Erotica by Rod Cayenne
Graphic by Shaun – Creative Commons 3.0 Attribution
“Fucky, Fucky, Neil?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Let’s have a look at the calendar, shall we, Yasuko?”
Every Friday on the kitchen calendar was marked with a letter, either F or S. It alternated between the two. The F Fridays stood for Fucky, while the S Fridays stood for Spanky. Of course, there were often Fucky, Fucky days during the week, but Spanky, Spanky days did tend to be confined to alternate Fridays.
It so happened that this Friday was a Spanky, Spanky day.
I pointed at the bold S on the calendar. Yasuko’s face fell. “Spanky, Spanky!” I informed her, gleefully! She obviously wanted some Fucky, Fucky but we had a rule that on Fridays it was either one or the other, never both.
She looked upset as I picked up my blue leather-bound notebook. I turned to the page covering faults observed during the last fortnight. I sighed and tutted as I read some of the faults aloud:
“Overspending, gossip, masturbation.”
Yasuko blushed and tried to look innocent. It was wasted on me. It had to be a hard Spanky, Spanky today. “It has to be a hard ‘Spanky, Spanky’ today!” I informed her. “Fetch the cane!”
I didn’t use the cane much. Often a hard hand spanking or a session with my reddish brown leather spanking strap sufficed. But not today! Today I was feeling particularly sadistic and unforgiving. The cheeks of my girlfriend would have to be beaten soundly by my faithful rattan rod. It never, ever let me down.
“I said fetch the cane, Yasuko!” There was a certain reluctance on her part. That only confirmed to me that I had made the right choice in selecting the cane. “Jump to it!” I ordered.
She returned looking sullen, holding the beautiful rod of correction in her sweet, manicured hands. It was kept in a drawer of a dresser in our living room. I oiled it regularly, to keep it supple and painful.
“OK, upstairs, and get ready for me! No nonsense!” Of course, there never was any nonsense when it was a day that I selected the cane. No nonsense, just tears and pleading usually.
I climbed the stairs to our bedroom. She was ready. Submissively on all fours on the bed, with just her lace knickers on. My oriental beauty! I lowered her knickers and could smell a gamey, turned-on aroma. Her dimpled arsecheeks seemed to beckon to my cane. But first I ran my hard hands across her beautiful skin. I couldn’t resist probing and teasing her neatly-trimmed cunt and her arse with my fingers. Something was telling me to rim her rose, and I duly did so, tucking my crook-handled companion under my arm as I did so. Joyously, my tongue found a heavenly home for a minute or two. She writhed and thrust her arse in my face. Oh yes! Such depravity would mean extra strokes of the cane for her. If only she knew! She would find out soon enough…
I slashed the cane down on her cheeks. She cried with pain as the correction hit home. Oh yes! Utterly sublime! Every day I thanked my lucky stars that I had hooked this oriental treasure. She worshiped her western man and took her punishment when it was due. And it was due now. Sadistically, figures were running through my head. Six wouldn’t be enough, twelve neither. Eighteen, twenty, twenty-four? Cry for me, my oriental queen! Cry and sob as my cane bites and stings. Cry with pain and cry with pleasure!
My penis was also playing games. It stiffened and ached. It throbbed and begged for release, just like my oriental beauty. For once, I felt some Fucky, Fucky would be appropriate on a Spanky, Spanky day. It could even be the start of a regular new arrangement…
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Graphic by Shaun – Creative Commons 3.0 Attribution
Explicit adult fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Uncle is a silver-haired policeman facing retirement. His disciplinary cane is back in use. His 19-year-old nephew, Gordon, is staying with him for a fortnight, with the aim of curbing excessive masturbation.
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Part 6 is here
Part 7 is here
And now read on for Part 8!
Uncle and Sarge stood in the front room, looking at Gordon slumped asleep on the sofa. “What a dozy lad!” said Sarge. “He could use a bit of a wake-up call!”
In truth, it was an exceptionally hot Saturday afternoon in what had been a dismal summer. It was no wonder Gordon had nodded off. He was a sound sleeper, but soon he would be facing a sound caning! Both men were in their police uniforms and both held a crook-handled cane.
“How are we going to play this then?” asked Sarge.
“Well, I thought maybe we’d cane him at the same time. One of us on the left of him, and one on the right. We’ll alternate strokes. That way, he should get a uniform thrashing. If you’ll excuse the pun!”
“Very good! Looks like he’s stirring a bit. Or maybe not. He looks a bit older than nineteen. We’re caning him bare bottom?”
“Yes of course, it’s got to be that way. Adds to the humiliation. What about handcuffs? Shall we?”
“Oh yes! That would be fun. We’ll beat him police black and police blue to match, shall we?”
“Mmmm, indeed. Glad to see you’re getting into the spirit of things.”
“And I can stay the night?”
“Yes, of course. Although I’m not sure how to organise the sleeping arrangements. Do you want to sleep with Gordon or me or both of us?”
“I suppose a fuck’s out of the question?”
“Well, it is with me. I doubt Gordon will be up for it either as his bottom’s going to be sore as hell. We could have a jolly good wank together though, if you like. Gordon might be up for it as well. Is that what they call a circle jerk?”
“Well, I think you’d probably need more than just the three of us for one of those. But a trio could be fun. Or just the two of us. How are we going to wake him up then?”
“How about I stand by the sofa and cane the top of it? That’ll wake him up and then he’ll see you in your sexy uniform and with a cane in your hand.”
“I like it. I like it a lot!”
It worked a treat! The cane landed on the sofa with a resounding CRACK! Gordon leapt up, startled. Both policemen laughed like mad. Gordon walked over to Sarge and shook his hand, saying, “I’m Gordon, well-known naughty boy and evil masturbator!”
“Let’s get down to it, Gordon! We are going to cane you now. Six strokes each, simultaneously. I will be on the left hand side, and Sarge will be on the right.”
“Cool, thanks Uncle. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Was he joking? Had he turned into a secret spanko overnight? The boy was full of surprises today.
“Not as much as I have, boy!” said Sarge, bending him over the coffee table. Sarge then took down the lad’s jeans and underpants. An unmarked bottom was clearly displayed. Sarge gave it a quick SMACK! Suddenly, Uncle grabbed Gordon’s arms and snapped on the handcuffs!
“Shit!” exclaimed Gordon.
“WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” warned Sarge. The two policemen took up position behind Gordon, the double beating was about to commence!
“Aargh!” cried Gordon as the left and right canes thrashed his arse.
“OWWW!” It was a double-whammy alright!
“Oooh!” The canes hit home.
“Ow, ow, OW!” The heat and pain from the double strokes was immense.
“OOOH! No more please, Uncle! Sarge!”
“Right, get up Gordon! That’s all for now,” explained Uncle, “but there will be more later or in the morning. Sarge will be staying overnight as your guest. Is that clear?”
Well, it wasn’t really clear at all, but Gordon had no choice but to play along, “Yes, of course, Uncle.” Sarge unlocked the handcuffs.
“Right, come here!” Sarge instructed Gordon. Sarge slapped Gordon’s face, saying, “That’s for the foul language!”
Uncle started barking orders next, “Gordon, take all your clothes off. Take both canes and go and wait for us in my bed.”
Gordon left the room feeling subdued, with a sore bottom and wounded pride. In fact, everything was just as it should be! He closed the door. Sarge and Uncle spent a few minutes of quality time on the sofa, kissing and cuddling.
“Right, let’s go and see him then,” said Uncle.
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by guest author sukemnsee
DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I was taking a short break in the Kingdom of Fife. Later, I would be going on to Glasgow for an organised tour that included the Edinburgh Tattoo. I was staying off the main road north, in a delightful B & B in the village of Auchtermuchty. I chose it because of the name, as it has come up once or twice over the years and I liked the sound of it. For those of you who do not know the area, it is in the east of Scotland, above Edinburgh going up towards Perth and not far from the home of golf at St. Andrews.
My nearest main town was Cupar and so the travel ticket I had was based on that area with some village extensions. There are some delightful places around there and I was quite content to meander, take a pub meal where I fancied and to enjoy the little-known area.
On a whim, I decided to go to visit Cowdenbeath, just because it was a name associated with listening to football results from the Scottish Leagues when I was younger.
I caught the bus and headed merrily off. To my surprise, as the bus pulled into a bus station part way, there were two uniformed officers doing a ticket inspection. I showed them my pass ticket and was met with a grimace as they studied it. I was ordered off the bus and taken to a small office at the rear of the building. I had to give my name and address and the younger man, went off to a computer to verify my details. The older man resembled a TV character from an old Ronnie Barker series. He was very stern and with his little greyed moustache, seemed unsmiling.
The younger man came back and said that the computer verified that I lived where I’d stated. He thought I was a high earner, living in a category nine home insurance area, which meant the property values were high.
This disappointed the older man, “So Mister, if I fine you the regulation £20 for this offence it will mean nothing to you, this is no guid at all, there is no reckoning here.”
I nearly blurted out that fines in my area were £80 but kept quiet.
“I need to punish you, but I would hae to take you before the Sheriff if I wanted you excluded from all our buses and he is not in session the now. I need something quicker and more focused.”
“I see, have you heard that it is Consensual Spanking International Day today, 8th August? You could have a pop at me for that. Go ahead, if you can!”
I was a bit impertinent there and he told me my blether was drivel. That said, the younger one said he could not find such a day in the calendar. I told him to find “The Canery” blog and he would see it there.
The older man said that a spanking was in order but that I need not think now or by the end that it was consensual! It was to set me on the straight and narrow.
“Bend over the edge of that desk there, Mister.”
The man was actually serious. I complied, feeling rather strange with the two men in the little office and not knowing how the sound would carry.
“You dinna think I am wasting my strap on claithes, get they trews and kecks down to your ankles!”
I bared as instructed, wondering by now if I had dozed off on the bus journey and this was all a dream…
This was no dream, a sharp swipe of his leather had just woken up all the nerves in my bottom!
“Do I not get a hand spanking to warm me up then?” I asked.
“Mister, we are not playing games here, my tawse will suffice.”
The younger man added, “You are being punished with a fine example of a Lochgelly tawse. This supple leather strap with its two tails is designed to make a swift impression and you will be red raw when we are done with you. This is our present frae Scotland to you, with the feared strap made in Main Street.”
This man knew how to lay it on. I could feel the full force of it alright!
Already I felt there was no space left untouched on my arse. The pain was building up as the strap lashed me, with more intensity than a standard belt. Maybe it was the tails the boy spoke of?
I grunted, I was really getting quite sore. In a recreational spanking, I would normally have asked for a break just here but this was a punishment and so that wasn’t an option. The strokes felt as if they were landing on earlier ones.
“Oooh!”, I was starting to get a little vocal. I was into that phase of clenching my muscles to see if it lessened the impact and also probably in anticipation.
“Dinna stop the now, there’s mair red to go yet!”
The younger guy was egging on the older guy. It brought home how I was being studied. This was more embarrassing in the tiny office, especially when compared to spanking clubs where you know there are distant, furtive audiences for each bit of action.
“ARRRGH!” that really set me on fire as landed on a spot where I’d already been thrashed. I wondered how my bottom looked, as it felt like a furnace.
I had no idea how long or how many this would go on for, would I have any say?
“Stand Up, Mister!”
I eased up into a standing position, a little embarrassed as I had a firm erection sticking out and my shirt was short and sort of rested against it.
“Hold up your left hand, palm upward, you can support it with your right hand.”
I screamed as he laid the tawse into my left palm. It was so sore and my fingers tingled like mad. It was amazing to think that this was the way schoolboys were punished! I was suddenly grateful for all the arse caning and plimsoll swiping I got at school!
“Raise the other hand now, Mister!”
This was inhuman I thought to myself, I would be useless for hours if both my hands were made that sore.
“C’mon Laddie, are you wanting me to start over again?”
I raised my right hand, finding it sore bunching my left hand in support.
I knew this was coming and sort of pulled away my hand, but not fast enough! It seemed to catch me on fingers more and that was certainly a mistake!
“Get that hand properly in place, or it’ll be so much the worse for you!”
I somehow raised that right hand.
I saw the strap come down, the split bit at the end making a double impact. I screamed once more and my eyes were watering, I was so close to crying.
“Get dressed, Mister.”
I reached down, past my now wilted pride and gripped the waistband of my trousers. It was agony but I did not want to linger. I reckon I had been strapped about twenty times, one stroke for each pound of the fine. I was so sore.
I left the office and made for the nearby men’s room. As I walked in heading for the cubicles, a young man of maybe North African origin smiled at me, and paused from his mopping. He seemed to me to make a very definite move to caress his bottom which looked attractive and snug in his brown coverall jump suit. Did he know what had just gone on? Maybe his store cupboard was within earshot of the tiny office. Maybe there had been many like me over the years?
On any other day, I might have seen this as a come-on but for now, the privacy of the cubicle was what I craved. At last, alone in the cubicle I could feel my tender hands and my even hotter bottom. I would love to have looked at my bum in a mirror there, but the place was too busy for that sort of thing.
I headed back to my lodgings, paying the bus fare this time. It was quite expensive. I stood all the way by choice.
I have to go now, just showered and refreshed. My bottom is still very red from that strapping.
The younger ticket inspector called me on my mobile. He must have got the number from the quick background searches he had carried out on me. Anyway, he is coming in his car to pick me up and take me back to his place.
He promises that I’ll enjoy myself, and satisfy him. He has taken the tawse home and got a pair of brand spanking new plimsolls and other toys. He had read up more of The Canery site and he a favourite story already, one called Rump Kilt Skin. He will let me have a consensual spanking this time. What could be more appropriate on Consensual Spanking International Day?
There’s the horn, I’m gone.
Story © 2012 by sukemnsee
Sore botty pictures © 2011 by Jonathan
Thanks to both for their contributions
Comments very welcome
Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne
1. WELL BEFORE THE HAPPY DAY
“Gerald, may I have a quiet word?”
“Yes, of course, wedding nerves?”
“No, it’s not that. I’m quite relaxed about that, as is Judith. I’ll try to be a good husband and make you a proud father-in-law. It’s about that early wedding present. The cane you’ve given her. What’s that all about?”
“Oh that! Well, it’s just in case, really. I don’t approve of hitting women, but I am a great believer in males needing a touch of discipline.”
“But I’m twenty-nine!”
“Yes, and Judith is a good deal older and more responsible than you are, son. I just thought it might help. Just in case there are problems.”
“Help? Problems? It sounds pretty barbaric to me!”
“Oh I don’t think so Jason, my boy. You see, I have experience of these matters. Two successful marriages, and a successful teaching career. I hope Judith will never need to use that cane.”
“Well I’m not happy about it.”
“Take my tip, Jason, just be loyal, hard-working and honest. Judith won’t need to use the cane then.”
2. A LITTLE NEARER THE HAPPY DAY
“Hello Gerald, I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unexpectedly.”
“Not at all, Jason. The door’s always open, you are family now, or will be soon. What brings you here? Missing Judith while she’s on her course?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really.”
“You’ve come here about nothing?”
“No, no. It’s that cane thing again. I’m worried.”
“Nothing to worry about, Jason. Just be sure to behave yourself. Come and sit down. Let’s talk.”
“What’s worrying me is, it’s going to hurt.”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Judith if she does decide to use it. I need to know how bad it is. I wondered if you could demonstrate?”
“Eh? Let me see if I’ve got this right? You want to sample the cane? And you want me to give it to you?”
“Er, no. I don’t really want it. But, maybe you should. I want this marriage to work, even in the bad times.”
“Well, I don’t know. This is a most unusual request.”
“Well, you caused it Gerald, by giving Judith that damned cane!”
“Hmmm. We do seem to have an attitude problem, Jason. Perhaps a taste of the cane would be appropriate.”
“Not so keen now, then?”
“I’m not keen at all, it just seems like a good idea. Oh, and I don’t want Judith to know, please.”
“Tut, tut! Secrets, too! Alright, alright. I can see your point of view is reasonable enough. Let’s do it, and keep it our little in-laws secret!”
“Thanks, Dad, er Gerald I mean.”
“You probably won’t feel like thanking me afterwards!”
“No, maybe not, how’s this going to work then?”
“Well, let’s see then. I think six of the best to get rid of any residual attitude problem.”
“Yes, a good round number. You can keep your trousers on. Not that Judith may be that kind if it comes to it.”
“We’ll do it in my study room. You can bend over the desk. Upstairs now, please.” The two men climbed the stairs. Jason went first, which gave Gerald a good chance to survey the bottom he was about to cane. It was a peach!
“Yes, that’s it. Over the desk!” Gerald instructed as he wandered over to the brass umbrella stand in the corner and selected a crook-handled cane. He sliced it through the air a few times. Jason flinched each time the cane swished. Gerald was minded to offer his future son-in-law the opportunity to back out, but then he decided not to. After all, in some ways he was looking forward to demonstrating just who was the boss. He looked at the rump offered submissively before him. It was a very tempting target. Best get stuck in!
Jason leapt up clutching at his sore arse. This was murder!
“JASON, JUST YOU GET BACK DOWN THIS INSTANT!” boomed Gerald. He was minded to award a penalty stroke but decided to see how the next stroke was received.
SWISH-CRACK! “Yeeeowwww!” At least he stayed down this time.
SWISH-CRACK! “Arrrghhh!” What a noisy boy he was! Hardly like a twenty-nine-year-old…
The prescribed six strokes had been delivered. Gerald returned the cane to the umbrella stand, giving a hearty laugh as he did so. “So how was the picnic?” he asked Jason who was still bent over the desk. “You can get up now.”
“Thanks, and yes, that was no picnic!”
“Now, let me see the marks.
You didn’t take it very well, Jason, I’m afraid. In fact, it was a pretty poor performance. Leaping up and all that noise!”
“Sorry Gerald. I was surprised how bad it was.”
“Good, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Now you know what to expect from Judith if you mess her about. And it goes to show I was right about your immaturity. Any trouble, and you’ll have me and my cane to reckon with as well. Is that clear?”
“Er yes, of course!” What an alarming development for Jason…
“Now if my calculations are right, there’s six weeks until the wedding. I suggest I give you another caning one month from today, so that’s the 12th of September. That will give your bottom time to be cleared up in time for the honeymoon. It’ll do you good and you need the experience.”
“Gosh no, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Believe me, I know what some men need and you are definitely in that category.” Already, Gerald was thinking in terms of twelve strokes for the next session. He was proud of Jason in a way. The lad’s peachy arse was just made for the whippiest of canes. He mused to himself that some more, perhaps monthly thrashings might be required, even after the wedding. Maybe not?
3. AFTER THE HONEYMOON
Judith stared at the mess in the kitchen. The living room was no better. Her new husband was turning into a bit of a slob, if she wasn’t much mistaken. He was sat on the sofa eating crisps and watching rugby on the TV. It was now or never!
“Jason, come here. What’s the meaning of this mess? Get me the cane, it’s under our bed!”
“Oh Judith, I’m sorry, let me tidy up.”
She scowled at him and ordered, “The cane! Now!”
Sheepishly, he went upstairs and retrieved the cane from its hiding place. He gulped as he realised the moment he had been dreading had arrived. At least Gerald’s canings had prepared him. He knew what to expect. Or did he?
“Right! Give me that cane now! I’m going to give you a bloody good whipping. I’m not putting up with this any longer. Have you had the cane before?” She whipped the cane through the air.
“Er yes, a while back. Twice. On my trousers.”
“Well those jeans are coming off, I can tell you. And your boxers! You can keep your rugby shirt and socks on. I rather like them!”
He was relieved that she liked those, perhaps this was just going to be a sexy sort of game? She made him bend over a little coffee table in front of the TV. He was on all fours with his arse sticking out nicely.
“How many?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Bah! How many will it take to make me happy? Maybe ten or twenty!”
“Twenty? That’s a hell of a lot.”
“No, it’s not. Yes, we’ll make it twenty. Prepare yourself!”
Soon the air was full of the sound of the cane swishing down on the peachy buttocks. It landed with a resounding and satisfying thwack each time. Judith was enjoying it enormously, and chuckling out loud! Jason wasn’t enjoying it one bit, but at least the strokes were not quite as beastly as those given by Gerald.
“My naughty, naughty husband! Don’t mess with me! Stick your bottom out for the second ten!”
Just then her mobile rang. Should she answer it? Yes, she should. It was her dad on the line. He must have a psychic link!
“I’m just using the cane for the first time. It’s the best wedding present we could have had. Yes, bare bottom! The place was a real pig sty.”
Jason blushed. Oh, the embarrassment!
“Twenty I think. You think it should be twenty-four? Yes, more traditional, I suppose. But no, I’m going to stick at twenty. No, he won’t be doing it again in a hurry. I’m halfway through. Yes, lovely red lines. He’s making a lot of fuss. How’s mum? Yes, we’ll come over for tea later. Bye. Love you!”
SWISH-CRACK! The eleventh stroke hit with a vengeance. Jason cried out. Judith flexed the cane.
SWISH-CRACK! The twelfth was even harder. Was it her dad’s influence?
SWISH-CRACK! He gasped.
SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry.
SWISH-CRACK! She laughed.
SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry again. He certainly was!
SWISH-CRACK! She was thinking about her dad.
SWISH-CRACK! The wedding present was terrific.
SWISH-CRACK! He was close to sobbing now.
SWISH-CRACK! His cock was stiffening.
“All done. Go and get into bed, I’ll be up in a minute!”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Picture © 2011 by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
The author likes feedback – please leave a comment
Explicit true story by David Stewart
I’ve always felt that I wanted to be spanked, and I’m not sure why.
It was always ladies I fantasised about until I was about 22, when I made a friend who would introduce me to the world of adult discipline.
To set the scene here, I was a young police officer. I met John, who was 59 and a retired teacher (or so he told me). I had been schooled in Scotland and he had taught on both sides of the border. I met him as a result of a call to assist with some children that were causing a nuisance. We had a chat over coffee about ‘the kids of today’ and so on. Over a few visits the story was always the same, about people lacking discipline nowadays and eventually I guess we both learnt that each other was more than interested in the topic. He did ask me if I was disciplined at home and in school, and did I think I was better for it. In hindsight, nowadays he would be called a pervert, but there you are and remember this was the late ’70s.
He made an unusual comment one visit, asking, “Do you ever miss the way a spanked bottom or tawsed hands dealt with an issue and then it was over?” I answered, “I suppose so, in a strange way.”
As I left that night John made his move and said, “You know David, if you ever felt the need to revisit those days of a spanked bottom, then you only need ask me to do it for you.”
Well I left, and I gave my cock a thorough workout later that day. The following day I called him and spoke nervously about the comment. Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself if I got it wrong, I asked, “What did you mean last night when I left, about if I ever felt the need or something?”
“David, I know some adults still miss that old fashioned spanking thing and as a friend if you felt you needed it, then I would do it for you.” It was a s simple as that, but it had taken about six visits before he asked. I said that I thought I did and he said, “Well if you do David, bring your PE kit to change into and we will see to it!”
Two days later I turned up in uniform along with a bag with shorts and vest in it, and we had a coffee. “Did you bring anything with you today, David?”, he asked. Nervously I showed him the plastic bag and then its contents. John then went on to try to relax me, which was impossible. He told me he had friends who he spanked, and not to think I was unusual in any way.
Eventually he said something about “So should we go and deal with you then?” We stood and went to what was a small study. It had a desk with leather chair, a hard-backed chair in the corner, and a small cupboard on one wall.
“So how should I deal with you, David?”
I said, “Just like my father would, Sir.” There had been no request to call him Sir, it just felt right.
“I will leave you to change then into your shorts and vest.”
When he returned some five minutes later I was stood there with an erection in my PE shorts. He smiled and pulled the hard-backed chair out, told me to go over his lap and then he spanked me over my shorts for a while. I left that night disappointed, to be honest.
The next time I visited, we chatted about it. I had brought my kit again. He asked me how it had been. I suddenly blurted out that “It was not quite as I expected.” Asked why, I said, “Well I was always spanked on the bare bum and it always really stung. I always felt as if I had been punished then.”
John looked at me, smiled, and said “Ah David, so you want a proper spanking do you, pants down, over my knee and one that teaches you a lesson?”
“Well yes, Sir,” I stuttered. “It’s just that I always thought spankings should be like that.”
As a result, a few minutes later I was at John’s side and having my shorts and pants pulled down. This caused my erection to stick out (and be ignored by John). I was then pulled over and I got the hardest spanking I could remember. I recall yelling out “Oh Sir, I am so sorry!”
After the spanking, I was made to stand in the corner, bottom bare and hands on head. That was the way it went for a few months until one day I turned up without my kit. Over coffee we were chatting about spanking and I said, “It makes me regret forgetting my kit today.” John smiled and said, “Well David, I think, if you don’t mind, and as I have seen most of you anyway, we can do without the PE kit from now on, if you want.”
We went up to the study and John for the first time stood watching me and said “Right David I want all your clothes off today.” I was soon stood naked and erect as he gazed at me. “Does it excite you that I am going to spank you David?”
“Do you usually have a wank afterwards, thinking of me spanking you?”
“Yes, usually Sir!”
He moved closer to me. “Do you ever think of me touching your cock David, or does that thought never enter your head?”
“I do Sir, sometimes.”
His hand started to move towards my cock. He touched it and it stood even more erect. He pulled back and then had me over his knee, spanking that erection out of me. It was a harder than usual spanking and I nearly cried. Afterwards he put his hand between my cheeks and made me erect again. So it was that I was wanked for the first time by another guy. That became the norm and I would visit for a spanking at least twice a week and I started to visit him on my days off. It was only a short while before I started to wank him off as well.
After about six months he re-introduced me to the tawse. In doing so, he revealed his love of tawsing. The norm then became for me to have to take six of the tawse along with any spanking. Normally, this was after the spanking, as he liked my hands to be warm when I touched him. After a tawsing, they were really hot!
It was a year before I got caned and I was warned how sore that experience would be. We had discussed it before, but I was still rather unaware of the pain a cane could cause. I recall being told that the cane would be applied next time I came and to make an appointment on a day off. He promised me a real ‘six of the best’ and I got that, for sure.
It was six days later. I visited him nervously. This time, John was very different. “Come in boy!” was his command and I was taken directly to his study. A a cane lay on the desk. He lectured me and told me I was to be caned, six strokes and if I stood up or touched my bottom that stroke would not count and he would add another.
Naked, I stood waiting and Sir said to me in a softer tone, “Now remember David, you asked for this and I need to give you it as I would if it were a real punishment. It is going to hurt like nothing you have experienced before, but I have explained all that already, haven’t I?”
“Yes Sir”, I said.
“And you still want to find out what a real caning is like?”
“Yes Sir, please Sir.”
His attitude changed suddenly, “Right boy! Over the desk, and grip the far side.”
The cane was tapped a few times before it thrashed down. The sound felt delayed, as if it came after the hit . There was a distinct moment when I felt nothing, but then a fearsome pain cut through me! I stood up and grabbed my bum, only to hear a very unsympathetic, “Get down boy! I expected better!”
The next stroke elicited a real yell from me followed by a third then a fourth which both did the same. It was true agony and I had to wait for the fifth stroke. The sixth cut deep into my cheeks and then Sir spoke, “Now you have to be given the first stroke again and then one extra. Are you ready boy?”
“Sir, please no more! I’m so sore!”, I whined.
“You wanted a real caning, now take the last two like a man, David!”
Almost immediately the cane delivered the penultimate stroke, followed shortly by the eighth, final stroke. In tears, I stood up and Sir cuddled me, and then made me stand in the corner. After a while the flames of pain diminished. He led me to the bedroom where he undressed and we got into bed. In the end, I stayed the whole night after being taken out for a curry.
Our relationship lasted for over six years and during that time my bottom was constantly spanked and caned. My hands were tawsed so often that I lost count! It was the only time I have had a long relationship with another guy. Believe it or not, the reason we stopped was because by then I’d met my wife. The marks were too conspicuous to have. She became my chastiser. I have however, always retained a desire to be spanked by another older guy and especially to be hand tawsed by one. I have met a few guys who can tawse school-style and are happy to spank a naughty lad like me.
So that’s the true account of how I came to be into spanking.
Text © David Stewart 2012, used here by very kind permission
picture © by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
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