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To anyone observing their fellow passengers on the number fifty-two bus, he was just another office worker going home after his nine to five job in the town. Anyone looking a little closer might have observed his smart black suit and white shirt and surmised he was a shop or an office worker. They would have made an assumption about the lack of a tie that it had been taken off as soon as he left the place of work and placed in his pocket ready for tomorrow. In fact, they were wrong on all accounts, well maybe the tie in the pocket was correct, but it was yet to be put on rather than taken off.

The young man sat in the seat four rows from the back on the driver’s side was minding his own business as he casually looked out of the window at the passing sites of houses but occasionally the odd piece of green grass as the bus meandered its way towards its destination in Hadfield. Not that the passenger in question was going that far, he was due to get off in two stops, just outside Manor Crescent. So after the halt at Lowe Street, the call button was pressed, and he waited for the bus to slow before heading to the exit.

Waiting for the bus to pull away he waited to cross into the Crescent, taking the time, as a few vehicles were coming as well, to put on the tie taken from the right-hand pocket. Not that there was anyone to observe, but had there been they would have noticed it was a red and black diagonal strip.

He walked casually down the Crescent until it met the junction of Waterford Close, then right into the Close and up towards the end where it turned into an alleyway that crossed into Walton Terrace. He stopped outside the sixth house on the left, number fifty-two it said on the white and black plaque on the wall, ironic that it was the same number as the bus. Up the small path and two steps then opened the white cottage style door. The white painted hallway adorned with picture framed photographs greeted him. It was but six strides more until he reached his destination. He took those and looking at his watch stopped to the right of the white painted door.

He, the young man, was Michael, and at a little after six o'clock on this Wednesday he was waiting in the hallway to see Mr Smith. In fact, this was the sixth Wednesday on the trot that he had been here. Michael took a deep breath and contemplated for the fifth time why exactly was he doing this again. As the time ticked on Michael reflected it had all began seven weeks ago, one fateful Tuesday back in February, when there was still pockets of snow on the ground, and the temperature had not risen above freezing for over a week.

It was the fourth week of a ten-week evening class at the local college. Michael had decided on a whim during the Christmas holiday he needed to learn a little about house maintenance and so enrolled on the course. It had all started well , but soon Michael began to realise perhaps he was maybe not suited to doing things with his hands, he was all fingers and thumbs, and not necessarily the right ones at that. It gave the others on the course something to smirk about when Mr Smith, Peter as he liked them to call him, had to come to rescue time after time. The fourth lesson had been a little better as he managed successfully to re-fix a faulty light socket, but then he nearly flooded the room when he tried to mend a water leak. It left himself and Peter looking a little wet as they struggled to turn off the water.

Michael apologised of course, as he had done every time he did it wrong, but this time Mr Smith was not smiling, especially as he dried himself after the small soaking. As the class ended Michael was asked to wait behind. He feared he was going to be asked to stop coming to the class as he sat at the workbench while the other eight men and women shuffled out of the room. He heard the door shut and turned to see Peter walking purposefully back to his desk.

“Michael if could come here please.”

Michael suddenly felt daunted as he heard the words, even though they were spoken softly. Sliding off the stool he nervously made his way to where the tall man, in a black polo shirt and grey trousers both still with damp patches, stood by the desk. His grey hair also looked wet and needed a proper comb as it stood up in all directions.

“I guess Michael you are not one of life’s DIY men. For the last four weeks I have tried patiently to show how to do things, yet most times you have failed to grasp what I have said. Even when I showed you it still was not right.”

Michael felt a flush in his cheeks as he thought here it comes, the thanks but no thanks speech.

“When I was a teacher, all those years ago that I care not to remember exactly how many, we had a way with dealing with boys who didn’t listen and pay attention in class. I made them come out to my desk and bend over so that they could get a good slippering. That usually had the effect of focusing their mind, if not, then they stayed after school where they would get another slippering. This time it would be a good deal harder and on their bare bottom.”

Mr Smith observed the look of astonishment upon Michael’s face as he looked directly at the errant boy in front of him. The errant boy worked at a High Street branch of a national bank. His five foot, five inches and slender look made look like a sixth former despite him being twenty-three years old.

“Right Michael, you are now by my desk, now bend over, and let us see if we can focus your mind for the next six weeks.”

The words were heard, but then they seem to get jumbled up inside Michael’s head, as he stood rooted to the spot looking with disbelief as the ex-teacher waited with his hands on his hips looking back.

"Now if you will, or we will be here until the Janitor arrives to lock up."

They were said far more commandingly, Michael realised he had no options, there was no way to the door, Mr Smith was directly between him and it. He slowly bent forward, his fingers touching his knee caps.

He felt a hand on his upper back pressing him further over. “Touch your toes or ankles and stay in that position.”

Michael had seen the tutor remove the plimsoll from a lower drawer, now it touched his offered bottom cheeks briefly, a moment later it returned, but this was no touch. It whacked hard onto his left cheek, it took his breath away as he found himself pushed forward momentarily with the sheer force of it. There was no time to wonder about the stinging pain as soon got another two, both on his right cheek. Instinctively tried to twist away from the hurt and growing heat he was feeling. Again he got two equally hard one after the other, first his left then his right cheek. He felt a hand on his back as he tried to reach back with his hands. “Stay there Michael, only one to go.”

The last one was full on and in the centre of his bottom. He let out a yelp at the intense pain his arms left his ankles but remained bent over, albeit his hands came to rest on his knees.

He opened his watery eyes to see Mr Smith return the implement of his unforgettable pain back to its resting place. Not sure what to do, his thoughts were clouded by the ever-growing throbbing felt in his cheeks, he remained bent and returned his stare at the grey vinyl floor.

“Stand up boy.”

Michael eased himself up into a standing position and wondered what would happen next.

"Get your things. I will give you a lift."

Michael looked at his watch as they entered the door to the lounge of the Kings Castle. The journey had been in silence, and he was glad as the only thing on his mind was trying to sit comfortably in the passenger seat. It was a surprise when they pulled into the car park. He tried to order a soft drink, but Mr Smith insisted he has a pint of beer, Marston's Pedigree, the same as him. He had never tried the beer before, he drunk very little, the odd half of lager or a glass of red wine, but never pints of anything. They found a seat in the corner, out of earshot of the other patrons thankfully as Mr Smith first question had his hand shaking a little nearly spilling some of his drink he was about to taste.

“First time you had a slippering then Michael.”

He put his pint down without taking a drink. He just nodded his head in reply as he looked around to see if anyone had turned to look their way.

"Thought so." He took a large drink from the glass and added. "Hopefully that will focus your thoughts on the lesson next week or as I say we will be revisiting my desk and your trousers will be around your ankles. You understand my boy?"

His face was bright red at the words as he squirmed in his chair at the thought of another whacking.

“Well boy.”

“Yes sir,” He answered and then cursed himself for replying like when he was a schoolboy to a teacher.”

“Good. Then we both know where we stand.”

There was, thankfully, no more talk of what happened less than an hour ago as they sat and drank while Mr Smith talked about nothing in particular. Michael nodded mostly and occasionally said yes or no.

At just after nine thirty he opened the front door and hoped his parents were not too inquisitive as to where he had been until now. He was usually back about an hour ago. Luckily dad was asleep in the armchair and mum was in the kitchen. Bidding her a goodnight he shot up the stairs and into his room, very relieved that he hadn't had to lie, especially as his mother always seemed to know when he told even the smallest white lie. Quickly he undressed, slipped on his pyjamas and slipped under the sheets before god forbid anyone entered the room seeing his bright red bum staring back at them.

The cold feel of the sheets was a relief against the warmth still emanating from his cheeks. Although he found as he lay there that soon it was time to move and find another spot to continue the relief. It was not long before he turned onto his stomach as his muddled thoughts that had confused him since they left the classroom earlier were now the only thing on his mind. At least in the pub and in the car journey home, he had been distracted for a while. He grew hard, as he found his hips moving rhythmically against the mattress, and not for the first time tonight either. He had felt himself harden in the pub as he listened to the prospect of another punishment next week. His hand drifted to his bum, and he began to caress the warm, tingly flesh as he slowly masturbated against the white sheets. It was a close call, but he just managed to reach his box of tissues before he made a mess on the sheet, not that it would have been the first time, but hated the thought of his mum knowing what he had been doing when he was alone.

Now here he was seven weeks later and waiting for Mr Smith to call him into his study. It was just like a Headmasters study, not that he had been in the one when he was at school, but he had seen them in television programmes. His watch said nearly ten past six, and he wondered how long he would be kept waiting this time. The first time six weeks ago it had been twenty minutes, twenty minutes to think about what might happen to him. The conflicting emotion of pleasure and pain coursing through his thoughts.

His mind drifted back to the time six weeks ago. It had been a shock after the class on Tuesday to be called back as he left. He had done nothing much wrong during the lesson, certainly no disaster like the week before. Michael stood by the desk expecting the order to bend over any moment, but instead, Mr Smith handed him a business card.

"We need to discuss your effort this week, but unfortunately I have to attend a faculty meeting now. I will see you at my house tomorrow at six, the address is on the card." With that, he about turned and headed to the door. "And do not be late," he added without turning to look at a stunned Michael still standing by the desk, his mouth open in amazement or was it shock.

It had been nearly twenty-four hours of yet more dual emotions, so much so that his Supervisor at the back had asked him if he was feeling alright. He had wanted to say ‘no in three hours I am going to a strange house of an ex-teacher, possibly old enough to be my grandad, where I will probably get a sore bum bent over as I touch my toes.’ But he just said he alright just a little tired probably. It was not a lie as he had lain awake for hours last night thinking about his fate.

That first time he had entered the room not knowing what to expect, but it certainly was expecting an old desk at which Mr Smith sat, a green leather armchair in the corner, two ordinary chairs with the same green leather seat and a former classroom desk facing a wall. It had been a very one-sided conversation as Michael was told in no uncertain terms that his efforts while better were not yet good enough. The result was evitable as he found himself taking off his jacket, undoing his zip some five minutes later and letting the navy blue trousers fall to the fall around his ankles. It was not quite bare, but his thin cotton multi-coloured shorts would offer very little protection, if any, from the slipper that Mr Smith was holding in his hand. Michael blushed hoping his long white shirt would hide his hardening manhood as his thoughts got the better of him and he found himself anticipating the coming whacking.

It was soon over. Six hard wallops, three on each cheek soon had him breathing deep as they seared his almost bare bottom. At least he deflated while the punishment happened as not to render more embarrassment when he was allowed to stand back up. There was another matter that did though, he had to sign the entry made in the large notebook which detailed the six of the best on his bottom with trousers down.

The door finally opened.

“Inside Jenkins.” Nothing more than those words were said as he passed by and into the dimly lit room where he stood in front of the desk.

“You were late boy. How dare you be so when attending one of my detentions?”

“Sorry sir,” Michael mumbled before remembering a lesson from two weeks ago that you always spoke up and clearly. He repeated the apology quickly.

“I am lost for words that you are here again, despite receiving yet another punishment this time last week. It seems that you do not learn very quickly do you boy.”

“No sir, sorry sir.”

"You are always sorry. Sorry that you will once again be going out of here with a well-thrashed bottom."

Mr Smith stood and walked across to the two chairs underneath the window. He sat on one and made himself comfortable after moving the other a few feet away.

“You are going to get two punishments today. One for being late and one for poor work. First I am going to give you a jolly good spanking over my knee for being late. Then I am going to slipper you for the continued poor work you turn out.”

Michael found himself with a suddenly dry mouth at the thought of the spanking, mainly because he was already overexcited at the idea of his punishment and his hard-on was already straining his zip. He was mortified that Mr Smith might, almost certainly might, feel it on his thigh as he was spanking his bum. Spanking over the knee had crossed his mind over the last few weeks, and each time he had been reaching for tissues very quickly. Now that it was a reality and he was not sure how he, and it, would react.

He was soon with his trousers around his ankles and over the lap. He had been allowed to keep his white shorts on at least. Yes for the last four weeks his shorts had been white, as only white shorts were part of the uniform now. He had been warned that anything else would be confis**ted, this also applied to any piece of clothing. So his suit on a Wednesday was always black, with a white shirt and polished black plain shoes and of course the school tie kindly donated by Mr Smith.

The shorts did not stop up very long once over the knee. Michael panicked a little as he felt them drawn roughly over his cheeks and down to his ankles. Perhaps a good thing he was not with a stiffy as it might have hurt if it had caught on the shorts as they passed quickly downwards.

It was soon excruciatingly painful with smack after smack landing hard on each cheek. Mr Smith certainly had a big, hard and well-practised hand as he unrelentingly continued with the punishment as Michael was starting to squirm trying to avoid each well-aimed blow. It was with little success though as he was held firm by the tall, strong man who had walloped many a naughty bottom over his prolific career, and indeed after he had retired as well. There was soon another to preoccupy his mind as the constant smacks were pushing him against the well-muscled thigh, by him I really mean the now semi hard on that had a mind of its own. Trouble was the more he tried to ignore it, as he shifted one way and then another, the more it rubbed against his punishers trousers.

As he was pulled unceremoniously up from the lap, it was plain for both of them to see that was fully erect, even with the shirts attempt to cover it, at least in part anyway. Michael was red-faced and red-bottomed as he stood to attention, as much as an aching, sore bum would allow you to stand upright anyway. Mr Smith left the room without saying a word, and the opportunity was taken to rub his behind, well he cupped it gently at first then he rubbed it softly.

The door opened unexpectedly a few minutes later, leaving Michael with his hands on his behind rather than at his side. His first thought was a fear that his error in not standing to attention would earn yet more smacks.

“Right you can bend over my desk to receive your punishment due for your lack of work effort. My slipper will try its best once more to focus your mind when in class Jenkins.”

Michael shuffled over to the desk and slowly bent across its ornate inlay oak top. Slowly because he had to adjust his manhood, so that did not get caught against the desk top's square edges.

“Ready Jenkins?”

Michael was lost in his impending battle to stay in control of his body and hands so that he did not give Mr Smith any cause to add another one or two.

"Well, boy?"

His memory jogged to reply was enforced with a sharp smack to his offered bare red bum.

"Yes, sir." Came the quick reply in rather a loud slightly squeaky voice that was caused somewhat at the shock of the slap to his left cheek.

It never took Mr Smith long to administer the requisite number of whacks to the offered up bum that had the misfortune to enter the room. He was not one of those who believed in waiting so many seconds, or indeed minutes before the next one landed right where it was intended for. He was a quick and hard man, always had been, and there was no reason to change now.

Six well placed whacks later, and Michael is lying on the desk trying desperately to seek solace in the fact that it was all over and that he could soon rise. Not that his bottom would agree with that, it was still throbbing, in fact almost calling out loudly for it be rubbed to ease the stinging ache.

“Up you get Jenkins and kindly adjust your attire back to how it was when you came in here.”

There was no need for a reminder as he jumped up and quickly reached down to his ankles to draw his shorts and trousers back into their rightful place. Once it was done and once again semi-hard phallus was tucked away Mr Smith had completed the punishment book ready for his signature. There it was six entries for the last 6 weeks, Michael Jenkins, six of the slipper, this time, as last time it read bare, not trousers down. He blushed as he penned his name in the space at the end.

“Now get out and do not let me see you in here again.”

A brisk few strides, with each one he could feel the material rubbing against his bottom, and then out the door into the hallway.

He waited by the door for Mr Smith to finish up and join him, hoping it wouldn’t be too long as he had something urgent to take care of when he got home.

*****

Yet another Wednesday and at just before six Michael opens the door to number fifty-two Walton Terrace. He is somewhat surprised as Mr Smith is in the hallway as if waiting for him to arrive.

“Hi Michael, glad you could make it today.”

Michael was now very perplexed, firstly because his first name had been used, and secondly because it had been softly and politely spoken.

"Thank you, sir," he replied after a quick thought about calling him by his first name, but he settled on the safe option in case it was some trick to get him into trouble.

"Why don't you pop into the room by the kitchen with me? I have a surprise for you."

From perplexed to very worried in the space of a sentence as Michael followed along behind to the room. He had not been into this room before, in fact, he had only been to the bathroom and the kitchen other than the study room, which he was very familiar each week at this time. It was a laundry room with a door at one end out into the garden. Michael noticed as the door was shut behind him. Then he suddenly saw as he looked at the back of the door what hung from the coat hook. There right in front of him was a schoolgirls uniform, a white blouse hung on the coat hanger, with a black pleated skirt hanging from the bottom of it. Surely this was not for him, it was a surprise the teacher said but this was more than a surprise, it was a complete shock.

“I got you a new uniform to wear,” he said then paused to look around to find something. “Yes here we are, your vest, knickers and socks to finish it off properly,” he added opening up a drawer by the washing machine.

A lost for words Michael just looked at Mr Smith not knowing what to say other than, ‘No way am I wearing those tonight.’ Before he could say the words, Mr Smith spoke again. "Chop, chop and get changed. I want you waiting outside the door by six fifteen.”

This was a whole new game now. For the three months, Michael had been happy to be a naughty schoolboy as he got such a tremendous thrill from the chastisement he got each Wednesday evening. Now it was turning into something else, he was not sure exactly what that was yet, but he did know it would get it him a very red and sore bum, followed by some much needed relief when he got home later.

Not sure where to start Michael stood in the room naked. Picking up the vest, then putting it back again in favour of the socks, before changing back again. The white cotton vest was a little loose, perhaps a size too big, in contrast, the white blouse was a little tight across the shoulders, and it buttoned up the opposite way to his shirts. Holding up the navy blue knickers he stared disbelievingly at them for a moment contemplating once again what had he got himself into. He definitely never had any gay feelings, ever, and certainly never had thoughts about wearing women's clothes, before now that was. The knickers were snug, especially with his manhood tucked inside, but they did not feel too uncomfortable compared to his usual underwear. The skirt was a challenge to him, not knowing where the zip went and exactly you how to fasten the buttons had him in a quandary for a minute or two before he finally figured it out, he hoped. Lastly, the white knee length socks were rolled on, and he was ready to go out into the hallway to wait what would be next. He suddenly remembered the tie, gosh that would have been an absolute disaster had he been caught without that. Seeing it was almost six fifteen, he concluded there were no ladies shoes to wear and gave up looking.

“Ah, Miss Jenkins, step inside would you.”

Michael blushed at the title miss before entering the room. He stood before the desk as usual, but it left very strange dressed as a girl and even more so just wearing socks on his feet.

“Your first time here Michelle I believe, unlike your twin brother Michael who has been far too many times already this term.”

Michelle nodded.

"I will say this only once. When you address me, you speak clearly with words and not with your head or indeed any other part of your body. Is that clear girl?"

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

“Good. Now it seems we have been a little silly by entering the boy’s toilet on the first floor at lunchtime. I was informed that you had been reprimanded once already with a detention for this disgusting behaviour.”

Michelle was not sure whether to reply, so just kept quiet.

“Well girl, is it correct that you have been caught in the boy’s toilet?”

“Yes sir,” came a hesitant reply.

"Your honesty does you credit Michelle. However, it will not save you from the sore bottom you are about to get."

Michelle had already guessed that would be the case, he just was not sure what would give him that sore, red throbbing bum. Most weeks it had been the slipper, once the strap and a couple of times a spanking over his knee. Whichever it would be hurt all the same.

"Normally for a first offence, I would be lenient, especially with a girl. However, this is a very serious offence, and nothing less than six of the best on a bare backside will do.”

“Please sir, I promise not to do it ever again if you let me off.”

"You will soon learn, just like Michael did, that once I say something, then I meant it and no such pleading will change the decision. That is unless you say something more and then I will add two more strokes."

Michelle looked down at the floor resigned to her fate.

“Right, skirt up, over the desk Miss Jenkins, and let us see if you take your punishment better than your snivelling brother did.”

His or was it her knickers was becoming far more uncomfortable as the command to bend over had started his hard-on once more. He gathered up the pleats and bent over the desk. It was different without shoes on, it was more of a stretch, and his manhood rubbed against the edge now. All he could think about was not making a mess in the knickers for a moment before feeling fingers on the waistband, and with a little bit of struggle, pulled down.

It was the slipper that appeared from the drawer, and a moment later Mr Smith stood behind the prone figure across his desk, the skirt folded neatly upon the white blouse and the knickers down by the knees. Mr Smith smiled to himself before he gave the first whack, right across the middle, and without the usual warning tap. Michelle squealed, as much in surprise as the stinging pain it left on her now partly pink bum. Two and three followed rapidly together, each one to a different cheek, with one high and one low. With his eyes shut he focussed on getting through this quickly so he could soon be back in his own clothes and off home, to where he could relax and have some fun. Not that wasn’t fun, his hard-on told him that. Mind it was a little precarious as it rubbed the desk once more. Five followed four just as quickly, and they both landed in the same spot on his right cheek. This produced a loud yelp as the second of them struck. The sixth and final one, hopefully anyway, had the socked feet dancing up on their toes as he planted it low down but almost dead centre across both cheeks.

Michelle lay on the desk even though Mr Smith had told her to get up. It would take a moment to back the composure and hopefully the hardness under control before doing so.

“Get up girl, or I will give you another six for disobedience.”

Standing up Michelle suddenly realised the blouse was not as long as the usual shirts and this left the lower anatomy very much on view and very much pointing up in the air, rather than dangling down. A blush quickly came over as Mr Smith was staring at it with a smirk on his face. Trying to put hands to block it only got a rebuke for not having arms by the side and it became a little harder in the process as it twitched when moving back.

The punishment book was completed and signed with Michelle rather than Michael before being allowed to get dressed. It brought another smirk to the teacher's lips as the struggle to pull the knickers over the still hard penis was something you would not see every day. Finally, the skirt smoothed down, albeit with a bugle in the middle of the front, and dismissed but not before receiving another detention next Wednesday for the disgusting spectacle just now.

Michael, glad to be back in his own clothes, at last, waited in the hallway for Mr Smith as usual. He walked in from the kitchen holding the schoolgirls uniform in one hand and a plastic carrier bag in the other.

“How dare you leave the clothes in the laundry room in such a mess, at the very least I would expect them to be hung up properly and folded just how they were when you put them on.”

"Sorry, Mr Smith." Michael blushed at being told off just like his mother used to when he did it at home.

Mr Smith opened the door to the study and Michael had a sudden dread.

“Right, get in there, get your trousers down and bend over. You are getting six of the best just like your sister Michelle did.”

His dread was quite correct in its assumption. He was going to get another whacking and by the sounds of it also on the bare bottom.

"I said bend over, not across the desk, you stupid boy. Listen next time, or I will thrash until next Wednesday."

Scurrying quickly into position Michael apologised as he touched his toes and wait for his second punishment, though the first as himself. It was a little confusing being two people as he heard the drawer open and shut, which could only mean he was moments away getting his already red and sore bottom made even more so.

Six crisp, loud whacks landed one after the other across the middle of his offered bottom. Each one made Michael either yelp or suck his breath deeply before he realised it was all over. The pain was worse than he had felt at any previous time but it still it made his tummy tingle.

Another entry in the book and this time Michael signed against his line.

“Right boy you can take the clothes home and wash the underwear as I don’t want your disgusting bodily fluid on them. The blouse and skirt you will iron, and I mean ironed properly for Michelle’s detention next week. Now get out before I change my mind and cane the pair of you. Without a look back Michael picked up the clothes, which were now in a bag, and left the room almost at a canter. He did not slow down until he got to the bus stop to wait for the number fifty-two to take him home.