Tuition Card (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

Erotic Fiction by guest author sukemnsee

There was a time when contact with like-minded people was far more furtive and involved a lot of spoken or written code.  I share with you one example from 25 years ago.

I saw a tuition card for adult students in a newsagent’s window.  The wording was similar to:

“Relive the best of school days and improve yourself.

Experienced master offers lessons in basic and advanced subjects to young men over the age of 21 at his well equipped home. No room for slackers. High standards enforced. Classics also offered.

Apply in the first instance to…”

This intrigued me.  I had no educational learning need but I sensed an opportunity to explore a part of me.  I duly phoned him.  He sounded like a teacher and he asked me several questions.  We then made an appointment for me at 5 o’clock the afternoon following, and he gave me directions to his house.

I had not been told to but I dressed in a school uniform sort of style, with my MCC tie and a blazer with no crest.

The house was big and had been converted into apartments.  He had most of the ground floor, and the rooms had high ceilings.  He welcomed me in, but was careful to explain that while he had guests, he would leave the front door not quite fastened as he did not want any pupil to ever feel trapped.  He showed me to a room with two proper old school desks complete with inkwells.  He had me seated.

He questioned me several times  about my work in a hotel and said eventually that he had a policy of avoiding students who were press or police.  We discussed my school achievements and he asked how order was maintained.  I told him about the constant fear of corporal punishment we had that had kept us in line.  He probed some more, then asked me to do a test paper.  He said I was intelligent and must work honestly as I would get nothing if deliberate mistakes were made.

I worked away and the paper was quite taxing but I did apply myself for an hour.

He then took me through to another room which was a well fitted home gym and said he would direct me from a table while he marked my work.  I said I had no kit and he asked what happened at my boy’s school when that happened.  I replied that you did class naked and also got punished.  He replied that, well with just two of us there that I could manage without kit.  I did as he directed but felt very self-conscious as I was a bit flabby and all was on view on the rowing machine.

After the time was up I was sent to a shower and instructed to present myself in the schoolroom wrapped in a towel when washed and dried.

I duly did so and he made me stand with hands on head while I was inspected.  He was displeased that my back was damp as well as my inner thigh.  He prodded and probed and I felt sure I would be chastised for the embarrassing erection I now had but apart from fingertip inspection to make sure I was clean, nothing was said, though my face was scarlet with shame.

He now gave me the results of my tests. I had done as well as expected but had made some careless mistakes and could have done better.

He believed these mistakes were genuine so I was worth having as a pupil.  My biggest error was being slovenly in my drying off and not being fully prepared for the exercise at which I definitely needed to improve.

He told me that the way he could help me was to cane me.  This would guide me as to  the right way to behave, otherwise the door was open and I should leave and never return.

I was torn by this choice.  I had secretly hoped for punishment in the coded advert but was now nervous of it.  Leaving would have been easy  but  I would have been unsatisfied. I decided to ask for the caning.

He then told me to bend myself forward over the desk I had worked on.  I did so and felt incredibly nervous.  Why was this so?  I knew I wanted to be caned but feared it.

He announced I would receive twelve strokes. My heart sank, surely this was too much, as I was bare?  I had been caned in the past but the most I had ever received was four strokes, and most times I had remained clothed for my punishment.

SWISH-CRACK!

That felt like a hot wire across my bottom!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

Those two came very quickly and I really felt them.  There was a pause, but the burning sting from those first strokes was intense.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Haaaaaaa!”

I could not help making some noise.

SWISH-CRACK!  This was now more strokes than I’d ever taken before and the pain was terrific.

SWISH-CRACK!

“Oh, oh, oh,  aah, oh!”  I could not believe how bad this was. I was shuffling my feet as if that could help.

I saw him walk around in front of me with that evil cane in his hand.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Aieee!”

I tried to stand up but he put his hand on my back.  He told me that if I were to get up he would add more strokes.  I did not want that.  The latest strokes from the other side were killers.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Please, no more please!”  I was actually sobbing.  My legs felt weak.  I could not speak properly even.  I saw him move again.

SWISH-CRACK!

I let out a scream!  I did not care if the neighbours heard.  I felt cut in half.  The pain throbbed away.

He allowed me to get up.  I rushed my hands to my bottom.  It was all hot and I was sure there were raised marks.  I danced around the room, not much bothered about modesty any longer.

He gave me time to settle down before quietly telling me to get dressed.  He said that I was a bit of a performer but that I had promise.  He would have me back.  At that minute I was sure I would never agree to that, but in time that changed.

He said he had a busy diary so he would call me to set up the appointment for next time.

I dressed, politely thanked him and walked home, acutely conscious of my stripes on every step.

I never did get the call.  I did try ringing after some while but got no reply.

I did however see a snippet in the local newspaper about a man who had been jailed for enticing younger men into flagellation by posing as a tutor, and I guess that was my man.

That was my first “recreational” caning.  To this day, it remains the most severe but also probably the most interesting caning I ever took.  It was all thanks to a coded advert.

(_____________

Story © 2011 by sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission

Aunt’s Medicine – Part 07 (F/F)

Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne

Jane awoke with a start.  It was 7:45 and her bottom was sore from yesterday’s caning.  She rubbed it gently – there were faint ridges.  She got up and inspected it in the mirror.  Wow!  Aunt Judy had done a thorough job there!  Talking of Judy, she hadn’t heard her and Frank during the night. Jane had half expected some noisy lovemaking or maybe even the sound of a cane in use!  Maybe he hadn’t stayed the night after all?

Jane made her way down the stairs to the kitchen.  There was Aunt Judy, sipping at a cup of tea, as ever.

“Aah, Jane.  How nice of you to drop in.  Did you sleep well?  Sore botty?”

“Yes to both of those Auntie! Where’s Uncle Frank?”

“He’s a postie, stupid!  They start work at 5!”

“Oh yes, how silly of me.”

“Indeed.  And I don’t think you should call him Uncle just yet.”

“Things didn’t work out then, Auntie?”

“Don’t be cheeky, Jane.  Look over there.  The canes are still down here, if you want some more.”

“No thanks, Auntie!”

“Good.  No, things with me and Frank are just fine thank you.  He was a bit disturbed by your caning, though.  Still he’ll have to get used to it!”

“Oh, Auntie, no!”

“Oh yes Jane.  It won’t be the last time he has to watch.  And I had a call from Kitty earlier.  She said you are slacking at the restaurant.  You’re letting me down again.  You’d better buck up your ideas!  Otherwise I’ll be packing you off back to your mother’s house.  With a cane!”

“Auntie, you haven’t told her?”

“No I haven’t, but I might if you don’t improve your ways.  I haven’t told Kitty about your motivational canings either.  Now, you were doing really well at the restaurant.  Make sure you improve again.  Kitty is an old and dear friend and she doesn’t deserve to be messed about.”

“Sorry, Auntie.”

Jane was relieved that Aunt Judy hadn’t discussed the canings with Kitty or mum.  Although Kitty had seen the marks once…

“Very sorry, Auntie.”

“You will be my girl if you mess either of us about any more.  Now let that be an end to it.  How about some breakfast?”

As Jane walked to work later she reflected on her conversation with Aunt Judy.  Jane didn’t want to leave the seaside.  It wasn’t paradise but it was the best thing that had happened to her in a long while.  She resolved to work extra hard at the restaurant and make Aunt Judy and boss Kitty proud of her once again.

_________________

It was maintenance caning day again.  Jane walked home with a spring in her step.  She hoped Aunt Judy would be lenient with her.  Given their talk about slacking this seemed unlikely.  More than anything, she hoped Frank would not be there as a spectator.  Opening the front door, she found a stern Aunt Judy waiting in the hall.

“Go straight upstairs and bring me both canes!  I’ll deal with you in the living room.”

“Auntie, is Uncle Frank here?”

“No he isn’t.  Now hurry up and bring me the canes or there’ll be extras for you!”

“Yes, Auntie”

Jane’s relief was short-lived.  Frank wasn’t there, but there sat in the living room was her boss Kitty!  So that’s why she wasn’t at the restaurant!  God, no!

“Hello Jane.”

“Hello Kitty.  I will try harder.”

Jane immediately switched into damage limitation mode.

“Yes, I’m sure you will.  Judy is sure too!  Now, let me have a look at those canes.”

Jane passed her both canes.  Kitty swished them about viciously.

“Yes, very nice.  Jane, I am here to watch your beating at Judy’s invitation.  Let me assure you that I am very familiar with the cane.  There will be no Uncle Frank-type squeamishness from me!”

Jane felt like she was going to die of embarrassment.  Not only would Kitty watch but she had also been told that Frank had done likewise.  Submissively, she bent over the spanking stool and lowered her own knickers.   There was no use pretending or fighting the impending bare bottom caning.

“Alright Jane.  Twelve strokes for your maintenance caning.  Kitty, can you see OK from there?” asked Aunt Judy.

Kitty shuffled along the sofa to get a better view.

“It’s a very pretty bottom,” she remarked. “Delightful.”

“Yes it is, isn’t it?  Perhaps you’d like to feel it before I start?  We could do a before and after!”

Kitty walked over to Jane and gently ran her hands over the naked cheeks.  They were warm to the touch.  The skin was smooth and inviting.

SMACK!

Kitty could not resist smacking the bare bottom, just once!

“Delightful,” she purred.  It was quite a hard smack as it left an imprint of her hand on Jane’s bottom. “Delightful.”

Aunt Judy picked up the older cane.

SWISH CRACK!  SWISH CRACK!  SWISH CRACK!

Three fast strokes showed Kitty that Judy meant business.  Jane was determined to keep quiet.  Sensing this immediately, Judy switched to the newer, more severe cane.

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

Twelve hard strokes in all but Jane, although obviously in great discomfort, had beaten them by remaining quiet.  Judy was quite annoyed, although as usual she had enjoyed inflicting the caning and was growing moist down below.

“Kitty will now take over.  Another dozen I think, Kitty.  Show her what happens to slackers!”

Kitty picked up the older cane, smiling to herself.

SWISH CRACK!

“AARGH!”  With the first stroke she had broken Jane.  Kitty was an expert with the cane.  Judy was amazed and somewhat envious!

SWISH CRACK!

“OWWW!”

SWISH CRACK!

“OWWWWWW!”

SWISH CRACK!  A low and vicious stroke.

“AAARRGGH!”

Kitty switched canes, chuckling to herself.  This was the most fun she’d had for ages!

SWISH CRACK!

SWISH CRACK!

Two hard strokes had Jane squirming.

SWISH CRACK!

Jane yelped.

SWISH CRACK!

Jane cried.

SWISH CRACK!

Jane bucked.

SWISH CRACK!

Jane sobbed.

SWISH CRACK!

Jane gasped.

SWISH CRACK!

Jane was relieved.

“Yes, most satisfactory,” said Kitty.  “I can see why you recommended this to me, Judy.  Now, time for the after comparison, don’t you think?”

Her hands ran all over Jane’s bottom.  It was hotter, red and marked.  Yes, it was even more delightful than before the caning.  Her hands strayed a little towards the pussy lips and then towards the rosebud.

SMACK!

She couldn’t resist one last slap on Jane’s rear.

“You know, Judy, I think I’ll get a cane for home.  And one for the restaurant office too.”

__________________)

Story © 2011 by Rod Cayenne

Photo ©  jess&r ♥ sharing , used by kind permission

Happy Christmas!

Happy Christmas readers, spankers, spankees, caners and canees!  Here are a couple of fun pictures.  Two carpet beaters I bought at a car boot sale:

See how the rattan is bent to shape so easily.  Little wonder then that a cane can cause such havoc!  Does anyone reading have any experience of receiving a carpet beater thrashing?  How does it rate when compared to a disciplinary caning?

The second picture is from regular contributor Jonathan.   It shows his sexy riding boots suitably adorned for the festive season:

What sexy boots, just made to worship and obey!  Especially if the wearer has a cane or crop to hand…

These Are Not Christmas Cards

These are “Tart Cards”.  As a young man, new to a big city, finding cards like these in virtually every phone box was quite shocking and yet quite thrilling too!  I never indulged and indeed could not afford to.  I wonder if any of our readers ever tried similar services?  I would guess these cards date back to the 1970s.  Some seedy shops would have cards in their windows for items for sale and “Chair Bottoms Re-Caned”!  These days the internet has rendered all these cards obsolete, I would guess.

Crofter’s Nephew – Part 2 – The Reckoning (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Story by guest author sukemnsee

It was now the second Saturday since the switching and Raymond had not managed to discuss the issue with Lachlan.  He could not find the words to start the conversation off.  He thought it might have been easier while they had their bodies on view on bath night, but in the event his tongue was tied.

It was bath night again.  Unusually, Lachlan had not immediately emptied the bathwater away.  Instead he just curled up in his armchair wrapped top and bottom in large towels.  Raymond took himself up to his room and slipped into bed.  The heavy covers would keep him warm for a while before dressing.  While he was lying there he heard a rap on the front door.  The visitor was known to Lachlan and welcomed in.

After some while Raymond  got dressed and went down.  Lachlan was still in towels and he and the visitor had evidently been looking at photographs.  Lachlan asked Raymond to boil a full pan of water.  When Raymond was back in the living room, he was introduced to Dougal.  He gradually discovered that Dougal had been the crofter’s assistant for a few years.  Dougal had married Isobel some months before and had been showing Lachlan his wedding photos and discussing plans for developing the small cottage Isobel had chosen.  It also turned out that Isobel had fallen pregnant.  Birth of the bairn was due in six months.  Lachlan laughed, saying:

“That means having discovered sex, you won’t now get any for a long time!”

In this small community the public notion was still that one was virginal at marriage.  Dougal looked coy as the words rang true.

Lachlan asked Dougal what else he missed.   The visitor replied:

“Well, it feels strange calling over on bath night!  I miss that tradition and the reckonings I no longer receive.  I never mentioned them to Isobel.  She’s  such a bonnie lass I can’t bring myself to discuss it”.

Raymond realised that this reckoning was regular discipline from his crofter uncle!

Lachlan said that surely Dougal was due for another reckoning by now:

“You could go adrift laddie, without a guiding hand.”

Dougal agreed but said he could not be going home carrying the marks of punishment.  Lachlan said his arse would have become soft after several months of neglect:

“So I’ll give you a reckoning but not a full one!  Just a good taste, lad”.

“Aye Lachlan.  I hae missed it sorely.”

Raymond felt ignored, almost as if he was not there at all.  He was cautious, but took an avid interest in the conversation.  Eventually, he asked what he should do as the big pot would have boiled.  Dougal looked firmly at Lachlan and said:

“I am nae better than a bairn in school so make this wee laddie see the error of his ain ways!”

At this, Lachlan asked for the pot of water to be tipped into the bath to heat it up.  He checked the water temperature and said all was ready.  Dougal made himself naked and stepped into the bath, where he gave himself a good wash.

Let’s talk about Dougal.  He’s just about 5 foot 9.  He’s clean shaven with a face ready to smile.  He has a reddish tint to his wavy brown hair which is cut short and smart on the nape.  He has a good definition of chest and stomach and quite hairy solid legs.  Now that he is naked you can see he has a beautiful rounded bottom and wedding tackle to be proud of.  The one surprise is that his patch of pubic hair is quite a light ginger.

Dougal stepped out of the bath and tipped it away outside the door, as Lachlan usually did.

Lachlan was still in the chair but had taken away his lower towel to expose his legs.  Dougal paused by the solid clock on the mantelpiece and from behind it picked up a black leather strap that was hidden there, unbeknown to Raymond.  He handed the strap, a tawse, to Lachlan.  Dougal then bent himself fully over Lachlan’s lap.  Lachlan held the strap in his right hand and having raised his arm quite high brought the strap crashing down on the milky white bottom of prone Dougal.

WHACK!  Dougal made no noise but instantly a red mark was evident.  Lachlan continued with more swipes of the strap only getting an occasional grunt from Dougal.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“ARRGH!”

WHACK! WHACK!

“OWWWW!”

Raymond noticed that the strap was split at one end so that there were two tails.  It must be agony, Raymond thought.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

That one had seemed to hit quite low where the bottom becomes thigh.  Lachlan did not seem to be making much effort but was steadily placing the swipes in differing places so that Dougal’s bottom was now red virtually all over.  Raymond was told to get a cloth from the clothes drier, and make it wet all through.

WHACK! WHACK!

Lachlan stopped the beating and Dougal stood up gingerly.  Raymond was told to press the cold, damp cloth on Dougal’s fiery bottom.  As he held the cloth in place his hands had brushed against some of the skin and it had felt quite hot.  He pressed the damp towel a little more.  Being so close, he noticed from the first that Dougal’s cock was stiffening.  He moved away taking the cloth with him as told.

“Och! I felt that indeed” was the comment that Dougal made.

Raymond was asked to bring in the malt, three glasses and a jug of water.  Lachlan poured a generous libation for them all with just the merest splash of water in each glass.  This was evidently their tradition and Raymond found the drink quite strong but deeply warming.  It was nothing like the vodka heavily diluted with mixers that he was used to down South!  As the conversation progressed, Raymond and Lachlan were sat in armchairs.  Dougal had returned the tawse to the mantelpiece and just stood there naked holding his glass.  Raymond felt he either had no shame or was showing off!  The conversation was mainly between Dougal and Lachlan.  Dougal was assured that this had been a taster and that there would be no marks left by the morning.  Both agreed the reckonings should continue and made an arrangement that this should involve a session every second Saturday of the month.  Dougal would have to stay over.  They plotted that this could be sold positively to Isobel as precautionary after a wee dram!  She could also have her sister over for  girly evenings, especially as they would want to talk about the pregnancy.

Dougal now dressed and took his leave.  Lachlan had stayed in his armchair back in two towels.  Raymond followed Dougal into the hallway, to see him out.  Dougal warned him to make sure he always took care with gates.  Raymond’s face flushed and he said it was too late for that!  Raymond closed the door, and returned to the living room.  He wanted to talk to Lachlan about the reckoning, but weirdly they got onto the subject of Bertolt Brecht instead.  Nothing was resolved.

Isobel agreed readily to Dougal’s visits and after the wean was born, at her suggestion, the stayaways became every other weekend and for two nights.

______________)

Story © 2011 by sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission

Photo © 2011 by Jonathan, used here by very kind permission

After The Spanking (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

“After The Spanking – Caned To Ejaculation”

Erotica by guest author Fred Spankmanbare

Great sex is the usual follow-on after a spanking and especially after a caning, but if Pat has just caned me particularly hard we usually cuddle for a few minutes, kneeling on the bed facing each other. During the cuddling she gently holds my raging bottom while the burning fades to the hot glow, a hand on each of my blazing cheeks.

But full sex is not the inevitable outcome. Sometimes, when my wife has decided that I need a good caning but she is not in the mood for sex afterwards (a more frequent occurrence as the years progress, alas), she canes me until I ejaculate.  She makes me present my raised bottom on the bed in the usual position, lying face down with a folded pillow under me (the folded pillow is bulkier than two pillows on top of each other, and there is less pillow sticking out at each side to get in the way of the cane). My penis is usually semi-hard in anticipation of what is to come, and I position myself so that it is in the erect position as it nestles against the pillow. 

I raise my bottom obediently before each stroke of the cane, but the sting of each one makes me flop down into the pillow; I lift my bottom again for the next stroke – whap – down again – then up once more. This repeated thrusting against the pillow during my caning (as well as the caning itself of course) soon stimulates my penis into full erection, and if she canes me with rapid strokes then the my involuntary thrusting is correspondingly rapid too. The end result is that by the time she is approaching the end of her usual 24-stroke discipline I am on the point of spurting uncontrollably. When this happens I’m allowed to turn over on my back to avoid soiling the pillow, and let the fountain play.

I can produce a really spectacular gushing if I constrict the base of my penis by pressing my right thumb firmly into the angle of my erection, and at the same time (just before spurting) lightly constrict the tip of my penis with the finger and thumb of my left hand (I place them gently on either side of the twin bulbs at the front of my penis head). I do this just at the last possible moment before ejaculating (the cream has already started to rise so no rubbing is necessary – the floodgates are already open, so to speak). This procedure produces a forceful jet of hot sperm which can fly more than two feet up in the air, a sight which Pat always enjoys as she stands beside the bed to watch the grand finale, still holding her cane. 

Try it yourselves if you haven’t done it before, and let me know if you find it as effective as I do.

Things are different after a hairbrush spanking. When I have stood up again after Pat has given me a pre-meditated spanking across her knees, she frequently initiates the sexual phase by taking me in hand (and orally) as I stand beside her. If it has been an on-the-spot spanking, however, for which she usually makes me bare-and-bend over the settee or the kitchen table or kneel up on a chair, I usually just get to rub my sore bottom and say thank you, before I gingerly pull up my underpants and my trousers.

Either way, a chastened bottom is a good reminder that lasts for some time, as all spanked husbands know.

_______________)

Item © 2011 by Fred Spankmanbare, used here by very kind permission

My First “Public” Spanking (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Erotica by special guest author Fred Spankmanbare

It was on a Saturday evening a couple of years ago, round about this time of year (mid-December), that I got my first public spanking.  I say “public” but there was only one extra person present – Ann, who is Pat’s long-time best friend from their schooldays.  It was a very thorough spanking, and it came in addition to the usual Saturday morning caning for offences committed during the week.  Pat used the bath brush that evening, a spanking instrument which she doesn’t resort to very often, and having a witness to the performance was a “first” for us.  I found that very exciting and it was well worth the extra-sore bottom I had afterwards. It happened this way:

After I have been caned I usually feel much better, but after my morning caning that Saturday the day somehow just went from bad to worse, and by the evening I was in a foul mood.  I fully expected to be punished for it, and I was actually quite looking forward to that because I knew I needed some more discipline to sort me out.  Little did I know the “extra ingredient” that was in store.  Ann had been invited to our house for a meal in the evening (her husband was away), and my mood was no better by the time the three of us sat down to eat.

I’m afraid my grumpiness ruined the whole thing, and while Pat and I were in the kitchen preparing the after-dinner coffee she warned me that my bad temper had to be corrected and that I was going to get a good spanking later.  The door from the kitchen to the dining room was open, however, and Ann heard every word Pat had said.  When we came back in with the coffee there was a long silence and then Ann said “Em, er, I couldn’t help hearing what you said in the kitchen just now.  I’ve always been interested in the idea of marital spanking but I’ve never got into it.  Are you really going to spank him tonight?”  “Yes, I certainly am”, Pat replied.  Ann smiled and gasped with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment.  “Ohhhh”, she whispered, “do you mind me asking, could I stay and watch?”  “Hmmmm, it would probably be good for him so I don’t see why not”, Pat said, looking over at me.  I nodded silently.  “And do you do it on his bare bottom?”, asked Ann, her eyes shining.  “Always”, Pat told her.  “It’s no good any other way.  Bare bottom is much the most effective way to administer discipline, and anyway I much prefer giving it that way”.

By this time we had all lost interest in the coffee and nobody was saying anything.  The atmosphere was electric.  Eventually Pat turned to me and said “Well, if Ann is going to be present for your spanking there’s no reason to delay.  Go upstairs and fetch the bath brush please.  We’ll do it down here.”  When I returned with our long-handled bath brush the girls had cleared one end of the table and placed a chair against it, seat facing outwards, ready for me to be spanked on.  Pat was standing beside the spanking chair and I handed her the punishment instrument.  Ann had moved her chair away from the table to get a good view of the performance.  “Kneel on the chair”, my wife said.  Then she ordered me to take down my trousers, then my underpants.  Then the command “Bend Over”. As I slowly bent over onto the table as instructed, I heard Ann gasp again.  “Ooooh, look at those marks! Has he been naughty already?”  Pat pulled up my shirt to fully expose my bottom and explained that the rich stripes were from the caning she had given me just that morning.  Then she started the spanking.

While the spanks didn’t sound too hard they certainly felt that way as they landed on top of my cane marks. I got about 20, before she paused. I could hear Ann breathing heavily, and my wife asked her if she would like to have a go. “Oh yes please”, Ann replied, so Pat handed her the bath brush, saying “its best if you give it to him low down on his buttocks. And take your time”. Ann began very timidly, I hardly felt anything, and my wife told her to give it to me harder. Wow! The next spank, and the following ones, were much harder than Pat had given me, but Ann was clearly enjoying it so much that I got about another dozen scorchers from her before she stopped, still breathing heavily.

After that I was allowed to get up and rub my bottom, which was glowing and throbbing after the hard spanking on top of my morning caning.  While I rubbed, the sting subsided and the erotic glow increased.  That, and the added excitement of having been spanked in public made my penis start to grow.  It swung heavily as I carefully pulled up my underpants and then my trousers.  If Ann noticed, she didn’t say anything but she was standing behind me for most of that time so she might not have seen.

We made a fresh pot of coffee and relaxed while Pat explained to Ann all the details of how she disciplines me – her different canes, her riding whip, my Punishment Panties, the lot.  Needless to say, an invitation was issued – and happily accepted – for Ann to be present the next time I was due to be caned or whipped, and to take part in the proceedings.  It was agreed that we would wait until after the Christmas/New Year social whirl before taking that step.

I’ll tell you all about that, and other exciting developments which ensued, in later posts.

That “public” spanking was a first for me.  It would be good to get comments from those of you who have been spanked in front of a witness/participant.  Did you find that having someone else watching or taking part added to the occasion, or detract from it?

__________________)

Story © Fred Spankmanbare, 2011 – used here by very kind permission

Causes for Spanking‏ (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

Erotica by guest author Fred Spankmanbare

What gets you guys a spanking from your wives/girlfriends?

Like most disciplinary wives, Pat spanks me for bad attitude, for brattishness, and also for breaking rules. Well, we really have only one rule, as such – the rule against what I might call “sexual incontinence”. It happens like this:

Some mornings when we are waking up I feel that it’s a shame to waste my morning erection. Pat is usually lying with her back to me so I lift up her nightie and gently part her bottom cheeks with my hands so I can nestle my hard penis in between them. No anal penetration you understand, just snuggling between her soft cushions; I can do this without any difficulty because she never wears panties under her nightie. Now Pat doesn’t usually care for full sex in the mornings, but she likes the feel of my hot penis sandwiched between her buttocks as long as I don’t ejaculate and make a mess, and as I move gently in her bottom cleavage she warns me “now you’re not to come!”. Sometimes I transfer some of my saliva to my penis to supplement its own natural lubrication, so I am soon gliding and sliding beautifully smoothly up and down between her warm softnesses. She responds by thrusting her bottom rhythmically in time with mine, but she does it gently so as not to trigger ejaculation.

Nevertheless, despite further warnings from her, the sensation is so beautiful and so exciting that I frequently lose all control and gush my jets of hot cream all over her lower back and her bottom. Then she gets mad and says “Aaaach, now look at the mess you’ve made. I’m soaking wet. That gets a spanking. Now clean me up!”. She grabs the box of tissues beside the bed and thrusts a handful of them at me, and when I have made her nice and dry again she jumps out of bed and heads for the shower before getting on with her day.

Properly speaking, of course, I should be turned over immediately and soundly spanked there and then, but on weekday mornings my wife prefers to keep such matters until the evening. At weekends, however, she has no such reluctance to take firm action at the start of the day, and Saturdays or Sundays generally start with us both having breakfast in bed before Pat decides whether she is going to take her hairbrush, her cane or her riding whip to my bare bottom (whether by pre-arranged appointment or because I have suggested that she needs to do it). Full sex usually follows urgently as soon as my weekend spanking is over, unless it has been decided that I am going to be caned to the point of ejaculation (I’ll tell you about that in a later post, if you would like to hear about it).

But back to my weekday morning misdemeanour. We discuss it that night, as we are heading for bed:

“I suppose I should prepare . . . Em, get things ready . . . For my spanking for this morning’s mess?”

“Yes you certainly should Get Things Ready, as you say. As soon as I’ve finished in the bathroom I’ll come in and deal with you”.

“Mmmm! And will you be using The Hairbrush or . . . . The Cane?”

“The cane!”, is her usual decision.

So in return for a sweet but against-the-rules ejaculation earlier that day I have to take down my pyjama trousers and lie across the pillows in the middle of the bed, face down, bottom up, and get 12-15 strokes of Pat’s cane which she applies briskly, with her usual relish. It’s well worth it, and of course much better (from my point of view) than a spanking immediately after ejaculation, even though I know that is what I really deserved. 

On many occasions when I haven’t been disciplined for a while and have the irresistible urge to be spanked, I have deliberately spurted between Pat’s delicious buttocks on weekday mornings in order to earn the caning, or the hairbrush spanking, which automatically follows in the evening.

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Text © 2011 by Fred Spankmanbare.  Used by very kind permission.

Photo © 2011 by Jonathan.  Used by very kind permission.

Aunt’s Medicine – Part 06 (F/F)

Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne.

Today was caning day.  Jane rushed home, full of anticipation.  In some ways she was looking forward to the stinging caress of the rattan.  In other ways, she was dreading it.  It was truly a love/hate relationship she had with the cane, and perhaps with her aunt.

Impatiently, she inserted the key in the lock.  She found Aunt Judy in the kitchen, humming merrily to herself.  “Ah Jane, so good of you to drop in.  Maintenance caning day today, isn’t it?  Unless I’m mistaken of course?”

“No, you’re right of course.  Please go easy on me though.  I’ve just had my period and am feeling a bit delicate.”

“Like I care…” said Aunt Judy callously, although in truth she was really fond of her niece.  She reflected on the discipline she regularly had cause to inflict on Jane.  Apart from the odd lapse, she felt sure that the new regime was benefiting her niece.  “For the maintenance caning, I thought six with the old cane.”

“Oh thank you, Auntie!”

“Don’t thank me just yet, Jane.  There will also be a punishment caning for you today!”

“Why, Auntie?”

“Why, Jane?  I’ll tell you why!  Because you were rude to my dear friend Frank, the postman.”

“Oh him!  I only called him a bastard!”

“Indeed.  You will be sorry for that.  Twenty four times sorry!  With the new cane!”

“No, Auntie, that’s too much!”

“There is nothing to negotiate.  I will not tolerate rudeness, especially to public servants like members of our wonderful Post Office,” said Judy in a sanctimonious manner.

“Pah!” said Jane and she stamped her foot down.

“I can see you’re not sorry at all.  Well, I’ve got news for you, missy!  Frank is here in the living room, by my invitation.  He is going to watch your caning and advise me whether your rudeness has been corrected sufficiently.”

“No!”  There was more stamping from Jane.

“Oh yes!”

“Oh Auntie.  At least let me keep my knickers on.”

“No, no, no.  That won’t do at all.  The only way I could persuade Frank to watch your caning was by assuring him that it would be bare bottom.  He wasn’t keen on coming at all, you know.”

“He’s a perv!” said Jane, her face blushing a deep red as her temper grew.

“He is most certainly not a perv, young Jane.  That’s cost you another six.”

“What!!!?”

“Yes, I make that 36 strokes in all!  Now get your arse into the living room”.

Jane couldn’t fight her Aunt’s will any further.  She walked to the living room.  Frank was perched on the big sofa, sat in his postie shorts and with that cheeky grin Jane so disliked.

“Ah Jane, Judy has said I should witness your punishment.  I don’t really approve, but she was most insistent.  Weren’t you Judy?”

“Yes, I was.  I will not tolerate rudeness.  Jane has just referred to you as an old perv as well!”

“Mmm.  Well, there’s no doubt she is a naughty girl.  But the cane is pretty severe, Judy.  Couldn’t you use that leather paddle you were telling me about instead?”

“Absolutely not!  The cane is what Jane is expecting and the cane is what she’s going to get.  Isn’t that right, Jane?”

“Well, I suppose so.  But my period…”

“You told me yourself that your period had finished, so don’t mess with me.”

“Yes Auntie”.

“Now Frank, be a love and nip up to my bedroom.  You will find the two canes hanging in the white wardrobe.  Bring them both down to me.”

“Yes, Jude.”

While he was gone, Jane had one last go at chancing her luck.

“Auntie, this is horrible.  How can you let him watch my humiliation?”

“Quite easily, young Jane, believe me.  This is for your own good.  And Frank and I will feel a lot better once your rudeness has been thrashed out of you.  No doubt, you will feel much the same too.”

Upstairs, Frank surveyed Judy’s room.  It really hadn’t changed that much from when he was a regular visitor to it.  In fact, the main change seemed to be that there were now two canes stored in the wardrobe instead of one!  He also found the new spanking paddle.  He picked it up and sniffed at the leather.  He decided to bring that downstairs too, just in case it was needed.

“Ah, the paddle too!  Well done Frank.  We might be needing that too, just to ensure Jane here is truly sorry.  Jane, knickers down and bend over the spanking stool.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Perhaps I should go…?” Frank interjected.

“You stay where you are!” Judy shouted.  “It’s you she’s been rude to.  She needs to learn her place.  A bit of respect for her elders and betters.  Jane, there’s something you should know.”

“What’s that Auntie?” Jane asked submissively.

“On second thoughts, I’ll tell you after stroke 36.”

“Yes Auntie.”

Frank sat back on the large sofa.  He was already feeling stiff.  And here, just a few feet in front of him, parallel to him, was the spanking stool with Jane bending submissively over it.  He could even see her intimate parts now and then as she wriggled herself into position.

“Six with the old cane.  Maintenance.  Be good!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

Jane managed to take these in silence.  It was a show of defiance towards Judy and Frank.  Judy was a little disappointed, and threw the cane to the ground.  “Pass me the other cane please, Frank.”

Gingerly he passed the new, senior cane to Judy.

“Don’t you think she’s had enough, Judy?” he asked.

Even Jane knew that she had not had enough.

“I told you before, keep out of it!” said Judy, waving the cane at him threateningly.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Ouch!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Aaargh!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OWWW!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAAARRGGH” A particularly vicious stroke caused Jane to scream out.

“Good!” said Judy sadistically.

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAAARRGGHH!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“Judy, don’t you think she’s had enough now?” said Frank sympathetically.

“I shan’t tell you again!” said Judy to Frank.  “Do you want to take her place then?”

“Errr, no, thanks,” he said sheepishly.

SWISH-CRACK!

Frank’s embarrassment grew.

SWISH-CRACK!

Frank’s erection grew.

SWISH-CRACK!

He writhed on the sofa in sympathy.

SWISH-CRACK!

In truth, his erection was straining against the Post Office issue shorts.

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAAARGGH!” cried Jane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“Yeowch!”

SWISH-CRACK!

Frank was chastened and now decided to enjoy the show taking place before him.

SWISH-CRACK!

“Harder!” he cried.

SWISH-CRACK!

“That’s more like it, Frank!” said Judy.  Jane was squirming as the pain spread over her buttocks.

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAARGH”

SWISH-CRACK!

“Harder! Harder!” Frank could hardly believe he was saying it.  But what the hell?

SWISH-CRACK!

“OWWWWWWW!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OOOOWWWWWW!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“ARGH”

SWISH-CRACK!

“YeeoWW!”

“Right Jane.  I think that was 24!  For the bastard business!”

“Yes, Auntie,” Jane sniffed, for that had been a most severe caning.

“What do you think Frank?  Has she learnt her lesson?”

“Well, yes maybe, her bottom is really red now, isn’t it?”  but then he thought sadistically to himself  “but you did say she called me a perv, too.”

“Ah yes, the perv allegation.  Most serious of all, I feel.  Six more for that, maybe you’d like to move a bit closer Frank, so you can get a better view?”

Frank was reluctant to move due to his rampant erection, but it was an invitation he couldn’t resist.  He stood behind Judy as she raised the cane again.  He feasted his eyes on the roasted buttocks before him and admired the pussy lips and puckered arsehole also on display.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Well Frank, has she had enough?”

“I think she has Judy darling, but you will need to keep a close eye on her.  She is incorrigible.”  Frank had moved from sympathy to sadism in the space of a few strokes of the cane.  He been corrupted, just the same as Judy and Jane had.  The cane had won another convert.

“Jane, have you had enough?”

“Yes Auntie.  No more please.  Uncle Frank?”

“Yes, Jane?”

“I’m really sorry for calling you those names.”

“Apology accepted.  But don’t let it happen again!”

“There, that’s good,” said Aunt Judy.  “We’re all friends now aren’t we?  Oh and Jane…?”

“Yes Auntie?”

“Frank will be staying the night tonight”.

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Story © 2011 by Rod Cayenne

Photo ©  jess&r ♥ sharing , used by kind permission

First Severe Caning For Me – Stress Relief For My Wife (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Outstanding erotica by guest author Fred Spankmanbare

In an earlier post I told you how our marital CP sessions moved gradually from mutual bare-bottom play towards a situation in which Pat, my wife, administers all the spanking. This time, I would like to tell you about the night she finally moved beyond spanking just for sex play and gave me a thoroughly severe caning – not just because she considered I needed the discipline, but because she needed to do it as therapy for herself. I remember it so well!

Things had been rocky for over a week, irritability and bad temper from both of us, no sexual activity of any sort, tension high. When we had got into bed on the night in question I had tried to make some clumsy overtures to improve things, but had been promptly rebuffed. I eventually dozed off, but this was difficult both because of my unassuaged sexual hunger and because my wife kept tossing and turning restlessly. Some time later she woke me up. It was past 1:00 a.m. She said “I’m all churned up with tension. I haven’t been able to get a wink of sleep. I’m going to have to either take a Valium tablet or give you a caning”. The latter sounded like an interesting development, to say the least, so I said that I would accept the caning. My heart started to thump with anticipation, and the thought of getting the cane did nothing to calm down my returning erection. Little did I know how short-lived THAT would be, and how different this caning was going to be from the ones she had given me before!

My wife turned on the bedside light and got out of bed. She went over to the chair which we use for some spanking positions and also for putting clothes on, and removed the clothes from it. She got two pillows off the bed and placed them on the chair. At this stage I thought she might be going to use her hairbrush instead, but I was wrong. “Get up”, she ordered me, “and stand over here by the spanking chair. And bare your bottom”. I did as she instructed. I dropped my pyjama trousers to the floor and stepped out of them. Wishing to avoid earning any extra discipline I picked them up and put them neatly on the bed, and while I was doing so Pat selected one of her canes. I heard them rattling softly in the drawer as she considered which one to use. To my dismay she chose the thickest one (I already told you that she has three – a thin whippy crook handled one, a thin straight handled “travelling cane” which is only 18 inches long and easier to pack for holiday discipline sessions, and a thicker 25-inch straight-handled one which was what she had decided to use on me now). She came back to where I was standing and tapped the cane against her hand. “Now”, she said in a strangely quiet voice, “bend over. Get across the pillows, elbows on the floor”. I bent over obediently, got into position and raised my bottom submissively. I lay still, waiting for the discipline to start.

She started whipping me rapidly. Hard strokes, well delivered, all on target. After about five or six strokes the fire built up in both buttocks, and I squirmed and cried out with the pain. The room was filled with the sounds of really strict discipline – the whistling whisper of the cane, its whup, whip, whap on my poor bottom, and my cries of “Oh! Oh! Ah! Oh! Aaaah! Oh! Oh!” punctuated by my wife’s stern commands of “Stay down, stay down” as she continued to whip me relentlessly and very, very thoroughly. I was sure the neighbours would hear it all.

Somewhere between 15 and 20 I lost count of the number of strokes she gave me, but it must have been over 30. Towards the end she slowed down, and I could hear her breathing heavily. As she delivered the last three strokes she panted with each one in turn, “Yes! There! Yes!” and then there was silence. What a caning it had been! She put her cane back in the drawer and told me I could get up, so when my bottom had stopped quivering I got up carefully and looked at it in the mirror, a mass of horizontal stripes of white and dark red, with thick ridges. I climbed into bed gingerly, without replacing my pyjama trousers. My wife fell asleep very quickly, but I lay in the dark as the fiery pain in my buttocks gradually subsided to a throbbing glow. I tenderly explored with one hand, and felt rising excitement as I stroked the thick, raised welts she had given me. My whole bottom was beautifully corrugated.

The next morning my wife was in a great mood. “I know I was severe on you last night”, she said, “but I really needed that workout with the cane. It relieved all my tension and I slept better than I have for ages”. She asked to see my bottom so I showed her. She was very impressed, and I was quite proud of it, even though the rich colours of my cane marks and the thickness of my lovely weals were not quite as spectacular as they had been immediately after she had finished her new-found stress-relief therapy.

I knew then, if I hadn’t realised it already, that the spanking lifestyle as a regularly (and strictly) disciplined husband was going to be the path to many adventures of tingling excitement, erotic thrills and deep satisfaction.

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Story © Fred Spankmanbare, 2011 and used here by kind permission