Matyas just can’t help it, he has to mess up. This is something that lads do without a thought. Just a few moments to weigh up the options would be far less painful. So it is no surprise that he finds himself over the knee and looking at the floor.
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Teodor knows how to deal with this kind of thing and a good old fashioned OTK never fails to make a lad regret his ways, although they have a short memory afterwards. A good beginning on the shorts is followed by a good set on the underwear,
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Matyas always has a great choice in boxers. Then a finale on the bare ass, which has him squirming around. A good walloping never did any harm to a wayward lad, and never seems to lodge in their memory either.
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Having got great grades, Matyas left the House and got out of touch with new knaves and CP-enforced rules since his graduation, a pristine peril when he returned on scene as paid tutor. For one, Teodor has scored a fine free package per person from a clothing sponsor to forbid the knaves any imprinted publicity for rival brands, never mind campus -, team – or club logos. Forever furiously frugal, the ‘first father-figure’ fittingly from-then flails any fellow found ‘foul-stamped’, for financial fear of forfeiting the fee-deal-forbidden frock-piece, ‘fit only for fire’ (actually sneaky second-hand sale).
Although nobody to-then told Matyas about this unexpected arrangement, anyway technically no longer a House knave, the shy, sweet shrimp simply submits simple-spankable-student-squirt-style to a sirely-sentenced spanking session, counting himself lucky he gets senior Sir to allow him to take the spankably-shamefull-scolded shorts back home after his wicked whooping, for as soon as grim godfather gramps finds out he lost any ‘home-paid’ item (actually free sample from a locally new chain shop), he’ld surely spend, stripped-starkers over the sawhorse for scarlet-striping spanking-stages, another wickedly-long weekend in the woodshed for it, leather-whipped half-way to hell and beaten back by wood-whoopings on Saturday, and lavishly-licked all-over on Sunday, the town’s favourite guest show, guaranteed to draw four half-day crowd-shifts of townies and their guests loudly counting the lustily-landing livid licks and enjoying his hapless helplessly-heightebed-humblehound-heiny-hellishly-hot-hit howling now he’s seen and scolded as spoiled-rotten student-scum, cheering his slowly-swelling screams to steadily-shrill shrieks and secondly, spent, sinking to shattered sobbing in sign of sublimely-subdued submission to sirely, sadistic-scene-savoured spanker-severity.
So he still somehow feels guilty to ‘get it good’ globes-gruesomely-grilled way softer and shorter here -starting shorts-on- then at home, like the actual House knaves in principle only spanked by the paternalistic patriarch and proxies when they deserve or even need to learn some lasting lesson, so (meant) for his own good, like his lucky charges, not as thornily-tail-tormented toyboy for elders, even (some junior) guests, to enjoy endless-feeling ‘exemplary’ endurance and eery exposure.
When a junior happens to walk in while Matyas wriggles and wails bare-balls OTK, senior Sir silently signals to stay and see the stripped ‘sirely squirt’ suffer a subdued spanking similar to scores of squirt-sufferance-sessions, smirking as it surely suits Sir splendidly to show-off scarily-supreme spanker-status by smithing a submissively-stripped superior Senior. Matyas is sent to ‘his’ (guest) room, the witness to fetch first soothing creme, which he self-applies, later after dinner, daily due deserts-at dessert-time, assemble there all his charges, who obviously heard and grinned about the saucy show, to line-up all-on-ankles, presenting their own belts, for ‘maintenance spankings’, each his age plus a dozen swats and a ride OTK, lining the walls hands-on-head half an hour longer, then permitted to red-rear-rub facing Sir, softly-sobbing scared-stiff-swollen-sex-shafts-sighted, seeing the soothing creme-tube besides squirt-Sir, sent-off without some till the start soon of spankable tutoring.
Matyas was explicitly instructed by senior Sir to proceed thus, and use ‘stern initiative’ to maintain due respect for all betters, ‘specially Sirs, to keep charges crimson-coned in their proper penitent-posterior-pain-perilous place, like himself big boss over brat boss. This and the actual experience of martying meelkly-mounted male-mounds for mere maintenance force the fair FFs-fighter to ponder his proper place as puerile-puppy-posteriors-paining punishing preceptor, which worked worship-waking wonders with himself when wretchedly-wriggling wickedly-well-whooped, why wouldn’t it with wayward whippersnappers when he wisely wields the whip well-meaning? So-far smacked-only, his charges just got their first taste of his livid leathering, but(t) by far not their last to learn longer-lasting lessons like he long learnt for life before.