You may have thought that after being told off for playing on his phone and getting a spanking the last thing that mason would do is come back straight away to collect is phone. Well that’s what he does, and it’s why lads like this always find themselves in more trouble.
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Its OTK for him again and this time the paddle is laid on his rear end. The cut offs come down and the white boxers come down, after the right amount of swats of course and a good bare ass paddling finishes off the lesson.
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Its always a surprise that lads think they can get away with anything, and then look hurt and surprised when they have to pay the price.
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Tony routinely confiscates a knave’s phone before domestic chores rounds (and arbitrarily as extra to CP, even more frequently), and stresses he must wait to retrieve it for sirely permission after any tutoring session, as some of his non-boarding charges pay extra to get one-on-one private lessons, including OTK rides. Knowing only one such fancy college boy was ‘helped’ and hided -heard howling harhsly-handled- while he gardened, after seeing him leave ruefully-red-raw-rear-rubbing, Mason knew he couldn’t walk-in and witness the whimpy well-whooped whippersnapper’s wretched-wriggling appropriately, so he felt it safe and sensible to swiftly pop in to get it and chat with mates.
To the sassy squirt’s swift, soon-shivering and seat-sensitive sound-suppression-subject spankee-surprise, strict Sir snaps and snorts, saying sternly he sees only a shameless, spankable squirt, sneaking in to ‘steal stuff’, without waiting for precisely-prescribed paternalistic permission: a wayward whippersnapper way, well-worthy of a wealth of wickedly-well-whooped whippings to woefully wake worshipfulness by wailing while wriggling wretchedly as worthless worm.
Knowing his humble place means a knave’s obedience must be unconditional, especially in Sir’s home, so he must be tought his properly-patient place as if his action actually frustrated Sir’s wise intention: after this stat-swatting, at each of Sir’s tutoring charges’ first session, he’ll get it as good again in that knave’s presence and beg all-on-ankles for a hand-spanked ride over that boy’s knee before facing the wall hands-on-head, all session long, finally ‘allowed’ back over Sir’s knee for a second paddling and concluding hand-spanked lecture, to both bare-butt-beatable brats’ benefit.
As due-discipline-devoted daddy dear in their days dutifully demonstrated domestic dacks-down discipline on doting darling-boy in front of every first-time male visitor and at the start of any knave’s stay-over, even when it was a younger boy which daddy agreed to mind or assigned Mason to do so, and always allowed them to witness regular spankings, meaning there weren’t any males around unaccustomed to the sight of super-submissive spankable, ‘scared-stiff’-seed-shaft-swollen squirt-son Mason’s trou coming down, the house’s humblehound’s abject arse arched-up for ample agony, the practically-perpetually-pantless-posterior-punishment-prone puerile pup in past and present is, permantly-properly, part prepared to patiently, penitentially present the perfectly-perilous posterior for particular-purposed paternalistic purple-paining punishments, part proud to play the ‘pained prop’ in parallell-pittiless poundings for purely pedagogical purposes, and plus-painings at his primary preceptor’s pleasure or displeasure, piously ‘put in his puerile place’.