♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by guest author sukemnsee
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
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
“Well lads, this is very serious. Radio piracy is an offence under the Marine Broadcasting Offences Act, 1967. You could all be going down for this!”
The three 21-year-olds surveyed their surroundings. Their poky little studio with the twin turntables, and a pile of 45s. The pegboard on the walls, with egg boxes to provide some acoustic insulation. A valve amplifier and a rudimentary transmitter.
Sergeant Westlea and his two constables examined the pirate treasure with some disdain. The Sergeant picked up a Deep Purple single and snapped it in half.
“Oops! Well, that’s forever hushed!” laughed the Sergeant. “Fortunately for you three, I am under strict instructions not to arrest you straight away. If you know what’s good for you, you will accompany us to the police station where the Chief Superintendent wishes to interview you. Why he is so interested in small fry like you, I have no idea. The van’s outside, I suggest you all get in it before I change my mind and cuff the lot of you.”
Soon Bill, James and Hugh found themselves in the plush surroundings of the office of Chief Superintendent Walker. All three were sat in front of his large oak desk. He was reading the case file silently. Now and then, he would look over his half-moon spectacles, gazing at the three miscreants. He puffed on a large Churchillian cigar.
“Well, gentlemen. It’s taken us three years to track you down. You have led us a merry dance. A dance to the music of time, you might say! During this time, I have listened to your station a lot on my trusty Roberts. I must say I have enjoyed a lot of your output. Particularly that Cream bootleg you keep playing.”
To the three friends, this was the first sign of any relief from their predicament.
“I have studied the case file, and I must warn you that a judge might impose custodial sentences. This is really a most, most grave offence in terms of the law. However, here at the station, we tend to view this as a less serious offence. I see from our research that you are all ex-pupils of St. Stephens…”
“Yes Sir!” said James, who was evidently the leader of the pirate gang.
“So am I,” laughed the Chief Superintendent. “Not strangers to the cane then, lads?”
All three shook their heads.
“Mmmm. Just as I suspected. Now, listen to me! As a prefect I used to cane naughty lads such as yourselves, back then. It seems to me that an unofficial caning could be just what you lads need, instead of a spell in prison. Something to wake your ideas up! Well, lads?”
James spoke up, “If you’re suggesting we take a caning, I’m sure all three of us would be happy to accept that, Sir!” The other two nodded enthusiastically.
James was thinking how much he hated the cane. In the past, Bill hadn’t found the cane too bad if he felt he’d deserved it. Hugh however, had a masochistic streak and loved being caned. The Chief Superintendent was also very fond of the cane…
“Good. Some common sense from you three at last. I was thinking of six of the best. Six strokes for each one of the years you evaded us.”
The lads gasped. Eighteen strokes each!
“Don’t worry lads. I was thinking of three sessions of six strokes each, say a week apart. Just to drive the lesson home. On the bare, of course.”
James spoke up again, “Of course. Yes Sir, that seems very reasonable in the circumstances.”
“Now there is one problem. My right arm is recovering from an injury sustained just recently. I can’t cane you myself, although I feel I must witness your punishments. Which leaves me with a couple of alternatives. I could ask Sergeant Westlea…”
“We don’t like him, Sir. He deliberately snapped one of our records!”
“Not the Cream bootleg, I hope!” exclaimed the Chief Superintendent.
“No, no it was a 45 of ‘Hush’ by Deep Purple,” said Bill.
“One of my favourites!” said the Chief, shaking his head. “Well, I can’t trust the brute not to snap my cane then, can I? It’s my last one. Which brings me to the other alternative. Mrs Walker!”
“Your wife, Sir?”
“Yes, my wife. She’s an experienced caner. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, Sir. Not really, but bare bottom Sir?” asked James.
“Good point, boy. I’ll have to ask her how she feels about that. She might want you to keep your underwear on. In which case, perhaps more strokes might be appropriate.”
“Oh, Sir!” said James, the one who feared the cane the most.
“Well, Gents. Maybe we’ll leave it at six each session. I’m a reasonable man and Mrs Walker will see reason too. It will hurt you, but it won’t kill you. Have we got a deal? Smith?”
James nodded, “Yes Sir, thank you.”
“Yes, yes thank you.”
“Very good. I want you all to call around to my house on Friday evening. Well after ‘The Archers’. Say eight o’clock. Here’s the address.”
The three lads trooped out of the station with mixed feelings. They passed Sergeant Westlea, who looked astonished to see them walking free without so much as a caution.
Back in the office, the Chief Superintendent leant back in his leather chair. Yes, this would be a most gratifying spectacle. Three naked, prime rumps being caned by his disciplinarian wife. Something for the weekend! In bed that night he shared his wicked plan with his wife. She mounted him eagerly and came heavily as he described his plans in detail.
“Well Charles, you have really excelled yourself this time. I’m almost tempted to cane you now as a reward!”
“Thank you darling, but don’t you think you’d be better off resting and waiting for the weekend?”
“Well no, my arm’s not the one that’s weak at the moment is it? Be a dear and fetch the cane…”
Despite the hot lovemaking he had just enjoyed, Charles Walker was regretting mentioning his plan. His wife switched on the bedside lamp and took the cane from him.
“Eighteen strokes, I think! Seems appropriate. Unless you’d prefer twenty-one?”
“Oh, Lynn, surely that’s too many?”
“Well, let me have a look at your bottom. Hmmmm. No signs of recent caning or trauma. Arse is looking meatier than ever. Too many trips to the canteen at work, I’d say. Eighteen!”
Charles placed a couple of pillows in the middle of the bed, and bent submissively over them. His wife could hardly contain her delight. How she loved caning this all-powerful copper!
CRACK! The first hard stroke from the whippy cane lashed down on the chunky, hairy cheeks.
CRACK! The second stroke was just as hard.
CRACK! She wasn’t playing as a third fiery stroke hit him just above the crease.
CRACK! Indeed, this was no love caning. This was punishment!
CRACK! The whippy, crook-handled cane bit into his bottom again.
CRAAACK! A harder stroke caused him to gasp.
CRACK! A satisfying sharp stroke.
“AAARGH!” Charles could no longer contain his pain.
CRAACK! His sadistic wife chuckled as the cane lashed down again.
CRACK! CRACK! She was truly in her stride now.
He felt his cock springing to life again. What magic the cane worked!
CRAAAACK! The cane broke clean in half!
“SHIT!” they both cried.
“What are we going to do now? We’ve got your boys coming on Friday and nothing to cane them with,” Lynn sighed.
“I know, I know. It’s so hard to find a decent cane these days. Those canes from school were top quality. I’ll have to get the lads at work to find me a supplier.”
“Well, you don’t have long, Charles. Don’t fail me or it will be very bad news for you! How about Soho? Or a whorehouse?”
“No, I don’t think so, love,” he got up from his submissive position, semi-erect, “the school might be a better bet. They still use the cane at St Stephens…”
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne.
Image from vectorportal.com
PART TWO IS HERE.
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
Erotic fiction by David Stewart
David was 37, and reasonably successful. He was married to an adoring wife, had two kids and a job that paid the bills.
He did however suffer from a certain degree of discontent. It was to do with his personal behaviour. He acknowledged that he was rash, and could mouth off at times. He hated this as he always felt embarrassed if he upset anyone. He was basically a decent fellow.
One Saturday morning he was hassled and needed petrol. As he made his way through town, he approached a small roundabout. The car on his inside was going ahead and not turning left as he had anticipated.
Driving through the roundabout, David acknowledged his mistake with a raising of his hand but this was met by an angry flash from the older driver, now behind him. Again David raised his hand and again he was flashed. Blinded by annoyance David started to give the other driver the “wanker’s handshake.” David sped off.
At the petrol station he had just started to fill up when the other driver approached him. He had followed David into the garage. A heated exchange led to David saying, “Look, I am sorry and was totally at fault. What can I do but apologise?”
The other driver, an older chap about mid 60s, started on about the ignorance of youth, bad manners, and so forth. David suddenly felt as if he was being lectured by an older relative and became rather subdued, realising how much he had upset the older driver.
“Look Sir, I am truly sorry, and yes it was ignorant and rude of me to wave at you like that. I accept totally that I am at fault, and I am sorry.”
“Sometimes sorry is not enough young man! Manners like yours need to be taught a lesson, That’s what’s wrong with society nowadays.”
David perked up at these clear undertones and replied “So you think I need to be taught a lesson do you?”
“You most certainly do young man,” was the response. A stand-off ensued.
David, in a low voice, said “You are probably right to say that Sir, but at my age what exactly kind of lesson could I be taught?”
The older man replied “In days gone by, young chaps like you who disrespected their elders were given a damned good thrashing. That always taught them a lesson and they were the better for it. Nowadays of course you suggest that and the goodie two shoes brigade will have you up for cruelty. I bet you would benefit from that!”
They both looked at each other and impulsively David replied “I am sorry and you are right Sir, I did disrespect you and probably do need to be taught a lesson.”
The older man took a card from his pocket and handed it to David. “My mobile number if you decide to go down that route, lad.”
David was now sporting an erection that showed his interest in what the older guy was suggesting. Was this man actually offering to give him a spanking?
The following day David had thought long and hard about it. He decide to call the number.
“Er, hello, Mr Green?”
“Yes this is he, and you are?”
“I am that disrespectful lad you spoke to in the garage yesterday, Sir.”
“Ah yes, the one who needs a lesson in manners.”
“Sir, can I ask exactly what you meant when you said that?”
“And what do you think I meant, as I thought it was pretty clear?”
“Eh, well I thought you were suggesting some form of, well kind of you know?”
Mr Green interrupted “Oh spit it out lad, say what you mean.”
“OK Sir. I thought you were suggesting I would benefit from being chastised by you.”
“Yes lad that is exactly what I suggested…and your question now is?”
“Well Sir, if I did think that was the best way forward what would happen?”
“What would happen lad is that you would come over to my house and I would give you some old-fashioned punishment. You would have your arse well thrashed.”
There was a silence and then Mr Green spoke again. “Well lad, you are either sat there cock in hand or you are thinking you need this. Which is it?”
Had Mr Green but known, and he possibly did, it was both.
Taking a deep breath David replied “Sir, I am serious and think it would be for the best if you did punish me for my behaviour.”
“Right then. No time like the present. Can you come now? I live just outside the town.”
15 minutes later David was knocking on Mr Green’s front door.
The door was answered by an elderly lady who said, “Ah, you must be David. Come in.”
David was taken aback but followed through to the lounge where Mr Green was. “This is my wife,” he said and formal introductions took place.
“Cup of coffee David, we were just having ours?”
As she left the room Mr Green, seeing David’s reaction said, “She knows why you are here, lad.”
For whatever reason David had thought Mr Green would be living alone. As they drank the coffee Mrs Green asked all sorts of reasonable questions about why David was in the area, as he was Scottish and this was England. Then she said “Well David, I believe my husband is going to teach some manners today, is he not?”
“Eh yes he is, Mrs Green,” replied David.
“Well I am sure it is for the best. Now will you follow me please, David?”
David followed Mrs Green to the upstairs study where she told him to wait for Mr Green. She then left him on his own. David viewed his surroundings. He saw a desk, chair and cupboard which all reminded him of his old Headmaster’s office.
After a few minutes Mr Green entered the room and removed his jacket.
“Right lad! I intend to teach you a sound lesson today. I will give you a well-deserved spanking, followed by the cane. Have you had the cane before?”
Blushing deeply, David admitted that he and his wife sometimes played bedroom games. They owned a cane that she would often lay it on his backside.
Mr Green’s eyes opened widely at this and he said, “Ah, an aficionado?” asking, “And have you experienced any discipline from a man before?”
David confessed that in the past he had been disciplined by an older friend. He further confessed that he knew he had missed these disciplinary sessions and that he was pleased to have met Mr Green.
“It is open to question if you will remain pleased for long, David, but we will see. Right now I want your trousers and socks off please.”
David complied. He had expected this.
“Now your top as well please.”
Standing only in pants David felt very vulnerable. Mr Green pulled the hard backed chair into the middle of the room and called David to his side.
“Get over my lap then, lad.”
David placed himself over Mr Green’s knees. David felt the old man’s hands rest on his pants. A hard slap followed, and then another close after. A thorough spanking followed.
“Stand up and take your pants down for me. That’s right. Kick them off.”
Back over his chastiser’s lap the hard spanking resumed, this time on his naked rear. This raised more than a few yells from the victim!
The door opened and Mrs Green entered. “Now David dear, you are being a bit noisy. I can hear you downstairs, and as the back door is open for some air, the neighbours may hear too!”
David felt humiliated as Mrs Green smiled and looked at him draped over her husband’s lap. The spanking finished, David stood up. He couldn’t avoid the admiring eyes of Mrs Green. She spoke to her husband, “Now dear, as David was brought up in Scotland have you considered your tawse? I know how much you like to use it.”
What was going on here? That was what David was asking himself, as the husband and wife talked about him in a matter of fact sort of way.
“Good idea! Right David. I am going to tawse you. You will raise your hands up and take three on each palm. After each stroke change hands.”
David had not been tawsed for over fifteen years but he remembered the drill well. Mr Green opened one of the desk drawers and produced a blackened leather two-tailed tawse. He raised it over his right shoulder, then brought it whistling down on the very apprehensive David’s palm. David shouted out and grabbed his palms between his legs and shouted “Fuck!”
“Not good, David. And in front of Mrs Green!”
“Sorry, sssorry Mrs Green,” stammered David. He raised his palms again. The tawse landed viciously again. David’s reaction was similar but without the swearing. He took six agonising strokes.
“And are you learning a lesson?” asked Mr Green.
Going to the cupboard, Mr Green selected a cane from several hanging within. He instructed David to bend over the desk.
“Hold on tight lad! You have twelve strokes to come, and if you stand up I will add two penalty strokes.”
Feeling humiliated under Mrs Green’s gaze, David did as instructed. He waited to feel the cane. He knew it was going to be delivered much harder than his wife ever did. Still with that thought in mind, a sudden cracking noise accompanied by excruciating pain proved him correct!
David yelled out an agonising “AAAAAAAARGH!”
A second stroke followed with similar reaction. The caning continued apace and after the eighth stroke David was in such agony, that he jumped up, hoping for some respite. Realising immediately that he was in the wrong, he bent back over.
As the twelfth stroke cut home Mr Green said, “And now as promised two extra for standing.“
The first of these landed suddenly, cutting deeply across the other strokes. The final stroke landed alongside. David held on tightly, in case there was more to come for having sworn. Fortunately, that had been forgiven or forgotten and David was told to stand. He stood in front of his chastiser and his wife, naked and close to tears with pain and humiliation.
“Now I believe you need to apologise to my wife for your language and to me for your behaviour. I think should also thank me for teaching you a lesson.”
David started to speak, “Mrs Green, I am ever so sorry for my language and I hope that you were not offended.”
Mrs Green smiled and said, “It was very rude of you, but you have been punished and I accept your apology.”
“Mr Green, Sir, I am sorry for my disrespect yesterday and for my general behaviour. I also want to thank you for teaching me the lesson you have today.”
Mr Green smiled and shook David’s hand.
“I accept your apology David and you took your beating well. I believe in corporal punishment and I think you can see the benefits of it as well. We live close to each other, so if you ever feel the need for another lesson then Mrs Green and I are always here to help you.”
David was left to dress and then ushered out of the house. As he was being shown out by Mrs Green she asked, “Will we see you again David?”
“Yes Ma’am I am sure you will. I’m sure you will.”
David left a pained but happy chap who knew what had been missing from his life until now. And now he knew how he could get it again. Then his thoughts turned to his scorched bottom and how he would explain the stripes to his wife, if she saw them.
story © 2012 by David Stewart, used here by very kind permission
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Uncle is a silver-haired policeman soon to be 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
And now Part 7!
“Aha! What are you doing Gordon?”
Uncle had caught him masturbating in the bathroom.
“Oh I thought you were on the phone, Uncle.”
“Not good enough, my boy. I thought I’d made it clear that there was to be no masturbating in my house! You’ve been caught red-handed. And soon you will be red bottomed!”
“But Uncle you don’t understand. I’m nineteen, I have to do it! Weren’t you ever my age?”
“What a stupid question, Gordon. That will cost you extra strokes. And to think you questioned the appropriateness of my erection the other day!”
“I’m sorry Uncle.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what we’ll do Gordon. You can finish masturbating and then you can report to me in the front room.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“You won’t be thanking me soon, Gordon.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Uncle disappeared and Gordon sat down on the edge of the bath. Soon he was pumping his cock for all it was worth. His fingers played with the head and then he tightened his grip on the shaft. He was fantasising but it wasn’t some lithe beauty in his thoughts, it was his handsome uncle, his erection and his cane! The spunk came copiously. For a laugh, Gordon wiped himself clean using his uncle’s bath towel. If he was going to be punished, he might as well do something bad, he thought to himself. He got up but was pretty exhausted. He sat down on the loo seat for a couple of minutes. Uncle was soon calling him…
“Come on Gordon! I haven’t got all day!”
Down in the front room Uncle was waiting flexing the cane.
“How many Gordon?”
“That’s up to you Uncle.”
Gordon stared at the floor.
“Nineteen, I think Gordon, since you had the cheek to ask me if I’d ever been that age!”
“That’s a lot Uncle, but you know best.”
“Yes, I do. Now, I want all your clothes off!”
Slowly Gordon peeled off his clothes. This was getting to be a familiar experience.
“That’s it. I’m glad to see your cock has calmed down.”
“Yes Uncle.” This was all so humiliating for Gordon.
“Now, hold your hands out in front of you.”
“Eh?” said Gordon. Surely uncle wasn’t going to cane his hands instead of his bottom? What a terrifying thought!
“Just do it!” Uncle snapped.
Gordon held his hands out, only to find Uncle snapping a pair of handcuffs on them!
“Oh!” said Gordon, somewhat shocked.
“Yes! It won’t be easy for you to masturbate with those on, will it?”
“But Uncle, you let me finish off.”
“Yes, I did. That was a kindness you didn’t really deserve. I’ll have to make up for it with some unkindness shortly. Now, go and stand over there!” Uncle pointed to a corner of the room with his cane. Gordon made his way over, totally naked and with his hands securely cuffed in front of him.
Uncle put the cane down and picked up his phone.
“Hello Sarge! Yes, things are fine. Yes, I’m just going to cane him again now. If you want to come over Saturday evening, you can give him a good thrashing too. No, no, the marks should have faded by then. You want to listen to his thrashing now? OK, but you might want to put it on the speaker, so you and the other lads can hear it properly. How many, you say? Nineteen! Maybe one extra for luck. Maybe I’ll use the new cane so his bottom’s nice and clear for you on Saturday. No it doesn’t mark quite as much as the old one. I’ll try to make it sting though! OK I’ll put the phone right here by the arm of the sofa so that all of you can hear everything. OK.”
Gordon had gone pale. He’d heard every word of course. He was his uncle’s plaything and now there was to be an audience, at a distance.
“Bend over then Gordon. I’ll just get the other cane.”
Uncle had obviously been practicing with this cane because it stung far more than last time .
Gordon was squirming and sweating. This was bad, bad news. Now that uncle had got the feel for this cane, it seemed like the sting was even worse than the old police-issue one! To make matters worse, the handcuffs were uncomfortable. At least Gordon could be sure he wouldn’t get an erection while he was so humiliated.
“Owwww!” At last Gordon was sharing his pain! Uncle smiled contentedly and, down the phone line Sarge and his colleagues laughed aloud. They were enjoying their camaraderie, almost as if they were at a football match.
“Harder! Beat him to a pulp!” shouted Sarge. The other police laughed and clapped. Fortunately for Gordon, Uncle did not seem to hear the advice coming down the phone line. Gordon felt tears welling in his eyes. It wasn’t the pain. It was the humiliation. Surely his parents wouldn’t approve of all this?
Maybe it was the pain, after all…
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Uncle is a silver-haired policeman soon to be facing retirement. His disciplinary cane is back in use. He has just begun hosting his 19-year old nephew, Gordon, for a fortnight’s disciplinary stay.
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
And now Part 6!
19-year old Gordon awoke with a start. He was lying naked in his uncle’s bed. His uncle was also naked in the King Size bed, and Gordon was acutely aware of his uncle’s erection. It was dangerously close to Gordon’s arsehole and freshly caned buttocks.
“Er morning, uncle. I thought you said you hadn’t seen one of those for a while.”
“Morning Gordon. Yes I did indeed say that, but isn’t it strange how these things pop up when you least expect them to?”
“I’m not easily shocked uncle, but are you sure this is appropriate?”
“Less of your cheek, young man! I’ll decide what’s appropriate and what isn’t.”
“Sorry Uncle. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I should hope not! Look over there,” he said, his hairy tattooed arm pointing to the bedroom door where a rattan punishment cane hung menacingly on a hook. “I didn’t show that to your parents. It’s the cane I said I’d source for them. I thought we might break it in over this fortnight before I present it to your dad.”
“Uncle. I am going to be on my best behaviour these two weeks. You won’t be needing the new cane or the old one.”
“Not so fast, Gordon. Your parents listed a lot of faults yesterday. I only punished you for calling me a prize idiot. There were other problems which are still unpunished at the moment. Today, you will be punished for the surliness your parents reported. I’m not sure when, but it will be later.”
“Oh Uncle! It’s not fair!”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I really don’t care. Isn’t it a relief to know that I’ll be making all the decisions this fortnight? You just need to follow my instructions. Think of it as a break.”
“But Uncle, how can it be a relief if I’m worrying about a caning all the time?”
“It’s only a caning! I used to get them all the time when I was a lad. Never did me any harm.”
“Now you’re sounding like my dad! And mum. They both said that ‘Never did me any harm’ business as well.”
“Well, there you are then! That’s three adults who share the same opinion. Hasn’t it occurred to you that we might be right?”
“Uncle, I’m an adult too!”
“Not this fortnight you’re not. I shall be expecting you to behave as a thoroughly obedient boy. Is that clear?”
“Uncle, it’s not fair!”
“Do you want your caning now? I’m quite happy to oblige!”
“No Uncle, sorry, no.”
“OK then. How about you go and get showered now and then come down for some breakfast? Remember though, you’re not allowed to close the bathroom door. I need to be sure no surreptitious masturbation is going on!”
Midway through showering, Gordon became aware that his uncle had entered the room.
“Just checking. This is an erection-free zone you know!” Uncle teased.
Gordon was really fed up now. He desperately wanted to have a wank. All this talk of canings and erections had turned him on. As he was going to be caned anyway, he wondered if he he could negotiate a deal with his uncle. A quick caning for a quick wank, or something. But then he thought about it some more and decided it wasn’t wise to go seeking a caning. His penis would have to remain in his pants for the whole fortnight, it seemed. He longed to return to work or to his parents’ home.
Uncle shouted another instruction: “Put on your pyjamas after you’ve finished in here. It would be a shame for them to remain unused.”
This should have started some alarm bells ringing in Gordon’s head, but it didn’t. Obviously he was in a particularly thick mood. Or was it all that unreleased testosterone clouding his thoughts?
“Oh and one more thing…”
“Bring the new cane down to breakfast with you.”
Uncle had prepared a breakfast of bacon and eggs and marmalade on cold toast. He instructed Gordon to sit down at the table and to place the cane on the table, too.
“There,” said Uncle as he sat down, “Just the three of us friends, you, me and the cane. Sweet!”
Uncle’s sadistic humour was wasted on Gordon who was consumed in thought. Gordon stared at the new cane lying on the breakfast table in front of him. He felt a stirring in his pyjama trousers. It was almost as if he wished to be caned there and then. What to do? What to do? As luck would have it of course, Uncle would be making all the decisions. As they finished breakfast, Uncle started barking instructions:
“Right! Clear the table! Drop your pyjama trousers. Bend over the table!”
Unfortunately for Gordon, his stiffer than stiff erection was still present, and Uncle saw it as soon as the blue pyjama trousers fell to the ground.
“I see! Gross impertinence! This calls for punishment!”
“Oh Uncle, please go easy on me! It’s only a few hours since my last caning. Well, less than a day anyway.”
“Yes, I realise that, ” said uncle with mock concern, “But we have only thirteen more nights together Gordon. We don’t have long to get you back onto the straight and narrow, do we?”
Gordon groaned almost silently.
“I’ll limit it to six for the gross impertinence of waving that erection at me, for now!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Gordon took all six in relative silence. Uncle was a little annoyed and looked carefully at the cane,
“Hmmm. I’m not sure that this cane is severe enough for my purposes,” he announced “it will probably be just right for a beginner like your dad, though! I’d better give you six more for the surliness.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
This time Gordon did wiggle and show his discomfort. However, his lips remained sealed and again uncle was disappointed by the lack of vocalisation. Uncle threw down the cane in disgust.
“Stay down!” he commanded, “Let me feel your bottom to see what impression that toy cane has made.”
He gently felt Gordon’s bottom. It was satisfyingly warm, inviting almost, with gentle ridges. Gordon couldn’t help but squirm as his uncle massaged the cheeks gently. Uncle’s hands were skilled and forgiving. There was no sadism now, just more than a suspicion of lust.
“I think we’ll save that toy cane for emergencies. We’ll revert to my trusty police-issue model. It’s like an old friend.”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Next part (Part 7) is here
Explicit erotic fiction by David Stewart
David blushed self-consciously as Uncle George said hello. They shook hands and George said: “I am so pleased you and Ruth have decided to make a go of things. You are just what each other needs.”
The wine served, they chatted amongst themselves and Uncle George spoke as if David was not present.
“So my dear, how has David been behaving since you took the reins?”
“He is learning fast, George.”
“So David, is Ruth here as strict as I was?”
“Yes Uncle George, I’ve found Miss Ruth to be very strict.”
“I have missed your visits David. I was aware when Ruth here took over that you would not be around so much, but had not expected to become a stranger. Have you not needed my brand of discipline at all?”
“No, no, Uncle I just thought that Miss Ruth was doing that now and I had no idea that I could still visit you.”
Both Miss Ruth and Uncle George laughed and David realised he was being teased.
“No David you can still visit me, but I think Ruth here will be keeping you occupied. However, when were you last spanked?”
“Last night Uncle.”
“Would you show your Uncle your marks David?” It was an instruction and not a request so David stood, bared his bottom and showed his Uncle all.
“Nice marks Ruth dear…nice marks.”
The conversation turned to how many strokes had been given and so forth, and all this time David remained with his bottom bared.
“I think David needs more attention George,” Miss Ruth stated. A short time after this Uncle George had the young David over his lap again and was spanking his marked naked buns vigorously, much to the amusement of Miss Ruth. The spanking continued for some time before Uncle tired and told David to stand in the corner.
After five minutes Miss Ruth ordered him to serve more wine, and as David went to pull up his trousers was told not to do so. He had to shuffle embarrassingly from glass to glass before returning to the corner. He did this automatically, without being asked.
Uncle left a short time later leaving David in the corner, his red bottom cheeks on show. Miss Ruth returned to the room and congratulated David on his ability to withstand such a spanking.
“Strip for me David!” she instructed. David removed all his clothing and stood naked and erect in front of his Mistress.
Miss Ruth took her dress off and sat legs apart on the sofa and beckoned David to her. “Lick me!” she said and as David moved to touch her almost see through panties Miss Ruth said: “No. Through my panties, I want you to taste what I have been feeling as I watched George spank you.”
David licked and licked and soon Miss Ruth was convulsing in orgasmic pleasure, all brought on by David.
Composing herself, she took David to bed and he repeated his task, this time without Miss Ruth wearing her panties. While pleasuring her, Miss Ruth was telling him all about her delight and feelings when watching George chastising her David.
“I want to watch you being disciplined more often, David. I get pleasure whipping you but I get so so wet watching another person do it. I want a friend to join us and spank and cane you for me. Would you like that?” she asked.
“I want whatever you want, Miss Ruth,” he responded honestly.
“Good because my friend also has the most gorgeous cock in the world and it gets so very hard during a spanking session. I just know he would love to cane you. Would that work for you?”
“Yes Miss Ruth, it would,” David’s mind was spinning.
“And would you want to watch or just wonder about my friend shagging me? Where your cock has not been yet?”
David was becoming excited by all this talk. Miss Ruth realised, and made him kneel on the bed. “Wank yourself but don’t cum till I allow it. Would you like to watch my friend and I fucking David? His big cock giving me such joy?”
“Oh yes Miss Ruth, yes I would.”
“Would you not be jealous of him?”
“Yes I would Miss Ruth, but you deserve to receive whatever you wish for.”
“Don’t you cum now David because if you do I am going to make you wait five minutes and then cane you good and hard with…” At this, David lost control. The cum spunked into his hands.
“As I was saying, twelve strokes with my cane. Now go and clean up and come back to me. I am almost disappointed in you.”
David duly cleaned up and did feel some disappointment that he had failed to obey his Miss Ruth. There was also the fear of a caning to follow. When he returned he found Miss Ruth standing naked with the cane in her hands. She was smiling wickedly as she swished the cane to and fro.
“Well, time for the naughty wanker to be punished!”
She approached and felt his flaccid cock. She laughed and said: “This is a real punishment. You must take it well, because if at any time you stand or touch your bottom, we’ll start from stroke number one again.”
He felt no sexual urges this time as he bent over and prepared for what he felt sure would be his worst caning to date. The first stroke whistled down and a few milliseconds later the pain cut through, just before the second landed. He cried out loud.
“Yell out David! You deserve this and I like to know I am hitting the spot,” she laughed as the third landed. David did not laugh, smile or snigger. He did though feel tears welling up. The next two strokes landed in swift succession and he yelled and this time the tears started.
His pleas of “Sorry, Miss Ruth!” were ignored and the caning continued to be painfully provided by the enthusiastic chastiser. The final stroke was given and David remained bent over. She cuddled him, stroked his face and wiped his tears before moving a hand down to his still flaccid cock.
“Such a shame, as if you had been hard after that you may have got to enter my haven with it! Never mind now, chance gone!”
David dressed and with head bowed followed the next instruction: “Go and put your clothes in the spare room.”
David had wrongly assumed he was sharing the main bedroom with Miss Ruth. As he put his clothes away he noticed three maids outfits in the wardrobe, and in the top drawer were a selection of white knickers. David wondered about these. “Surely not?” he said to himself, but his penis was no longer flaccid and showed him what he wanted.
David was indeed entering the world of submissive service to a stronger lady. He relished this and wanted whatever was to come. More exciting still was the the prospect of Miss Ruth not only using him about the house but making sure her friend, as she had called him, came to visit and punish while she watched.
“David!” Miss Ruth said as she entered the room. She lifted a pair of knickers and said “Well”?
“Well what Miss Ruth?”
She touched his erection through his trousers and laughed. “Well, well! I see you appreciate who these are for, darling. And these…” She lifted out a maid uniform. “Just your size perhaps?”
David blushed deeply both with the embarrassment and total humiliation of wanting to wear these for Miss Ruth.
“These do not get touched until I tell you, David. That’s when you earn the right to be my maid. Now I want you downstairs. We’ll discuss your routine and duties.”
After his routine was explained, he relished the chores and tasks set. He did so even more when he heard Miss Ruth on the phone. She ended her conversation with: “So my darling Paul, 7.30 Friday and I will introduce you to my new live-in maid. He has such a caneable arse, you will enjoy it!”
David continued his chores but he was already anticipating that day.
To Be Continued.
Story © 2012 by David Stewart
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by guest author sukemnsee
It was a gorgeous Tuesday morning in June, with the sun streaming in right from early morning. I was doing a special observation on contractors later that evening so had no need to rush to work.
I was horny, so I sprawled out on my double bed and watching a feed of internet porn through my flat screen wall monitor and playing with myself.
Suddenly I heard a strange squeaky noise and looked up to see a young window cleaner staring at me from a ladder. I should mention that as my apartment is on the 3rd floor and not directly overlooked, I do not bother with curtains or blinds.
I quickly pulled the sheet partly over me and then saw he was motioning me to open the side window. I shuffled over there, holding the sheet for modesty. To my surprise he came straight in through the open window.
He said firmly: “What are you playing at?” and at same time grabbed the sheet off me and bundled it into the corner. “Don’t waste your time with that! I have seen everything already.”
I looked up at him, ashamed. He was handsome though, of good height and build including prominent biceps and six pack stomach and bulging short denim shorts. He still seemed irate with me and I did not know what to say.
“What’s your game, flashing yourself at me. Don’t you realise I need concentration on me ladder. If I slip that can be my job or my life gone!”
I stammered a reply to the effect that I did not know he was there. He said he could see that I was making a full show of my stimulation. I had no idea how long he had been observing. He did not buy my excuse. He said he was contracted to clean the block windows at set times. I protested that I was usually at work and did not know.
He said I had opportunity to find this out and if I was too proud to bother then ignorance was no defence. He was still angry and I lost my bottle somewhat.
“Sorry, look what do I pay you to make this right?”
He did not want my money but he said I would surely pay. Did I agree to be sorted out? I looked at his steely blue eyes and said “Yes” but didn’t know to what I was agreeing.
He pulled a spare rubber for his drying blade out of his pocket. This was about an inch wide and quite rigid with a thickness of about a third of inch and about 18 inches in length. It was quite pliable in length so he could bundle it in pocket but of course it became firm when slotted into his holder. He told me to bend over the end of my bed.
I had a moment of fear or fantasy that he would mount me but this soon passed as he whipped that rubber down across my exposed bottom. It hurt me more than I thought it would. His technique was most effective.
By now a couple more strokes had been applied and I wriggled in discomfort. The next swipe of the rubber hurt more as it landed on a bit of my arse that was already stinging. I made to stand up but he pushed me back down saying if I got up he could make the strokes far more painful and he then carried on for several more strokes, getting some moans from me.
At last he told me to stand up but then saw I was strangely still excited so he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me down over his lap. He then smacked me repeatedly with his hand, perhaps filling in where the rubber had missed. By now I was whimpering.
Abruptly he stopped as he said he had to go off to his next contract. He explained that the old boy he was going to visit next kept a supply of canes, and so he would bring a couple back for me. In the meantime I was to stay naked, and to not give myself relief. and have no release and he would be back at 11:35. With that, he coiled the rubber and put back in his pocket and then he let himself out, collecting the ladder from the front.
At precisely 11:35 he returned. He was obviously used to following a timetable. I wrapped a towel around my waist as I opened the door. He walked straight in, carrying two crook handled canes without any effort to hide them. I followed him upstairs to my room.
I was now told to spread myself on my bed, face down and he put pillows under my stomach to make me raised at the hips. He told me that he was going to hurt me with these canes so that I would learn to behave in future. I was to take the medicine dispensed and to count each of the strokes. I was to lie still at each pause after every five strokes.
The first stroke whistled down right at the edge of my bottom, sort of at the thighs. I was immediately sore.
I said “One” meekly.
I counted each one quietly.
There was a pause, then I felt very wet suddenly as he lathered me with a sponge!
The cold water was slightly refreshing to my bottom. Then a weird sensation as he scraped away excess water and maybe soap with another of his rubber blades.
After a further pause, he caned me again.
“Six!” I said more forcefully.
This was now proving to be way more painful than the rubber swipe treatment he had given me earlier. I felt sure my bottom was trembling.
I was so glad that we had reached pause time. I felt the wet sponge again. It did not cool me as much as before and he left me wet going quickly to the next batch.
This seemed to hurt even more, was it just the number taken or was it the wetter bottom?
I was moaning now.
I was starting to cry.
I was crying steadily. Me, a grown man, crying!
But in some ways it was not so bad. The water and sponge were back and then the rubber blade. Now he was rubbing me all over with some cream that soothed but excited me too. He then pulled a different kind of rubber out of his pocket. We’ll discontinue the story there except to say that from then on I was always changing my work pattern so that I would be at home on contract cleaning days!
Story © 2012 by sukemnsee