brad complied with my instruction,
bending over the teacher's desk. He slowly pulled his shorts and
underwear down to his shoes, already in shock from undressing in front of
everyone. Having his naked backside exposed to everyone was already on
another level from any punishment he had ever had. Nevertheless,
humiliation is only temporary, and when I punish a boy in such a way, I
make it memorable. Brad was already blushing bright red from showing
everyone his naked lower half; already, he was signalling that now he
would be good. A stripping, however, must always be followed by a
spanking.

You could hear a mouse fart in that room when I pulled my belt from my
waist. The boy's bare ass was primed and ready, and all the students
leaned forward in their desks, a gasp. Brad tried one last time to
negotiate as I rolled up my sleeves; some boys on the front row of desks
were close enough to see Brad's flaccid-hanging penis.

The first couple of strikes took out any last defiance left, with the
next couple knocking out the last of his breath. Some students hid their
eyes; others oohed and ahhed at each strike; some even watched with great
interest as I gave him the full strength of my arm. The next half dozen
strikes elicited nothing but wails and whines as I gave him eleven of my
best, one for each of his years on this earth. His small hairless penis
flapped erratically from each blow, and red welts flared up on his
delicate white skin. Every smack, smack, smack of the strap made itself
known to everyone as the sound bounced off the walls, every hit causing
Brad to wail or whimper as he cried out.

No other noise could be heard save for the sound of leather on backside
echoing about the room. Brad's sobbing was now silent as I pelted his
bare, blemished ass, the last final blows leaving red lines striping
their way across his pale skin. The other boys looked on in disbelief as
I finished, one of them adjusting his pants as it all ended.

When I was done, Brad's ass was thoroughly beaten and bright red, and my
arm was slightly sore. I sent his wounded ego back to his desk, but not
before yanking up his shorts, with which he let out a final sob. Tears
rolled down his face as he wandered back to his desk, rubbing his bruised
ass before sitting down.

That said, the classroom was much more productive in the last few hours,
with Brad and all the other boys tucking their heads down and getting on
with it under the threat of having to ensure the same thing themselves.

--

The bell rang. All the students exited the classroom quickly, nervously,
but quietly. Brad was still rubbing his ass as he left the classroom
door; this was a lesson he would not soon forget. As the room emptied, I
began writing a summary for the usual teacher of events and work
completed. After a few moments, I noticed that there was still one solemn
boy in the class watching me. His name was Nathan, and he had barely said
a word all day beyond roll call. He was one of the lucky few with a
front-row seat to Brad's ordeal.

"Can I help you, Nathan?" I asked.

"Sir. Why did you spank Brad? Was it because he was naughty?"

"Yes," I replied. "All of his talking was making it difficult to teach
the class."

"Sir, I think I've been naughty," Nathan confessed, fidgeting his hands
in his lap.

"Whys that? You completed all your work, and I've barely heard from you
all day."

"Well, when you were spanking Brad. I um... I got a stiffy."

Ah, boys, that explained it. He was the one I caught touching himself at
the end of Brad's ordeal. While Brad had a tall, dominating presence,
Nathan was quite petite. He was short and a little skinny, and with my
limited knowledge of him, I wouldn't have expected him to be the one
getting excited over a spanking.

"That's quite natural for your age, Nathan," I explained. "Your body is
beginning to go through changes. Many factors outside of your control can
cause erections, but I wouldn't worry about it. Run along now; your
parents will be waiting."

I put my head back down and finished the update for the primary teacher,
a review of the day so that they could carry on seamlessly tomorrow. I
had wholly expected Nathan to have gone already when, after a few
minutes, he spoke again.

"Sir, would it be naughty if I pushed my chair over?"

I put my pen down. There was something else going on with him. "Now, why
would you want to do that? I thought you were a good student." He bit his
lip; something was troubling him, something he was trying to put into
words.

"I thought I was a good boy too. But then I saw Brad's willy and his red
bum. Is it naughty to look at other boys' willies?"

Then it dawned on me. "Nathan, do you think you are naughty?"

Nathan slowly nodded. "When you were spanking Brad, I wanted it to be
me."

"Well, again, that is quite natural. Punishing those who misbehave is a
primal urge in us, and it can be quite stimulating. Some teachers even
get erections while spanking boys. Did you wish you were belting Brad?"

"It wasn't that," Nathan explained, again searching deeply for the right
words. "I wanted to be him. I wanted you to be you. Spanking me."

Nathan was the first boy I'd ever met who WANTED to be spanked. It wasn't
dishing out punishment that aroused his little body; it was being the one
taking punishment. I could only think of one way to deal with it,  the
only way I knew how--if he wanted to get a spanking, he would get it.

"Nathan, stand up and bend over my desk," I ordered, pointing to the same
spot Brad had been not so long ago.

"Yes, sir," he replied almost inaudibly.

Nathan quietly rose from his desk and trotted over to my desk. He gave me
one last look in my eyes before turning his back to me. Nathan had such a
cute, thin frame, with skinny legs and a tiny butt. With such narrow hips
and waist, I wondered how there was even room in his shorts for a penis
or anything else. Everything about him was so small; he was on a scale
half that of what Brad had been.

Walking behind him, I gently reached his tiny waist and unbuttoned his
shorts. I could feel the warmth of his body heat radiating against my
hands as I undid him, his shorts dropping to the floor. He was wearing a
pair of unassuming white briefs underneath, ones that nicely showed off
his perky, palm-sized cheeks and creamy white thighs.

"Are you sure you want this?" I asked the boy.

"Yes, sir," he whispered, volunteering to take his briefs down.

His petite bum, pint-sized waist, and narrow valley were exposed before
me. In all my years, boys usually stood upright, their hips bent forward
as if they were trying to avoid what was to come. Nathan was sticking his
butt backwards, almost erotically, the tender flesh of his butt valley
almost parting for me to see. His crease ran vertically until it reached
the shaded area where his tiny anus must be.

"Bend over more," I ordered. "Stick your bum out."

He stuck his butt further towards me, his crack spreading open to reveal
his pink hole. I felt hypnotised by it--his small body and this tiny
hole, like it was calling for me. I had hoped that this would be enough
to get him nervous, but he had followed my instructions and was now bent
and willing to take what I could deliver.

"Are you going to spank me, sir?" Nathan asked me softly, slightly
wagging his butt at me. "

"You have such a seductive little ass, Nathan, and a nice, tight-looking
butthole." I invited myself to run my thumb down his back, feeling the
little bumps on his spine, then down into his inviting asscrack. Nathan
remained silent as I touched him, only jumping when I applied some
pressure against his tiny dent. "Have you ever put anything up your bum?
Like a finger or a toy?"

"No, sir. But sir, my sister has a stuffed bear that I use sometimes," he
told me, his voice becoming quieter, almost to a whisper, as he began
telling me this dirty little secret.

"What do you do with your sisters' bear, Nathan? Tell me."

"Gosh, sir, it's embarrassing. Do I have to tell you?"

"Yes, Nathan. I need a reason to spank you."

"Oh! Well, sometimes I play pretend with it. I pretend it's real, and I
make it play with my willie. Sometimes I imagine he doesn't want to, but
I make him do it anyway. If the bear has been bad, I sit on it and rub my
bum against its face."

"That is VERY naughty, Nathan. You shouldn't be doing those things with
your sisters' things."

"I know! I always put it back, though, sir. She doesn't know."

"Well, Nathan, you're a very naughty little boy, doing those things to
her property and keeping it from her. We have found something to punish
you for."

Nathan's lip shook as I took out my belt once more. He let out a tiny
squeak when he felt it drape against his vulnerable cheeks, having
already witnessed what was about to come.

I made the first one count. If he wanted to be spanked, I wouldn't hold
back, so I really let him have it. The strap slapped hard against his
left cheek with a snap, and Nathan made a little noise when it hit. My
arm was still sore from earlier, but I kept the pressure on him, bringing
it down hard again, the second blow causing his legs to clench together.

"Now, now, Nathan, you need to take it like a big boy. Spread those legs
again. I expect your ass to be spread enough so I can see your anus the
entire time, okay?"

Nathan readjusted, his quivering legs doing as he was told. I struck him
again, as hard as the first time. I didn't back down as I approached
halfway, the noises being made from his lungs sounding like those of a
baby bird. Fine red lines crisscrossed his now-closed crack; his cheeks
shook, and his knees creaked as I gave him the last few. He wasn't crying
as Brad had been, but the flinches and gasps he made told me he was
feeling it towards the end.

"There, " I said, panting, as the brave young boy reached back and rubbed
his battered skin.

"Thank you, sir," he said softly, rubbing himself.

His eleven-year-old stiffy stood proud and hard, the little masochist
getting off on his discomfort.

"Do you know how to take care of that?" I asked, pointing boldly at his
erection. Nathan blushed as he tucked himself back into his shorts,
nodding that he knew. "Make sure you don't use your sister's toys this
time!" I shouted as his little ass left the class.

**** feedback always welcome to shutup_nz@hotmail.com ***