Madness

Every day I check the viewing stats for this blog.  Sometimes I check several times.  It’s the nature of blogging, I guess.  It is close to madness, especially as I have other online interests to maintain.

The temptation is to run the blog along lines which bring the most hits.  That could mean dropping say M/M stories as there is a lot of prejudice against them.  But I won’t be doing that.  This blog is bisexual, and all combinations are catered for!  It’s a broad church and just the way I like it.  I am fortunate to feature guest contributions which support this diversity. I have decided against publishing the stats or hits here on the blog as they would add nothing to my audience’s experience and could tempt me into some sort of popularity arms race.

As I write, one favourite scraping blog appears to have bitten the dust.  This is a shame as caning blogs are pretty rare.  As much as I enjoy other spanking activities, this blog will continue to focus on caning, as it is my main kink.  Bottoms up everyone!

(________________

posted by Rod Cayenne

An Old Man Remembers (M/F)

Erotica for your pleasure by your host Rod Cayenne

“Vicious canings, six strokes every time.”  The old man was recounting his misspent youth to the pretty young visiting nurse.  “At home it was just as bad.  My aunt and uncle used the cane on me until I left home at 24!  Often a dozen.”

The nurse shifted uneasily in her chair.  She was turned on by the old man’s recollections.  Her nipples were erect and she was flushed in the face.  “Tell me more,” she encouraged him.  “Were these bare bottom canings?”

“At home, yes.  I think my aunt in particular used to like baring my bottom.”

“Mmmm, I see you have a couple of canes in your umbrella stand.”

“How very observant of you, dear.  Yes those are the very ones used on me.  I inherited them.  I used to give the wife a tap or two with them, but I shouldn’t tell you that!”

“No, go on!  When she was bad?”

“Yes, sulky, that sort of thing.  She used them on me sometimes, too.  When I came home drunk, for example.”

“Oh gosh, how very kinky!”

“Oh maybe, for want of a better word.  It used to clear the air.”

“I bet!” said the nurse, standing up but looking rather flushed.  She made her way over to the umbrella stand and withdrew both the punishment canes, “Does a caning really hurt?” she asked.

“Oh yes, bloody hell nothing like a caning, my girl!  You’ve never had it then?”

“Of course not, silly, it’s not allowed now.”

“It is between consenting adults.  You are sulky today, aren’t you?  Would you like a taste?”

“You’re very persuasive, but I am on duty.”

He felt he had to seize the moment, “Well, you could come back later.  Or you could trust me not to tell.”

“Oh go on then!  Over this chair?”

“Yes, excellent choice my girl.  Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

She shook her head.  Actually she had done it before.  She had enjoyed it and repeated the experience as often as she could.  She wasn’t going to tell him that, though.  He was a sexy, mature male and just the type she liked.

“Bend right over!  Now, lets flip that skirt up.”  He used the cane to flick her skirt up.  “Now, what about those knickers?  My wife’s were always pulled down.”

“If you want them down, you will have to pull them down!” she said defiantly.  He didn’t need to be told a second time!  He pulled the silky knickers right down.  Her buttocks were fully exposed and he could see  hairy treasure beyond.  Her arsehole was trying to hide but he parted her cheeks roughly, had a good look and then planted a heavy SLAP on her cheeks.  It felt good so he did it again a few times.  SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP!    SLAP!    SLAP!

“Ooooh!” she exclaimed.  Her hand gently caressed her spanked bottom, “I’m ready.”

“You seem keen, you minx!  See how you like this cane then!”  he picked up his favourite cane.  It was golden yellow in colour, whippy and with a beautiful crook handle.  He whipped it down.

SWISH-CRACK!

“Owww!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OWWWCH!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAARGH!”

“Calm down, dear!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Ouch!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OWWWWWW!  My god, that hurt!”

“Yes, I’m sure it did.  Six of the best, wasn’t it, my girl?”

“Oh yes.  Six of the very best, thank you.  But I could take a few more!”

“Tut, tut.  I am beginning to think you enjoyed that!”

“Oh no.  No enjoyment at all.  But I did need it.  I don’t feel sulky now.  So, how about another set with your other cane?”

“Well, aren’t you the pushy one?  The other cane is whippier and will sting more.  Are you sure you want it?”

“Yes, yes!  I need it!”

“OK, bend back over!”

SLAP! He couldn’t resist landing another firm smack on her delightful but marked posterior.  Her most private secrets were on view again.  He decided not to push his luck today.  There would be another occasion soon, he was sure.  He did take the opportunity of removing her knickers completely.  Surreptitiously he gave them a sniff.  He felt sure he could smell the musky scent of sexual arousal.

SWISH-CRACK!  He whipped the cane down.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned.  “Harder!”

She was topping from the bottom but what the hell, he was enjoying himself like mad!

SWISH-CRACK!  A harder stroke as demanded made her buck and writhe.

SWISH-CRACK!  She thrust her cheeks out begging for more and then wiggled submissively.  She was egging him on.

SWISH-CRACK!  Although he was feeling a little frail, he could still cane like a demon.

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAAARGH!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OOOH!  Thank you, thank you!”  She leapt up and planted a kiss on his lips!

They chatted over a brew.

“I’ll be back in a week to change your dressing.”

“Jolly good.  I’ll make sure you’ll be undressing too!” he said to her with a sly wink.

___________)

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

Gym – Part 2 (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

Erotic fiction by special guest author cpman

 

“Alan,” he replied. ”Yours?”

“Tom.”

He stood up, and handed the cane to me.

“That was amazing…I can’t believe you’ve never been caned before…you took it so well.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on,” I said to him, quite honestly. “ You seemed to be enjoying it, too!” I said as I grasped his cock.

“So, how many do you want?”

He stroked my cock gently.

“How about you give me twenty four strokes down here, and then we can go up to my flat…it’s more comfortable.”

“A deal,” I said.

He then bent over the chair, offering his arse to me and to the cane.

It was my first chance to really look at his arse.  Strongly masculine; pleasingly large and rounded; smooth cheeks leading to a hairy crack.  I ran my hand over both cheeks, then I started to explore that crack.  He sighed audibly as I found his hole.

I then stepped back and ran the cane over his lovely bottom.  Then I raised it and gave him one.

“You’d better do it harder, or I might have to bend you over again and show you how to do it again,” said Alan.

I raised the cane and gave him another one, much harder.  He didn’t move.

“Better, but still not best.”

“Right,” I said, and really let him have it.

“That’s it!” he said, as he wiggled his arse.  ”Twenty three to go!”

I gave him a second one, after which he said, ”Two.”

I put more into the third stroke. He lifted his arse higher, and said, “Three.”

I then gave him three fast ones, as he had given me.  He counted after each one.

I walked over and looked at my handiwork……..6 nice stripes.  I ran my hand over them, and I realised that I was just as turned on by caning Alan as I had been when he was caning me.

I reached between his legs and found his hairy balls, and felt the base of his stiffy.

He sighed softly.

I returned to my position and gave him six more hard strokes, a few seconds apart.  Alan counted each one.

I stepped over to him and felt his arse again.  He said softly “I can take it harder…much harder.”

I stepped back, and swung the cane as hard as I dared.

“Oh yes…yes…cane me!”

And I slowly gave him the second twelve strokes.  He stopped counting each stroke.  He just moaned, “Thank you” after each stroke struck his arse.

After the twenty third stroke I said, “One to go.”  Alan stood up, and put his hands on his head and stuck his arse out. He was fully erect.  He turned and looked at me as I raised the cane for the last time.  He watched the cane slam into his arse.  After a long slow moan he stood again, and walked over to me.  He grasped my erection.  I took his in my hand.

“I think we both enjoyed that,” he whispered. ”I know I did!”

“A stiff cock tells no lies,” I whispered back.

“Speaking of which…shall we go upstairs?”

_______________________)

Story © 2012 by cpman, used here by very kind permission

Part 1 is here

There Wasn’t Much Caning – Part 2 (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Erotic fiction by your host Rod Cayenne

Part 1 is here

___________)

“Hello Mr. Pearce.”

“Hello lad! Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Come in to the front room. I’ll get you a towel so you can dry off. Filthy weather isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’ll say, Sir. Still, we mustn’t let it spoil things, must we?”

“No indeed lad. I expect you experienced worse on cross-country runs.”

“Oh yes, Sir! It always seemed to be raining and muddy. Mr. Wilfred’s slipper used to really sting through a pair of wet white shorts.”

“Of course. Those shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination when they were wet lad. They used to become almost transparent!”

“I know Sir, I know. The slipperings were bad enough but as Mr. Wilfred had a no underwear rule, he must have had a good look at our assets when we were bent over.”

“Yes, I remember him telling me as much. He and I became good friends, you know. He was a perv, but let’s be honest, so am I. You too, I believe.”

“Yes, maybe Sir. I think I could develop a taste for the cane.”

“That’s certainly possible lad. It’s a danger in a way. The cane can be addictive. Like a drug. It’s the pain-killing endorphins that cause the problem. Anyway, here’s a towel. You might as well strip off and put your clothes on the radiator. I take it you do want another caning?”

“Er, yes please, Sir. Only if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble my boy. It’ll be a pleasure. You know, your arse is quite, quite special. A beauty.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I get to see a few arses you know. Fat ones. Lardy ones. Lumpy ones. Dirty, unwashed ones. Eeeewww! Tattooed ones. Smelly ones. But every now and then, I get a real beauty like yours to play with. It makes it all worthwhile.”

“Thank you Sir. Would you like a feel of it now?”

“Yes, bend over and touch your toes for me lad.”

His hands were cold, just like before. They wandered all over my bottom. I was feeling a little dizzy in my bent over position. He shoved an unlubricated finger up my arsehole. It hurt a bit but it was also pleasurable as he gradually started to wiggle it about in my hot hole.

“Get up lad! It’s a nice arse alright, but you shouldn’t have let my finger in. You will be punished for that.”

“Yes, of course Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

“Plenty of time for that later. I think we’ll have a cuddle for a minute lad, come and sit here with me on the sofa.”

He put his arm around my naked shoulders. It felt nice. Like a dad. My dad never did that for me. He never took the trouble to chastise me either. My cock was rock hard by now.

“That’s a very nice penis you have there.”

He grabbed it and started to wank it roughly. His grip tightened and he increased the speed. Faster and faster he pumped. I tried to hold back my excitement but I couldn’t. I was stiff, stiffer than ever before. I was turned on, more than ever before. Suddenly my cock exploded with copious amounts of cum. It shot all over the place, over him and over his wanking hand.

“Dirty boy! That will be more punishment for you.”

He wiped the cum from his hand onto my hairy chest.

“A very dirty boy. With a very nice penis. And a bottom to match.”

He disappeared. I assumed he had gone to fetch the canes, but instead he returned holding a carpet beater.

“This hurts!” he said to me nonchalantly. “What does it do lad?”

“It hurts, Sir!”

“Get upstairs! I’ll deal with you there.”

He sat down on the bed, patting the carpet beater on his palm. I stood before him, naked but at least I no longer had an erection.

“Bend over lad. I’m going to beat you now for allowing a finger to probe you!”

“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir, it won’t happen again.”

“I only wish I could believe that.”

I was bent over waiting for the first stroke when instead I felt his finger push into my arsehole again!

“See what I mean! Absolutely incorrigble!” He laughed and withdrew his finger. The carpet beater lashed down. Ouch! It hurt. Not as badly as the burn of the cane, but still a painful reckoning. Again and again painful blows lit up my bare cheeks.

“How was that then boy?”

“Painful Sir!”

“Good! Now then, I was telling you about Mr. Wilfred. We became good friends and used to spank, slipper and cane each other.”

“No! Get away, I don’t believe you!”

“I wouldn’t advise calling me a liar boy!”

“No Sir, Sorry Sir! I was just a little surprised.”

“Anyways, that’s how I know about the wet shorts and how much a slippering hurt through them.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of white P.E. shorts. He held them up and twanged the elastic. “For you, boy!”

“Thank you, Sir.” I went to put them on.

“No, no, no!” he said impatiently. “Take them to the bathroom and make them wet!”

At first, I was horrified as I thought he meant me to piss on them, but then I realised that he wanted me to run them under the tap. I did so, cheating a little by using warm water. He would never know, after all. I wrung the shorts out a little and and then slipped them on over my naked, beaten cheeks. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked my 25 years but I also looked like a naughty pupil. By the time I returned to the bedroom he had changed into shorts too. His were dry, of course. On a leather lanyard around his neck hung a shiny chrome whistle. This was going to be fun! He picked up a white and green gym shoe and waved it under my nose.

“You are a sinful little boy and I am going to beat that sin right out of you!”

He indicated that I should bend over on all fours on the bed. He waved the plimsoll at me again.

WHACK!

“Yeowwwww!” Shit, that hurt!

WHACK!WHACK!

WHACK!

He gave a toot on his whistle. My cock stood to attention.

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

The intensity of the slippering on my wet shorts was breathtaking. It was almost worse than the cane! Almost…

WHACK!

“AARGGH!”

He stopped and threw it down.

“Stay here for a minute boy. Don’t get up.”

A couple of minutes later he returned. He had changed into a headmaster’s outfit! Suit, shirt and tie, mortar board and gown!  He looked terrific. He headed over to the wardrobe and opened the doors. I could see his two canes hanging from the rail. He seemed to be deciding which one to use. He sighed a little, and rolled up his sleeves. He took out both canes and turned around giving me a wicked grin.

“Twelve with the senior cane, on your wet shorts.”

“Yes Sir!”

“For spunking all over the place.”

Yes, I thought to myself, that had been fun and rather wicked. I had loved the masterful way he had wiped cum on my chest.

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAARGH!” It hurt like the blazes!

SWISH-CRACK!

The wet shorts offered no protection from the bite of the senior cane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAAAAAARGH!”

The wet shorts were making the pain worse.

SWISH-CRACK!

Mr. Pearce could see redness behind the wet shorts.

SWISH-CRACK!SWISH-CRACK!SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!SWISH-CRACK!SWISH-CRACK!

“AARGH!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“Owww!”

It was all over, to my immense relief. What a wicked teacher Mr. Pearce had turned out to be.

“Drop the shorts boy!” he instructed. I duly let them fall off.

His ice cold hands were once again on my bottom. He took some lube from a drawer in the bedside cabinet. Soon he had another finger up me. We both got a lot of pleasure from this.

“Your shorts have made the bedding wet!”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” I knew straight away that this would mean more of the cane. I thrust my naked arse submissively towards him.

“You’d better beat me again, Sir!”

“Not so fast!” he replied. “Put the shorts back on.”

I began to suspect that the wet shorts were a bit of a fetish of his. I tried to imagine how he and Mr Wilfred had played their games. Did they end up in bed together? My thoughts were soon disturbed by the SWISH-CRACK! of the crook-handled junior cane landing on my damp buttocks. I was in for eighteen strokes as punishment for making the bedding wet.

______________)

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Sequel To My “Public” Caning (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

Erotica by guest author Fred Spankmanbare

When I had got dressed again after being soundly whipped by both Pat and her friend Ann (see “My First Public Caning“), we asked Ann if she had started spanking her husband yet. We reminded her that she had told us the first time, when they had both spanked me with the bathbrush a few weeks previously (see “My First Public Spanking”), that she had always been interested in marital spanking but hadn’t ever got into it. I remarked that she had spanked me, and whipped me, very enthusiastically – and skillfully – (Pat said that she agreed with that!), so we asked whether she had introduced her husband Tony to marital discipline.

Ann said that she hadn’t yet, but that now that she had tried it on me she would certainly introduce it in her house. She had been noting all instances of Tony’s misbehaviour, and planned to tell him that he had a simple choice – no more sex for at least a month, or accept her discipline from now on. She told us she had already bought a spanking brush, and would produce it as soon as Tony had returned from his business trip. She said she was sure he would accept those terms!

“And after I’ve soundly spanked his bare bottom”, she said, “I’m going to show him what’s in store for future punishments. Would you might terribly if I asked for the loan of one of your canes, until I can get one of my own?”

Pat was glad to do so, and lent Ann her straight cane. “Try this one”, she told Ann, “and use it as necessary. Let me have it back some time; no rush. I’d prefer not to lend you the crook-handled cane, because that’s my favourite and I wouldn’t want to part with it, even for a loan, because I always like to have it ready for use whenever necessary”. The three of us smiled knowingly, and the thought made me carefully rub my bottom again. “Oooh yes”, I told Pat, “I’ll always bare and bend for your cane whenever you want me to. I always know its needed”.

“Don’t be afraid to use both on him, the cane as well as the hairbrush, even if it is his first time”, I told Ann. “I always feel much better after a good caning. It brings great emotional release”. “OK”, Ann replied, “That’s good to know. I like using the cane, but also the hairbrush or bathbrush. Should I start him with a hand spanking, though?” Pat said that she gave up giving me hand-spankings a long time ago. “It stings my hand too much, before his bottom has even started to go pink, let alone red.”  I agreed. “I find Pat’s hand-spanking just isn’t severe enough”, I said. “It doesn’t give my naughty bottom the discipline it needs because it lacks the power of the hairbrush or the lovely clean burn of the cane”.

So Ann went home with Pat’s straight cane, the one Pat had first caned me with all those years ago when we had started my physical correction therapy, the cane that had led to really great sex on the many occasions that Pat had applied it thoroughly and skilfully to my well-deserving bare bottom. It was good to think it was now going to be used at the beginning of another couple’s entry to the spanking lifestyle.

______________)

All content © 2012 by Fred Spankmanbare, used here by very kind permission of the author.

There Wasn’t Much Caning – Part 1 (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne

“There wasn’t much caning when I was at school,” I said to Mr Pearce, my old housemaster. We had bumped into each other in town and had started talking about old times, like you do. He invited me to drop in later that day, which I duly did. We spoke about school, former pupils and staff, of rugby and cricket. He sat up as I mentioned caning.

“Ah, the cane. It’s surprising how many old boys want to talk about that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Almost every visitor I have wants to talk about it and wants to know whether I still have a cane. Getting back to your original comment, no, there probably wasn’t much caning when you were at school. There was a little more just after you left, just prior to abolition. We had to keep trouble at bay, and be sure anarchy didn’t break out as soon as we lost the cane. Plus Mr Watts was a bit of a sadist, if you ask me.”

“I’d heard that. I was lucky I guess that Mr Spring was still head when I was at school.”

“Yes, you were lucky, or rather your bottom was,” he laughed out loudly. “So you never got the cane, Tom?”

“No, I was a good boy. Only ever got the slipper in P.E.”

“Aha, Mr Wilfred. A bit of a perv.” I was shocked when Mr Pearce referred to my old P.E. teacher that way. “He was very fond of boys’ bottoms.”

“Gosh yes, Sir,” I said shaking my head at the memories. “I had the slipper many times. Never the cane, though. I often wondered what it was like.”

“I didn’t use the cane much, as you probably noticed. I always had a couple hanging on hooks in my study though. Just as a tease, really. They were seldom used.”

“Yes, I remember,” I said. “I used to dread visiting your room because they were there!”

“I see. I’ll tell you what, I’ll go and fetch them. I still have them upstairs,” he revealed. Suddenly I felt my interest in the topic of the cane evaporate. Fear replaced it – did I really want to see those canes again?

“Here they are!” he said returning with the two crook-handled canes. He swished one of them around and then bent it into a semi-circle. “What do you think?” he asked.

“Well, they look a bit old and thin. A bit like you, Sir!”

“Cheeky!” he replied. Suddenly his expression grew fierce. “That’s the sort of cheek that would have got you a caning in the good old days. I’m a bit hurt.”

“Sorry, Sir,” I replied with a smirk. “Perhaps you should cane me?” I said flippantly. However, he took my words literally!

“Bend over this chair then, Tom!” he ordered. Somehow I couldn’t refuse.

CRACK!

The cane lashed down on my arse. I managed to keep quiet but it hurt like mad!

CRAACK!

A harder stroke made me gasp and panic.

CRAACK!

Another hard stroke and I was writhing. I wondered how many strokes I’d be getting and whether I should just get up and leave. Just then a strange thought entered my head – it hurt like hell but it sure was fun. Of a strange kind…

CRACK!

“OWWWW!” I cried out.

CRACK!

CRACK!

He told me to get up. I rubbed my bottom furiously.

“Well?” he asked me.

“Er, ooh, gosh that hurt, Sir!”

“Good lad, but was it satisfying?”

“Er well, yes, it certainly satisfied my curiosity, Sir. What a strange feeling…”

“You enjoyed it then. A lot of grown men do. How about another six on the bare?”

Before I could answer, I felt his cold hands unbuckling my belt, and soon my cords and briefs were around my ankles. He picked up the other cane and whipped it down on my naked arse again and again.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The six strokes were over but he carried on with further hard strokes, clearly relishing the caning as much as me.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“AAARGH!” I cried out.

“You are a tough boy!” he said to me as I pulled my trousers back up. We smiled at each other. We should have done this years ago. We arranged to meet again in a month.

____________)

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Part 2 is here

My First “Public” Caning After The “Public” Spanking (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

Erotic Fiction by special guest author Fred Spankmanbare

In my penultimate post (“My First ‘Public’ Spanking”) I told you about how, just before Christmas a couple of years ago, my wife had given me a good spanking in the dining room on my bare bottom in front of her friend Ann. It had been Ann’s introduction to real domestic discipline, and under Pat’s expert tutelage Ann had spanked me too, with the bathbrush.

I also told you that after I had been soundly spanked by both girls, Pat had invited Ann to be present  for a caning, whenever my next one became due, and to take part in the proceedings. Ann had agreed enthusiastically, and so a few weeks later I was given my first “public” caning . It was wonderful, and well worth the very sore bottom I had afterwards – satisfyingly tender, and richly patterned with lovely cane marks and whip ridges.

Here’s what happened:

As I may have told you before, Pat administers many of my canings on Saturday mornings, when I get punished for infractions I have committed during the week. So on the morning of that Friday in January a couple of years ago, I asked her what I was due for the following day. She consulted her list and said the offences were not too serious but that they were certainly enough for me to be given a regular caning. So mindful of Pat’s  invitation for Ann to join us, I suggested we contact Ann straight away to check that she would be available. Pat asked me to call her, which I did immediately. I hoped that Ann’s husband wouldn’t answer the phone! Luckily he didn’t, and with butterflies in my stomach I reminded Ann of the spanking she and Pat had given me, and of Pat’s invitation. I told her that I was going to be caned tomorrow morning, and that the invitation for her to take part in my discipline session still stood, if she would like to join us.

“Oooh I’d love to”, she said softly, “but I’m afraid I couldn’t make it tomorrow. Could Pat postpone it till Monday?” I consulted Pat, who said that a postponement should be no problem – she would give me a maintenance spanking on Saturday just to keep my bottom in line, and a full caning in Ann’s presence on Monday – probably with extra strokes added to compensate for the delay. I relayed this information to Ann, who explained that her husband would be away on a business trip and so she would be free the whole evening to enjoy the performance.

On that Saturday morning Pat’s spanking brush was put to brief, brisk but very effective use on my upturned bare bottom, and I spent the rest of the weekend trying to control my excitement about the public caning with Ann on the Monday evening.

Monday came at last, and before Ann arrived Pat told me to prepare the bedroom for the caning. To my mingled dismay and delight she told me to get out the riding whip as well as her favourite cane, so when I had stripped the quilt and top sheet off the double bed and piled two pillows on top of each other in the centre, I fetched the crook-handled cane and her whip and placed them neatly on the bed beside the pillows.

I returned downstairs, and when Ann arrived I answered the door. She gave me a wicked grin and said “I understand you’ve been very naughty since our last, em, meeting! How is your bottom?” “I was spanked again on Saturday”, I replied, ” but my bottom still needs attention from the cane. I hope that’s OK with you?”. “Sure is”, she replied with another grin, “and I’m looking forward to it!” She added, in a whisper, “I’ve been so excited I haven’t slept a wink since you called”.

At Pat’s suggestion we all had a short drink to loosen things up, so to speak. When we had finished, Pat said in a stern voice “Time for your appointment with the cane, Fred, and Ann is going to help as well. Go upstairs and prepare yourself please”. I put down my glass and went upstairs to the bedroom and took off all my clothes. I lay across the pillows, face down and bottom raised. While I was waiting in the punishment position I looked fondly at the cane and the whip, wondering which would be used on me first, and by whom.

The two girls came into the bedroom. “Now Ann”, said my wife, “since you haven’t used a cane before, let me give you a few tips about using it. Parallel strokes across both buttocks are best, especially on the lower buttocks. Try not to let the cane’s tip go further than the centre of his further cheek. You should cane him fairly hard; he has to feel the punishment, but not hard enough to break the skin. I suggest we give him two dozen strokes, twelve from me first, to show you how it’s done. Would you like to administer the other twelve? Then we will decide what to do with the riding whip”. From my prone position on the bed I heard Ann say huskily “Yes, that would be great”.

“Right”, said Pat to me as she took up the cane, “raise your bottom up so I can cane you properly”. I obediently did so, and the familiar but always delicious whip whap whup sounds of a bare-bottom caning proceeded to fill the bedroom. I wriggled, squirmed, and gasped and somehow stayed in position for the 12 strokes. Pat handed the cane to Ann, and while Ann admired its smooth curves Pat told me “You may rub yourself for a few moments”, which I gratefully did. I got off the pillows and knelt up to do so, aware that my penis was by now semi-erect but I didn’t care. I wanted to show off, so I shamelessly thrust it out as I rubbed my sore bottom. I also knew that Ann had the reputation of being very uninhibited and adventurous. Since there was nothing to lose I said “It’s not fair that I’m totally naked in front of Ann and she still has everything on. I think she should be topless when she canes me”. Before Pat could say anything, Ann had dropped the cane on the bed, whipped off her blouse and bra and stood in all her magnificence. She is a petite woman with small breasts, but even though they were now unsupported they were the most perfect shape, miniature but fully rounded, and with the most fantastic nipples which were huge in proportion to her small breast size and which were now erect and jutting outwards at diverging angles. What a wonderful sight she was.

Ann slowly took up the cane again, her eyes on my erection as it rose and hardened uncontrollably at the sight of her – a bare-breasted vision who was now standing with her shoulders well back, nipples standing proud, holding the cane and telling me sweetly “Bend right over please. I want to give you the cane now, but first you have to tell me what we are punishing you for.” “For being bratty last week”, I replied, “bratty with Pat, rude to shop assistants, angry with other drivers on the road”. “I see”, said Ann, “your naughty bottom obviously needs to be punished properly then, so I’m going to do it quite hard. Bend over and raise your buttocks to the cane, please”. For a beginner she knew all the right words!

I got into position again, gingerly brushing my penis against the cool pillows and raising my buttocks in the air for Ann’s cane. She took careful aim before raising it and then down came the first fire-cracker, followed by 8 more which had me kicking and yelling loudly after each one. Then she paused and asked me how that had been, so far. She was caning harder than Pat does. “Very strict”, I gasped, “my poor bottom. But this is what it needs, so please – cane me some more”. “Three more to go then”, she said, “are you ready?” “Yes please”, I groaned, adding submissively “cane me on my naughty bare bottom, please give me what I deserve”. Whack, whack, whap, came three really hard strokes. They were so hard that in the mirror I could see Ann’s breasts, small though they are, moving attractively as she raised the cane high and whapped it across my proffered buttocks.

When she had finished I lay panting on the bed, staying over the pillows while I rubbed my flaming bottom. Pat complimented Ann on her discipline style, and asked if it was really the first time she had used the cane. Ann giggled and confessed that not only had she been looking at several caning websites, but she had also been practising her technique and particularly her aim on some cushions, using a switch cut from her garden!

What a caning that had been. But my punishment session wasn’t over yet. I still had to get . . . . The Whip.

Pat said they would like a different presentation for the whipping, and pulled the spanking chair into the middle of the room. She placed one of the pillows on the chair seat for me to lie across, and I obediently bent over and displayed my bottom again. Pat explained to Ann that I had agreed to accept additional strokes to compensate for the postponement of my Saturday caning, and that was why I was now going to get The Whip. “I think a dozen should be enough, and I always apply it as if it were a cane. Six from each of us?” she asked Ann. “Lovely”, Ann replied, and stood to one side to watch while Pat tapped my bottom with the riding whip. The first stroke was hard, harder than the cane . . . . “Oh! Ow! Ooooh! Aaah! Oh! Ohhhh!”, I yelped, six times.

“Your turn”, said Pat as she handed the whip to Ann, “I like to give him nice weals on his naughty bottom when I use my whip, so please feel free to do that too!” Ann needed no encouragement. She whipped me as enthusiastically as she had caned me, but she delivered her six strokes of the whip more slowly and deliberately. For a beginner she placed each stroke very well. More ooohs, aaaahs, squeals and kicking from me.

When it was over and I could move, I delicately touched my bottom to feel the damage. Big thick weals ridged across both buttocks. The glow was already replacing the burn and sting, and it was a very very satisfying feeling as I gently rubbed my wounded bottom while the two girls watched me. “Thank you”, I said, “Thank you for the caning, and for the whipping. You were both very strict but it had to be done. It’s exactly what I need to get whenever I’ve been naughty. Thank you”.

Pat and Ann both wanted to stroke my cane marks and my whip weals, so I stood to attention (in more ways than one!) while they admired their handiwork. I looked in the mirror. “And thank you for my beautiful cane marks, and for the lovely whip weals”, I said.

What a memorable discipline session it had been! And what a thrill to have had it “in public”.

I feel sorry for people who haven’t got into the spanking scene, they are missing so much.

_______________)

Story © 2012 by Fred Spankmanbare, used here by kind permission

Lofty (M/M)

Erotic fiction by your host Rod Cayenne

Cousins Tim, 58, and George, 59 were clearing out the loft of recently deceased Uncle Bernie.  Their families had been left the property and a decision had been reached to sell the place.  Uncle Bernie had been a hoarder, so it had taken days to clear the main part of the house, and his garden sheds.

They had been taking it in turns, one in the loft passing stuff down, and the other assessing what to do with it.  Tim was passing items down to George when he said “Let’s have a break for lunch.  At least let’s get a sandwich from Wendy’s café.”

“I think I’d rather go to the Rose And Crown.”

“OK, but no overdoing the drinking, we need to clear this place.”

Over pie and chips at the pub, the two cousins reminisced about Uncle Bernie. He was an affable sort of chap, in a strict sort of way. Sometimes the cousins had spent weeks with him, both together, and alone.

“Do you remember when he caught us two playing doctors and nurses?”

“Remember?  How could I ever forget?  My bottom was sore for ages!  I got a dozen with the cane!  If I remember correctly, he let you off with just 10!”

“He did give me 10.  But I didn’t think that was particularly lenient.  His canes are in the loft.”

“What?”

“His canes are in the loft.  I just saw them.  All three of them.”

“Oh right!  I’d like to see them when we get back.  Maybe break each one into two!”

“Hey, steady on!  They’re family heirlooms!”

“Well we can’t split them 50:50.  That would be one and a half each!”

“You know young Wayne could use a good hiding!  Not allowed though, are we?”

“No indeed.  ‘Princess’ Tanya could use taking down a peg or two as well!”

“Anyway, sup up your drink, let’s get back to work!”

Back at the house the two men headed toward the loft.  Both were jovial after a couple of beers at the pub.

“Fetch the canes, Tim!” George commanded his cousin.

A couple of minutes later, Tim appeared with three crook-handled school canes, and a big grin on his face!

The two cousins examined the canes, swishing them through the air and patting them on their hands.

“You are still owed two strokes Tim!” George suddenly reminded his younger cousin.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.  It’s only fair.  But not too hard mind!”

“You’ll get them as hard as I got them.  On your underpants!  Drop your trousers now!  Then over the arm of this sofa!”

George selected the thinnest cane and flexed it in front of Tim.  Then he raised the cane for the first stroke.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“That wasn’t too bad, George.  Thanks.  I enjoyed it in a funny kind of way.  How about giving me another six of the best?”

“OK naughty boy, but they will be on the bare!”  Quickly George yanked Tim’s briefs down.

Tim’s cock was growing stiff.  George was also struggling to contain an erection.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Gosh, that was beastly!” said Tim.

“You took them well, I thought you’d cry out!” said George.  “Perhaps you’d better give me six to even things up?”

“Yes OK,” said Tim, rubbing his striped bottom and then pulling his trousers up.  “Bend over for me boy!”  He picked up the same thin cane.  George bared his bottom for Tim.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Owww!” cried George.  Clearly the older cousin was a big wimp!

SWISH-CRACK!

“Yeowwwcchh!”

“Shut up boy and take your medicine like a man!” Tim commanded.

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAARGGHH!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OWWW!”

George jumped up.

“Shit, that hurt like the devil!”

Tim just laughed and threw the cane down.

“How about a game of doctors and nurses now?”

___________)

Story © 2011 by Rod Cayenne

Aunt’s Medicine – Part 08 (F/F)

Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne

“Jane I want a word with you,” said Kitty to her employee. “Upstairs in the office. Hurry up girl!”

Jane climbed the stairs with dread.  Surely Kitty hadn’t acquired a cane already?  She was relieved when Kitty informed her that this was not the case.

“However, I have brought this wooden spoon from the kitchens.  Maybe this will help as a top-up until my canes arrive,” Kitty waved the spoon under the nose of a dejected-looking Jane.

“But don’t you think I’ve improved Kitty?  I’ve had some compliments from diners this week.”

“Well that’s true.  Maybe just six with this for today.  I promised Judy I would give you a reminder.”

My aunt is a real bitch at times, thought Jane to herself. In fact Jane thought of some other words too.

“Now you can keep your uniform on, but please lower your knickers for me.  That’s it, now bend over this chair.”

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Kitty was a devil with the spoon just as she had been with the cane.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“OWW!” said Jane rubbing her bottom with both hands.  “I hope you’re not going to use that spoon in the kitchens again, Kitty!”

“Why ever not, isn’t your bottom clean, you cheeky girl?  Maybe in future I’ll wash your bottom before your discipline!  Would you like that?”

“Umm, no, no, not really.”

“I thought not.  Anyway, the spoon can go in the dishwasher.  I won’t be needing it again as your cane is arriving soon.”

Jane was dismayed to hear it referred to as being “her” cane.

——————————————-

“She hit you with a wooden spoon from the kitchens?  Eeewww!  Remind me not to dine at Kitty’s for a while, Frank dearest, won’t you?” said Aunt Judy. “Did it hurt?”

“Oooh, yes Aunty, I’ll say!”

“Show Frank the marks while I put the kettle on.”

Oh, the humiliation!  It seemed like everyone wanted to embarrass Jane today!  She flipped up her skirt and lowered her knickers.  She thrust her bottom towards Frank.

“Oh yes, I can see marks Jude,” he called out so that Aunt Judy could hear.

“Feel them then, Frank,” she called back.

It was the sort of invitation you didn’t get every day!  Still bending, Jane had her bottom felt by Frank.  He tried to be gentlemanly at first, but then dismissed the notion as absurd!  After all, here he was feeling the buttocks of a sexy 23-year old.  He stroked the buttocks and the angry red marks the spoon had left.  His hands were rough against the smooth cheeks.  He stared at more intimate areas but didn’t dare touch, although he was sorely tempted.  That would keep, he told himself.

“I recommend twenty strokes with the cane, Judy,” he suddenly announced.  “She can take it, these marks aren’t too bad!”

“Whaaat?” said Jane.  “Oh no, that’s too many.”

“Oh no it’s not,” said Judy strolling back into the room with a cup of tea.

“Frank, run along upstairs and fetch me both the canes.  Good boy.”

Once again Jane reflected on the way Aunt Judy addressed Frank, who was hardly what you’d call a boy.  Jane felt sure that Aunt Judy may have been caning him lately.  She wasn’t sure how she reached this idea, but she was convinced.

Frank returned with the two canes and the leather spanking paddle.

“And which cane do you recommend Frank?”

“Oh I’d say the older one.  Has a nasty sting to wake up naughty girls like Jane here.”

“Yes, indeed a good choice.  You will stay and watch.”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Frank, that was an order not an invitation!  You will sit here where you can watch Jane’s beating in progress.  Try to enjoy it!”

Secretly, Frank knew that of course he would enjoy it.  Last week’s caning had formed the background to many happy hours of masturbation since.

“Strip off, Jane!”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything,” said Judy impatiently.

“Maybe you should start with six of the paddle,” Frank added.

“No, let’s not be cruel, Frank.  Twenty cane strokes should be sufficient.  Now let me feel those marks, Jane.”

Jane’s arse was receiving the attention of a third person that day!  Gently Judy felt the cheeks.  The marks were prominent.  Judy had no reservations about feeling all around.  It felt good to have that power.

“Actually, Frank.  I think you may be right after all.  Six with the strap to start with.”

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“AARGGGH”  Gentle tears formed in Jane’s eyes.  This was all too much.  Perhaps she should go home to mum?  There were now three sadists running her life on the coast!

“Now then Jane.  Twenty with the cane.  Extra hard I think, don’t you Frank?”

“Err, yes,” he replied sheepishly, although his rock-hard erection was rather more confident about Judy’s proposal.

“Extra hard, Jane,” Judy laughed.

“Yes, Auntie, I suppose I deserve it,” Jane replied, for she too was turned on.  The pain of the strapping had been intense, but the cane was always a bitter-sweet pleasure.

“They will be hard and fast, so brace yourself.”

Jane hung on to the arm sofa, offering her bottom up for punishment and in complete submission.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Jane sobbed quietly.  She couldn’t hold back the tears like she usually managed to.

Aunt Judy paused to feel the cheeks and the wicked cane weals.  They felt nice, and she took some time massaging the girl’s bottom.  She played with it, teased it and poked it.  Jane wished her aunt would stop as an orgasm was not far off.  Far less embarrassing to have it as the result of cane strokes than this!

“I like your bottom very much, Jane,” said Aunt Judy playfully.  “I like to think of it as my friend and plaything.  The next ten strokes will be with the new cane.  To teach you a hard lesson, my girl.”

Jane was just wondering what she’d done to deserve all this.  After all, she’d had a better week at work.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Jane’s tears trickled down her face.  She was broken again.

“How was that Frank?”

“Just right, I’d say, Judy.  I think Jane will be trying harder at work.  If she loses the job of course, I might be able to get her into the Post Office, at a pinch.”

Jane looked mortified at the suggestion.

Frank excused himself.  He had to go home and masturbate, after all…

_____________)

Story © 2011 by Rod Cayenne.