BBFC: Krystof Not So Sweet

For Dimitri, regular coffee is sacred, salt of the earth, so serve him a salty cup and he serves a seriously sound spanking. Krystof seems to smirk as if he pulled a brine prank, but(t) actually his family loaths coffee as American rubbish, swearing by sophisticated tea, he literally has no clue how to make coffee.
Raised well enough never to contradict his betters, he quietly takes the spanking, counting himself lucky it was just a merciful smacking by hand, as toying with anything edible is such sacrilege at home, he would have been howling over the woodshed sawhorse all weekend as elder kinsmen took turns whipping any such stripped sinner half-way to hell if any knave were to willingly spoil a cup of tea, or alcohol or food for that matter, but he know only of two cousins ever been that monumentally dumb and coarse, each just once, in different decades.
After their bedtime ‘six of the best’ floggings -routinely putting all knaves in their humble place, still dripping-wet starkers after their communal cold shower, to contain nocturnal sodomy- and mutually rubbing in soothing creme, his tender room buddy, although a fellow anglophile tea fan, shall teach him to brew the vile concoction to Dimitri’s barbaric taste, as he once learned from a Yankee tourist fuckbuddy, now teaching Krystof cultural crossfertilisation spells unexpected benefits in the long run, a life lesson more valuable then his spanking-session-spoiled sitting-comfort, which is always as short-lived here anyhow as it should be for them knaves, so they kiss the strap before and after bedtime prayer, naked as they sleep.