Amy – Chapter 12
(Spank, BDSM, Mf, Mb)
Comments to leedavey1000@gmail.com

Ian looked back at Ruth angrily.
“I said OK didn’t I, don’t keep going on about it.”
“Yes but that is what you said 13 years ago, and how much was your word worth then?” Rebecca shot back.

“Your father was pissed, drunk off his head, a so called respected Rabbi was too dangerous to perform our sons circumcision.”
Rebecca sighed her husband was right but that did not stop things being difficult. Her parents, particularly her father, were dead against her marrying outside the faith. The fact that Ian was an atheist not helping much either. It was only Ian’s agreement that any child of their union would be raised in the Jewish faith allowed Rebecca to marry him.

Then came that day when her father arrived at their house to Brit Milah 8 days after the birth of their son. It was still morning but he was already drunk, barely able to stand, let alone be trusted with such a delicate operation.

There was a tremoundous argument resulting in Ian throwing her father out, the whole day caused such a rift in the family that Rebecca did not speak to her parents for over a decade. It was only when she received a letter from Australia that te rift began to heal.

There was still the issue of the child. He was arelim uncircumcised as Ian refused to have anything more to do with her faith since that dark day.
The change in the law solved that tension meaning that despite Ian’s views her sons foreskin would be riven from him at the age of thirteen in any case. It was then but a small step for Rebecca to convince Ian to allow her father, now sober for many years, to perform the ceremony. A small step that took 3 years.

“Not only do we have to wait for your father to get his lazy arese over from Australia so he can perform the ceremony. I…Me have to pay a fee of £150 to the Government so they can check that the circumcision, Your…YOUR father performs meets the tightness criteria; And don’t get me started on how much it will cost if he screws up again; And think all this could have been done for free a few months ago.” Ian finally subsided more from lack of oxygen than indigination.

“Let’s not argue Ian, not today. Our…OUR… son is going to need us to be strong to help him. I don’t want to imagine what he has had to endure today.” Ruth calmed her husband.

The 4 children lay in a heap in one corner looked over by Steve. They watched apprehensively as a large wooden trestle was manhandled into the room under the direction of Mr Dawkins.
The time was coming for their true punishment. No child knew exactly what would happen to them when they were sent to detention except for one thing, their final punishment. Every child sent to Detention was sent there with a stated punishment. Normally this would be a specified number of strokes. But not always Josh could not take his eyes away from the bucket wherein sat a thick birching rod. 

The far doors to the hall swept open and in strode Mr Dawkin’s his coat billowing out in a deliberately impressive show. Less ostentatiously some other people followed in. These were the families of the children being punished. While their presence was not required it was soon found that many children were physically too traumatised to make their own way home unassisted. Therefore parents or other family members were usually on hand to carry the punished children home to recover.

Mr Dawkin’s read the punishment sheet once again. He did not need to, he knew the contents off by heart but reading it thrilled him deep inside.
The girl was due a simple 6 of the best with the cane, as was one of the boys. A disappointment to his mind after all a mere 6 was a simple warm up hardly a real punishment. The other boy was to receive a more respectable 8 strokes of the cane following a paddling. The last boy, oh yes the last boy, this would be the cherry on the top of the day. A birching, a birching was so enjoyable while for Mr Dawkin’s anyway. He loved the way the individual strands of the birch could caress a childs body so intimately. The cane hurt but the birch made love to a body. Mr Dawkins shook himself and surveyed the scene to ensure all was ready.
A strapping bench had been brought in. A bulky padded frame that allowed a child to be bent over and be tied down so they were unable to move so much as an inch. A school caning in the class did not require such preparations, but the cane here would be of judicial thickness, scarring was possible, blood a certainty, no child, no man could stay still under such discipline. So they were strapped down, tied to a bench unable to move as they were beaten. Mr Dawkin’s felt himself harden at the mere thought and knew he had best proceed with haste before he reached the point of no return.

Mr Dawkin’s gently flexed the punishment cane smiling as the first boy was brought forward. He was fifteen Mr Dawkin’s knew, as he was walked past and strapped in he admired the scarlet bright red bottom that he sported. Steve has done his usual good job Mr Dawkin’s admired. The boy should feel these cane strokes all the more keenly; Good.
Mr Dawkin’s heard a muffled groan from a woman in the pack of parents behind him. He ignored this as he moved his feet a few inches one way as he measured the exact distance he should stand for maximum impact. He swivelled his hips a few times to ensure he was flexible before beginning.
Unlike many teachers in similar situations he said nothing. He did not lecture the child on their wrong-doing, after all he did not particularly care he just wanted to thrash them.
Nor did he tap the tip of the cane against the child’s red tinged bottom so as to warn them of the incoming blow. Instead he simply twisted and turned as much as possible straining his sinews before whipping the first blow in.
The air howled around the cane as it seared into the boys red flesh. The boy despite his attempt howled in agony. He had been caned before almost every single boy had been, but only by a standard school cane which was designed to sting and not to really harm. This cane was different. The entire audience as if one winced as the cane seemed to pound the boy into the padded frame. The cane bounced away leaving a white mark that quickly became a dark purple colour. Without pause Mr Dawkin’s delivered another blow with all his might and considerable skill. The second blow landed an inch lower but other than that the effect was the same. The boy who after an hours spanking at the hand of Steve had felt as if his bottom could feel no worse was waving his head back and forth not comprehending what was happening to him. Mr Dawkin’s smiled grimly and struck again only just containing a laugh as the boy gave out a constant ululation of pain, not a scream, not a cry just a constant high pitched sound indicating his broken bodies agony.

Josh watched having to consciously control his bladder from emptying in terror as they unstrapped the first boy his bottom a broken mess of weals, and then strap the next boy in.

He shook in terror as he watched the 2nd boys caning proceed. With a start he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder. Looking around he saw that the 17 year old girl who still sat near him waiting her turn give him a comforting hug. Ay any other time Josh would have been delighted to be hugged by such a pretty teenager, and the feel of her warm breast against his cheek as she hugged him could well have caused him to physically react. Today though as the screams continued he did not care, he simply buried his head in her bosom and joined her in tears of fear. 

Mr Dawkin’s rubbed his tired hand as two of the parental helpers dragged the second boy off and handed him to his waiting parents. Two others wiped down the padded table with antiseptic wipes clearing the small drops of blood and larger drops of urine that stained it.
He watched as the girl walked forward noticing her trembling was so bad that she could barely keep her balance. There were a few murmurs of appreciation over her naked beauty that were quickly stilled by an angry look from a woman in the waiting parents. Her features made it clear she was the mother, her look made it clear that she would rip the testicles off anyone who leered.
Coughing gently Mr Dawkin’s gave the girls curved backside a professional appraisal. Unlike most men his penis did not harden at such a sight. His preference was for the bonier bottoms of boys, his penis did stir at the thoughts of the punishment he would inflict upon it though.

With reluctance he lowered the cane and picked up a small but thick paddle drilled with holes. Damn the girl’s teacher, only sentencing the girl to 10 stokes of the paddle. The school scum needing breaking, make them come to heel, he angrily slapped the paddle against his thigh as he approached the girl.
A girl this old should be receiving a dozen of the cane, no two dozen, no a minimum of fifty!!!
He restrained himself as he felt the red mist descend upon him, remembering what could happen if he were to lose control.
The girl was sentenced to ten strokes of the paddle so that was what he would give her. He paused and then rolled his eyes at his own stupidity placing down the paddle he selected a smaller paddle and moved back to the girl speaking to the two assistants.

He watched as they released her legs before stretching them open and retying them but now much wider apart then before. The girl shifted uncomfortably her sore puffy pussy aching from its recent fucking complained at its new position. She had no idea why Mr Dawkin’s was dragging this out, just wishing he would get it over so she could go home.
While she may not have known why this was being dragged out, her watching parents certainly did. Her mother moaned and buried her head in the chest of her husband who unlike his wife appeared if anything more satisfied at this turn of events. A look that promised that his daughter’s problems may not end even when she got home.

Mr Dawkin’s hefted the paddle in one hand and positioned himself behind the bottom of the tied down girl. Unlike the caning of the boys he did not position himself to ensure the maximum velocity, and hence pain, of the blow, he did not need to. With a snapping underhand blow he whipped the paddle in an upward arc until it slapped fully into the exposed and split pussy of the girl.
“NO. NO. Not there….” The girl exclaimed as the paddle compressed her still red and puffy lower lips with sufficient force to move her body upwards. She writhed as the deep burning pain radiated into her, she had prepared herself for a normal paddling but nothing could have prepared her for the pain of the blow against her abused pussy.
Mr Dawkin’s smiled as he whipped in the next blow causing the girl to cry in agony. He drew back the paddle for the third stroke before noting the trail of slime and sperm that coated it now. He shuddered with distaste, while he understood that the girl had been fucked so many times this morning that she was liable to be holding a pint of the stuff up her, he still did not want to see it.
Just for that girl I make these sting even more, and rip the damn cum from you he thought. Everyone winced as Mr Dawkin’s proceeded to torture the girl. A few even thought to stop him, but he was doing nothing wrong. He had been instructed to paddle the girl, and the rules were clear genitals or bottom, both were fair game.