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Manohar blamed his distractions on the CDs he had found in the trunk while he was cleaning up the storeroom, the previous afternoon.
The teacher looked annoyed. “Manohar! Go to the office now. Punishment!”
A few people tittered as he walked out of the classroom and down the hallways to the administration offices. His mother, who taught the junior sections, was sure to hear about this.
Yesterday evening his mother had gone off to a meeting of the school’s staff. He was older than most of his classmates, at eighteen, and had few friends among his peers. He busied himself with mundane tasks like cleaning and rearranging things and rarely, cooking and washing. He lived alone with his divorced mother in a small apartment and did his part in keeping it habitable. He was a well, mannered and conscientious boy after all.
The CDs in the trunk jolted him. They were all in a polythene bag, all nine of them. They were marked with a sharpie and numbered from 1 to 8. It didn’t seem like anyone had touched for a good many years. Curiously, he placed one into his laptop and his mind was blown away. Minutes into the first one, he was masturbating furiously and making loud noises as salacious scenes played out on the screen in front of him. Once he had done depositing his load in the floor, he quickly cleaned up and stored away the CDs in his study desk. He abandoned the store room cleaning project.
That night after dinner, under the cover of darkness and with his room securely locked from the inside, he watched the first two CDs in its entirety. It made him rub himself twice and left his mind in a state of flux. He recognised the people in the videos. There were four of them. Two men and a couple along with a hand held cam recorder. The things they were doing on film were wickedly delightful, which was why he could not really comprehend its import. It was also the reason why he was in a state of constant hardness and could barely concentrate in class.
The couple were his parents.
The vice principal, Mrs Saroj Desai was a formidable woman with a reputation for harshness. After five infractions, one usually got sent to her office for a dose of discipline. Very few came out of her office with concrete details of what happened inside, other than a resolution to commit to good behaviour for the foreseeable future. Manohar was made to stand outside until he was called in.
He flushed when he saw his mother sitting on the sofa. He might as well have expected this. They would definitely not punish him without informing her, professional courtesy and all.
“As I was telling you Saroj, don’t let him off easy just because he is my son,” said his mother, looking at him with a stony face. She was angry that it had come to this.
Vice principal Desai smiled, “Thank you, Sagarika. I won’t.”
He stood there uncertainly waiting for the punishment. Mrs Desai beckoned him to her side of the desk and at the same time took out a wooden ruler from beneath her desk. Manohar was dismayed. This would hurt.
“Shall I close the door, Saroj?” his mother asked.
“That would be wise. Thank you, Sagarika. You don’t konyaaltı escort have to stay and watch. It’s not your fault.”
His mother walked up to the door and turned the bolt. “No, that’s fine. I would rather stay and see him punished.”
He was caught with indecision. He was going to be spanked. The thought both scared him and turned him on as well. Not because he had a thing for pain and domination, not that he didn’t like a bit of female domination, but because he knew he had leverage over his mother. He didn’t care much about Mrs Desai. She wouldn’t do anything serious to the son of a faculty. His mind went back to the CDs which he had dug up the evening before. God, the things that were in it would destroy the good name his mother had built up for herself as a teacher.
He intended to use the knowledge carefully. He had to play his cards well just like at the very moment. The ruler would hurt him, but he preferred to let his mind dwell on the many scandalous things that were on the first two CDs.
“I am going to spank you, Manohar,” said Mrs Desai. “Take your pants down. Remove the underwear also.”
He was semi-hard already. It wouldn’t do to provoke the ire of the ladies in the room at the beginning of the session. Unbuckling, his belt, he let the grey pants fall down at his feet and turned about face and bent down, so that his bare bottom was facing both his mother and Mrs Desai and his erection was concealed.
Saroj Desai had seen many a bottom being presented to her for disciplining, but most of them were bare and hairless like a baby’s. The penises had shrunk with fear and the testicles were still pink. Pubic hair was scanty. But Manohar was no longer a boy. The first clue to that was the thick hair on his legs which did not seem to end rising at all. Hair lined his lower half all way to the valley between his buttocks, extending outwards to both his cheeks. When he leaned forward on her orders, his testicles hung down low. They were bigger than the others’ she had seen and she had never seen that much hair on the scrotum on anyone other than her husband. She suspected that he had a mature,full bush in front.
He had turned 18 a month back and was older than most of the other boys by at least a couple of years. He had started school a year later and his parents had undergone a contentious divorce when he was 9 years old, necessitating a break from school. He remembered spending 8 glorious months in his maternal grandparents’ place in Nagpur.
Physically, being average in height and weight, there was nothing to set him apart from his much younger classmates as such but as soon as he dropped his starch white underwear, it was evident.
Saroj Desai wished that Sagarika had not stayed behind to watch so that she could prolong the experience. In mitigation, she decided that Sagarika being there added extra spice to the proceedings. Surely the woman could see that her son had matured into a man.
“Raise up your shirt,” she barked.
He pulled up the shirt tails and exposed more of himself.
“Legs apart,” she ordered. “Bend forward a bit more.”
His hairy scrotum became prominent now. In most boys, the balls kültür escort would dangle down, one below the other, but Manohar’s were scrunched up into two, round, heavy looking globes; a sure sign of arousal. Mrs Saroj Desai liked what she was seeing.
She placed the wooden ruler on his left buttock and left it there for some time while he squirmed. Then she started with her punishment. Standing slightly to his right and holding the ruler with her left hand, she gave firm, even strokes on his buttocks, one after another. Out of the corner of her eyes, she observed Sagarika watch with interest.
Manohar winced with each strike of the ruler, but the illicit pleasure he was deriving from his secret knowledge was more than enough to compensate for the hurt. He was replaying the scenes from the first two CDs in his mind. He had a raging erection now and the tip of his penis was leaking a bit of precum. He was arched forward, and the angle ensured that his tumescence remained hidden from his mother and Mrs Desai, at least for now. He lost count of the number of strikes.
Mrs Desai, however, had not lost count. She stopped at twenty. Normally she would continue up to thirty or even forty in recaltricant cases but professional courtesy urged her to stop. The boy continued to bend over even after her ministrations had stopped and she took full advantage of it to observe his hairy taint. After what she thought was an appropriate period of time, she asked him to stand straight.
Usually, once she was done disciplining, the hapless young men were left with something to show for her efforts, like a red bruise over their soft buttocks or a few sobs and whimpers. Manohar’s dark skin left no such mark and Mrs Desai decided that he had taken his punishment like a man.
“What do you say Sagarika?” she asked, eyes full of mischief, “Has he been punished enough?”
Mrs Desai watched as Sagarika Chatterjee jerked out of her trance. She collected herself and said, “He has not been paying attention in class as of late. That is a serious issue. What do you think madam?”
Saroj Desai walked passed Manohar and glanced down. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of his erection and a lecherous thought caught her fancy. She joined Sagarika on the sofa.
“Well why don’t we ask the man himself?” she suggested. “Come here, young man!”
Manohar turned around and began pulling up his pants.
“Who gave you permission to do that?” Mrs Desai shouted. “Step out pf the pants and come here. More punishment for you.”
Manohar carefully brought out his booted shoes from the folds of his pant legs and diffidently stepped forward.
“Will you pay attention in class now?” she asked. He nodded and bowed his head.
There was no doubt in Mrs Desai’s mind that Manohar was a man. His penis was erect and stood parallel to the ground. His head was large and bulbous just like a helmet. She heard a sharp intake of breath as she observed Sagarika drink in the sight. Manohar stood in his regulation black school shoes and white socks and white shirt and nothing else. His penis was jutting out from in between his shirt tails and its tip was glistening. His organ was surrounded markantalya escort at the base by a thick bush of curly hair which merged with the hair on his leg and stomach. His erect length was average but there was no doubt that he was thick where it mattered. Given his short height, Mrs Desai felt that he was proportionately and utterly adequately blessed.
She drew out the silence for a few more moments as she allowed herself to be titillated by taboo thoughts of her colleague Sagarika watching her son’s unbridled masculinity. This was not a scene she had ever witnessed. This was forbidden and she realised that when she got back home that evening, a very damp panty would go into the wash.
She knew that Sagarika had been divorced for quite some time now and had, in all probability, lost acquaintance with the male organ. She wondered whether Sagarika would touch herself later that night. She knew that she would, barring any unexpected display of horniness by her elderly and uninspiring husband.
Mrs Desai resumed her punishment. “Hold your ears.”
Manohar dutifully did so.
“Now do fifty sit ups.”
Manohar’s cock stiffened even more, if that was humanly possible. He began squatting up and down enthusiastically, his penis flopping up and down riotously. Both women had their eyes on it, almost as if hypnotized. He did twenty and took a break for a few seconds.
“Turn to the side and give us ten,” said Mrs Desai. She took in the view of his side profile, especially the tense haunches and round glutes. His penis was not long, but it definitely was thick and the way it flopped up and down reminded her of a particularly skittish fish.
She said, “Now turn facing the wall. Ten more, boy!”
His back was turned now and every time he squatted, his scrotum was visible. His pace had slowed down now.
“Face us for the last ten.”
After it was over, Mrs Desai told him to dress up. He had visible difficulty in manoeuvring his erect penis into his underwear. The bulge in his tighty whiteys was prominent and he had to flatten it sideways, while in a crouch, to manipulate it inside. Once he was done, he had trouble standing up straight.
Mrs Desai sent him off back to class with a note. After she had gone, Saroj Desai turned to Sagarika. “Well Sagarika, I am sorry for punishing him.”
Sagarika protested, “No madam, it’s alright. He deserved punishment.”
“He is not a little boy anymore. He is growing up,” Mrs Desai said.
Sagarika flushed and she looked down in embarrassment. She said, “I shall talk to him about his… his-”
Mrs Desai prompted, “Erection?”
“Yes, that. I shall make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Sagarika was clearly not finding fault with Mrs Desai for her actions. She was putting the blame squarely on her son’s lack of restraint and decency.
Mrs Desai put a friendly arm around the shoulder of her younger colleague. “Sagarika, my dear, young boys of his age get erections very frequently. Don’t be too harsh on him. He is a man now, after all. He was in front of two women after all, one of whom is still young and pretty.” She giggled.
Sagarika blushed even redder.
“You go back to class now, dear. Don’t worry too much. Oh, and tell my assistant not to send anyone inside for the next hour. I have some work.”
Saroj Desai knew that she needed to give herself a good diddle right then to take off the edge.
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