♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot, brand new fiction by special guest author JOELSTRAP. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery!
“Look! That’s what the bugger did to me!”
Dane yanked down his shorts to reveal a pair of beautifully-formed buttocks, across which six neat red tramlines stood out against his lightly tanned skin, five in parallel and one cross-cutting most of the others. Zak looked.
“Shit! Did they hurt?”
“Well of course they bloody hurt, you moron! You don’t think he put welts like that on my arse by giving me a few gentle taps, do you?”
Zak, untroubled by his friend’s burst of temper, reached out his hand and felt his way over the cane-marks. Dane quivered but made no protest. His penis swelled and rose swiftly to the perpendicular.
“You liked it?” asked Zak, eyeing his mate’s arousal with some admiration. “That’s some boner you got there.”
“No, I didn’t like the bloody caning,” snapped Dane, “but I do like you stroking my bare arse.”
“Yeh? That’s what got you hard as a rock? What would happen if I licked your welts for you?” enquired Zak.
“You wanna do that?”
Zak made no reply, but dropped to his knees, placed a hand on each side of Dane’s waist, and proceeded to run the tip of his tongue along the highest welt on his mate’s bottom. Dane put his head back and moaned. Zak moved down to the next weal. Dane twisted his hips in ecstasy. Zak delivered a sharp slap to his friend’s bottom and Dane winced.
“Keep still,” ordered Zak.
“How can I….?”
Zak slapped him again.
“You gonna keep still?”
“Ow! Okay; just stop skelping me like that.”
Zak resumed his licking and Dane made a supreme effort to remain still while powerful waves of erotic pleasure swept through his body and his rigid cock strained for the sky. By the time Zak had licked the length of the sixth welt, Dane’s penis was oozing pre-cum and he was standing, eyes closed, panting gently, a red flush on his chest and a sheen of sweat on his skin.
“And it all began with raspberries, huh?” asked Zak.
“What? Yeh; but never mind that now. I’m on the edge here. Are you gonna bring me off or do I have to do it myself?”
“Patience, Dane,” said Zak, sliding a hand through between his pal’s legs from behind and pressing firmly on his perineum. “There? That help you to hold it for a bit?”
“But I don’t wanna hold it,” protested Dane. “I wanna cum like a fountain.”
“And you will; once you’ve told me how you got yourself caned.”
“Can’t I cum first and then tell you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I say so.”
Zak rose to his feet and slid his lithe body round Dane so that he stood facing him. The two young men were centimetres apart.
“Now tell me,” commanded Zak.
“How the hell can I tell you when you’re standing so close that I can smell your boy-scent and feel your boner through your shorts and want to cum so much I’m almost crying?” demanded Dane.
Zak looked deep into his eyes and took pity on him.
“Right, let’s lie down over there on the river-bank and then you tell me.”
Reluctantly Dane allowed himself to be led to the grassy bank and the two boys lay down side-by-side on their stomachs, their bare shoulders touching. They cradled their heads on their forearms and faced each other. Dane took a deep breath.
“I was hiking along,” he said.
*******************
____________)
Streamers of wispy white clouds streaked the summer sky, but made little impact on the temperature. Dane was hot, sticky, sweaty and thirsty. He’d finished the last of his water almost two hours before and felt a swift burst of hope as he spied the farm-buildings up ahead. Across a hedge to his right he could see a huge raspberry-field, rows of canes stretching in neat lines into the distance. As he approached the farm-gate, he saw a large sign which read: PYO Raspberries. Dane was baffled. He tried to work out what PYO might signify. Pink, Yellow and Orange? It seemed unlikely. As far as he knew, raspberries were red and always had been. Plenty Years Old? That appeared even less likely. He was fairly sure that raspberries should be fresh. Picked Young and Often? That just might make more sense; but surely you could only pick each raspberry once? Dane shook his head and turned in at the gateway.
As he approached the farm-building, a young man, perhaps in his late twenties, came round the corner and Dane stopped and looked for the sheer enjoyment of looking. Just short of six feet with a beautifully-proportioned body, broad of shoulder and slim of waist, the guy wore his animal-sexuality like a garment. His shorts were close-fitting around muscly thighs and revealed rather than concealed a pair of delicious buttocks. His t-shirt was designed to show off his musculature, and indeed it appeared to be struggling to contain him. His arms and legs and face were tanned deep brown by the sun and beneath a close-cropped cap of black hair a pair of dark-blue eyes sparkled in the noon sunshine. He noticed Dane and stopped.
“Can I help you?” he enquired politely.
“Er, I was wondering if I could fill my water-bottle?” asked Dane.
“Sure,” said the young guy cheerfully. “Come round here.”
He led Dane to a small room with a sink and invited him to make use of the tap. As he filled his bottle, Dane enquired about the PYO Raspberries sign.
“I was trying to work out what it meant,” he said and told the young man about his attempts at finding words to match the initial letters.
The young guy stared at him.
“You trying to make fun of me, mate?” he demanded.
“No, of course not. Plump Young Ordinary raspberries, maybe?” he hazarded hopefully.
“I should tan your plump, young arse, mate. Now fuck off and stop messing me about!”
“But I’m not……..”
He stopped as the young man had turned on his heel and stalked out. Dane paused to adjust things in his shorts, since the guy was even more erotically-appealing when angry, and Dane’s eighteen-year-old body responded eagerly and swiftly to a sexy male. He went outside and looked round the buildings and behind a shed came upon a large car-park. People were heading out into the raspberry-fields and some were returning to their cars, bearing bags and boxes of berries. Dane approached a middle-aged woman and enquired diffidently where she got her raspberries.
“I picked them, of course,” she said, looking uncertainly at him.
“Oh, I see,” said Dane, who still didn’t.
“If you want to pick your own,” she continued, “go and tell the man over in the office there.”
She pointed to an open door across the car-park and Dane thanked her before making for the office.
Bloody obvious when you know, thought Dane to himself. Pick Your Own Raspberries!
He decided that he’d like some rasps and got a basket from the office before making his way out among the raspberry-canes. The berries were plentiful, ripe, full and juicy, and even although quite a few went straight into his mouth, Dane soon had a good quantity gathered. It was hot in the midday sun, though, and so he sat down in the shade of the hedge at the side of the field and drank from his water-bottle and scoffed rather a lot of the rasps he’d picked. He then took a nap he hadn’t intended to take before picking up the remaining rasps and ambling slowly towards the gateway out of the farm.
“Oi! You!”
Dane turned.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The speaker was the sexy young man whom Dane had so admired earlier.
“I’m going out to the road,” said Dane carefully, as if explaining things to a backward child, “and then I’ll be on my way back to my camp-site.”
“With those raspberries,” said the young man.
“Yes,” admitted Dane, puzzled as to what was upsetting the guy now.
“I suppose you do the same at a supermarket,” accused the young guy. “Pick things up and then walk out without paying?”
“Huh? Of course not! What’s your problem, mate?” demanded Dane, getting annoyed in his turn.
“My problem is that I don’t like nasty thieves,” stated the young man unequivocally.
“Thieves?”
“You’re stealing those raspberries,” he said.
“No, I’m not. Someone told me that PYO meant Pick Your Own; so I did.”
“I can see that. And you think we just grow whole fields of rasps so that people like you can come along and help themselves?”
“But your sign says to Pick Your Own,” protested Dane.
“But you’re supposed to pay for them, you fucking moron!” shouted the young man angrily.
Dane tried to get his head round this.
“I have to pick them myself but I still have to pay for them?” he enquired. “If I went to the supermarket I could just pay for them without having to do all the work first.”
“Are you trying to provoke me, mate?”
“No. I just don’t…..”
“Are you thick or something? Mother dropped you on your head when you were a baby? Sneak-thief came into your tent last night and stole both your brain-cells? Busy wanking yourself off so that you missed out when they handed out the common-sense?” enquired the young man sarcastically. “You get the rasps a lot more cheaply here than in the supermarket because you pick them yourself. But you still have to pay for them!” he shouted.
The penny dropped and a look of understanding spread across Dane’s face.
“Oh! I get it. Yeh, of course. I guess I’m being a bit stupid. How much for these then?”
He held up the basket. The young man snatched it from him and marched off to the office where he put it on a pair of scales.
“Two pounds forty,” he announced.
“But I’ve only got eighty-five pence,” said Dane in dismay. “I left my wallet with my mate back at the camp-site. He twisted his ankle and has to rest it for a couple of days. I guess I’ll have to just leave the berries then.”
“Have you been here for the last three hours, since that first time I saw you?” asked the young man.
“Yeh.”
“And this is all you’ve picked?”
“I ate some.”
“You must’ve eaten a hell of a lot!”
“I don’t think it was that much; but I was a bit hungry, because I haven’t had any lunch.”
“So that’s a lot of free rasps you’ve scoffed as well as trying to walk out with what’s here; and the basket,” added the young man. “You’re in trouble, mate.”
“What? But, here, no, I didn’t………”
“Come through here.”
The young man led Dane into a short passage and through to a courtyard off which was a stable. He took Dane in there.
“Right. I’m gonna give you a choice, chum. In fact, I’m gonna give you three choices; and you’ve gotta choose one of them. Okay?”
“Okay,” agreed Dane uncertainly. “What if I don’t want any of them?”
“Then I’ll make the choice for you.”
“Oh.”
“Choice one is that I call the police and report you for stealing.”
“You can’t! I wasn’t stealing! I got hold of the wrong end of the stick, that’s all. I’ve given back the rasps and the basket.”
“And all the ones you ate?”
“You want me to puke them out on the floor here for you?” demanded Dane angrily.
The young man ignored him.
“Choice two is that you pick rasps here for the next three hours for us as a way of paying off your debt.”
“Three hours! That’s bloody slave-labour! What are you paying? Eighty pence an hour?”
“So that leaves the final choice,” continued the young man.
He walked over to a door at the far side of the stable and disappeared for a few moments before returning with something in his right hand. Dane stared in disbelief. What the young man was carrying was a school-cane. Dane had read about the corporal-punishment regime of earlier years, but his young bottom was untouched by cane or belt or even slipper. Not even a parental heavy hand had sullied his smooth buttocks with chastening intent.
“You….you wanna beat me with that?” Dane gasped incredulously.
“That’s the third choice,” the young man informed him. “I should say that if you don’t make a choice, I’ll go for option one and call the police.”
Dane’s mind was racing. He knew he didn’t want to be reported for theft. He really didn’t fancy three hours picking rasps in the hot sun and then still have the long trek back to the camp-site, starving and weary. He didn’t much like the idea of being beaten with a cane either; but there was a small part of him which was curious. He wondered what a cane actually felt like across a boy’s bottom. His penis was definitely interested in the idea; and of course the sexy young man who would beat him added an extra element to the affair.
“How many strokes would I get?”
“Six of the best used to be the traditional number, so I’ve heard.”
Dane nodded agreement. He was familiar with the expression and had read in older school stories about boys getting six of the best.
“So it’s like Pick Your Own punishment?” said Dane.
“You got it.”
Dane made up his mind.
“Okay. I’ll take the cane,” he said, wondering a little at himself all the same.
The young man suddenly sent the lithe rod whistling through the air with a sound which made Dane wince.
“Reckon you’ll feel that?” the young man asked with a hint of a smile.
Dane swallowed.
“I guess I will,” he said quietly. “So, can we just get on with it?”
“Sure. Drop your shorts and pants and bend over that hay-bale.”
“Drop my…..no! You can’t cane me on the bare!”
“Listen, mate, I’m not wasting my energy trying to get down to your arse through two layers of clothing. You’ll take it bare or I call the police.”
Dane scowled at him, but obediently dropped his clothing revealing a pair of neat, fully-rounded buttocks. The young man eyed them appreciatively.
“You got a brilliant arse on you,” he said unexpectedly.
“Er, thanks,” replied Dane, unsure how to respond to what sounded like an unlikely compliment.
“Bend over then; and stay in position until I tell you to get up. Got that?”
“Yeh, yeh, I got it.”
Dane bent over and presented his virgin behind for corporal punishment for the first time in its life. The young man flexed his limber cane and gave a few practice-strokes which made Dane flinch in anxious anticipation. A few seconds later and he felt the cool rod touching his bottom. The young man tapped the flesh a few times as if assessing where to land the first stroke. He slid a hand surreptitiously into his own shorts and rearranged his massive erection before he began the caning. He was already enjoying it and he hadn’t even begun to thrash those exquisite buttocks. Dane waited and felt the cane lifted away, heard the whine as it descended and the snap as it sliced cleanly and very hard into his waiting rump. A lash of fire seemed to score his behind and he gasped aloud as a fierce sting challenged his ability to maintain his position.
The young man examined the welt on the boy’s bottom and smiled happily. Bugger felt that more than he thought he would, he told himself. And he’s going to feel this one even more.
He swung the cane and brought it down again, whipping it smartly across Dane’s quivering rear just a few centimetres below the earlier cut. Dane uttered an outraged yelp of pain and gripped the edges of the bale tightly, forcing himself not to reach back and rub his flaming bottom. The line of fire pulsed with a steady, intense burning for several seconds before it began to ease. The young man licked his lips, rubbed the front of his shorts, and raised the cane once more. His aim was good and the third stroke landed neatly just a little lower and parallel to the first two. Dane bucked and snarled and sank his teeth into the straw-bale. The young man watched intently as Dane clenched and relaxed and then re-clenched his shuddering buttocks. The long, sun-browned legs were taut, the toes braced on the wooden floor of the stable, and a sheen of sweat glistened on Dane’s back in a shaft of dusty sunlight.
The young man did a practice-stroke and smiled to see Dane’s instinctive wince. No, not this time, mate, but next time you’ll get something to wince about!
He swung the cane and drove it hard into Dane’s waiting behind, delivering a brutal explosion of pain to the boy.
“Fuck!”
The expletive was forced violently from Dane as he fought desperately to maintain control of his body and stay down. There was a slight tremor in his bottom now, which he couldn’t quite control, and his rump was throbbing with bruising pain. Dane swallowed hard and tensed his body in readiness for the penultimate stroke. It came swiftly and viciously hard, full on his crease. A lightning-stroke of savage fire seemed to rip his bottom open, furrowing the flesh with searing heat. Dane squealed and his right hand flew round to scrub in desperation at his tortured skin.
The young man closed his eyes as his penis pulsed and he was aware of his pre-cum making a damp patch on the fabric of his shorts. He took a deep breath and lined up his cane with Dane’s bottom for the final time. The traditional method was to deliver the last stroke at an angle and to try to reignite the fires in earlier welts while excoriating the flesh with a new and excruciating sting. He eyed the target carefully, swung the cane and drove it in hard and accurately. The crack rang out across the stable, and like an echo came Dane’s agonised howl of pain. He writhed powerfully, his buttocks clenching and re-clenching, every body-muscle stretched to rigidity, as he fought the searing fires in his rear.
The young man’s self-control had gone and his tumid penis was spurting out copious quantities of potent spunk into the front of his shorts. He threw his head back and moaned in ecstasy. Dane, too busy wrestling with his own agony, didn’t even notice. Slowly the appalling fires grew less intense and his ragged breathing steadied. He waited for the command to get up. The young man admired the results of his efforts with the cane and decided that he was definitely good at this.
“Get up,” he ordered curtly.
Dane rose carefully to his feel and at once began to explore his buttocks with wondering fingers.
“Fuck!” he panted. “I’m all ridged!”
“Yup. I reckon I’ve done a good job. You won’t rub that sting out for a few hours; and you’ll have marks for the rest of the week. Think you’ve learnt your lesson?”
Dane, still caressing his throbbing bottom, eyed the young man carefully.
“Yes. I got the message.”
“Looks like you’re kind of enjoying it a bit now too, huh?” said the young man, giving a meaningful nod in the direction of Dan’s semi-erect cock.
Dane went red in the face.
“Well I bloody well didn’t enjoy it when you were beating me,” he complained. “You didn’t have to hit that hard!”
“Oh yes I did,” said the young man, “so that I could get the best orgasm out of thrashing you.”
Dane followed the young man’s eyes to the large, spreading wet patch at the front of his shorts.
“You got off on caning the shit outta me? That’s gross!”
“And you getting harder by the second now it’s over, and you can feel the welts I’ve put on that fantastic arse of yours, isn’t gross?”
“Well, yeh, okay, I guess caning is a bit of a turn on; but fuck, it hurts like hell and then some!”
“Get your self covered up,” ordered the young man and while Dane pulled up his pants and shorts, flinching as the fabric was drawn across his beaten flesh, he returned the cane to where he’d got it from.
“Okay, mate, debts all cleared,” said the young man. “And if you ever want your arse caned again, just come back and ask me. I’ll be delighted to oblige.”
“I bet you will! But I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”
*******************
____________)
“So that’s how you got a caned arse,” said Zak. “And you kinda liked it, huh?”
“Only after it was over. While he was beating me it was horrendous.”
“You won’t be going back for more then?”
“No, I don’t think so. Anyway, we’re only here for a few days and I sure don’t want to be caned again any time soon!”
“Maybe you’d rather be spanked?” suggested Zak.
“Spanked?”
“Yeh. I’ll put you across my knee and spank your bare bottom long and hard and then, when I’m ready, I’ll fuck the living daylights outta you. How’d you like that, Dane?”
“Yeh,” said Dane thoughtfully as he raised himself to accommodate his swiftly growing penis, “I think I might like that a lot. Now, are you gonna bring me off? I’ve told you how I got myself caned and you said I could cum after I’d told you.”
“Sure. You want me to spank you first, Dane?”
Dane considered.
“Maybe just a little bit? Carefully, you know. I’m kinda tender.”
Zak hoisted his mate across his lap and pulled down his clothing.
“Just hard enough to get the fires burning for you again, Dane,” he said softly.
He began to spank the red mounds steadily and methodically. Dane winced and squirmed a little, but made no protest. Soon the building heat was making him thrust forward with increasing eagerness against Zak’s thigh and before long the floodgates burst open and Zak was aware of spurt after spurt of Dane’s warm spunk streaming across his bare leg.
“So how did you feel about having to pick which choice you wanted, Dane?”
“That was okay. I knew what I didn’t want: being reported or having to slave in the sun for three hours. So I picked the cane. It hurt like hell, but it seems to have brought us closer together somehow. Yeh. It was the right choice. I’m a great believer in PYO punishment!”
