Stix Endurance Challenge

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Jock Pegged

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Max Helping Hand

 

Max has been cruising around on his motorbike and has stopped for a smoke; either way, he has been told to stop and should not be doing it. 

Well, a vape. So, he needs a helping hand to give up once and for all. 

So, as he is on the motorbike, it seems only right to cane him there. 

So, he is sitting on the bike with his butt pushed out well for a caning to help him kick the habit.

 The welts should remind him as he sits on the bike afterwards, hopefully he has got the message.

Max - Helping Hand British 

British Boys Fetish Club

Happy Saturday, Spankos! Look what we have here. We have Max,
who is built like the David sculpture by Michelangelo. 

Max is definitely deliciously built, and his non-salont attitude fits the body. 

His beautiful cheeks receive a good caning, with welts that bring receipts of a good session! 

Another Great Clip from BBFC. 

 

Russell on the Rail - 1 

When Russell first came to us, he was a mouthy young man with a bad attitude. Over the course of a series of spankings, Russell has learned to be obedient and respectful. 

Tom doesn’t believe this has changed Russell’s nature, but just teaching someone like Russell to conform is an accomplishment. 

Knowing when to hold your tongue and behave is important.

Today, Tom locks Russell on the spanking rail and gives him a long, hard spanking by hand and with a belt and flog. 

Russell has a hard time with the spanking. His butt gets red quickly, and he is grunting, gasping, and struggling to maintain some sort of control of himself.

Russell on The Rail 

Spanking Straight Boys

 

When the Paddle Is Not Needed

A Reflection for the Sanctuary of Affection

There are days when correction is not the call.

When the ache is not rebellion, but longing.

When the soul does not need a lesson—

It needs to be held.

There are sanctuaries built on discipline,

And there are sanctuaries built on affection.

Both are holy.

But today, the paddle is not needed.

Today, love arrives without rebuke.

It wraps itself in linen and warmth,

It whispers, “You are not broken. You are beloved.”

No spectacle. No shame.

Just the quiet miracle of being seen

And not corrected.

Let this be the liturgy of tenderness.

Let this be the theology of embrace.

Let this be the restoration that comes

Not through fire,

But through affection.

Litany for the One Who Loves Whole

 

Litany for the One Who Loves Whole

I do not ask for spectacles.

I do not ask to be admired.

I ask to be held—

the way I hold,

without fragmentation, without fear.

Let my longing be a sanctuary,

not a shame.

Let my ache be consecrated,

not corrected.

I love with covenant,

with memory braided into touch,

with restoration folded into silence.

I do not love in pieces.

I do not love for performance.

So I wait—

not passively,

but prophetically.

I wait for the one who sees me whole,

who does not flinch at my fullness,

Who does not exile my erotic truth

or dilute my sacred discipline.

I wait,

and while I wait,

I am held—

by the Spirit,

by the rhythm of restoration,

by the quiet fidelity of my own becoming