Erotic Fiction by Rod Cayenne
Summary – Caning, Adult Male/Adult unspecified
“There’s not many of us left, you know.”
“Us old school policemen. You know, ones who can remember when the local bobby was feared and his word was rule. When a swift slap or caning was dished out unofficially.”
“Wait! You mean you used to use a cane on criminals?”
“Not criminals really. Would-be criminals. Wannabes, you’d call them nowadays. Anyway, I did use a cane. Unofficially. All the values I held dear count for nothing these days, though. It’s the end of an era. Everything’s politically correct now. I feel like I’m in some weird kind of Closing Down Sale. Such a shame. By the way, I still have a cane. Would you like to see it?”
“Ooooh, yes please Uncle!”
He went upstairs and could be heard rummaging around. Eventually he returned, with a devilish looking crook-handled cane in his hand. Coupled with his neatly pressed black uniform, he really looked the part – a real disciplinarian. He swished the cane around. What an impressive sound it made as it cut through the air.
“What do you think of this then?” he asked and laughed.
“Wooh! Wicked, Uncle! I bet that hurt! How many strokes would you give?”
“Well, six was traditional, of course, but sometimes I’d be asked to give more. Or I just decided that more was appropriate. This cane ruled the village, just as the headmaster’s one ruled the school.”
“Yes, it was a real reign of terror. Of course, as a young copper in my early 20s it helped get me the respect I was due.”
“Not many repeat offenders. The courts could order birchings, too. Life was simpler and better.”
“Uncle, this may sound funny, but may I try a stroke or two of the cane?”
“Whaaat? No, definitely not! Whatever would your parents say?”
“Well, I am 22, so it’s none of their business, really, is it?”
“No, I suppose not. But the answer’s still no. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. You know – and I really shouldn’t tell you this – I always insisted on a bare bottom.”
“It’s alright Uncle. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Cheeky! It’s not a secret. But the answer’s still no. A big no, do I make myself clear?”
“Yeah” was the sulky reply.
“Good. Don’t you ever ask me again.”
Just then the phone rang in the kitchen. A long conversation followed and uncle frowned. As the call ended, he returned to the living room and picked up the cane.
“That was your dad. He tells me you’ve been smoking, drinking and swearing in the house, and that your mum is really upset.”
“I reminded him that I had a cane. He agreed that perhaps a caning is in order, after all!”
“Not so keen now, are you? Bare your bottom for me! Quickly! Now bend over the arm of the sofa.”
“Err yes, Uncle.” The sulky attitude had evaporated, to be replaced by fear and not a little excitement.
“That’s a rather nice bottom, I must say. Two strokes for smoking, two strokes for drinking in the house, and four for swearing at your mother. Eight crisp strokes for you!”
“Yes, Uncle, I’m sorry.”
“Mmm, you will be when I’ve finished with you!”
The first stroke landed on the naked bottom.
“Oh do shut up. Don’t be a baby!”
A second, harder stroke followed.
The third caused a lot of squirming.
Two swift strokes left bright red marks.
Another brace, extra hard and the first signs of sobbing.
The final stroke, not quite so hard perhaps, but the cumulative effect was overwhelming.
“Good! You took that well. However, you really deserved that! I think we’ll have another session at the weekend just to make sure you never swear at your mother again.”
“Yes, Uncle, sorry.”
“It’ll have to be a more severe punishment to drive the message home, I think. A dozen strokes wouldn’t be excessive, would it?”
“No Uncle, whatever you say,” said the obedient 22-year old.
“At least you know what a caning’s like now, don’t you?”
“And it’s satisfied your curiosity?”
“Oh, yes Uncle. It was horrible. What a terrible punishment.”
“Yes, yes indeed.”
He had enjoyed inflicting the cane on his young victim. He resolved to dish out beatings as often as possible in future.
“They should bring back the cane, shouldn’t they Uncle?”
Story and photos © 2011 by Rod Cayenne
Part Two is here
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne.
Originally titled “Aunt’s Medicine – Fifth Session”
The doorbell rang. It was the postman.
Jane answered the door. She’d encountered him before. He was an amiable older chap with thick curly, greying hair and a cheeky grin. He was wearing a pair of those ridiculous shorts that seem to be standard issue for posties these days.
“Parcel for you. I think I know what’s in it! Who’s been a naughty girl then?”
Jane took the parcel from him nonchalantly. A gratuitous “Thanks” followed. She closed the door on him. The parcel was long and thin. Jane knew it would contain the senior cane and the leather spanking paddle she had been promised. But how would the postie have known what was in the parcel? Jane was quite annoyed with him and briefly considered reporting him for his cheekiness. Her mind soon turned to the contents of the parcel. She rubbed her bottom nervously.
Just then Aunt Judy came in the front door.
“Morning Jane. Glad you are up at last. I bumped into Frank the postman a few minutes ago. We used to be an item, you know. I was telling him what was in the parcel.”
“You bitch!” Jane exclaimed.
“And I was telling him that you were overdue for a sound thrashing, my girl! You’ll regret calling me that. Open the parcel while I put the kettle on.”
The parcel was well wrapped so Jane had to go into the kitchen to fetch the scissors. Aunt Judy stood by the kettle with a smirk on her face. Jane declined her offer of a cuppa. Back in the living room, Jane opened one end of the parcel and tipped the contents out. There was the brown leather spanking paddle and thicker cane with a crook handle, just as promised. Aunt Judy strolled back into the room with her tea and watched her niece pick up the paddle. Jane sniffed at the leather.
“Mmmmmmm. Smells nice. Leather is such a turn-on!”
“We’ll see about that, Jane! You’d better go upstairs and strip off. We’ll use my bedroom.”
Jane went upstairs and started to remove her clothes. She reflected on the strange turn her life had taken. Right at that minute she was missing her mother and her old life. But then she reflected on how exciting her new life was. The sea, the restaurant, the thrashings! She felt a genuine love for her aunt, and maybe a little lust too. She also thought about Kitty. She had seen the cane marks decorating Jane’s bottom the other day. Fortunately, both had been too shy to discuss the matter further.
Aunt Judy came into the room with a large tray. On it were the tea, the paddle and, carefully balanced, the new cane. Judy put the tray down on the dressing table and sipped at her tea noisily, like a naughty teenager. She winked at Jane and then laughed.
“I’ll teach you to call me a bitch! Get over my lap and we’ll try this leather thing on you. I hope it’ll teach you some manners!”
WHACK! The leather paddle thrashed down, with a glorious sound.
“God…” Jane cried out. Further blows landed on her naked bottom.
“I rather like this!” Aunt Judy informed her. “So much more intimate than the cane, don’t you think?” She was right, of course.
Blow after blow cascaded onto the reddening cheeks. Jane was crying out regularly. Aunt Judy was counting silently. She would stop at 40 maybe! 34…35…36…37…38…39…40…41…42…43…44 – that wicked leather paddle just begged to be used! Judy didn’t want to stop but felt she had to.
“Oh Auntie! That thing’s a real bitch. I’m so sore!”
“I’m not sure I like this bitch word you keep using, Jane. That paddle is fun to use. Let me feel that bottom. Ah, yes…I guess that’s what they call deep heat.”
Aunt Judy threw the paddle down and picked up the new senior cane.
“No Auntie, surely you’re not going to use that as well?”
“I am. I bet this really is a bitch, Jane. Bend over for me!”
“That’s enough for now, I think Jane. It sounded a bit different. How did it feel?”
Jane wanted to swear but couldn’t bear the thought of any more correction.
“Oh Auntie! It hurt like hell. Less sting than the other cane but somehow it hurt more. My botty is so sore!”
“I see. Well you’d better behave if you want me to use the other cane instead. And the paddle?”
“Oooh Auntie! I loved that. It was so sexy!”
“Indeed! I must try it myself sometime. And the new cane.”
Jane was a little shocked. Judy was turned on and mused as to whether she should try both new implements there and then, with Jane dishing it out. But an overwhelming urge to masturbate on her own overtook her. Perhaps she’d ask Jane tomorrow. Or there was always postie Frank. Their discussion about the parcel and its contents had sparked some new electricity between the former lovers.
“That will be all for now, Jane. Go to your room!”
Very soon both women were masturbating alone in their respective bedrooms, although their thoughts were on the very same things.
The following morning, Jane’s bottom was very sore. The senior cane had left ridges and some colourful bruising on the tender flesh. She was alone, sitting at the table when the doorbell rang. It was postman Frank. He only had a couple of letters, so could have just popped them through the letterbox, but he wanted to talk to Jane.
“Got a sore behind then?” he asked with a cheeky grin.
Jane snatched the letters from his hand and slammed the door shut. “Bastard!” she screamed. This was a new kind of humiliation for her.
Story © Rod Cayenne, 2011
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