Maxim was told a time to report for a spanking and he is late, Teodor looks far from happy at being made to wait. It also just makes things worse for the lad but lads never realise this.
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Coming in ready to go OTK in black boxers Maxim does not really look to apologetic for being late. Chastised by Teodor the lad gets what he is here for and what he needs regularly.
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This slim lad looks great in tight black boxers but in time they have to go, when they are pulled down his dick bounces out hard.
Maybe this explains why he was late, rather than being worried about the spanking he was worried about his reaction to it. Mind you the way he stands there with his hands on his hips looking at it he seems quite proud of his reaction.
This has no effect on Teodor who gets the lad back OTK to finish off his session. Soundly spanked Maxim is up and away quickly, now he is trying to hide his excitement maybe .
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Maxim, raised rigidly as a really respectful rural Ruthenian ranch ‘redneck’ rascal, readily resigns to ruthless rebel-rear-raw-reddenings, ruefully reaching-over the rods to ‘receive rigid rectification’, right or wrong is never for knaves to ponder, his poor peers perpetually-piously (pretend-)penitentially, preventively or painer-pleasurably present the pantsed puerile posterior perfectly-perilously, privates-privacy-privated prepared for plenty of pristine-peachy-pink-to-profound-pain-purple poundings to their paternalistic painers’ pittiless pleasure.
So reporting here for punishment is no problem, it always felt as if his natural place was wherever his betters barking-bid him to be, most often over their knee, as over anything else, anywhere, any time, anyhow, absolutely-abject-adolescent-ass-arse attire-abandoned awaiting any amply-and-ably-administered arse-agony, so why not here too, it’s Teodor’s turn to tender-tan his trouserless tail to tormentor’s taste, any bare-breech-beatable bucolic-born boy’s (boorish) betters know best what’s best for both.
He’s clueless what this spanking is for, but(t) confident strict Sir shall surely sermon him spanking-suffering or some suitable spot&time, and attribute-ass-arse-application is assuredly always absolutely appropriate for any adolescent, deserved by definition, whether he displeased some Sir or failed to please him properly.
What neverthless makes Maxim so anxious to mount the knee here, even though Sir now isn’t even wielding leather or wood (a rare mercy back home, where the harsh-handling hider’s hard-hitting hand normally smacks freshly-flogged fledgling-fanny, for fearfully-felt fully-fierce flailer-fun), despite reassurances from his veteran roommate, insisting ironically it would rather comfort sissy city-knaves, is that he’s bid to report wearing boxers and mount the lap still-dressed, on other occasions even double-layer, whereas the ranchfolk always spank bare-breech, bare-balls, reasoning the punitive purpose is to pitilessly-painfully punish bad brats, not wear-out good cloth, which seems even weirder as sent here he got his first-ever new wardrobe, at home it’s handed-down rags only, any failure to drop-all-on-ankles or simply strip spontaneously for any spanking session surely would mean the worst woodshed-sawhorse-ride on top of doubled defrocked dose touching-toes.
So he can’t help worrying those beautiful boxers bear a bountiful brat-battering badly, silently praying not for posterior punishment to be over, that would be prepostruously presumptious, but(t) for his beatable bubble-butt to be bared for boorish-brat-bottom-black-and-blue-battering, the bared-boyhood-beholding being a bonus, because his bucolic betters tended to temporize their terrible tush-targetted-torments-torrent to treat themselves to toying time turned to the totally tractable twink’s terrific ‘toy tail’,
therefore it’s a thrall-turnoff that Teodor, taking-down the texile turned to his thrashable tail, neither notices his nice knave-nutts nor pinches or peeks at his pleasingly-presented privates-parts-privacy-privation, promptly proceeding to pounding his perfecty-perilous peachy-puppy posterior progressively-pronounced-pink-to-pain-purple, perhaps preferring properly-prominent Priapism, privating the poor pious peasant pup of the proper pleaser-pride to provide his punisher penile plus-pleasure, probably promising plenty of pitiless posterior-plus-pounding past-pretty-purple ?! Hardly-horse-hung, he hangs his head humblest, hoping his hider hits his humblehound-heinie hard-enough a ‘happy hiding hour’ to harvest heeps of harsh-hider-highness-happiness here-too, hot hell on his humbly-heated-heeded hottie-hide, high heaven for his hiding handler?!