I had barely replaced the cane in the corner cupboard after delivering 18 strokes to the sixth-former Smythe, when Miss Lewis entered,

"Yes, Miss Lewis?"

"The maths mistress has sent Owens for punishment, Headmaster. He was caught cheating in a test."

I knew Owens, a tall attractive 17 year old with small buttocks. I had not had the pleasure of beating him but I immediately got hard at the prospect. The recently-thrashed Smythe could hardly have been more dissimilar. Smythe was a fat, pasty boy and sexually unappealing. I had not given him the option of selecting between 6, 12 or 18 of the best. No wonder he had left my office clutching his hindquarters blubbering.

"Show him in at once, Miss Lewis."

Miss Lewis left the room and Owens entered. His face was pale with terror which actually complemented his dark hair rather well. I waited until he was standing in front. I returned to the corner cupboard and removed the cane. The rattan was a third of an inch thick, with a curved handle. I held it between both hands, flexed it and addressed Owens.

"Well, Owens, what is it to be? 6, 12 or 18?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"6 of the best, 12 of the best or 18 of the best?" I responded impatiently.

"But I don't understand."

"You are to address me as 'Sir'. That'll be an additional two strokes for insolence."

"But I don't understand, sir."

"Come now, Owens! An attractive boy like you must have heard of my disciplining? You can elect to receive 18 strokes. Alternatively, I can administer 12 strokes after which I sodomize you. Finally, you have the option of escaping comparatively lightly with 6 strokes, a sodomizing and fellatio."

Owens look truly horrified at this choice before replying.

"Eighteen strokes please, sir."

I must confess that I was disappointed that I would not be relieving myself in Owen's arsehole but have to resort to masturbation. Nevertheless, I would make the best of a bad lot by taking my time over caning his naked arse.

"Very well. Lower your trousers, bend over the desk and hold on to the far end of tne desk."

Owens did as instructed. I laid the cane next to the boy, ran a hand over the taut material of his underpants before pulling them down to expose his tight buttocks. I picked up the cane, swished it rapidly through the air a few times. The sound of the rattan cutting through the air and the breeze that must have been felt by Owens' naked arse was, as usual, highly stimulating. I tapped the long rod high up on Owens' arse where I intended to lay the first stroke.

"Count off the strokes, Owens." I commanded.

I raised the cane to shoulder height, then brought it whistling done with full force followed by a loud crack as the wood bit into tight flesh. Owens gasped but managed to regain his breath.

"One, sir," he whispered.

I had laid the stroke beautifully. Two angry red welts had appeared on the left and right buttocks. I leant forward and rand my hand over the raised ridges. Owens winced.

"Don't move, Owens or I shall add to your tally."

I tapped the cane just below the welts. Raised the cane and brought it down with even greater force. Again, the bullet-like crack was followed by a gasp. The blood had drained completely from Owens' face.

"Two, ...sir," he managed to get out after a delay.

The new welts were quarter of an inch beneath the previous ones. I admired my handiwork. Owens had a beautiful arse and the strokes added to its beauty. How I would love to fuck it. Again I ran my hand over Owens' arse, this time I tugged every so slightly at the left buttock so that I could glimpse the previously hidden arsehole.

I raised the cane rapidly again, and slashed it down into Owens' arse. Owens shrieked, released his grip slightly on the edge of the desk before trying to regain his composure.

"Three, sir."

I flexed the cane in both hands as I peered at the latest welts. My cock strained at the sight and a few drops of precum escaped. I ran the cane lovingly over Owens' buttocks and then let it lightly prod his arsehole. Since Owens could not see me, I spent several minutes fingering my own hole while looking at the perfect buttocks.

Reluctantly I ceased my anal fingering, raised the cane and brought it cracking violently down.

Owens shrieked again as the vicious rattan bit into his flesh.

"Four, sir," Owens struggled to say.

The four stripes running across both buttocks now gave Owens' buttocks an arousing red glow. I was now so excited that I immediately whipped the rod into Owens' arse again. The stroke was not as hard as the previous ones and Owens did not battle to count off the stroke.

"Five, sir".

I realised that I needed to regain my composure before my next assault on the object of my desire. This would be the sixth stroke and I entertained a hope that Owens might be persuaded to trade the remaining twelve strokes for a buggering. Normally I would lay the sixth stroke under the fifth, this time, however, I decided to place the next one diagonally over the previous strokes.

I moved back further from Owens, took a small jump forward and brought the cane crashing down. A loud crack followed and Owens was driven forward. A gratifying shriek followed. A few drops of blood appeared where the skin had broken where the latest stroke crossed the old welts. I tapped the cane against the eminently fuckable arse while waiting for Owens to recover. Eventually the words escaped from his lips.

"Six, sir."

"I will apply some cold cream," I told Owens.

I put down my beautiful instrument of discipline, opened a drawer and removed a jar of cold cream. I dipped two fingers in and rubbed the cream into the buttocks. Fondling the buttocks was so pleasurable that I repeated the process several times. In an act of exploration I began to circle the arsehole, I slipped a finger in. Owens moaned appreciatively. I inserted a second finger and began to pump the arsehole vigorously. Owens started grinding his crotch against the desk.

"Are you sure that you don't want to trade the remaining twelve stokes for a buggering and fellatio, Owens? What is it to be Owens? Twelve more or a buggering?"

"A buggering please, sir," Owens answered immediately.

I hurriedly released my flies and dropped my trousers and underpants to my knees. My cock was huge, red and hungry for an outlet. I gripped Owens' hips and let the tip of my cock against the well-greased arsehole. I slowly slid my cock into the well-greased orifice and my hands wondered to Owens' crotch. I was delighted that he was hard and at least eight inches. I slowly pumped the hole watching my cock disappear into his virgin hole. After a few minutes of slow fucking I abandoned all restraint as my excitement got the better of me. Cum exploded out of me and shot copiously up Owens' canal. I pulled up my trousers and did up my flies.

"I have had my pleasure, Owens. Now it is your turn, lie down on the rug."

Owens lay on his back on the rug and flinched.

"I would suggest that you lie on your side, boy."

Owens rolled onto his side. His erect cock was magnificent: uncut, eight inches in length and 5 inches in circumference. I lay down next to him and took his cock into my mouth. The smoky flavour and smooth texture were highly pleasurable. While his breathing was heavy, I admired his restraint as he held off cumming. I sucked his entire length, licked his balls, kissed the tip of his cock. After quarter of an hour that was probably as stimulating for me as for Owens, I felt my own erection return. To my delight, Owens must have divined my state. Owens undid my flies and applied his lips to my cock and sucked slowly and firmly. With one hand he began to masturbate me and he inserted two fingers of the other hand up my arsehole. The rude intrusion caused me to cum in Owens' mouth which, in turn, caused Owens to explode. He came in buckets in my mouth. The sticky cum was bitter, salty and delicious. I swallowed it all and licked my lips.

"Well, Owens, that ends the festivities. I still owe you two strokes. Kindly assume the position, again. You need not count off the strokes."

Owens looked distraught but stretched himself over the desk. I picked up the cane and administered the last two strokes quickly but Owen's oral ministrations had sapped my strength and Owens didn't flinch as I beat him.

"Pull up your trousers and get out, Owens."

Owens left but I have no doubt that he will find some excuse to return. Or that I will find some excuse.