♥ Site recommended story ♥
A short retro fantasy by special guest author 11plus – repeated from 2013.
Oh no, it wasn’t at all easy working in the big old city in those days. I was finding it hard to come to terms with my bisexuality. I was young and impressionable and living in some very strange accommodation. I wasn’t earning much and I worked in a grim old office block, which resembled something from the DDR, or somewhere else from behind the Iron Curtain.
Strangely enough, the highlight of my workday was often going to buy a sandwich at lunchtime. I’d tried several takeaway cafés and sandwich bars when I hit upon one I really liked. The food – the sandwiches – tasted great. They were made to order, usually by an Italian guy I took to be the proprietor. I soon developed a gay crush on him. He wasn’t my first, but one of the early few. I think it was his sideburns, more than anything. Yes, it was definitely his bushy black Teddyboy sideburns. His hair was slicked back, possibly with something like Brylcreem. More likely, its Italian equivalent. That or olive oil! Anyway, at the time this extra virgin didn’t know what to make of my feelings for him.
There was something particularly sexy about watching him prepare your sandwich. His big strong hands held a sharp black-handled kitchen knife. He had great technique, and could cut a tomato into wafer-thin slices that seemed to defy gravity by staying together, rather than falling apart. Needless to say, I always ordered something with tomato in, just to watch this dusky, swarthy, sexy beast in action. After a few weeks, I think he had me rumbled. I felt my attentions were unwelcome and I didn’t want him to knife me! Sadly, I took my business elsewhere. That horny man still figured in my dreams and fantasies. In them, he’d put down the sharp knife and pick up a school cane to beat me with! Or have me over his knees for a hot and relentless hand spanking. Or thrust his Italian stallion penis towards my tender, youthful buttocks. Or maybe all three! Yes, he was sex on legs and figured in my fantasies for a long, long time.
I remember too, that in those far off days, decent porn was hard to find. The Tom of Finland guys had those sideburns I loved alright, and a healthy helping of macho sex. But popular gay mags like Zipper and Vulcan just didn’t cut it for me. The lads were too young and, ahem, clean for my taste. Although in hindsight, I rather wished I’d had the guts to model for a photoshoot back then! Anyway, hot older guys just didn’t seem to figure in the gay porn I could find. You could find them in among the pages of fun in spanking mags like Februs, London Life, Janus, Blushes and Swish! but they were always thrashing beautiful female buttocks there.
They were hot enough, but sometimes only a meaty, hairy male arse will do, won’t it readers?
© MMXIII by 11plus
All rights reserved.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2011. Adults only! This is the final part of the story, for now at least!
Roxy, the girl from the fetish sex shop, had enjoyed watching PC Tim caning his friend Charles.
She was turned on, in short. Looking around the room, she had seen the “Bum Chum” leather strap. She insisted on using it on both Tim and Charles.
Charles had felt it before of course, courtesy of his policeman friend. But Tim hadn’t been thrashed for a long time and frankly found the strapping very hard to take. With each blow, Roxy’s glee was apparent. She shouted at Tim that he was a wimp and a girl, as the “Bum Chum” leather strap thrashed down.
Afterwards the three of them were lying naked in Tim’s double bed. Tim and Charles had been telling Roxy about how the thrashing of Ben for speeding had led to all sorts of sexy and disciplinary games, especially with Superintendent Sara Llewelyn.
“I can’t believe I have fallen in with such a bunch of perverts,” she laughed.
“That’s good coming from a sex worker!” PC Johnson replied jokingly.
“I’d like to meet Sara,” said Roxy, thoughtfully. “Do you think she’d take the cane from me?”
“Unlikely, I’d say,” said PC Johnson. “She’s pretty dom. Like so many of my colleagues! What do you think, Charles?”
“Hard to say. She’s full of surprises. I think she and Ben have become quite close. I think you should ask her Tim. If it’s a yes, I’d like to be in the audience!”
“Mmmmm, me too. I must say, I’d like to see her taken down a peg or two. Or a stripe or two. I’ll ask her tonight. Oh yes, I’d certainly like to watch as well…”
“Well if you can arrange it, of course you two pervs can watch. No wanking though!”
And so it was that Roxy and Sara got to meet. Sara had been intrigued when Tim told her about Roxy’s wish. Sara had drawn the line at having an audience though. Especially when one of them was from the junior ranks. At least the two guys could have a wank together…
Roxy gazed into Sara’s eyes.
“So Sara, I hear you have been getting your kicks from caning Ben and Charles. Abusing your position of trust and duty of care. Screwing around as well. Well, I am here to correct your behaviour. You will remove your uniform now!”
Soon Sara was stripped to her bra and panties.
She was unaccustomed to being ordered around, but it felt good to abandon control.
“Bend over!” Roxy ordered. Sara did as she was told only to find Roxy’s hands immediately groping her bottom. Roxy rubbed the cheeks gently for a while, then vigorously, and then delivered a resounding SLAP!
“What a naughty girl you’ve been Sara. I do believe you have been trifling with my friend Tim. That’s PC Johnson to you, of course! And then you have been hanging around with that creepy Charles! And beating his stepson! I think we’ll start with twelve of the best, don’t you?”
“Yes, Roxy. I deserve it”.
“Yes, you certainly do.”
Roxy picked up the cane. It was a beauty. With a beastly bite. She swished it around. The sound was thrilling. She put the cane down and started to strip off her own clothes until she too was just in bra and panties.
“Exceptionally bad behaviour, I’d say. Twelve very hard strokes. On a naked bottom. Get those knickers down for me!”
Once again, Roxy’s wandering hands massaged the bottom on offer to her. Her fingers strayed towards Sara’s arsehole.
“I hear your fingers have been inserted into Ben’s rectum. I think that may require additional punishment from my cane.”
“Yes, Roxy. I shouldn’t have done it, of course.”
“Of course you shouldn’t have! Don’t you think the poor boy was humiliated enough by having his arse thrashed by three different adults?”
“He’s hardly a boy. He’s 23 and all man!”
“And what do you mean by that, Sara?”
“I’ll give you nothing!”
And with that the cane swept down with a SWISH CRACK!
Sara had never been on the receiving end before. It was hell!
Roxy was enjoying this. Sara was not. She couldn’t understand how some people were turned on by being caned. She felt sick.
The caning was relentless. Her arse throbbed and throbbed. The sting was unbearable.
“Arrrgh. No more!”
“Shut up you cruel bitch!” Roxy admonished with a certain hypocrisy.
“Aaaarrrggh. PLEASE! No more!”
SWISH CRACK! SWISH CRACK!
Sara was sobbing and howling. She’d had no idea how much the cane could hurt. She felt guilty about the way she had abused Ben.
“I’m so sorry Roxy. I’ll never lay another finger on Ben.”
“And what about Charles and Tim? They are not your playthings any more either. Do I make myself clear?”
“And this anal fingering business is just disgusting. Whatever were you thinking of?”
“Oh that’s nothing. I think guys enjoy that sort of thing”.
“Well, let’s see if you enjoy that sort of thing, shall we?”
With that, Roxy wiped her finger on Sara’s moist cunt. Roxy then shoved her finger up Sara’s arsehole. Sara was suspiciously quiet. It felt good. It felt even better as Roxy moved her finger around and around and in and out!
“Six more with the cane!” Roxy announced suddenly. Somehow that would feel less good…
Story © Rod Cayenne, 2011
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2011. Adults only!
“What’s the matter, not expecting me?”
“Er no, not really. My stepdad’s not here”.
“Oh well, never mind. You going to let me in then, sonny?”
“Oh yes, of course, come right in”.
“So, Ben have you been behaving yourself?”
“Make yourself comfortable, Superintendent. I’ve certainly been trying to behave better. You know, those canings certainly made me focus. All the same, I don’t think that it’s fair that I endured those three thrashings when Wayne and Barry got off with fines and driving bans.”
“Life’s not fair, Ben. In the police you see all sorts of horrifying and unfair things. I’m not here to discuss your friends. But for what it’s worth, we are keeping a good eye on them and if they step out of line again they will get a nasty, nasty shock! All the same, you do seem to have a bit of a chip on your shoulder about it.”
“So would you, if you’d had 90 strokes of the cane!”
“See what I mean! You need to lose that grudge and that attitude, don’t you Ben? Fetch both of the canes!”
“Oh no!” Ben’s face flushed and he was on the verge of tears, “I didn’t mean it!”
“Oh yes you did! Now listen to me, Ben. You are a handsome young man. Foolish but handsome. I’m going to give you a caning as a reminder and if you take it well, then I suggest we go and celebrate in your bed. How does that sound?”
“Errrr sounds great, thank you, thank you! I’ll go and get the canes, thanks!”
He rushed upstairs and got the canes from the cupboard. The Superintendent was hot stuff but even he couldn’t believe he was so keen. This could make all the suffering worthwhile!
“Good boy. You can call me Sara. Now get all those clothes off. Except for your left sock.”
What’s with the sock thing again? Ben was puzzled. He wasn’t going to spoil things by asking though!
“OK Ben. Looking good. Nice and stiff, I see.”
She grabbed the stiff cock and pumped it a few times.
“Actually Ben, I’ve changed my mind. I think we’ll stick to Superintendent while the cane is in action,” her voice hardened as she flexed the canes. “Is that clear?”
“Er yes, Superintendent!”
“OK then Ben. Just a gentle reminder. Just twelve with this junior cane, I think,” she smiled sweetly.
Ben sighed with relief but it was short-lived as she then laughed and said, “And twelve with the senior to finish off!”
Ben wondered if she was some sort of psycho and whether entertaining her more than absolutely necessary was wise. The die was cast however, and all he could do was bend over the arm of the sofa. He thrust his arse upwards ready for the first stroke, not sure whether he was dreading or craving it.
The cane struck his bare cheeks. He squealed. He’d forgotten how much the cane stung.
She was hitting hard. Her panties were getting moist and she was looking forward to a romp in bed with Ben. She had come to admire his body. She had come to beat the hell out of it.
Meanwhile a little further down the road Ben’s stepfather Charles was lying in bed with PC Tim Johnson. Tim was wearing only a black police vest. Charles was as naked as the day he was born.
“Ah, that’ll be Roxy!”
“Who the fuck is Roxy?” asked Charles, somewhat alarmed.
“The girl with the sexy arse from the fetish shop. I gave her a key. She’s delivering a couple of canes. For your bottom! I promised her she could watch.”
Story and photo © Rod Cayenne, 2011
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Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from the happy days of 2011. All of the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
A fortnight had passed since 23-year-old Ben’s thrashing by PC Tim Johnson. Ben was staring out of the window, awaiting the return of his tormentor. He scratched his arse idly. The thrashing had been hell. It had been the worst thing he had ever experienced. More than that, though, it had been thoroughly exciting. Now he faced the second half of his punishment. His stepfather, Charles, had been teasing him mercilessly for the last couple of days.
Ben’s humiliation would be worse this time, as the audience would be larger. PC Johnson would be bringing the Superintendent with him. The Superintendent had agreed to the waiving of all charges if Ben agreed to the 60 strokes of the cane. A police patrol car pulled up outside the house. Ben felt sure some of the neighbours might be in on the secret. But then, he always was a little paranoid. His heart sunk further as PC Johnson and a leggy female police officer got out of the car. Only then did the awful truth dawn on him. The female was the Superintendent!
“Let them in boy,” Charles said to his stepson.
Introductions were made and Superintendent Llewelyn could hardly hide her glee about what she was about to see. She quickly took command of the situation. “Ben I am here because I have agreed to you escaping proceedings if you take 60 strokes of the cane on your naked buttocks. Fetch the cane now and don’t keep me waiting!”
“Bring both the canes, son” stepfather Charles added. “They are hanging in my wardrobe. Hurry up unless you want extras!”
Ben ran up the stairs. He could hear laughter from downstairs. Nervously, he opened the wardrobe and found the canes waiting for him. He quickly took them downstairs as he certainly didn’t want extras. He was keen to get the remaining 30 strokes over and done with.
The Superintendent spoke, “Ben, you will take 30 strokes today, and 30 more in a fortnight.”
“But I’ve already had 30 strokes. Two weeks ago!”
“Well, that maybe so but I didn’t see them did I? I have to witness all 60 strokes. Think yourself lucky you are getting off so lightly. If you’ve really had some strokes before, you can regard them as a warm-up.” Tim and Charles chuckled out loud.
“SHUT UP! Unless you want to go down to the station, perhaps?”
“No, it’s OK.”
“Good. That’s better. I like an obedient boy!”
Tim held the door open as Charles brought in one of the tall stools from the breakfast bar. The Superintendent was playing with the canes, swishing and flexing them. Ben was almost crying. His sentence had been increased by 30 strokes and now he was worried that he would be caned by the the female.
“Over the stool” she commanded. She unbelted his jeans and pulled them right down. Roughly she yanked his briefs down too. All was revealed to her. The naked arse and a semi-erect cock. She gently rubbed the naked cheeks, then a rapid SMACK – SMACK – SMACK as she spanked them unexpectedly. Ben’s shame was complete, and his penis stiffened further.
“PC Johnson will do the honours. Tim, I want all 30 strokes to be with this junior cane. It won’t mark as much as the senior, which is to be regretted, but the sting should be much worse.” She smiled sadistically. “I want all 30 strokes delivered quickly without a break. The pain should build up nicely for young Ben here. Ben, I want no nonsense from you. You are to hang onto the bottom rung of the stool. Is that clear?”
“Yes Superintendent,” Ben said submissively.
One – Two – Three. Ben was already yelping.
Four – Five – Six. He was grunting and sighing. He was bucking and kicking, too.
“Ben – that’s enough of that behaviour! You will be still under the cane or else. I am thinking extras already,” she laughed.
“No, I’m sorry I will behave,” Ben assured her.
Seven – Eight – Nine – Ten – Eleven – Twelve – “AAARRRGGGHHH” shouted Ben.
“Last warning Ben! Are you sure you’ve had the cane before? You are acting like a little child. Carry on Tim, make them hard ones.”
PC Johnston resumed the caning with renewed gusto. He had a big grin as he slashed the cane down on the naked bottom before him. Thirteen. Charles was also looking happy and lusting after both Superintendent Llewelyn and Tim. How horny they looked in their black uniforms. Fourteen – Fifteen – Sixteen – Seventeen – Eighteen – Nineteen – Twenty.
“Last ten now Ben. I am really enjoying this. Make them extra hard Tim!”
Ben couldn’t believe she was asking for the strokes to be even harder. What a bitch, he thought.
21 – 22 – 23. Ben was gasping now. She was right, the junior cane stung much more intensely. 24 – 25 – 26. “OWWWWW!”
27 and 28 were the hardest yet and 29 and 30 were sliced into him as cross strokes. He was crying heavily.
“Very good, Ben. Bit of a tough nut aren’t you?” she said winking at Tim and Charles. “More of the same in a fortnight then. I will then decide if you’ve had sufficient punishment to waive all the charges. Now let us have a good look at that bottom of yours. Ah. A bit of a mess isn’t it?”
Ben was crying but still bent over the stool. His agony was being prolonged. Another 30 strokes and then she might think he needs some more! This was terrible.
Ben was further humiliated as Superintendent Llewelyn thrust her middle finger right up his arsehole. A minute or so later, stepfather Charles couldn’t resist doing the same. Tim was a little more reserved but indulged in a good feel of the hot fleshy buttocks that he had enjoyed thrashing minutes before.
Content © Rod Cayenne, 2011
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2011 with some minor revisions. All the characters are age 18 or over. Suitable for adults only.
The two men set off back with a view to beating 23-year-old Ben. Charles reflected on events. The original plan had been for them both to discipline Ben. Now, however, it seemed that Tim had muscled in and would be doing all the caning. Perhaps Charles would get a chance to discipline Ben once this speeding business was out of the way? Worse, Tim’s commanding ways had resulted in Charles bending over for a caning himself. Even worse, Charles had enjoyed it and the throbbing and pain in his arse was a reminder of that.
As they approached the house, Charles said, “Why don’t we take Ben for a ride to the prison to really scare him?”
“Good idea, we’ll pass the police station on the way,” said Tim.
“I’ll wait in the car shall I?”
“OK then, I’ll just unlock it for you.”
After what seemed like ages Charles emerged from the house, followed by a very sheepish-looking Ben. Tim noted that Charles had given the mobile phone back to Ben. The lad was clutching at it like it was a long lost lover.
“Hello Ben. Who’s been a naughty boy then?”
“Er, hello Sir. I’m very, very sorry for what I’ve done.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are. Get in the back of the car and keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir. Where are we going?”
“I SAID SHUT IT!”
Ben blushed furiously and stared at his feet.
“Charles, can you stop at the police station for a minute please? I need to call in, there’s something I’ve forgotten.”
They pulled up outside the station. Tim nipped inside but he wasn’t long. He climbed back into the car.
“Next stop, HM Prison Greydale, I think, Charles.”
They pulled up outside the prison and all got out. Charles and Tim were chatting to each other at length. Ben surveyed the prison walls and the dark forbidding doors. It was a Victorian prison and it looked absolutely horrible.
“How do you fancy calling this place home then, Ben?” Charles said to him. “Tim hasn’t been able to arrange a visit for us, but of course you maybe seeing it inside soon, anyway”.
Ben’s eyes moistened.
“Yes it’s pretty grim in there, Ben. A guy in his early twenties could be a real attraction to some of the older predatory inmates, if you get my drift,” said Tim. “It’s a shame there isn’t time to organise a guided tour of the place. It’s full of history. There is even a whipping post.”
“Let’s head back. We have a lot to talk about,” said Charles.
“Sorry to be a pain, but I will need to pop into the station again,” Tim informed them both.
“That’s OK, Tim. Duty calls, eh? I’m sure Ben won’t mind waiting, will you?”
Ben shook his head. He was just glad to get away from the dark, satanic prison. While Tim was back in the police station, Charles and Ben talked.
“You know my feelings about discipline, don’t you Ben? What a shame that whipping post is out of commission, because that’s what you, Barry and Wayne deserve.”
“I only wish it was that easy,” Ben sighed.
Charles thought to himself, “Caught in the trap!”
Back at the house the three men went into the living room. It was time for the serious chat.
Charles started, “Ben we have been to the prison. You didn’t like the look of the place did you? Although maturely, you regretted the passing of the whipping post.”
Tim then took over, “I’ve spoken to the Superintendent. We have agreed that if you take a whipping from me, you will escape the charges. But it will have to be severe. On your bare bottom”.
Charles added, “But we are not cruel men. We won’t be using a whip on you. Instead we will use these two school canes I found when I was clearing out your Uncle’s place. Heaven knows what he used them for, but I’m glad I didn’t throw them away. Do you agree to this?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” said Ben, looking very remorseful.
“No, not really. Unless you fancy the slammer?”
“No, I don’t. So, six of the best then?” said Ben.
“No!” said Tim taking over. “You were doing sixty, so the Super and I have decided that sixty strokes would be appropriate. Your step-father agrees.”
“Sixty? I’d never be able to cope with that!”
Charles added, “As I said, we’re not cruel men. We will split it into two sessions of thirty, a fortnight apart. The Superintendent had planned to join us as a witness but that will have to wait until next time.”
“OK, OK, but I just know I’m going to regret this!”
“What you should be regretting is speeding and endangering life!”
“Now go to your room. We’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Charles and Tim sat on the sofa and laughed to themselves. “So all thirty to be bare?”
“Yes why not? We might as well get the maximum pleasure from our little game.”
“Yes, it’s going to be fun. I hope he is a real wimp about it.”
“No way of knowing, really. Bring the canes, let’s go and get started!”
Up in the room, Ben was gazing out of the window. But even that was little comfort to him, for there on the hill in the distance was the prison. His eyes moistened as he dwelt upon his comeuppance. Then he heard the two men coming up the stairs, still laughing. How cruel they were, despite their claims to be otherwise.
“Well my boy, I think we’ll have those trousers off. And the briefs. Might as well take your top off, too. And your socks!”
Ben was really ashamed now that he was completely naked. Worse, he felt an erection coming on.
“Yes, exciting isn’t it?” said Tim, noticing the proud stiffy immediately. “It’s not every lad who gets his arse caned by a policeman. You are a very lucky boy. Bend over. There will be thirty strokes. Eighteen with this cane, which is apparently known as a junior cane, and twelve with the thicker senior cane which Charles is holding.”
Crack! Crack! Crack! Three whippy strokes, not too harsh, but then Tim got into his stride laying on nine more strokes of increasingly harsh intensity.
“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH,” Ben cried and huffed. He wriggled like a girl as the cane whipped down harshly.
“OK stand up a minute, Ben. I want to see if that erection has gone”.
It had. Ben was crying real tears after these first twelve strokes.
“Right over again! Six more with the junior cane”.
“There. Learning our lesson are we boy? Laws are there to be obeyed. People are to be respected. Speed limits are there for a reason!”
Charles had been quiet until this point. “Stay down Ben while I check your bottom.” He gave it a most thorough check. It was something he had never had the opportunity to do before. He was smoothing the flesh, kneading the flesh, feeling the ridges. He even probed the arsehole with just the tip of his finger. He withdrew his finger and sniffed it nonchalantly, saying, “He can take a lot more punishment, Tim. Twelve really hard ones with the senior cane. Make him yelp.”
“OK Ben. Final twelve for today. With the senior cane. You will count these like this: One Sir, Two Sir. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes Sir, perfectly clear.”
“AAARRRGH. Three Sir!”
“Only just in time there boy, keep up!”
“AAAAAAAAHHHH, four Sir.”
“SIX SIR!” he shouted.
“OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Seven Sir.”
“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHH . Eight, Sir.”
“Nine, Sir, oh please…”
“Flagging a little are we boy?”
“Well tough! This one will be harder!”
And so it was, and at an angle so that it crossed many of the marks of the previous strokes.
“OWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Eleven Sir!”
Another mean cross stroke followed…
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGH! Twelve Sir”.
The lad had taken it comparatively well. Too well. Charles and Tim were a tad disappointed, although the caning had been thoroughly entertaining for both. Ben was less entertained and lay on the bed arse upwards crying quietly.
“Same time in a fortnight lad,” Tim said. Step-father Charles smiled and sniffed his finger once more. He rubbed his arse, thinking about the caning he himself had not long ago received and looked fondly at policeman Tim.
Story © 2011, by Rod Cayenne
Photos © Rod Cayenne
Comments from the original 2011 post are here
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2011.
“Ben, at 23 don’t you think that you’re a bit old to be racing your mates? PC Johnson says you were doing 60 in a 30 zone! You know, we are lucky to have him as a neighbour. He reckons he might be able to get you off the chargesheet but Barry and Wayne may not be so lucky. He’s coming over tonight to talk to us about it. This is all unofficial, of course. I don’t want you to talk to your mates about it until you and I have discussed it with Tim. By the way, I don’t want you to call him Tim. PC Johnson or Sir will be fine. Now I want you to go to your room and remain incommunicado. So give me your phone. I’ve already unplugged the wireless connection.”
“You’re treating me like a big kid!”
“As your step-father, I have a duty of care. If you act like a kid you will learn the consequences. PC Johnson and I have an idea which could get you out of trouble. You know, you could end up in prison for this. You are – excuse my language – in deep, deep shit. So give me your phone now!”
“Hello Tim. Charles here. Yes, it’s all going to plan. I’m calling on his phone. No sense in running up my bill. I’ve got the canes. I bought them at that fetish shop you recommended. I’m going to tell him I found them in his Uncle’s place when I went to clear it out the other day. Can I come over with them now? We’ll need to practice on some cushions if we are going to be able to give him the hiding he deserves.”
“Ben. I’m going out for a few minutes. You are to stay in your room. I’ve got your phone so don’t go looking for it. I’ve also got the wifi box.”
“Oh OK. I suppose.”
Very soon after that, Charles arrived at PC Tim Johnson’s. Tim came to the door still in his uniform. They shook hands and both of them laughed, “Tim. I think we’ve got him. He’s sulking already. Mainly because he’s stuck in his room without phone and internet. Still, I guess he can always have a wank or two to relieve the boredom!”
“Charles you really are a beast to him. Still he does deserve it! Show me the canes, then.”
“Here you go. I bought two. A junior and a senior, the girl in the shop said”.
“Was it the kinky-looking one with the heavy make-up?”
“Yep I’ll say, and an arse you’d just love to stick your tongue in. Anyway, I’m not too sure about these canes she sold me. They don’t look up to much if you ask me.”
Tim frowned. “I’m not asking you about it Charles. Just remember who’s in charge here. You really do have no idea about this business, do you? These will actually be quite severe. Let me put a cushions on the arm of the sofa and I’ll try a few strokes. There, that should do.”
“One!” Dust flew everywhere.
“Very nice. Very, very nice. Should make quite an impression. Hand me the senior one, will you?”
“Excellent, truly excellent! These will have him yelping, no doubt. Reminds me of my schooldays.”
“Are you sure they’ll hurt much? I didn’t get the cane at school, so I’ve really no idea.”
“No, that’s the problem isn’t it Charles? As I said before, you really have no idea, do you? I suggest you take one stroke of each cane to get a feel for it.”
“No, no, I couldn’t possibly. You’re having a laugh. It wouldn’t be right”
“Nonsense, Charles. We are friends, aren’t we? Just bend over here now! Hurry up. I’m waiting!”
“Well. I’m not sure. OK, but it must be our secret. Don’t be too hard on me!”
“Charles, I really am fed up with your silly attitude. You need to know how much this will hurt. Therefore I will have to cane as hard as I propose Ben should get it. Now, you can keep your pants on, but drop your trousers! Over you go. NOW!”
“First, the junior cane. Here it comes…”
“AAAARGH SHIT! OWWWW, that bloody hurt!”
“Language, Charles, GET BACK DOWN NOW! You wanted to try it and now you are leaping around like a kid clutching your arse! Get back down.”
“Sorry Tim. It was quite a shock. Just what Ben needs though. OK, I’m ready for the senior cane now.”
“Good. Now bend over. If you jump up, you will have to take it again! Ready?”
“OWWWWWWWWW, OH, that thing’s a killer!”
“Yes I bet it is. But you’ve got up without permission, so we’re going to repeat it now.”
“Eh? I didn’t jump up, did I? Oh, alright.”
“No, it’s not all right! And now you’ve argued with me so it’s going to be two extras now. BARE! PANTS DOWN! NO ARGUMENTS! RIGHT OFF! Good boy. Now bend over. Here comes number one.”
“SHUT UP. Take it like a man. Ready?”
“OK, you can get up now and rub your arse if you want. You make a good schoolboy. So how was it for you? Just right for Ben?”
“Oh Boy! I must admit that was quite a thrill. I mean, painful! I’m just worried that Ben might, er, enjoy it in some sort of perverse way.”
“Charles, you mean you did? Tut, tut.”
“Well, I don’t know. I mean it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Phew, my bottom’s sore though.”
“Charles, I’m not sure what to make of all this. Did you really enjoy that? How many strokes do you think we should give Ben?”
“I think twelve maybe. Six with the junior and six with the senior!”
“No, no, no, Charles! You are too soft. That lad was doing SIXTY and could have killed somebody.”
“How many then?”
“I would say sixty miles means sixty strokes! Maybe split into two or three sessions.”
“Or five of twelve.”
“No, no. We want it to hurt. Twelve is too few for one session. We don’t want him enjoying it. Like you seem to!”
“I really don’t know. I’m a bit confused by all of this as well.”
“Perhaps I should give you a few more strokes of the senior to see how you feel after that. Shall we make it the round dozen – so eight more for you?”
“OK but I must be mad. Can I pull my underwear back up?”
“No, I don’t think so. Once the pants are down they should stay that way. I think Ben’s hidings will have to be bare arse, don’t you?”
“Well maybe not for the first stroke or two, but after that, definitely. He needs beating and he needs it hard.”
“Glad to see you are hardening your attitude. That Ben has had it too soft for too long if you ask me. Anyway, enough of this chatter. Bend over! I want you to count these strokes out loud! Call me Sir!”
“AAAARRRGGHH. Three Sir.”
“Stick your arse out more, boy!”
“AAAARGH. Four Sir.”
“OWWWWWWWW. Five Sir!”
“OUCH. Seven Sir.”
“OWWWW. Eight Sir”
“Well done, Charles. I needed the practice. You took those well. Apart from the noise, that is!”
“Well it wasn’t easy, I can tell you!”
“Maybe not, but then why do I get the funny feeling you could benefit from regular thrashings? After all, you have let Ben down by not being strict enough in the past.”
“You’re right, of course. Let’s talk about that later. As long as Ben doesn’t find out that I am getting my arse tanned. That wouldn’t do his discipline any good would it?”
“No I guess not. Anyway, time you got up and got dressed. We need to go and sort out Ben. Do you want me to keep my uniform on?”
“Oh yes please! That would be good. Put the frighteners up him. I’ve told him he’s in deep shit and that we may be able to do him a favour and keep him out of prison!”
“Haha, very good. Don’t forget the canes…”
Story and photo © Rod Cayenne, 2011
Model: Rod Cayenne
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Comments from the original 2011 post are here.
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Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012…
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
Comments from the original 2012 post are here
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Brand spanking new fiction by author 11plus. All the characters are aged 18 or over!
“This is really rather good. You should try to get it published. I could type it up for you, if you like,” said Julie Smith, as I gazed into her blue eyes. Of course, it was her knickers I really wanted to gaze into.
“Have you got a typewriter at home then?” I asked, “After all, I’m not sure you should type it up here at school.”
“Mum’s got a fancy new electric typewriter. She doesn’t mind me using it.”
“Well, that’s a very kind offer,Julie. Thank you. I’d like that very much. And do let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, won’t you?” So it was that I left the smudgy manuscript of ‘I Drink The Blood Of Sixteen Virgins’ with her.
The following day, I found myself waiting in the gloomy corridor outside the headmaster’s polished oak door. I was nervous and scared. I wasn’t sure what the problem was, but he seemed terribly angry with me. He’d told me to report to his study ‘within the hour’. But he wasn’t there. What did he want to see me about? Eventually, he came ambling along, smoking, with a chipped mug of tea in his hand. He ushered me into the room, followed me in and then asked me to close the door. He dripped tea over the floor. The stink of stale and fresh cigarette smoke was overwhelming.
It was then that I saw two things that horrified me. On his desk was the manuscript I’d given to Julie. And then right next to it was a crook-handled school cane! It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and end up with six of the best! Even a poor Maths scholar like me could see the inevitable conclusion.
The headmaster picked up my work, saying, “Not very bright of you to autograph this, Hughes! How dare you write this filth, and then bring it into school! And to leave it lying around in the sixth form girls’ study. Surely you know that’s out of bounds, even to senior boys?”
“I’m sorry Sir. I lost track of it. I’ll take it home. It was meant as a fun piece. Not so much a novella, more of a bodice ripper, Sir!”
“A bodice ripper, eh? What a quaint term. However, this is clearly a satanic effort, Hughes. And this is a Christian school, I hardly need to remind you. Clearly, I need to beat the devil out of you. With my bottom ripper!”
“Listen lad! I know what you’re going to say. Let me guess now. You’re too old for the cane. You’re 18, an adult. However, I’m a firm believer that no-one, let alone an upper sixth former, is too old for the cane! Now then. I’ve had a look at your record. Never been beaten before, I see. That’s commendable in some ways. But how long has this filthy story been festering away in your mind? Eh?”
“Lost for words?”
“Yes, Sir. Sorry Sir.”
“Hmmm. Well, really I’d like to give you sixteen strokes of the cane, one for each virgin defiled in your filthy story. But I’m not allowed to impose that many. So, perhaps half, that is to say eight would be appropriate.”
“However, if you agree to me destroying this filth, I will reduce the sentence to six of the best. Six of the very, very best. I’m being lenient. Well, what do you say? Well? Hurry up!”
“Thank you Sir. Please destroy it.”
“Good!” With that he tore the A4 pages in half, top to bottom. He then proceeded to rip the paper into smaller pieces. Once he had finished, he chuckled and piled the scraps into his large glass ashtray. Then to my astonishment, he lit up another cigarette and then used the match to burn the paper scraps. I was worried that the maniac would set the study on fire, but he monitored the smouldering scraps carefully, stubbing out the fires with the tip of his cigarette. He soon lost interest, and left the charred scraps alone. “I feel better already,” he said, leering menacingly at me, “I could let you off I suppose. Yes, I could. I could, but I won’t. You need to be taught a lesson!”
With that, he picked up the cane and started swishing it through the air. I didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Right lad. Take your jacket off, hang it over there. That’s it. Then over the chair!” He pointed to the grey leather chair. “Lean over the back. That’s it. Right over. Up on your toes. Stick your bottom out more. Hold still! Here it comes now!”
With an almighty crack the cane landed on my thin grey trousers at lightning speed and with an unbelievably venomous sting. The chair moved with the force of the blow. That sting! Oh, so this was what a caning was like. It was hell! Strangely, I felt my bottom willing me on, so I thrust my arse out, goading the sick old man to do his very worst. Which he did, landing a crisp and cutting second stroke in almost the same place as the first one. The pain multiplied, as I gasped with disbelief at the havoc the old man was wreaking, and yet my bottom soon raised up for the next stroke. Thankfully this one landed a little lower, although still blazing away like a wildfire.
Suddenly, he stopped. We were half way through. Waves and waves of pain lapped all over my arse. I was in agony. I was regretting ever having taken pen to paper and vowed to never write anything in the horror genre again.
“Wait there. I want another cigarette,” he informed me. I was about to protest but soon realised that might not be the smartest of ideas. I heard him light up. I just wanted him to get on with my thrashing, but I could hear him puffing away contentedly. I stuck my arse out ready for the next stroke, but the bastard was making me wait and wait. I wiggled my arse, trying to ameliorate the pain as I did so, but he just told me to keep still. Eventually I heard him stub out the ciggie, probably on the remnants of my manuscript.
“Ah, now that was a fine, fine cigarette,” he said, “Nothing more satisfying than the combination of a manly smoke and a good, hard caning!”
He laid into my arse again. The stroke was the lowest yet, cutting into the tender flesh just where arse met thighs. I squealed with shock and pain, utterly humiliated by my bastard headmaster. I wanted it over, but he had stopped again. Surely, he wasn’t going to light up again? I thrust my bottom out provocatively, positively begging for the final two strokes and to bring on the conclusion. It must have worked as I heard the swish and crack of the cane again, releasing new agony and another helpless yelp from yours truly.
I waited and waited for that final stroke. Eventually it came, cracking my grey flannels and causing me to gasp loudly. I shed a few tears too, most embarrassingly.
“Right, you can get up now. I shall be keeping a close eye on you in future, Hughes, my boy. You can expect a fresh, hard caning if you cross my path again! What can you expect boy?”
I couldn’t believe it! As well as humiliating me by caning me black and blue, he now wanted to shame me into repeating his threat! I gave in though, saying, “A fresh, hard caning Sir!”
“Quite so, quite so! Now watch out or it will be with your trousers down next time. Dismissed!”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said submissively, grabbing my blazer from the hook. As I left, I saw that he was filling in the punishment book. I shuddered and was sure that I didn’t want a second entry in there.
I made my way to the toilets and locked myself in a cubicle. I found a biro in my blazer, and was soon adding to the graffiti on the walls. B-A-S-T-A-R-D I wrote, feeling all rebellious. I then dropped my trousers and pants and felt the ridges the cane had left on my arse. An overwhelming urge to masturbate came over me and my rock-hard cock was soon spunking into some toilet paper. The cum was creamy and hot, but not as hot as my arse. Immediately feeling a bit better, I flushed the evidence away and then wrote the words C-A-N-E-D H-A-R-D T-O-D-A-Y on the painted wooden door. My experience duly recorded for posterity, it was time to move on!
The lessons that afternoon were hard to concentrate on. My arse throbbed and ached. The hard extruded plastic chairs in the classrooms were harshly unforgiving. There was no comfort to be had, at least not until I got home, I thought. I fancied a cool bath and then maybe another wank or two.
Julie caught up with me as I walked home. She had heard about my caning. You could count on bad news and schadenfreude spreading quickly around the school. She grabbed my arm and asked how I’d got on. “It did hurt, Julie. I can’t deny it. I’d never been caned before and wouldn’t want it again. My bum is so, so sore. The bastard tore up my story too. I’m not sure how he got his hands on it in the first place.”
“Oh, that’s my fault. I must have left it in girls’ study. I’m such a scatterbrain. I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry you got the cane.”
“It’s alright. I’m lucky not to have been caned before, I reckon. Some of the things I’ve got away with!” I was talking my bad boy image up, hoping to impress the sexy minx with my bravado. “I should have had more sense than to bring the story into school in the first place, I suppose. Still, I’ve got the last laugh as I made a carbon copy as I wrote the bloody thing. If you’re still offering, I’d be grateful if you could type it up for me. And as I said, if you do, just let me know if there’s anything I can do in return.”
“Of course I can type it up for you. It’s the least I can do, and actually, there is something you can do for me.”
“You can show me the cane stripes on your bottom.”
Story © MMXVI by 11plus
Photograph of and © Jonathan, R.I.P.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Other stories by 11plus are here and here