WARNING ADULTS ONLY
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author 11plus – strictly over 18s only!
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It had been quite a day at the Sixth Form. All those sexy bodies had teased me into a lust-filled frenzy. Now that I was home, I was turned on like never before. Faster and faster, and ever more franticly, I wanked at my cock. I grunted and groaned and sighed. I was edging ever closer to a real corker of an orgasm. I loved doing it there, sat on the pristine white toilet seat. Suddenly, there was a loud rapping on the bathroom door.
“Hey! What’s going on in there? Gerald! Hurry up, I need the bog!”
Shit! It was my brother, Dan. He was home early and I hadn’t heard him arriving. Just a few years older than me, hunky and bearded, he had been tasked with looking after me while our dad was on tour overseas.
“Hurry up, hurry up! I need to dump!” he shouted.
“OK, OK, just coming!” I replied, quickly composing myself, flushing the toilet, shoving my cock back into my trunks, pulling up my jeans, and zipping myself back into decency. Only my belt remained undone, to save time. “Sorry!” I said as I emerged from the smallest room.
“We’ll talk in a minute! Right now, I’m busy!”
He barged me out of the way, slammed the door and locked it. I could sense that he knew what I’d been doing in there. No doubt my blushed facial features and slightly confused air would have confirmed it to him. Still and all, at least I had warmed the seat for him, a tender mercy on a bitterly cold day like that day.
While he was busy, I laid on my bed. I was worried that I had been rumbled. I did up my belt, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t have to undo it again very soon.
A long while later he emerged, followed by the manly smell of at least one big log sent downstream. The muscled hunk headed off for his bedroom, leaving me to wonder if there would be repercussions from my selfish occupancy of the bathroom. I didn’t have to wonder for long though, as he soon appeared at my door with dad’s cane in his hand.
“Oh Dan! Not the cane again!”
“Yes, the cane again,” he said sternly, rolling up his sleeves, exhibiting his finely muscled arms. “You never learn, do you? I’ve told you before about wanking in the bathroom. It’s strictly verboten. That’s why I put this bolt on your bedroom door, so you could do it in here in peace.”
“Yeah, I know. I told you I’m really grateful for that. Let me off please, I was just in the bathroom when the urge took me over. Surely you remember what it’s like to be eighteen? At least I warmed the seat for you.”
“And I’m going to return the favour by warming your seat for you!”
“Oh Dan!”
“I think, as you keep disobeying me, ten strokes would be appropriate.”
“Ten? Ten? No, you can’t! Dad said never more than six strokes.”
“That was before you were eighteen. I don’t think he’d object if he found out what you’d been doing in his bathroom. In fact, maybe I’ll call him now.”
“No, no, don’t do that! Please. Please. Alright, ten it is. You can do it on the bare.”
“I know I can, so hurry up and get your pants down, and get over the bed!”
I scrambled onto the bed, and hitched my jeans and underwear down for him. It was most undignified. The icy blast of the cold winter air left me in no doubt that my bare bottom was being offered to him for suitable chastisement once again.
“Ten then, Gerald. Try to keep the noise down. Coming now.”
The first stroke is, in many ways, always the worst. It’s always such a shock to the system. My calm, only mildly excited state of mind was immediately jolted into a firestorm of hellish pain. Shit, shit, shit! I knew he would be admiring the cane’s signature red stripe, and probably my hairy arsehole, cock and balls too. Such are the perils of having an older brother. Yes, a brother some seven years older, and schooled in the use of the cane by my father.
The second stroke cut down on to my tender flesh. The burn and sting spread rapidly, mating with the pain of the first stroke. It was all I could do to keep from crying out. Dan had asked me to keep the noise down, but I felt sure he would break me. The most I’d ever had off Dad had been eight strokes, but my brother was promising me more. I was hoping against hope that it was one promise he wouldn’t keep.
The third stroke whipped down viciously. Indeed, it felt more like a whip than a cane to me, but that was probably my imagination running riot. Anyway, running riot seemed to be what Dan was doing with that damned cane! He slashed it down again and again.
The sixth stroke brought new misery. It hurt really badly, but the worst thing about it was my awareness that this was where a normal caning would have finished. I fidgeted nervously. Dan placed his hand on my lower back, pushing me back into position gently.
“Just four more, brother. You can take them. You’re doing really well.”
He seemed to be trying to be nice to me, which was a fairly ridiculous notion, as he had the wicked cane to hand. Anyway, I didn’t like him speaking to me like that at all. In fact, I felt well and truly patronised. The seventh stroke was a real killer, causing me to slump down on the bed with a loud howl of pain. Right on cue, Dan cackled with undisguised delight. What a bastard!
“Get back up! I spoke too soon, didn’t I Gerald?”
“Sheesh, yes you did! Do you have to do it so hard?”
Dan cackled again as he lashed the cane down again, saying, “There’s your answer!”
The bastard hurt me really badly and he knew it. He cracked the final two strokes down much more quickly. I wasn’t sure whether that was a mercy or sheer sadism. My arse was criss-crossed with fire from the rattan cane. I sobbed quietly and slumped down again. I wanted him to go. I hoped he wouldn’t say anything else, but of course, that was a hope in vain.
“That’s your lot. Don’t do it again or it will be at least a dozen. I expect you want to finish off now, don’t you? This time, try to remember to bolt the door.”
I was so, so ashamed. He could read me like a book. Of course I would want to climax! I had been so close before, but he had interrupted me. I’d leave it a few minutes, though. My red raw arse was in serious need of some massage before I could move my attention round to the front. That had been one hell of a caning, but I was now beginning to enjoy the afterglow as I laid tummy down on my single bed.
Later on as I masturbated, I forgot about my school friends and instead thought about my brother caning me. I fantasised that he also kissed me long and hard. I imagined my face becoming sore from prolonged contact with his bristly beard. Then I imagined him caning me hard once again. I pictured his muscled arms and the cane gripped tightly in his large right hand. I wondered when he had last been caned. I wondered whether he had enjoyed it. I felt sure that he enjoyed caning me. After all, it seemed to happen every week or so. I wondered to myself why it seemed as if I enjoyed being caned. Did I want more? Did I want it harder? My cock was rock hard and seemed thicker than ever before. I was peaking and I came noisily. Thick spurts of hot white cum splashed onto my chest and my bed. Then I remembered that I hadn’t bolted the bedroom door! Oh no!
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXV by 11plus, used here by very kind permission
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!
I married my wife Alison after a whirlwind romance. She was still at University, while I worked in a garage close by. I did not meet her father until a few days before the wedding. I was immediately in awe of him. Robert Black, a police sergeant, a well-built man around six foot tall and weighing sixteen stone with not an ounce of fat on him; he was solid muscle. He unnerved me as his cold blue eyes penetrated me. I felt he disapproved of our relationship and was not very happy that I would be taking his daughter away from him. He was very overbearing and on that first meeting, although I was polite, was secretly pleased that I would have very little to do with him.
My wife is the middle of three children and the only girl. Her brothers, Mark and Gary were twenty three and eighteen respectively when we married, while Alison and I were twenty. Her brothers were as tall as their Father though built more slightly. Their mother had left many years before leaving all three in their Father’s care. Although Robert loved his children dearly he was very strict and the boys received regular discipline whenever they disobeyed him; even when they were no longer boys. At the wedding I could tell both were very wary of their Father, though at the time I had no idea why.
It was almost a year after we were married when things suddenly changed. Alison had finished her degree just as I lost my job. However as a motor mechanic it would be reasonably easy for me to find another one. Alison longed to return to her hometown to be closer to her family. After much debate and quite a few arguments we decided to give it a go. Her Dad was insistent we moved in to the big house with him and the boys while we saved up enough money to buy a place of our own. So somewhat reluctantly I agreed. We gave notice on our rented flat and moved back to my wife’s home town and family home.
Robert greeted us at the door, throwing his arms around Alison; he was so pleased to have the apple of his eye back home. While clear he was pleased to have his daughter back, my reception was between cold and frosty. At dinner that evening we sat down with the boys to enjoy a full roast which had been prepared by the daily, Mrs Wilkinson, who had worked for the family for many years. Gary and Mark were polite and respectful to Alison and me. It was obvious that my wife and her father adored one another and they dominated the conversation until we started on pudding. Robert suddenly turned to Gary.
You and I need to have a talk in my study after dinner. Come up at eight thirty son.
Yes sir
, he said, bowing his head. Mark also put his head down and for a few minutes the conversation went quiet. I had no idea what was going on but there seemed to be some tension over the upcoming meeting.
After dinner we went into the lounge while her Father made his way upstairs. The boys were nowhere to be seen so as we relaxed on the sofa, I asked Alison what was going on and why Gary seemed so nervous at meeting his Dad.
Oh, he will be getting a caning
, she said matter of factly. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.
What! You are joking right? He is nineteen years old, not nine.
The boys have always been punished by my father in that manner. Even Mark still bends over if he does anything wrong. You had better watch out darling! He might want to put a few stripes on your bottom if you are naughty.
At that moment I heard a thwipp and crack followed by a howl. I realised she was not joking. Gary was actually being caned. I had been over the Heads desk at school on a few occasions so the experience was not uncommon to me. What I could not get my head around was that Gary was a grown man, not a boy.
I listened to the strokes landing, with each succeeding one the cries became more vocal. After the tenth stroke it stopped, and a few minutes later I heard two doors close before it all fell silent. Alison seemed totally unperturbed at the evenings action, but my mind was in turmoil. What I could not understand though, was why the event had turned me on! My cock was rampant, so shortly after we went to our room, stripped down and Alison and I made passionate love.
As I thrust in and out of her tight juicy quim, the image of her Father wielding a cane across my arse went through my mind. Soon my loins emptied inside her and we both moaned in ecstasy as our lovemaking reached its inevitable climax. Lying beside her in the warm afterglow I brought the subject back to Gary’s caning and the evening’s events.
Darling, anyone would think it had turned you on! Do you like the idea of being caned? Maybe I could get daddy to cane your naughty bottom for you Jamie
, she said teasingly.
Just the thought of it got me excited, so very soon I was ready again, thrusting my rampant cock deep inside her.
The following morning I came out of our bedroom and caught a glimpse of Gary going into the bathroom. He was naked, so from the back I got a full view of his black and blue backside. The stripes were livid and swollen, it looked so sore. He turned to close the door and spotted me standing there. He was really embarrassed, quickly went and closed the door. He was obviously angry I had seen him like that.
The incident stayed in my memory for a long time; hearing the cane striking, the howls, and the sight of his arse the next morning. For some reason I began to find my father-in-law attractive. He was big and strong and the thought of him wielding the rod of correction really gave me the horn. The image of him thrashing me in his police uniform would really send me over the edge.
About two weeks after Gary’s caning I came home from my new job and caught sight of the next incident. That afternoon I had finished early, as I had to go and register with a new GP. The first thing I heard as I entered the house was the swish and crack of the cane echoing down the stairs. I took off my shoes and made my way slowly upstairs. As my eye line reached the top step I had a clear view into the office which was straight ahead and the door was only half open. I could barely believe the sight before me. This time Mark was over the desk, his big hairy backside was on full display, trousers and underpants bunched around his ankles, his shirt halfway up his back and his buttocks proudly displaying a set of livid stripes which were starting to swell, across the exposed skin. As I watched I saw my father-in-law line up the cane and strike again. The buttocks quivered as they absorbed the stroke and Mark yelled out in agony. I counted the stripes; he was sporting eight burning welts.
I watched a further four strokes land across the already sore buttocks. I was shocked; but excited. My cock was swelling rapidly as I drank in the sight before me. As the last stroke burned its angry way across Mark’s arse Robert turned round and spotted me looking.
Enjoy the show did you young Jamie? Watch out, that one is for free. If I catch you spying again I will have you in here for some of this
, he said, flexing the cane.
I quickly rushed off to my room. I should have been really annoyed at that statement but instead my cock was dripping pre cum as I thought of what I could be in for. I lay on the bed and took my prick out giving it a few pulls till my sack emptied into the tissue I had ready. Feeling relieved I replayed what I had just witnessed in my mind’s eye. I don’t know why, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be bending over for that cane. The thought of it got me really excited.
Over the coming weeks I thought more and more about Robert caning my arse. It was becoming an obsession. At dinner one night he announced that Gary was due another meeting in the study. Alison was out with her friends. I waited till I heard the first swish then slowly made my way upstairs. Once again the door was open, with Gary bent over the table his bare arse in full view. Two vicious welts were swelling across his cheeks while the cane was being lined up for the third. I made my way to our bedroom and could not wait to get my cock out. I listened to the swish and crack of the cane while I masturbated furiously. On the ninth stroke my cock exploded, shooting semen all over the bed sheets. I lay there spent as I heard the door close. Gary’s room was next to ours and through the wall I could hear him gently sobbing. Suddenly, the door burst open and Robert stood looking at me as I lay there my cock still dripping cum.
Enjoy that Jamie did you?
I quickly grabbed my pants to cover up but Robert just smiled and said, I think we need to have a discussion in my study young man. Be there in five minutes.
He turned and left.
Once he had gone I got off the bed and covered up properly, my cock still moist with semen. I straightened my hair then slowly slipped my jeans back down before turning my back to the mirror to examine my still lily white cheeks which I knew would soon be inflamed and striped by the cane. I was already getting excited at the thought of it.
I pulled them up and crossed over to the study. The door was open and my father-in-law was sitting behind his desk, on top of which lay a slender punishment cane, similar to the one I had felt at school years back.
Right now young Jamie, we need to have a little discussion about your general behaviour. You live under my roof now and over the last few weeks you have shown little appreciation of my generosity. As you are well aware, when Mark or Gary overstep the mark they get to feel this across their backsides. It is quite amazing really how this changes a young man’s arrogant behaviour. As my son-in-law I see no reason why you should not be dealt with in the same way as my sons.
He went on, Your attitude has been rather surly and you have behaved in a less than courteous manner to both me and your wife. And as for your masturbating whenever you see one of the boys caned, words fail me! So, the choice is yours. Drop your trousers and get over this desk or I will have to tell Alison about your dirty little habit. Which is it to be?
But she is going to see the stripes anyway, what am I going to tell her?
You can tell her that your general attitude has been less than expected, unacceptably so. As such I gave you a choice; a caning or to move out. You agreed to take the cane rather than lose your home. She will believe that.
My stomach was doing somersaults as I contemplated the next few minutes. It had been almost seven years since I had last bent over for the cane in my Headmaster’s office. I had always wanked afterwards; but on this occasion my prick was already swelling! I unbuckled the belt before slipping my jeans down to my ankles. My underpants followed the southward journey landing in a heap on top of my jeans. I slowly bent over the desk and stretched across the surface taking a grip of the far edge.
Robert was behind me tapping my naked cheeks with the cane.
I think eight strokes as this is your first time, Jamie. In future you can expect the full dozen.
I heard the cane swish then felt it crack across my arse. I lost my breath as the white heat of the first stroke zipped across my buttocks. The cane was tapping again before I heard the second swish. This time my voice returned and I let out a yell. As the strokes lashed across my bottom leaving line after searing line of agony my eyes filled with water and began to fall down my face. I had always thought my Headmaster knew how to lay on a cane; compared to my father-in-law he must have been an amateur. The sixth stroke landed right in the crease causing me even more misery. I felt him change direction and tap diagonally, my cheeks were already aflame. Suddenly I felt the lash, crossing all the previous welts, he changed direction again lashed the last one in the opposite direction leaving a large X over the first six stripes.
I laid over the desk sobbing as he put the cane down.
You can stand up Jamie.
I stood up and reached round to feel the swollen ridges across my poor bottom, unable to let go of my inflamed cheeks.
Right then Jamie, from now on you know what to expect if your attitude or behaviour is unacceptable. I hope you will learn to control your attitude and urges. Now go to your room.
I pulled my underpants over the scalded flesh and gently raised my jeans just high enough to allow me to waddle from the room. Taking shorts steps, everyone an agony, I somehow managed to make my way back to our room. As I opened the door I realised Gary was watching me from his doorway. He turned around dropped his pants and gave me the full moon, showing his own ridged buttocks. I was amazed to find that despite the fire burning fiercely I was getting hard. Despite what had happened earlier I whipped out my prick ready to play with it when I heard the front door shut. Alison was home.
Within a minute she burst into the room a big smile on her face.
Hi Baby, have you had a pleasant evening?
She saw the pain etched across my face as she closed the door. She beamed at me.
Has Daddy smacked your bottom for you? I know that look well enough; I have seen Mark and Gary with that expression many times in the past.
I nodded.
So he has finally caned you! Daddy always does what I want.
What!
Yes Jamie, it has been quite obvious that you wanted him to cane you. I saw how you reacted when Gary was caned, and then daddy told me you were excited as you watched Mark take his punishment the other week. Let me have a look at the stripes.
I was lost for words, in a trance I turned over,wincing in pain. She peeled my undies down to examine the marks.
He is still pretty good, but he does get plenty of practice.
Alison reached into the drawer and suddenly I felt some cold cream being gently applied to the wounds. Her tender touch and the cooling cream quickly got me turned on. Within a minute I was fully erect and gagging to go for it.
Not yet darling
, she purred, let me relieve you first. We can make love later.
She gently took my manhood between her lips and began to caress the tip, teasing and gently blowing me. I was in ecstasy, my erection rock solid. Soon I reached the point of no return and within a minute I blew my load deep down her throat. The relief was immense. In spite of the soreness in my arse I was feeling very horny.
About ten minutes later we made love, as I thrust my rampant cock deep inside her she moaned with pleasure. We made love twice more that night, then again in the morning. Despite my arse being raw the memory of the caning had awoken something inside me. Something I needed. Alison knew this, and so did her father.
We lived with the family for several months before finally we had enough money to move into our own place. Robert caned me often when he felt I deserved a sore backside and on every occasion our lovemaking was far more intense. Even after we moved out I still returned from time to time to have my faults caned off. Each time Robert was happy to oblige and Alison enjoyed our more energetic lovemaking.
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXIV by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!
Saturday mornings were a time of the week that my son David had come to dread. After his last thrashing I imposed a tally system, so that any breaking of house rules is jotted down. Then on Saturdays I would examine the book to see if he needed to be given a sharp reminder. The reminder is with a cane, which Ted Wilson, my neighbour and David’s former headmaster, would use on his naked buttocks, hard. Quite often I would add a few swipes with a leather tawse beforehand, just to make sure he really felt the sting of the rattan.
Ted is an expert with the cane. He has many years of experience, ensuring David’s attention. He always targets the sit spot, landing the strokes in a tight band on the lower portion of the boy’s buttocks. He never gave less than four, often six and sometimes eight or ten. Even though David is a big burly rugby player he always ends up in tears by the time the punishment is over.
In addition to hating these Saturday morning canings he had the added humiliation of having to go off and play rugby in the afternoons.
The one positive thing in David’s life is sport. He is an avid football fan, though his biggest passion is rugby. He plays for a local amateur team every Saturday. Of course, after the match the lads usually end up having a few pints and he often arrives home in a drunken stupor. Then, being worse for wear is entered into the tally book and goes towards any punishment he may be due the following week.
He often had a very sore bottom as he walked down the path, his kitbag over his shoulder, heading off to his match. There is no possible way he could be hiding the marks so I had begun to wonder what his teammates must be making of his striped arse on show in the changing room and showers.
Then only last Tuesday I saw David’s coach in the supermarket. Owen Morgan is a big guy standing six feet two high. He is in his late thirties, married with two young children. He is very good looking and obviously very fit and athletic. I have known him for some years as he coached both the junior and senior rugby teams. He made it clear he wanted to have a quiet word with me so I arranged to meet him in the café after I had done the shopping. I saw Owen in the corner so I ordered a coffee and joined him.
Tom it’s good to see you. I don’t see much of you up at the club these days.
I find I have little time to come and watch David play these days, besides he is no longer a boy needing his Dad standing on the touchline encouraging him.
Owen raised his eyebrows and gave me a funny look.
Do you mind if I speak my mind Tom? David may no longer be a boy but I think you still treat him like one at home. I would have to be blind not to notice the cane welts on his backside most weekends. Last Saturday after the match I had a word with him and asked what this is all about. He broke down in tears and poured his heart out to me. In spite of everything though, he told me he still needs to be punished like this and he had become more respectful to both you and his Mother since your neighbour began caning him.
Yes, Ted Wilson knows how to wield a cane, and applies it with vigour to David’s bottom. His years as a Headmaster have stood him in good stead.
Owen’s eyes glazed over.
Mr Edward Wilson! Former Head of Westcliffe! He caned my arse on a few occasions when I was there. He knew how to lay it on. I was sore for days after he gave whacked me; he once gave me six of the best for bunking off maths so I could watch the rugby game. He certainly made an impression on me in more ways than one.
We both grinned but the glint in Owen’s eye made me suspect it had not been a totally unpleasant experience.
Tom can I be blunt with you? In the last few weeks David’s attitude has improved tenfold. It is obvious that the cane is having an effect on his behaviour in general. I remember how painful a caning from Wilson is. I have been having some disciplinary issues with a couple of members of the team, so I wonder, do you think there is any chance he might consider dealing with them the same way he deals with David?
I nearly choked thinking Owen was joking, but it soon became clear he was deadly serious.
If a couple of them show up with striped arses, I am sure the news will soon go round. If the others discover their own arses could be on the line, discipline will certainly improve. Fines seem to have little effect on lads these days. Maybe we need to return to a more physical form of punishment.
I left the café promising Owen I would speak to Ted and get back to him in a couple of days.
I thought Ted was going to have a heart attack when I told him of my conversation with David’s rugby coach. The thought of caning a couple of rugby hunks obviously appealed him!
Tell Morgan to bring them round here on Saturday morning. If David has done anything I will cane the three of them together. Maybe the coach should apply something to the lads’ arses to soften them up before I cane them. At school I recall my sports master’s used to wield a large rubber soled gymshoe to deadly effect. I think they should receive a few swipes with one before I stripe their seats for them.
I telephoned Owen who was eager to meet me at Ted’s house at eleven o clock on Saturday morning.
So on Saturday, I checked the log to see if David would need a trip next door. Since I had introduced the punishment log his behaviour had improved dramatically. No longer am I finding clothes all over his floor or crockery left in the sink. He has cleaned up his act and even helps around the house. The threat of punishment hangs over him but keeps him in line. He had even been to job interviews recently; one of them is very promising. I am finally beginning to think he is growing up. But until such time as he moves out and stands on his own two feet, I shall not be easing up on the strict regime which I have imposed.
The log showed that David only had a couple of minor issues, so a sore arse is not warranted. He went off to rugby with a smooth unmarked bottom. The same cannot be said for two of his teammates.
Danny Jones is a nineteen year old rugby back. He is only about five feet ten but his speed and agility make him perfect for evading the opposition, while taking the ball forward. He has light brown hair and hazel eyes. Firm flat stomach with very pert buttocks which just asked to spanked. His teammate, Harry Cattell plays fly half. He is taller than Danny, at six foot, with dark cropped hair and green eyes. He is very attractive and extremely athletic. Neither of them is built like a tank, they are wiry and agile. I was waiting on Ted’s doorstep when Owen walked up the path with the two players in front of him. I allowed them in and we all go into the lounge where Ted is sitting with a smile on his face eagerly looking forward to the morning’s activity!
The three guys were dressed in tracksuits.
Ted looked at the coach and narrowed his eyes. Owen Morgan! I remember you from year’s back. I think I had to cane you on a few occasions, back in the day. It must be more than twenty years ago?
Owen blushed, Twenty three, Sir to be exact. I still remember the last time.
At this point Owen’s hand subconsciously wandered round to gently touch his firm buttocks. Ted looked at the two lads standing by nervously, clasping their hands.
So what have these young pups been up to then?
Well, turning up late for practice, failing to follow instructions, disobeying my commands and finally going for a drink before training. Fines don’t seem to work and my last resort is to sack them both from the team. However they are both excellent players. I had a meeting with them the other night. As a result, they have agreed to submit to a punishment more in line with how you used to deal with things at school. I feel sure you can turn these lads around. You certainly changed my behaviour Sir.
A broad smile spread across Ted’s face as he continued to observe the three men.
Of course I can, though these young men are no longer schoolboys. The punishment must be stiffer than you received.
Addressing the lads directly, he went on, Gentlemen, I will cane each of you to save your rugby careers; but it must be severe. You will receive twelve strokes of the gym slipper which will be laid on by Mr Morgan here. Six hard swats on each cheek. These will be followed by eight hard strokes from my cane. Of course those tracksuits bottoms will have to be lowered along with any underwear. I want your bottoms bare for your tannings.
The lads and Morgan seemed quite shocked. Ted opened the drawer in his desk and extracted a large grubby looking oval shaped plimsoll which reminded me of the one my own gym teacher had always carried around during PE classes, ready to wallop any boy who breathed out of line. Next, he opened a cupboard and took out a long whippy rattan, placing it on the desk besides the slipper.
Mr Cattell, please wait outside in the hallway until we have dealt with Mr Jones here.
Harry grimaced before turning and leaving the office.
Ted, firmly in control told Jones, Stand in front of the desk lad. Pants and underwear down then bend over the desk. Reach across to grip the far side. And stay in position till you are told to get up.
Young Danny did as he is told, in the process revealing white Ralph Lauren underwear which ended up in a heap on top of his tracksuit bottoms. Bending forward his tight muscular buttocks opened and parted revealing some fine hair nestling between his cheeks. Ted handed the large slipper to the grinning coach.
Six hard ones on each buttock, Morgan.
I watched as Morgan lined the plimsoll up gently against the lads left buttock. He raised the slipper high in the air before bringing it swiftly and firmly down, to land with a loud smack on the pale exposed cheek. The sound was electric. Morgan raised the slipper a second time, his face set with grim determination, to crack a second stroke over the first. This time Jones grunted as the lower portion of his left buttock turned increasingly red and looking sore. A further four landed, all on the same side. The coach then moved round and repeated the punishment on the right cheek. Inside a minute a shocked and gasping Jones was fighting to stay bent over, the lower portions of his buttocks burning hot and looking as sore as they certainly were.
Morgan, looking grim, moved aside, while catching his breath as he recovered from his exertions.
Ted seemed very pleased and nodded his approval before speaking.
Get up Jones and go and stand in the corner. Cattell will be slippered before I cane you.
Ted opened the door and summoned Cattell into the office; he froze as the first thing he saw was the state of his teammate’s arse.
Cattell, go to the desk, let your pants and underwear down, and bend over to grip the far side.
Once again Morgan began to swipe the slipper hard across the presented naked muscular cheeks. Cattell’s backside is slightly hairy whereas Jones is smooth. By the time the twelfth had lambasted the guy’s arse he was holding on for dear life. He had sworn loudly halfway through the punishment and the reward is a thirteenth swipe with a warning to hold his tongue or the number of cane strokes would increase to ten.
Cattell stood and gripped his arse, his face contorted with pain, screwing his eyes tight as he tried his best to blink back the tears threatening to roll down his face. As instructed he hobbled across to the wall and stood next to his mate, hands on head.
I hope you are both thoroughly ashamed of yourselves. Big lads like you being treated like boys half your age. I hope Mr Morgan has made his displeasure felt across your posteriors. I will shortly be caning you to ensure the message has got through to you and your teammates, once they see the results.
I looked at the two very red athletic bottoms only inches away from me. I could feel a tightness in my pants as I drank in the sight of these guys. How could this turn me on? After all I am not gay. Maybe it is just the atmosphere and the testosterone in this room.
For a few moments Morgan and Ted chatted happily, remembering times gone by. They even laughed as Morgan recalled some of the thrashings he had received at this man’s hand. Finally Ted stood up and walked over to the desk. He picked up the cane and swished it through the air.
Right you two, approach the desk.
The two guys did as bidden, their semi erect cocks on show as they walked across the room. Their bottoms looked very sore yet even more punishment was coming their way.
Bend over the desk side by side. I want those backsides high and tight. Stay down till I tell you or there will be penalty strokes.
The lads complied, offering their reddened cheeks for more torment. Ted came behind and observed the sight before him. I glanced across at Morgan and can hardly fail to notice his raging cock which is tenting his tracksuit bottoms; so I am not alone!
Ted lined the cane up against Jones’s arse, and then as I had watched him do before with David, he raised it high, before lashing it down hard across the waiting buttocks. The swish, crack and cut is followed by a blood curdling scream from Jones’s throat. As Ted pulled the cane away and raised it ready for the second, the first stripe of fire swelled across the Rugger lads’ backside. Once again the cane lashed the seat, slightly lower than the first time. He now moved across, and measuring the distance sliced the first stroke across Harry Cattell’s backside. The lad jumped up completely surprised and let rip with a Fuckin’ hell
. Ted ignored the remark before ordering the lad back down. He resumed his position and a second one landed quickly almost on top of the first. His reward is a lusty yell.
He now alternated between the two lads striking time and again leaving a pattern of red stripes across each backside. He struck the last two at an angle intersecting the first six causing the lads to howl loudly. Just after he cracked the last stripe across Cattell’s bottom he announced two penalty strokes for the swearing. These came very fast and zipped down with lightning speed across the lads arse. Cattell screamed out AHH, MY ARSE
, before sobbing across the desk.
Right, get up and dressed, both of you. Punishment is completed. I hope you have learned your lesson?
The two young men slowly got up and painfully dressed, covering up their swollen striped buttocks. Each had tears rolling down their cheeks. When they were finally dressed they stood, hands gently massaging their stinging bottoms, unable to stop the tears from falling.
I hope that I have managed to get through to you lads. Remember, when you can sit down, why you have been punished. Now, if your performance and attitude fails to improve I shall be paying a visit to the club with my cane so I can thrash you in front of the rest of the team. I am also giving Mr Morgan here this old gymshoe so he can use it as he sees fit on you or any other member of the team who deserve it. Now you may go to your Match and best of luck for this afternoon.
Owen took the slipper with thanks, his large cock still quite swollen in his pants as he ushered the two distressed players out and down to his car, where no doubt they would have a very hard and bumpy ride down to the club.
Ted seemed to be really enjoying his new hobby and over the next few weeks, in addition to keeping David in line, he visited the club after training on Wednesday evenings. A new regime is now in force for the Rugger lads. Any bad behaviour is dealt with in the changing rooms by the application of the gymshoe and the cane.
Once more, Ted is more than happy he has been called in to help!
___________)
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!
It had been almost two months since my son had received the hiding of his life. His former Headmaster administered a hard caning before I smacked his bare bottom almost blue. That had finally restrained his laddish behaviour. As a reminder, hanging up in his wardrobe, taunting him every time he opened the door, was the very same cane that had whipped his bottom. It was there as a warning that should his behaviour slip, he would find himself bending over for another hiding.
I saw Ted in the garden on a couple of occasions. He enquired how David’s behaviour had been since his punishment, and I was able to report had been very positive. He smiled at me with a knowing look.
But for how long Tom? David will need a reminder before long. You let me know if I can be of any more help. I shall be only too happy to cane him again.
I sensed Ted had enjoyed thrashing my son. It must have brought back memories of the many boys he had beaten over the years. This last time, there had been a distinct advantage. He had caned David on his bare bottom; something that would never have been allowed at school.
Ted proved to be right though. In spite of the threat of future punishment, David gradually began to slip slowly back into his old ways. Dirty socks and pants left in his bedroom for days on end was just the start. I opened his bedroom door one morning to find him masturbating furiously while watching porn on his computer. As soon as I entered he tried his best to hide his throbbing cock with one hand while attempting hopelessly to switch off his computer. His bedroom reeked of dirty socks and other unpleasant young male odours.
Dad! Get out!
He hollered at me.
I stared at my son trying to hide his deep embarrassment at being caught wanking.
No David I will not get out. You seem to have forgotten the promise Mr Wilson and I made to you a few weeks back.
I walked to the wardrobe opened it and extracted the whippy rattan that Ted had given me.
I think you need another reminder son.
Dad no! I promise I will clean up my act. Please, that caning hurt like fuck. Mr Wilson could cane hard enough at school over trousers but on my bare arse it stung ten times worse. Please give me a break.
My son’s eyes began to fill with tears as I held the cane in my hands.
One last chance David. Clean up this room, move your washing into the bin and if you need to masturbate do so when the house is empty or go to the bathroom. If your behaviour slips again we will be taking a trip round to Mr Wilson’s with this and he will cane your bottom harder than last time. Is that clear son?
David looked relieved at the reprieve and eagerly nodded his agreement. I knew of course that he was walking a tightrope. In spite of his assurances it was not long before David began to slip again. I received a phone call late one night, which proved to be the final straw. On the other end of the line David slurred out that he was at the police station. He had been arrested for peeing in a doorway as he walked home drunk. The police decided not to press charges but to let him off with a warning. When I arrived at the station to pick him up, the desk sergeant looked at me with pity.
It’s a shame he’s grown up sir. What that lad could do with is a bloody good hiding. Even lads his age could do with it every now and then. My lads are still teenagers and they know if they did anything like this I would leather their backsides so hard they wouldn’t sit down for a week.
The sergeant was obviously serious, so I said to him as I left, that tomorrow that is exactly what was planned for this big lad. He looked impressed.
I rose early and made my way round to Ted’s. The old man opened the door still in his dressing gown.
Tom you are early, what can I do for you?
Can I come in for a minute; I need to talk to you? It’s about David
Ted gave me a knowing look before bidding me enter. I was shown into the lounge and offered a cup of tea which I declined.
Does the young pup need another thrashing Tom?
Yes, he does
. I went on to explain the events of the previous evening before going over his steady decline of the previous weeks. The old man sat shaking his head.
I think it is time the boy received a stern reminder Tom. Bring him round here in about an hour, and make sure he brings the cane with him. It’s time he had another bottom warming.
Dad please! I am sorry, it won’t happen again.
Sorry won’t do it this time son. Mr Wilson will shortly be giving you a caning and you will be getting some punishment from me as well.
David sat on his bed, tears rolling down his face as I told him to get dressed and prepare for his beating.
You know the choice son. Pack your bags and leave, or take your punishment. As long as you live under my roof you will do as I say.
Reluctantly David put on a pair of football shorts and a T shirt. He was still hungover though that was not going to spare him what was coming. Taking the cane out of the wardrobe I handed it to him.
This is for you; Mr Wilson will beat you with it.
David looked fearfully at the rod. My son was almost six feet tall with dark hair and hazel eyes. He has the build of a rugby player, chunky and meaty with a firm slender stomach and thick muscular thighs and buttocks. Yet his demeanour now was of a little boy fearful for his arse.
We made our way round to Ted’s; he opened the door as we walked up the path. David had slipped the cane under his arm trying his best to conceal the instrument in case anyone should see us. As I followed him up the path my eyes were glued to his shorts covered rear which would shortly be exposed to receive much needed punishment.
Hello David. I hear you have been misbehaving again young man. Come in.
David walked into the hall, Ted and I following. Ted walked past us and opened the door leading into his study.
David, wait here while your Father and I discuss your fate. Pass me the cane young man.
David handed the cane over and stood by the door, as had been the custom at school, his arms by his side awaiting the summons. I followed Ted into the study and closed the door.
Tom! He needs real big boy punishments this time. I want you to give him eight hard ones with this.
From a drawer in the desk Ted extracted a long strip of leather the last third of which was split into two strips. My eyes looked in wonder at this instrument.
It’s called a tawse Tom. I used to use it on occasion at school to warm the hands of smokers before giving them the cane. In Scotland this was used almost exclusively in schools, nearly always on the hands. I have often wondered what it would be like if used on a boy’s bottom. Now is the time to find out. Eight with the tawse, from you, then I will give him eight with the cane.
I thought it was a fairly hefty punishment but he did need to learn his lesson. Perhaps this would get through to David. I took the tawse from Ted who led me over to the sofa. He placed a couple of cushions together and told me to take a few practice swings to get the feel for it. While I was doing this he swished the cane a few times through the air limbering up ready for action. Once I had swung a few strokes I felt confident enough to give it a go, so with a nod to Ted, he opened the door and summoned David into the room.
Young man, stand by the desk hands at your sides. Your Father tells me you were arrested last night for urinating in a public place and being drunk and disorderly. You deserve a real thrashing for that. The fact you are twenty one and a grown man will not spare you; if anything the punishment needs to be particularly severe. I hope you are suitably ashamed? Have you any idea how your behaviour reflects on your parents? And then we must come to your laddish behaviour again. Your Father has told me he caught you literally in the act of masturbating while watching a pornographic video on your computer. Socks and underwear are once again being left strewn across your bedroom floor. And you are leaving plates and cups unwashed in the sink.
To sum up, you are a bone idle, layabout, who in spite of your age, still needs to have his trousers taken down to be given a good tanning. Stand in front of the desk. When David had done so, Ted went on, Let down your shorts then bend over. Your Father will be giving you the belt. Then I shall cane you.
David glanced in horror at me as he heard the sentence, seeming to notice the strap for the first time. My lad hitched his thumbs into the waist band of his shorts and slipped them down where they gathered around his ankles. He bent over the desk mooning both of us.
Was there a little provocation in the way he did that?
I placed the leather across the centre of the pale white buttocks, which were totally unmarked. David flinched as the cold leather gently caressed his cheeks. Raising my arm high I took aim and lashed the belt down. It landed with a loud splatt, dead centre. David gasped as the tongs of fire kissed his bottom. As I raised the belt for the second stroke I noticed two very distinct marks left from the first. The second landed a little lower and my son kicked his leg back and groaned.
He became more and more vocal through the remaining lashes as the leather tawse left a spectacular pattern across his buttocks turning them to a deep red colour. By the time I lashed the eighth he was crying out in agony.
Ted stood by watching, clearly impressed at the marks the tawse had left. As I stood aside he swished the cane and swapped places with me.
Now David that was a reminder of what to expect when you treat your parent’s home like a hotel. I will now give you the cane for urinating in public, being drunk, and causing your father to come to the police station to collect you. Eight strokes is very lenient. By rights I should give you a dozen, so think yourself lucky.
The cane swished through the air before Ted lined it up against David’s bottom. He took aim, then slashed the cane hard across the boys red striped buttocks. The crack of the cane rang round the study before David yelled lustily as the first stroke bit deeply into his already tenderised cheeks. Ted paid no attention to his yelp and lined up another. My lad’s buttocks quivered as the rod sliced a second time into his bottom. He screamed a pitying yell as the cane began to really get through to him.
Ted zipped the cane hard across his buttocks again and again, taking no notice of the crying and pleading. By the time the last stroke bit, David was howling. His backside was a mass of welts and stripes, he was crying real tears as the pain and humiliation of his punishment finally got through to him.
You can get up now David
, Ted said gently.
My son slowly stood, his hands immediately went to rub and massage his stinging bottom. He stood in front of us, his face red and tear streaked. His large thick cock was at half-mast flopping around before us, while his hands were heavily engaged trying to ease the fire blazing across his behind.
Go and stand facing the wall, hands on your head and think about why you have been punished. Let me give you a word of warning. If your Father tells me you have been in trouble with the police again, your backside will be so sore you won’t be able to sit for a week
Ted nodded at me as David limped across the room. Like a little boy he obeyed without question, standing with his nose to the wall, his red sore bottom still bare, facing us.
Ted went out to make us a cup of tea leaving me alone with my son, who was still quietly sobbing in the corner.
David. I hope you have finally learned your lesson. Mr Wilson has suggested that maybe we ought to conduct maintenance spankings to keep you in order. Basically that means you will be punished every week regardless of whether you have done anything wrong or not. However I feel that may be a little harsh. I promise you this though, from now on, any breaking of the rules, however minor, will go into a tally book. Then on Saturday mornings we will be paying a visit here to Mr Wilson and your backside will pay the price. Is that clear?
David quietly whispered his understanding before Ted returned with our tea. After a full ten minutes of corner time David was allowed to dress. I was shocked that he actually apologised to both of us before asking if he could go home. I thought it was wise to return with him so I thanked Ted and we left together.
David went straight to his room, taking his cane with him. I thought it best to leave him for a while. After all it had been a long day and night. Hopefully he will now start to act more responsibly.
But if not well I can always call in some help!
To be continued…
___________)
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
Click to see comments
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!
I was reaching the end of my tether. My son had been thrown out of university a few months before after he had been caught with drugs. Since then his behaviour has spiralled out of control.
David will be twenty one in a few weeks’ time. Since being kicked out of University he has done nothing. He gets up at midday, makes himself something to eat and leaves his plates and cups in a stack in the living room. His bedroom is a no go area. Pants and socks strewn on the floor along with porn DVDs, even dirty glasses and plates that he has taken to his room and not bothered to return to the kitchen.
He leaves towels on the bathroom floor. I even found the toilet in a mess after he had been in there. Overall he has turned into a slob with no respect for either us or our home. He often walks around the house topless, only wearing a pair of football shorts. When he can be bothered to go out he often returns in the early hours, banging doors and falling up the stairs in a drunken stupor.
My wife’s nerves have become frayed and she came close to a breakdown with the strain. I have tried talking to him but he simply does not listen. Even threats to throw him out have failed. He simply laughed at me.
It was after one of these heated arguments that I went into the garden to cool down. My neighbour Ted Wilson was out tending to his roses.
“Hello Tom, what’s wrong mate, you look a little stressed?”
“Yes, sorry Ted. It’s David! He is out of control. I don’t know which way to turn.”
Ted listened as I poured out my heart to him. Eventually, having got it off my chest, he leaned on his fork and gave me a long hard look.
“You need to take control back Tom. What that boy needs is a long hard thrashing. Even grown up boys need to be brought up sharp now and again.”
I stared at him, unsure how to answer. Ted is a retired Headmaster. For many years he had been in charge of the local Grammar school. David was a former student and had told me that Mr Wilson was not a man to cross. Ted himself admitted he had been a firm believer in corporal punishment and even sixth formers had not been immune from his cane. David had once found this out to his dismay and horror.
“I am serious Tom. That boy needs to know who is in charge. He needs to realise that actions have consequences and his behaviour is not acceptable. Your house, your rules! If he is not happy, then show him the door.”
I knew deep down that Ted was right. David was now a grown man and no longer a boy. Sensing my mood my neighbour suddenly came up with a solution.
“Look Tom, if you think that lad of yours is out of control, and from what you have told me, it sounds as if he is. Would you like me to deal with him?”
“Ted are you saying….”
“Yes I am. I have had plenty of experience handling young men, including your own son. Do not forget at my school I retained the use of the cane right up until I retired. That buffoon who took over from me abolished it straight away and now the school is in a downward spiral. I have a couple of canes here. They are still in perfect working order, so if you want me to punish David, I will gladly do it for you.”
I realised my neighbour was serious. Also, deep down, I knew I did not have the courage to take my son in hand; but knew that Ted would have no such problem. But would David accept a caning from him? I somehow doubted it. Though something had to be done, or Jean would become really ill.
“This needs to be sorted for your own wellbeing. Take Jean to her Sister’s for the evening and I will come around about seven if that’s ok?”
I agreed. After all, I was at my wits end. I had not punished David since he turned thirteen. Ted had caned him a few times during his school years, the last time when he was a sixth former, aged seventeen. That was almost four years ago now. How would Ted get him to agree to this?
He was right though. I really would have to stand up to him and if he refused to take his medicine, then for my wife’s sake, I would have no option other than to throw him out.
Ted arrived bang on seven o clock, carrying a package wrapped in paper. I showed him into the front room, a place we only used on Sundays or special days and we sat down to discuss what was going to happen.
“Tom. Leave the talking to me. I know how to deal with recalcitrant youths. All I ask you to do is stand firm. If he says he will pack his bags and leave then let him. In fact, offer to help. He won’t find anyone willing to put up with him for long, so if he goes, you must warn him he will only be allowed back after he has taken his medicine.”
I nodded my agreement.
“Call him down Tom.”
I did, so a few minutes later the door opened and David arrived in a pair of football shorts and a t shirt. His arrogant sway changed immediately on seeing Ted.
“Hello David. I hear you had some trouble at University?”
David blushed bright red, lowered his head immediately as he was in awe of his former headmaster, and looked ashamed.
“I also hear you have been disrespecting your parents, coming home late, drunk, going around like a slob, as I can see for myself. In general, you have become a liability. Are you aware how much your laddish behaviour is affecting your Mother?”
“Sorry sir, but I am not one of your students any more.”
“No you are not; if you were you would have felt my cane long before this. In fact I think that is just what you need young man.”
Ted then unwrapped the parcel, the cane emerging from its wrapping.
“What the fuck! No way Mr Wilson. I am not letting you cane me.”
Ted got up from his chair, and stood looking steadily at my son, who instantly seemed to regret his outburst.
“Young man, your Father has asked me here this evening because he is at his wits end. Your behaviour needs to be addressed. You will be punished, by a thrashing, or you must pack your belongings and find somewhere else to live.”
I thought for a minute David was going to leave the room. He looked from Ted to me and his eyes pleaded with me. Ted nodded at me and for the first time. I spoke.
“Sorry David, Mr Wilson is right. I can no longer control you. Your behaviour is way out of order and your Mother is worrying herself to death. Tonight you will be punished by Mr Wilson; or we can go and pack now, if you prefer.”
“But I have nowhere to go. You surely don’t expect me, a grown man, to take a schoolboy caning do you?”
“If you had behaved like a grown man, I wouldn’t have had to call on Mr Wilson.”
“But I am nearly twenty one Dad, not a kid any more.”
“Then behave like a man! Your attitude has been appalling. Mr Wilson has offered to give you a punishment which is long overdue. Even young adult men need to be punished sometimes. It is up to you. Take a beating, or go.”
Close to tears his shoulders slumped. He turned to face Ted.
“Alright Mr Wilson. I will accept a caning. How many sir?”
Ted considered before answering.
“Young man your behaviour recently, and this evening has been despicable. You have acted like a child half your age. It is my intention to make this memorable. To begin with you will receive eight strokes of the cane. Once I am done you are going across your Father’s knee for a good old fashioned smacked bottom worthy of a ten year old. Now like we used to do at school you will go to the chair and prepare to be punished.”
David gulped and very slowly walked up to the back of the chair and went to bend over.
“Shorts down boy and underwear!”
“But sir! That’s not how you did it at school.”
“You are no longer a schoolboy; but you are a spoilt brat that I intend to teach a lesson you will not forget for some time.”
David stood for a moment, his hands holding onto the side of his shorts, contemplating what was going to happen. He came to a decision and slowly pulled his shorts down. He was not wearing underpants. He bent over the back of the chair mooning Ted and me. Ted picked up the cane and swished it through the air before bringing it to rest across the middle of my son’s backside.
“Move and I will add penalty strokes.”
He raised the cane, then brought it smartly down landing with a crack across the chubby backside. David winced and his buttocks shook as he absorbed the first stinging cut. Ted raised the cane and cracked it down a second time just below the first stripe. This time David moaned and wriggled a little more. Ted got into his stride, striking each blow one below the other in a tight band no more an inch wide.
David became more and more vocal as the caning continued. His buttocks were red and striped. After number six had been cracked across and into the boys under bottom, Ted changed stance and cracked the next stroke at an angle intersecting each of the previous six strokes. David could no longer hold back and roared in agony. Before he had a chance to recover, the eighth landed, again at an angle, and he began to sob across the back of the chair.
Ted stood back and put the cane down. He admired his handiwork for a moment, watching the red stripes form across his former pupils buttocks.
“Stand up David. Go and stand in the corner for a few minutes. Leave your shorts off. While you are there, think about your behaviour and why this has been necessary.”
David stood up and gave his bottom a quick rub before kicking away his footy shorts and walking across to the corner. His eyes were wet with tears. I noticed his cock was semi erect. Had my son enjoyed his thrashing? Ted and I left the room for a few minutes, giving him a chance to think about his behaviour.
In the back room Ted said, “Right Tom, when we go back in there your son is going over your knee. He may be a grown man but he is not too old for a good old fashioned spanking. After the caning a smacked botty will do no significant damage, but will reinforce the punishment. It will also be very humbling for him to go across your knee. And Tom, make sure you lay it on hard.”
Moments later, we returned to the front room. David was still standing in the corner, naked from the waist down, hands behind his head. His backside had six clear horizontal welts with two further ones crossing them which looked raw and livid. I sat on the chair and at Ted’s nod I called my son to come over.
As he walked over I could not help but notice the raging erection he was now sporting. I patted my knee and without question David lowered himself over placing his hands flat on the floor. I could feel his cock pressing hard against my thigh.
“David, your Father will now give you a much overdue spanking. Learn from this and change your ways. If your Father tells me you have been behaving badly again, I will return with the cane, only next time you will receive twelve strokes with a long spanking to follow.”
I raised my hand high and for the first time in years struck hard across the red striped buttocks presented to me. My son immediately groaned as the fire returned. Time and again I struck his backside, left cheek, right cheek back and forth. As I continued to smack him my anger at his behaviour emerged.
“This is what you have needed for some time. That’s one for the dirty magazines, that’s one for swearing at your mother, that’s another for leaving your smelly socks on the bathroom floor, and that”, I slammed my palm down relentlessly across the exposed buttocks, “is for coming home drunk!”
David cried and yelled like a five year old, as I turned his bottom almost purple. At last my anger abated and my son lay prostrate over my knee sobbing gently. I allowed him to get up and he stood immediately placing his hands on his scarlet buttocks.
I was pleased to note his erection had gone.
“Get your shorts and go to your room young man. Think about your behaviour and learn from this. We will talk later.”
My Son bent down to retrieve his clothes and limped from the room one hand holding his clothes while the other was trying to soothe his burning cheeks.
I stood up, feeling a lot better, and poured two large brandies from the decanter.
“I think you got the message across Tom. His backside was blazing.”
I sat back and sipped at my brandy feeling pleased with myself. I had just taken all my built up frustration and anger out on David’s backside. Ted also seemed satisfied. He had been retired just over three years and I think he had missed wielding the big stick.
“Tom, I will leave this cane here with you. Hang it up in David’s wardrobe as a reminder that should he return to his old ways, the stick will be used again to correct his behaviour.”
I thanked Ted for what he had done and promised to keep in touch. After Ted left I went upstairs, the cane in my hands. David’s door was ajar. I looked at him lying face down on the bed. Still naked from the waist down, his backside was very red and the welts clearly now raised across his cheeks. His hands were resting gently on the scorched flesh. He had fallen asleep, no doubt worn out after what had happened. Quietly, I went in and hung the cane on the rail in his wardrobe, where he would certainly see it.
It seemed to work. David’s behaviour improved dramatically over the coming weeks. Whenever he went to extract a shirt or a pair of jeans, the cane was there to remind him. I cannot help but think though, that at some stage his behaviour will slip and once again I will call in Ted to assist me in bringing him into line. Something I feel sure, he would thoroughly enjoy.
To be continued…
___________)
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
Comments are here
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by special guest author Sukemnsee – strictly over 18s only!
This can be read as a follow-up to “Great Uncle Rudolph” – or it works just as well as a standalone story…
A lovely sight is in front of me. A fit well-proportioned male of about 30 years is spread eagle over a small Pembroke table, naked, waiting for attention, unsure how much he really wants it.
Barry is no stranger to being naked but he is still quite a novice to being caned. He has come back willingly to me though after a recent first session, which happened as a consequence of his actions that day.
I had mentioned to one of my good friends, Eric, that I needed a few odd jobs doing and he said he would send a lad right up my street to fit the bill and that is how Barry came to my home. When he arrived I told him I wanted the ceiling of my bedroom painted. It needed refreshing but working above my head was not something I wanted to do. He certainly was a hunk and I suppose Eric reckoned I would like the eye candy. He quoted 50 to do the work which I was happy with and I went off to bring up the paintbrushes etc. for him, the stepladder already being in the room.
When I came back upstairs I was initially shocked to find him stood naked waiting, trying not to show how much my eyes were feasting on a fine body, muscled, lightly haired and nicely endowed. I picked up a disposable jump suit for him to wear but he turned it down. Eric had neglected to tell me Barry’s unique selling point was as a naked handyman. The only assistance he might require as he was working with paint could be an assisted shower on completion of his task!
Obviously I had to make several visits to the bedroom during the task to see if he needed refreshment, or was it really just to ogle him working away above me on a ladder? If he only knew, or maybe he did, the thoughts coursing through my mind at those times.
I did have to run an errand so at one point I had left him some considerable time alone. On return I revisited the bedroom to see the ladder empty and he was lying down on the floor. Not injured as my first fear was but the cheeky blighter had mooched in drawers and found my bedroom stash of porn and when I arrived he was looking at one or two magazines that reflected my spanking and light BDSM interests. He did not seem fazed at all about being caught.
I thought it was a gross impertinence and told him so, my age difference meant I was adopting a paternal mode. He was ebullient and asked if he had to go over my knee for a spanking. Tempting as that was, I had already decided this warranted a caning and reaching further into the open drawer extracted a trusty cane that I had taken to using recently on a distant cousin. That changed his demeanour but to his credit, he did comply with my instructions and I gave him a taste of six of the best. I was not at my most severe but I did enough to leave him some beautiful red lines and I had seen him wincing as the cane was applied. I was a little more tender with him during his shower time and as he hoped he did get a bonus from me because of this extra attention.
Perhaps I should explain my renewed interest in caning. I had a relative that we called Great Uncle who died recently. Over the years he had hosted various gatherings of young men and although most sexual activity was just between us young men, he did allow his partner to slipper me after tennis matches which I invariably lost. Later, after the untimely death of handsome Gianni, he taught me how to cane some of his younger men. In recent weeks after sorting out the effects and the estate, I had taken to caning my distant cousin who in turn was allowed to slipper or strap me but I did not care for the sharp sting of the cane on my own flesh.
I had Barry here again now and was just gently tapping the cane as if to measure my strike. I paused and made him spread his legs wider, delighting in the greater visibility of his pendulous testicles. Now I was ready and gave him the first stroke. There was a cracking retort, the stroke was well placed with a sharp flick of the wrist. I drew the cane away. I elicited more of a gasp than any of the strokes from our first session. I was going to enjoy this new session as something in me liked the idea of dealing with such a fit, young and sexy man.
By now as the second and third strokes landed with great efficiency, Barry might have wondered why he chose to request this new punishment session. It was not as if he was used to being chastised and after the bravado of that first day, it could have been the end of the episode. Barry was however quite mercenary. He had felt that I was quite generous and a good prospect for securing regular commissions and possibly referrals too. In the two weeks since his last visit, he had found his marks while they lasted seemed to generate more in bonuses from his other client calls. Many of his men obviously had a deep seated interest or at least a curiosity and although he only paraded his wares for one or two female clients, even then one certainly seemed to have the potential to be a dominant female. He wasn’t sure that he could pursue that option.
The seventh stroke came down and reignited a lot of the earlier strokes as I got the flick of my wrist exactly right and he stood up briefly with a passionate yelp. I ordered him down again, warning him of the severe consequences of disobedience. He complied, probably only then realising that I was going way beyond six strokes this time.
I brought the strokes up to ten quite rapidly. The increased pace confused him. I was drinking in the sight of this shapely well-muscled posterior changing hue, there was now a lot of redness and some ridging where the cane had found more tender flesh. He stayed in position willing himself to keep control and not yell out.
The next three strokes were distantly spaced. In the silence between the swish and the impact you could hear a clock ticking away seconds, a dog barking in the distance and especially the now more laboured breathing of Barry. As he was a keen exerciser at the gym who often strutted around the gym changing room without his towel, he knew how to use his breathing at times of exertion. I wondered when I had finished if he would parade these new marks there or for once be more discreet and use a towel for cover.
As I prepared for some final strokes, I saw a delicious quiver starting in his upper thigh. He could no longer control his body’s reflexes in anticipation of fresh new pain. I laid the last two strokes deeply and angled so that earlier tenderness was reawakened. He was now struggling not to cry out and his face was red. He did really well though. I left quite a pause before I told him he could stand and that it was over, as he never quite knew if more strokes were coming. We had not discussed how many strokes would be sufficient this time but I decided to err leniently as I was now hoping he would be back for this more times in future weeks.
As he stood, the change in posture made him a little more uncomfortable and he gingerly reached back with his hands to soothe and feel his chastened rear. I told him to lie flat down on the bed and I would apply some soothing lotion. That was very successful and he was soon excited and I got greedy and was soon sated.
After he had carefully dressed himself and shared a pot of tea with me, he left. I think he was pleased overall and I was in no doubt that in time he would visit again. Otherwise I would commission some new tasks! I did tell him that next time there would be some spanking as well as caning so that he would leave with a totally even hue and he just smiled sweetly and left. I so want him to come again soon.
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXV by Sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
See comments link at top of post
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by special guest author Sukemnsee – strictly over 18s only!
My dear Great Uncle Rudolph died recently, he had made it to 98. Herbie and I are his two executors, having been close to him since we were teenagers. We always called him Great Uncle because it seemed the right term for someone of his generation, but in actual fact he was more of a second cousin removed.
Herbert, to give him his proper name, was also a distant cousin of mine, but of my generation. If it had not been for Great Uncle Rudolph we would have hardly known each other existed. He introduced us and other carefully selected and vetted cousins when we were about 18, certainly none of our associates at the time was more than 25, and for a shy teen that was a big age gap. Rudolph by then was in his mid-fifties.
His housekeeper was an Italian, a younger man, probably about 30 then. I say housekeeper as back then this was the way he was referred to, at least to outsiders and the unknowing. It was only when Rudolph was 70 that he told the world that Gianni was his long term lover, a sign of the times changing. Regrettably Gianni died suddenly three years later and so there would be no official Civil Partnership, etc.
My parents and probably others were a bit sniffy about my early visits. There were questions about what we did, who wore what, who was there, etc. No doubt as things became more obvious in my later years, any blame was put on Rudolph.
I was always selective in what I reported. There was plenty I did not need to censor, but on the other hand, as the years moved on and I became a more frequent visitor to formal invitation-only grand teas etc, there was a lot I just did not tell anyone about. I would guess that Herbie was just as selective with his people. There were other guests apart from Herbie and I, of course, but we were the two who stayed as companions to the end.
We came across some reels of Super-8 film as we went through one of the many cabinets in his archive room. Herbie and I took a break and set up the old projector. The first film was of tennis matches. It was in fact Herbie playing against Gianni. The Italian was a fine player who teased us constantly by letting us get close to winning, but in the end he always had the upper hand. Neither of us knew any of this was filmed and we both wondered how much would to be revealed. To this day, I remember what used to happen to me and also Herbie after a tennis match! Sure enough, as the filmed match ended, it was revealed that Herbie had lost quite badly that day. It was time to pay for that! The camera recorded the obligatory handshake over the net and then a few moments later zoomed in on the naked bottom of Herbie who was by now bent over a chair at the side of the court, being soundly slippered by Rudolph till he was very red indeed! Neither of us had ever realised this was being filmed. I think there were only one or two times we had seen each other being slippered as most times it was a singles match against Gianni. He must have been the one filming on this occasion.
No doubt, I was also filmed in the same manner as I lost frequently and received much attention that often brought me to tears. It never stopped me coming back for another session, however! We watched several films that day. Some must have been commercially made, but many were home movies and these inevitably involved forms of punishment or man-on-man sex. Herbie came home with me that night as we were so fired up, though I had to promise that I had no hidden cameras! It transpired that both of us had secretly wanted a sex session with Gianni, but any encounters we had on our visits were only with our own band of associates. It almost felt like there was fear of crossing the boundary, of taking advantage of us younger men, even though we were all horny little rutters going through our most active phase.
One other day, we were going another box that had velvet cloth inside. It was wrapped around some very select photographs. It was an amazing collection of vintage Edwardian-era photographs, the first visions of pornography. Mind you, what was totally scandalous back then, that could lead to imprisonment and disgrace, is nothing by today’s standards, but you immediately got the feeling of a forbidden pleasure, a private vice, a risky adventure. Also in the box, in wonderful copperplate writing, was a reference journal that described the pictures and attributed photographers such as von Gloeden, Pluschow and Galdi and listed prices paid and sources of acquisition.
Herbie was fascinated by one picture, which was rather different from the others. It was of a switching, a beating, of our shared interest! Herbie revealed that he had never indulged in a session with such a fine switch and he was intrigued by the fine definition shown on the photograph. Personally, I suspected some artistic licence, but I did not want to puncture the illusion. I promised Herbie a trip to some woods for a similar, mutual session when the weather improved, and for good measure we would get photos taken.
It took us six weeks to carefully sift through the effects of Great Uncle Rudolph and more than six months to realise the proceeds of the sale of the items we had released. I kept a lot of the vintage photographs and Herbie retained most of the Super-8 films.
Herbie and I meet quite regularly now, the clearance of Great Uncle’s effects reinvigorated for both of us the pleasures of being punished. Herbie loves to work his way through my stand full of canes. They are used on my tender posterior, but then I get to use all manner of straps and restraints in return.
Maybe now is the time for us to develop our own circle of acolytes who one day may process our worldly effects sometime after we are caned for the very last time. Such a group need not be as selective or difficult to maintain as it would have been in our formative years. I can see great adventure ahead!
___________)
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXIV by Sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission
Photo is a selfie by Rod Cayenne, © MMXIII
All rights reserved
___________)
Comments welcome
Comments are here
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Sexy spanking fiction by Rod Cayenne – strictly over 18s only!
In the seaside convenience store, the two retired headmasters eyed each other warily.
“Bernie?”
“William?”
Gradually, broad grins emerged. The two hadn’t seen each other for many years, although Christmas cards had been exchanged regularly. They had met each other at a teaching conference in London, where they immediately hit it off and ended up bed-sharing. Of course, back in those dark and distant days, they had to be really discreet. They soon discovered that they had both retired to the same vibrant coastal town with its many attractions and gay-friendly atmosphere.
“Back to my place?”
“That would be nice!”
“Better get some of these then. I’m right out of them. Can’t be too careful these days,” said Bernie as he tossed a box of a dozen Durex into his basket.
William made no comment, but picked a tube of KY lubricant and followed his friend to the checkout. As they queued, he couldn’t resist slipping his hand under Bernie’s cord jacket. He pinched the pert bottom hard! Bernie gasped with surprise, before saying, “You’ll pay for that, William!”
“Oh, I do hope so, Bernie, I do hope so.” Already roles were being arranged for what would be their first encounter for many years!
The checkout guy was young, fresh-faced and extremely large. He joked with Bernie and then with William, laughing as he wished the gents “a fun evening!” After all, it was obvious what was on the cards for the two friends.
As they strolled along the esplanade, William raised a topic of mutual interest, “You’ve got a cane at home?”
“Several, actually. And you will be feeling them all!”
“Yes, I rather thought I might be.”
“Tell me, William, did you take my advice all those years ago?”
“Rather! After the conference, I thought long and hard about the benefits of corporal punishment, and then became an enthusiastic caner. I got quite a taste for it. Used to cane the buggers really hard. I loved it when they squealed! And of course, behaviour and academic achievement went through the roof!”
“Told you so!”
“Yes, you did. Teachers like us were like gods in those days. And then I hooked up with our Classics master. Somehow we discovered that we had a mutual fascination for cp. We used to cane each other a lot, especially when his wife was away. I didn’t think I’d like being on the receiving end, but I did. It’s jolly good fun, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed, almost a sport of kings.”
“Eh?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, anyway, I used to lie in his arms afterwards and say, ‘I never expected to be doing this.’”
“Mmmmm, nice!”
“I’m so glad to have found you again, Bernie. I need it badly.”
“Yes, you do. And don’t worry, I’ll be giving it to you alright. Hot and hard!”
“Right! It has to be hard to feel the benefits, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed it does, indeed it does. No pussyfooting.”
Bernie’s house was a whitewashed art deco treasure. It boasted superb coastal views and had an air of opulence. The sympathetic furnishings emphasised the expensive look. Bernie fiddled with the espresso coffee machine as William took in the view from the kitchen.
“A quick cuppa, then I shall be sorting out your naughty botty!” said Bernie, slipping into some childish banter, “Your very wicked, naughty botty!”
William blushed a deep red, and then Bernie landed a sharp smack on his friend’s buttocks. “Ooh, Sir!” William camped it up.
Bernie took the tray of coffee and biscuits into the living room and switched on the TV, saying, “I just need to check the cricket.”
“I do so miss the traditional cricket whites,” William observed, “So much sexier than those coloured outfits.”
Bernie sighed and nodded. It was becoming apparent that the two men had so much in common. A love for the good old days, leather and willow, rattan and flesh. He could see that they could end up living together. The thought rather startled him, and he wasn’t sure how comfortable he would be sharing his palatial place. Better make William’s beating extra hard, he decided. After all, the man would have to earn his keep!
“Right William!” Bernie suddenly announced in his most headmasterly tone, “Time for your thrashing! I’m just going upstairs to get some canes. When I come back, I expect to see you bent over this sofa. You can keep your trousers on. For now!”
Unfortunately for William, the trousers didn’t stay up for long, and neither did his skimpy briefs. The tariff was soon escalating, 6…12…18…24…30…36! William’s arse was a deep scarlet, or was it black and blue? Well, it was a bit of a mess, anyway. Bernie felt a bit ashamed of the beating he’d given his sweet friend, but both had clearly derived enjoyment from it, all the same. And then, up in the bedroom, among the Egyptian cotton sheets, the two gods made love.
A few months later, William let himself into his lover’s house. He was surprised to find Bernie had company.
“Who’s this then?”
“It’s my nephew, Steven. He’s come down on the train for the day. He’s a good lad, aren’t you, Steven?”
“Err…”
“Well, good on the whole, but like all boys he can be a bit naughty at times.”
“Really?” asked William.
“Yes, honestly. He likes to drop in unannounced. Although he’s 22, he can be a bit of a pest.”
“Really? He looks more like an angel than a pest. Tell me, Steven, have you been pestering you Uncle Bernie?”
But Bernie leapt in with a quick retort, “Yes, he keeps pestering me for a caning, would you believe? Says he wants to find out what it was like!”
“Really, Steven?”
“Err yes. It was just a silly notion. Just to find out. I was only interested because Uncle Bernie was a headmaster back in the days when the cane was allowed.”
“So was I!”
“Oh wow! Two headmasters. I can’t believe my luck!”
Bernie cleared his throat noisily, saying, “Steven, it’s not luck, I feel. Coincidence possibly. More likely that it’s destiny. Now, I’ve never entertained your wish before. But with Headmaster William here as well, I’m sorely tempted, if only to nip this nonsense in the bud! Now, how about if both of us give you six of the very best? Each.”
“Oh, Uncle! 12? That’s rather more than I had in mind.”
“Take it or leave it, my boy!”
“I’ll take it then, but not too hard, Uncle!”
“They will be hard. It’s the only way. You will survive, maybe it will stop you pestering me and you may even come out as a better young man because of it. Let me just check that William is willing to assist. Well, William?”
“Oh yes! I could use some practice! Getting a bit rusty, don’t you know?”
“In that case, William, please go and fetch me a couple of senior boy’s canes. I think you know where they are?”
If young Steven had been gifted with common sense, he might have wondered just how the visitor knew where Uncle Bernie’s canes were kept. But he didn’t. All he could think of was his pending thrashing. Something he had wished to experience for years, and which had been a masturbatory fantasy since his early teenage years. Now that his wish was about to come true, he was rather worried and started to bite gently on his lip.
William ran upstairs, only to return quickly with two crook-handled canes and a broad, cheesy grin. He surveyed the scene before him. During his short absence, Bernie had arranged for nephew Stephen to bend over the sofa, in just the same spot that the two friends had made favourite for William’s own canings! So there was the youthful angel or pest obediently bent, offering his denim-clad buttocks for chastisement.
“Right! Listen carefully, Steven. I expect total obedience during your beating. No jumping up, shouting or swearing. Is that clear?”
“Oh yes, Sir!” young Steven exclaimed.
“Well, it had better be! Any disobedience will result in extra strokes. And they will be extra hard. Still clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, it will be six strokes. To get the full school experience, it will be two strokes on your jeans, two more on your underwear, and a final two on your unclothed seat!”
“Wait a minute. Bare?”
“Yes, of course bare! Think yourself lucky I’m not giving you all six bare.”
“Alright, alright! I’m ready. Can we get on with it please?”
William detected some impatience and rudeness in young Steven’s tone. He wasn’t going to put up with that! Well, he would, but the lad’s reward would be a harder caning than William had first planned! Two swift, crisp and hard strokes landed on the blue denim, causing gasping from young Steven. His 22-year-old brain wasn’t used to processing such pain! He couldn’t believe how the pain seemed to be multiplying and overwhelming any feelings of embarrassment and excitement. He was starting to think he’d bitten off more than he could chew.
“Right, Steven! Drop your jeans down for me. There’s a good lad!” said William in his most patronising headmaster tones. Reluctantly Steven did as he was told, craftily giving his bottom a rub as he did so. “Steven, I saw that! No rubbing! That’s expressly forbidden!”
“Actually, Sir, you didn’t forbid it, expressly or otherwise,” said Steven cockily.
“That’s enough! Don’t push me, lad!” said William, waving the lithe cane menacingly, “Smart arses get extra, if they’re not careful.”
Steven thought about sparring further, but the pain in his ample bottom reminded him that this was a time for obedience, not for cheek.
Crack! The cane lashed down on the boy’s tight black briefs.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Steven, surprised by how much more sting the cane gave now that it was on just the one thin layer of clothing.
“QUIET!” shouted William as he slashed down the fourth stroke with gusto.
“OWWW!”
“I shall not tell you again! Get those pants down!”
Slowly, Steven edged his briefs down to join the jeans crumpled around his feet. Both retired headmasters admired the view revealed to them. A peachy, fleshy pink bottom decorated with harsh red striping. It throbbed and ached as Steven adjusted his position, bending over the edge of the sofa, offering his naked buttocks to the two men. Salty tears were threatening to flow from his misty eyes. This wasn’t exciting, this was humiliating!
The fifth stroke cracked down, the cane bending and distorting the flesh beneath it. It was the hardest stroke yet, waves of heat and hurt overwhelming the cheeky youngster.
“Shit!” muttered Steven to himself. This was bad, and then it got worse as the sixth stroke lashed his buttocks! His arse was red-hot, incandescent with heat and as sore as hell.
William sighed heavily. He walked around the other side of the sofa and looked the boy in the eye. “Not too badly taken, for a beginner,” he said, “Let’s see if your uncle can cure your pestering, shall we?”
“Oh don’t worry about that, Sir! I won’t be pestering him for a caning ever again! Uncle, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Been watching you take your first beating.” In fact, Bernie had been watching with growing pleasure.
“I’m sorry for nagging you, Uncle. You can let me off, if you like!”
“Nice try, Steven. But you’ve been asking for this for months. Literally asking for it. No, no. I won’t be letting you off at all. In fact, I want to ensure that you never ask me for a caning again. And it seems to me that the best way to ensure that is for me to beat you hard. Harder than William already has.”
“Oh, Uncle!”
“All six strokes from me will be on your bared bottom!”
“Oh!”
“Yes, indeed. No sense in covering it up again. Same rules, no shouting, swearing, moving out of position or rubbing! Understood?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Call me Sir! If it was good enough for William, then it’s good enough for me!”
“Yes, Uncle Bernie.”
“Are you trying to provoke me, boy?”
“Sorry Sir!”
“That’s better. Now, brace yourself! Here it comes.”
And come it did. It lashed down with staggering force. The pain came too. Wave after wave of it. Bernie smiled to himself. He was a better caner than William, he was sure. It wasn’t a competition, but he was determined to make a more severe impression than his lover had. Steven was startled by the viciousness of that first stroke. He gasped and choked. It was all too much, too much by far!
A second harsh stroke from the slightly sadistic uncle followed. The red stripe throbbed and pain shot all around from it.
“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” squealed Steven, leaping to his feet, rubbing his bottom frantically.
“GET BACK DOWN, STEVEN!” shouted Uncle Bernie. William laughed loudly at the perhaps predictable turn of events. Bernie was worried that his nephew was going to start playing up. So he quickly lashed the remaining four strokes down, rapid fire style.
“ARRRGH!” cried Steven.
“Well now, Steven. I think you are due some extras. One for swearing, one for getting up, one for rubbing, one…” It was now Bernie’s turn to laugh. “Well, OK, maybe not. I think you’ve had enough for one day, haven’t you? Well, what have you got to say for yourself?”
“Err. Two things, really. First, thank you, uncle. Second, I don’t think you’ll be seeing me again for quite a while!”
“Aha. Suit yourself. You know I’m very fond of you. Come back when you’re good and ready. And I’ll be dismayed if you ever pester me for another caning.”
“Oh don’t worry about that, uncle. I’m cured!”
“And please don’t tell your parents about any of this.”
“Oh, no chance of that,” said Steven, zipping up his jeans smartly, “No chance at all. I’d be far too embarrassed for one thing.”
“Good. You’re a good lad. With a tough arse. Wouldn’t you agree, William?”
“Yes, you did well, Steven. Here, give me a hug!”
It ended as a group hug. And then after Steven had gone, the two men had their own cuddle on the sofa. They masturbated each other as they listened to a secretly recorded tape of Steven’s thrashing. How they laughed as the lad squealed on the tape. They wanked faster and faster. “I never thought I’d be doing this,” said William wistfully.
___________)
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
(___________
Story © MMXIV by Rod Cayenne
All rights reserved
Photograph © Jonathan, R.I.P.
___________)
Comments welcome
Comments are here
Now is the time! Christmas is fast approaching. What better way to show your adult partner your hitherto secret desires than by giving them a rattan cane as a gift? At this time of year, you can always treat it as a jokey present! Or blame a friend for suggesting it as a gift. It’s probably the only time of year you can get away with such a light-hearted approach. Do it now! If you get a negative reaction, you can always dismiss it as a joke…it didn’t cost much, it wasn’t serious, Santa must have left it, I’ll throw it away, etc. I don’t recommend the latter, of course. Just save it for a rainy day…
Please don’t blame me if you end up with a sore bottom as one of your gifts! If you get a favourable reaction, it may be sub or it may be dom! Or it may be somewhere between the two! Your mileage may vary, as they say.
___________________)
Posted by Rod Cayenne
This is a revised version of a post from Christmas 2011
Comments welcome!
Comments are here
