"Hi Paul
Thanks for your email. I am very serious about making this work. So I have decided not to opt out of any of your disciplinary methods. If you think I deserve any of them, then I guess I will deserve them!
Please let me know when I can report for my first session - I look forward (I think) to seeing you again,
Mark"
That evening when I got home from work there was an email from Paul:
"Hi Mark
That shows dedication and I am impressed. How about Sunday at 2pm for our initial session?
Paul"
Sunday was the day after tomorrow. I thought hard for a minute and then emailed Paul to say that Sunday was fine. He emailed back with his mobile number and address, and told me to text him when I reached Ravenscourt Park station, as that was the tube nearest his house.
Saturday I was out with mates - lunch and movie and beer! Sunday morning I work up late, faffed about at home for a bit, but couldn't settle. I'd worked out it would take about an hour to get from my place to Ravenscourt Park. As I didn't know how far it was from there to Paul's house, I decided to leave home at 12:30, to make sure I was in time.
I put my headphones in, and played music loudly to try to calm me down as I walked to Streatham Common (my nearest station). I boarded a train to Victoria, where I headed down to the underground and waited for a District Line train to Richmond. The train was pretty quiet, and I sat and tried not think about what I was doing! All too soon, we pulled into Ravenscourt Park. It was 1:35, so I was a bit early. I walked into the park itself, and sat on a bench for about 10 minutes, when I gathered my courage and texted Paul to say I had arrived. He texted back almost straight away. He gave me his address and some instructions:
"Hi Mark. That's great, when you get to the building press my flat number - I have the whole of the upstairs. I'll buzz you in. Come up the stairs and you'll find my flat door on the latch. Let yourself in and latch it behind you. You'll need to undress in the hallway - leave your clothes folded on the hall chair and your shoes beneath it. Then come and knock on the door at the end of the hallway, and I'll tell you when to come in."
I looked on google maps, and it was about a ten minute walk to Paul's house. I followed the directions in my ears, until I arrived outside a very nice -looking Victorian house in a smart street.
"This is it," I told myself as I walked up the steps to the front door. There were only two buttons on the intercom. The lower one was marked Allanson' and the upper one Samuels'. I knew Paul's surname was Samuels, so I stopped my music, took out my headphones, pressed the button and heard the intercom buzz.
"Hello?" a voice asked.
"Oh, hi. Is that Paul? This is Mark," I answered.
"Good afternoon, Mark. Come on up."
The intercom went dead as the door buzzed. I pushed it open, swallowed hard, and went in.
I found myself in a plain hallway with a dark carpet. On the left of the front door was the door to the downstairs flat. Opposite it was a console table with some post on it. Ahead of me were the stairs. Feeling a bit like a criminal on his way to the gallows, I climbed the stairs.
At the top there was a small landing before the door, which was ajar. I pushed it open and went in. Paul's flat was much nicer than mine! There was a plush, pale carpet in his hallway. There two doors on either side of the hall, and one opposite the flat door, all over which were closed. There were chic photos on the walls, and a table with a small armchair beside it were the only furniture. Feeling utterly silly and very nervous, I sat on the chair and unlaced my shoes. I pulled off my socks and stuffed them into the shoes before putting them under the chair as Paul had told me to. I stood up, took off my jacket and folded that and put it on the seat I just vacated. I pulled off my jumper and folded that too. With my fingers shaking slightly, I unbuttoned my shirt and that was folded onto the top of the pile. Naked above the waist, I fumbled slightly with my belt and flies, but it really was only moments before all my clothes apart from my boxers were neatly folded. Almost automatically, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my boxers, slipped them down and added them to the pile. My cock couldn't decide what to do - the slight thrill of being naked in what was basically a stranger's hallway tried to make it erect, but the nerves about what I was doing impeded this, so it was more or less horizontal as I walked the few steps down the hall. Feeling very silly, I knocked on the door at the end. After what felt like an age, but was probably only 10 seconds, I heard Paul call,
"Come in!".
I opened the door and stepped into Paul's living room.
Again, I noticed the room was much nicer than my place! I didn't take a lot in, as I was looking down rather sheepishly as I went in. I looked up and saw Paul was sitting at a desk against one wall. Without turning his head from what he was doing, he pointed towards the side of the window,
"Stand in that corner, nose against the far wall with your hands on your head until I ready for you," he said.
I walked over to where he had indicated and took up what I hoped was the correct position. I was obviously wrong, as I'd not been there more than half a minute when he said,
"Feet shoulder width apart."
I spread my legs, and waited. And waited. And waited some more. My cock wilted completely as I tried to keep still in this unaccustomed position. Every now and then I could hear Paul moving about the room, but I couldn't see what he was doing - with my nose firmly planted against the wall all I could see was the pattern in the wallpaper!
Finally, he told me to turn around. I noticed from the clock on the wall is was fifteen minutes since I had entered the room. Paul was sitting in a comfortable looking armchair, dressed almost the same as when I had met him in the coffee shop, except his shirt was light green and his jumper was pale cream. I noticed he was wearing old-fashioned slippers. He told me to come and stand in front of his chair. I noticed that there was an electronic scale on the floor on one side of the chair, and that on the side table beside the chair there was a notebook and pen, a wooden ruler and a tailor's tape measure.
i have never felt so nervous in my whole life. I have no problem whatsoever with nudity, and have often been on nude beaches and communal showers and the like, but standing there stark naked in front of this handsome and well-dressed younger man made me feel so self-conscious. My arms felt weird - where should I put them? At my sides felt odd, I knew I shouldn't be covering my genitals with them, and behind by back, touching my bare arse felt odd too. I settled them by my sides. I was acutely aware of my cock as well. Despite my best endeavours and my nerves, it was stiffening slowly but surely as Paul sat in his chair and looked me up and down. The redness of a blush crept up my neck and face as my cock hardened and gradually pointed to the ceiling. I couldn't look Paul in the eye, but knew that he was watching as my cock grew. I am definitely a grower and not a shower - at `rest' I'm slightly below average, but fully erect it's not unimpressive, but for once I didn't feel good about this, just embarrassed that Paul was seeing me like this. He spoke and broke my embarrassed reverie,
"As you're hard, I may as well start my measurements with that."
He beckoned me nearer to him and picked up the ruler. Almost conversationally, he said,
"I always use a ruler to measure the length of a lad's willy, it's more reliable than the tape."
I blushed even redder as he referred to my penis as my willy', and thought my face was about to burst into flames as he grasped the shaft firmly, pulled me even closer and then pulled my willy' horizontal. He pushed the hard wood against my belly and then laid it beside my hard wood. He looked at the measurement and then put the ruler down and picked up the notebook and pen,
"So that's 19.8cm erect," Paul said as he wrote in the book.
He then picked up the tape measure and wrapped it around the middle of my willy.
"And that's 14.5cm in girth," writing in his book again, "Somewhat above average there. We'll have to wait for it to deflate to get flaccid measurements," he said, more or less to himself.
The next 10-15 minutes was taken up with measurements being taken with the tape measure - I felt like every part of my body had been recorded in that little notebook. Paul measured my waist, hips and chest. He had me stand against the door frame which had been almost imperceptibly marked with measurements, pressed the ruler against the top of my head and wrote down the result. He also measured my biceps, my thighs, and my calves. I had to stand on the scales and he wrote down the result. He then did some calculations on his phone.
"OK, Mark," he said finally, "You're 180cm tall and weigh 86kg, which gives you a BMI of 26.5. Ideally that number should be under 25, so we will need to set some weight targets."
As we talked, my willy softened, and he picked up the tape and ruler again and measured me soft. He told me that the measurements of 9cm long by 11cm in girth meant that my willy was slightly below average in size when soft.
I was beginning to get more used to standing there naked in front of him as he talked with me about what I wanted to achieve with my body. He had me talk him through my diet and exercise regime, which he clearly found less than impressive. I'd almost forgotten the `discipline' element of this meeting until he said,
"You clearly need to be taught a lesson for your laziness and poor diet. Don't you, Mark?"
I felt ashamed to have let him down so soon and very quietly said,
"Yes, Paul."
"I think we need to do something about that," he said as he stood up. I gasped as he took hold of my ear like a dad with a naughty child and, dropping his hand slightly so I had to bend, he walked me across the room to where a padded upright chair was waiting. He sat down, moved me to alongside him and I knew what was going to happen - I was about to get spanked. Paul patted his knees, and I knew that this meant I had to lie over them. I bent over, feeling so stupid as I draped my naked body over his jean-clad legs.I put my hands on the floor in front of me, and he told me to spread my legs, which I did.
The first spank startled me and I gasped. It actually wasn't that hard, but the feeling of a younger man spanking me over his knee was intensely embarrassing. His hand came down again, and again, moving from one cheek to the other and back again. It hurt and it was embarrassing. I don't know how long I was over his knee, but I know it was long enough for me to start squirming, kicking my legs and yelping. When he stopped, I realised I must have put my hand up to try to stop the spanking, as Paul was holding it gently but firmly in the small of my back. Panting slightly as I lay there across his knee, Paul said,
"So, what changes are you going to be making for next month, Mark?"
He talked to me completely normally for a while, with me still over his knee, teasing out some objectives for me to aim for by the following month's meeting. When he was satisfied, he sent me back to the corner of the room I had occupied when I arrived, whilst he went and wrote the objectives in his notebook. My bottom itched and stung as I stood there with my hands on my head, feeling silly. Oddly, despite having just got my first ever spanking, the thought of saying I didn't want to do this and wanted to go home never entered my mind.
Again, I heard Paul moving around as I stood there, and this time he left the room for a short while and he told me to come back over to him and kneel before him just after he'd come back in. Keeping my eyes down, again, I did so, and knelt in front of the knees I had so recently been spanked over.
"As we've just agreed, far too much lager goes down your throat, Mark. You're going to drink a pint now."
He picked up a full pint glass from the table next to him and held it in front of me.
"The difference, though, is that this is recycled lager."
My eyes widened and I looked him in the eye in alarm.
"That's right, Mark. You are going to drink a pint of my piss. Nice and fresh and warm."
He held the glass out to me. I took it uncertainly. It did feel warm as I held it. I looked him in the eye again.
"Next time you down a pint, you'll think of this and remember to moderate your intake," Paul said sternly, "Now drink up."