Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
“Ah hello there Gordon!”
They shook hands. Gordon couldn’t help but admire his Uncle’s police uniform. It was still immaculate despite the earlier exertions.
“How’s the job going?”
“It’s brilliant. Hard and tiring but really interesting. Thanks for your help with arranging it.”
“My pleasure! Make sure you give it 100%. Jobs like that don’t come around everyday.”
“No, I know. I’m really grateful.”
“Good. And good of you to come round too. You got the message then?”
“Yes, Mum passed it on. What can I be doing for you then?”
“Well, it’s funny you should mention your mother.”
“Well, I have spoken to your parents and they tell me you were caught masturbating in the living room.”
“Oh that! That was a couple of weeks ago now. I’m very sorry about that. It was very embarrassing.”
“Indeed. How do you suppose your mother felt?”
“Mmmm. Terrible I guess.”
“Well, all men masturbate. Most have the sense to do it discreetly though.”
“Mmm, yes sorry. I’m very embarrassed. Very embarrassed.”
“So you should be. I’m very disappointed with you.”
“Where’s this all leading, Uncle? I really don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to spoil our friendship.”
“Oh it won’t spoil our friendship, I can assure you. Now tell me honestly – were you looking at porn at the time you were caught? You know us coppers have seen it all.”
“No Uncle I wasn’t looking at porn. Although I was fingering myself at the time.”
“WHAT? In the living room?”
“Yes, yes, I know. I shouldn’t have been.”
“Quite. Most inappropriate.”
“Mum washed the leather sofas down afterwards.”
“Eeeeeew. So you really upset her then?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s not really good enough, is it? What have you done to make amends?”
“Well nothing really. I did think about flowers and chocolates, but to be honest the whole thing was so embarrassing that I didn’t want to remind her about it.”
“So apart from the moment she caught you, you haven’t discussed it with her.”
“And what about your father? Have you discussed it with him?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well I have! In fact I have discussed it with both of them. They are still unhappy about it. And very annoyed that you have been too cowardly to apologise at any length.”
“I see. I just didn’t realise.”
“Well, we need to have closure on this business.”
“Oh yes please, uncle. Let’s finish it.”
“You know I have a cane?”
“Oh yes, Uncle. I hear it’s had some use lately!” he chuckled and then suddenly realised he was walking into a trap. “Surely you’re not thinking of hitting me with it?”
“Well, I wasn’t. But your parents have recommended that I do.”
“They recommended that I give you a good thrashing to clear the air.”
“No way. No way!”
“Think about it for a few minutes, Gordon. I’m sure you’ll realise it’s the ideal solution to the problem.”
“I said think about it for a few minutes. I’ll put the kettle on.”
He returned with two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits, all on a metal tray. He took off his uniform jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves.
“I hope you are still considering, Gordon.”
“Well, yes I am, Uncle. It’ll hurt won’t it?”
“Oh yes, my boy, it will hurt like hell. But sometimes you have to be brave. I’ll go and fetch the cane from upstairs.”
Of course, this was all a charade. The cane had already seen some use that day, and had only been taken upstairs for effect. Gordon thought about making a run for it, but he’d already been hurt by his uncle’s mention of cowardice.
After a long couple of minutes, Uncle returned, cane in hand.
“Can I have a look, Uncle?”
He was handed the cane. He swished it around. It didn’t look too bad.
“It doesn’t look too bad, Uncle. Can I keep my trousers on if I agree to a caning?”
“No, of course not. No, no, no. That’s just ridiculous! The cane is made for the bare bottom. I used to use this as part of my duties, you know. This cane used to rule the village, just as the headmaster’s one ruled the school.” Uncle was trotting out his well-rehearsed lines.
“Six of the best?” Gordon asked him, not really aware that he was starting negotiations.
“No, it’ll have to be more than that, my boy. How old are you now?”
“Nineteen! Oh, no hang on, no, I’m not taking nineteen strokes!”
“Yes, that would be harsh for your first caning.” Gordon wasn’t sure he liked the use of the word ‘first’ in this context! “Now, let me think. Let me think. I think that there are twelve letters in the word MASTURBATING.”
“OK, you win Uncle. I’ll take twelve strokes. Don’t be too hard on me please!” Gordon’s compliance was surprising.
“Twelve strokes, bare bottom.”
“Well, hurry up then. BARE THAT BOTTOM NOW, or do you want me to do it for you?”
“Yes Uncle, you do it!”
Uncle was shocked. He was the one who was meant to be playing games, but now it seemed as if his nephew was taking the lead.
Uncle unbuckled Gordon’s belt and eased his jeans down to the floor. Black boxers were revealed and Uncle whipped these down too. Gordon’s pert, hairy arse was a beauty. Uncle patted it gently and fondly.
“Over the chair. Hands on the seat. Don’t attempt to touch your seat by the way, unless you want extra strokes, that is!”
“No, don’t worry Uncle, I’ll do as I’m told.”
“Good lad,” said Uncle, secretly hoping that Gordon wouldn’t be able to do as he was told! “Stick that arse out for me!”
Gordon was taking the strokes in his stride. Uncle was more than a bit annoyed. Perhaps the lad was no stranger to the cane? But that was nigh on impossible, wasn’t it? Best make the strokes harder anyway…
“Aha, glad to see you’re awake lad!”
“Let it out boy! I’ll teach you to masturbate in public indeed!”
“Keep your penis in your pants in future, boy!”
“Yes Uncle, yes Uncle.”
“Unless you want regular whippings?”
“And one extra for luck I think!”
After the caning, Gordon had an erection. Uncle was not pleased.
“Hmmm. Well I never! I haven’t seen one of those in a while. It seems you need taking in hand, young Gordon. I’ll talk to your parents about you staying here for a fortnight or so, so that I can sort you out properly.”
Gordon hated the idea – or did he?
Story © 2012 by rod cayenne
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
next part (Part 5) is here
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
Her rear end was on fire.
“I said quiet!”
“You are making a lot of noise! Too much noise. Six more!”
The cries had been replaced by sobs.
“That’s more like it. A nice, quiet girl who’s truly sorry! But six more won’t hurt, will it?”
“Yes, six more. No arguing or it will be even more.”
“Argh! No more please!”
“Don’t you think I’ve had enough?”
The sobbing had been replaced by a gentle, contented mewing sound. The cane was placed in front of her on the bed. It looked so innocent with its finely curved handle and elegantly slim shaft. She would have to get a cane for home. After all, there was no telling when the existing arrangement might end.
The cane had brought an immense amount of pain to her naked cheeks. They were covered in tell-tale red tramlines. Soon there would be visible bruising. Yes, this peach of a bottom would be sore for some while. However, the cane had also brought her pleasure, for her pussy was moist and her face was flushed. She got up gingerly and looked around for her skimpy knickers.
“Same time next week?”
“Good girl! I’ll just put it in my diary. Oh ho, looks like I’m quite busy next week!”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotic fiction by your host Rod Cayenne
She looked fabulously wealthy. Over-dressed for a seedy pub like this. Her cigarette was in a long holder, adding to her air of sophistication. We started chatting.
She found out that I was a widower, and all alone. I felt quite overwhelmed by her as I sipped at my pint of Double Diamond.
“So what do you do?” I asked her casually.
“I’m a helicopter pilot. I do it for the thrills.”
“Oh yes, it’s quite exciting you know. With modern piston engines or the new turboshafts, helicopters are quite fast. Exhilarating. Scary speeds, fast thrills.” She blew smoke everywhere. “A bit like riding a horse, a roller-coaster, a school caning.”
“A school caning?” I asked, choking on my beer and barely able to believe my ears.
“Oh come on!” she replied, slightly annoyed. “I’m sure a naughty boy like you knows exactly what I mean. The fear, the excitement, the thrills.”
There was that word thrills again.
“Yes, yes. I’m sure you know EXACTLY what I mean. Fear, sexual frisson.”
She was one racy lady.
“Yes, I know what you mean. I used to get a lot of that, you know.”
“Yes, the cane. Don’t remind me!”
“At school?” She obviously had no intention of not reminding me.
“Er, yes. At school and at home.”
“At home too? Tell me more.”
“Oh, nothing to tell really. My father kept a cane. I’ve shed a lot of tears over the years.”
She pursued me as if I were caught in her helicopter’s lights. “Go on, tell me more. Were these canings bare bottom?”
“At home, always. Sometimes at school, too. My housemaster was a beast.”
“All men are beasts!” she declared laughing and sipping at her Babycham. “Men are beasts that need taming. Did your mother ever cane you?”
“Yes, a few times when my father was in the colonies.”
“I have a cane at home. If you want me to tame you.”
She really was racy. I was well and truly caught.
“A free helicopter ride with every caning!” she added and gave me a wink. How could I possibly resist?
We ended up at her place. It was detached but still relatively modest. I had half-expected a country retreat with a helipad and swimming pool.
“You’d better go to the toilet first,” she instructed. “We don’t want that ale spoiling things, do we?”
As I stood relieving myself I wondered what on earth I had let myself in for.
She was waiting outside the door with a crook-handled cane in her delicate right hand.
“You’ve left the seat up! Six of the best for that!”
I gulped and put the toilet seat down. For a lady used to vertical take-offs I couldn’t really see the problem, but my brain was a little beer-addled by this point.
“Now you haven’t washed your hands after touching the seat! Appalling! Six more for that.”
My sentence had been pronounced. She soon had me prone over a pouffe in the living room and her soft hands undid my belt, let my slacks down, and pulled my Y-fronts down too. She ran her hands all over my naked arse and then kissed me affectionately.
“Just like old times, eh?” she said. “Tonight, I will be your mother.”
Six stinging strokes had been delivered to my arse. Somehow I had managed to remain quiet. She laughed at me. She felt the ridges on my naked cheeks.
“Yes, thrilling isn’t it? You are quite the naughty boy. I think I’ll have to adopt you. Take you under my wing. Or rotor!”
My head was spinning (like a rotor) from the beer and the caning. I was enjoying it, and even starting an erection. I was in love.
“Six more then, boy. For poor hygiene. These will be harder.”
“OUCH!” She was right. That one was bloody hard!
“OWWW!” If anything, that one was worse.
“AARGH” Memories of my sadistic housemaster came flooding back.
“OWW!” Memories of my sadistic father came flooding back.
“YEEOWWCH!” The worst stroke of them all. Memories of my ever loving mother came flooding back.
“Oh yes, that was fun! Yes, exhilarating! Maybe some more tomorrow! Let’s go to bed now, naughty boy. I’m a bit tired to be honest. You can service me in the morning when the beer and caning have worn off.”
She rested the cane on the radiogram.
“You’d have enjoyed your caning more if you’d been sober. I think my cane and I will have a strict no drinking rule for you from now on.” She laughed and led me upstairs. We are still together.
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Helicopters from The Commons
Erotic Fiction by Rod Cayenne
Summary – Caning, Adult Male/Adult unspecified
“Ah, there you are!”
“I’m glad you came back. No hard feelings then? How do you feel about you caning?” He still looked impressive in his neatly-pressed police uniform.
“Oh, it was deserved Uncle. I think it did me good. I haven’t been drinking, smoking or swearing. In fact, I am giving up smoking.”
“Excellent. Smoking is a disgusting habit. Absolutely filthy. At 22, you should be able to give up completely. It won’t be easy, but I’m proud of your decision. Make sure you stick to it. Or else.”
His eyes darted to the coffee table. There, gleaming in the winter sunshine was his much-loved rattan cane.
He picked the cane up. He flexed it and swished it through the air.
“So how did your parents react when you got home?”
“Oh, that was awful. They were laughing a bit and they ordered me to show them the marks on my bottom. Very embarrassing for a 22-year old. Mum was a bit shocked when she looked, but she landed a slap on my bottom anyway…”
“Quite right too. I am still very annoyed about the way you have been treating her. She deserves your respect, not abuse!”
“Yes Uncle, sorry Uncle.”
“Hmmm. Well, you’re here now. You do agree you deserve a second caning?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have improved already Uncle. I’ve given up smoking, don’t drink in the house and will certainly never swear at my parents again. So, I was wondering if?”
“If you’d let me off?”
“Absolutely not! No, no, that won’t do at all!”
He had secretly been looking forward to inflicting another caning. He enjoyed caning, and had resolved to keep this young adult from straying from the path of good behaviour. Regular thrashings would be required.
“No, no, it’s the cane for you. I promised you a dozen, and they’ll be hard ones. On the bare. There must be marks for your parents to inspect. Anyway, I’m not stupid. And maybe I didn’t rise above the ranks. I never got to be a detective. But even I can detect fresh cigarette smoke on you. You are lying to me aren’t you? I’d say you had a crafty fag on the way here. Thought the old boy wouldn’t notice, eh?”
“Well, I was just using up the packet…”
“Give me the packet now!”
He snatched the cigarettes, walked to the kitchen and threw them straight into the waste bin. He chuckled as he did it and was wondering whether to add extra strokes. He decided against. He would ensure that the lie was punished, but at a third session!
“Get that bottom bare for me now! Over the arm of the sofa. That’s it! Good. Now, stick it out for me.”
What an undignified position thought the young victim.
CRAAACK! The cane lashed down on the pale unblemished cheeks.
CRACK! A harder stroke caused a pained gasp.
SWISH-CRACK! an awful stroke and the young victim’s hands strayed towards the beaten bottom.
“GET THOSE HANDS OFF THERE!” he boomed. “If you try that again I’ll get my handcuffs!”
“Sorry Uncle. It hurts!”
“It’s meant to hurt. You’ll get no sympathy from me!”
SWISH-CRACK! The cheeks were reddening up nicely.
SWISH-CRACK! The strokes were agony.
“Half way through. Stay there a minute.”
He disappeared upstairs for a few minutes, only to return with no explanation.
“How many was that?” he feigned forgetfulness. He was testing his victim’s honesty.
“Six, Uncle. Six more to go, please.”
“Yes, good, at least six more to go,” he replied, taking command of the situation again.
SWISH-CRACK! He was making the strokes harder.
“Do you want some more?”
“That’s a funny question, Uncle.”
“DO YOU WANT SOME MORE?” he repeated, angrily this time.
“No, thank you, Uncle.”
“Good. And you promise not to swear at you parents ever again?”
“Now, there is the matter of lying to me about the cigarettes!”
“Yes, Uncle. Sorry, Uncle.”
“Not good enough, by far. Another caning a week from today should make up for that. Do you agree?”
“Yes, Uncle. Sorry, Uncle.”
“Good. Maybe we can make that one your last ever caning.”
“Yes, I hope so Uncle.”
Uncle was the one lying now. More than anything he hoped that the next caning would not be the last. He hoped that this would be a regular weekly appointment for his cane.
“Now, tell me about your job. No actually, first tell me how your brother’s getting on.”
“Oh you know him. He’s such a goody. Although, I’m sorry to say, mum caught him masturbating in the living room the other day.”
Content © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
First part is here
Third part is here
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by guest author cpman
I was in the pantry when I realised that I wasn’t alone in the house.
I was preparing a Building Report on behalf of a potential buyer. The house was unoccupied. Originally I had arranged to collect the keys from the Estate Agent between 2 and 3 in the afternoon, but an appointment for later in the day was suddenly cancelled, so I decided to get started earlier and so finish the day earlier.
I had called at the Estate Agent’s office just before midday. John, the Manager, wasn’t in the office. His secretary couldn’t find the keys to the house, so she gave me the spare set.
I had done a few reports for John’s clients in the last few months. He is efficient and friendly, and very attractive. In his early thirties, I would say.
I got to the house about 12.30. I had a good look over it, then got my ladders set up in the pantry, where the access to the loft was located. I was about to start up the ladders when I heard voices.
“Right…strip off…everything…I’ll pull down the blinds.” I recognised the voice as John’s.
Then another male voice replied softly, “Yes Sir.”
They were in the kitchen, just yards away from me. Fortunately I had left the door slightly ajar. I was able to see out through the narrow gap between the hinged edge of the door and the frame.
John closed the blinds. He removed his jacket as he walked back towards the kitchen counter, and then undid his belt and doubled it as he watched the other man removing his clothes. John put his jacket on the counter. The other man had removed everything but his underpants.
I was looking at an angle, not full on.
The near-naked man was younger than John. And beautiful. Anglo-Indian, possibly. He had high cheekbones, big luminous eyes, and slightly wavy black hair. He was slim, with narrow hips. His upper chest was smooth, but a luxurious trail of black hair started just below the level of his nipples, and widened as it passed over his (very flat) belly and disappeared into his underpants. His legs were hairy. A very beautiful young man.
John put the belt on the counter and picked up a strap…black leather, short and fairly flexible.
“I said everything…get them off!”
He bent to remove his underpants, then put them with the rest of his clothes on the counter.
I could now see that the trail of hair ended in lush pubic hair. His penis hung from a cloud of black hair. Very sexy.
“Put out your hand,” said John.
He put out his right hand. John took it by the wrist and said, ”Six each hand.”
John gave him six hard strokes, with only a second or two pause between them. The naked man’s cock had started to stiffen as he put out his hand. By the last stroke it was fully erect. He shut his eyes and winced slightly as each stroke landed, but made no attempt to pull his hand away.
“Other hand,” said John.
He put out his left hand. John took a step forward. He gave the second six exactly as he’d given the first six, holding the naked man’s wrist. His cock twitched as each stroke landed.
John put the strap on the counter, and picked up the doubled belt.
“Bend over the counter.”
The naked man turned and bent flat over the counter. He offered an arse as delicious as could be hoped. It seemed to be quite hairless. I couldn’t see whether the crack was hairy or not. A pity!
John started to belt him. Quite hard, too. Not much of a warm-up. After about a dozen strokes John increased the power of his strokes and started to give him a really good hard belting. The naked man kept completely still and quiet. John was clearly not in a hurry. He kept up a steady pace of perhaps fifteen strokes a minute.
After about five minutes John stopped. He moved over to the naked man and ran his hand over both cheeks, and squeezed each buttock gently, letting his fingers “wander” into the crack. My cock was as stiff as the naked man’s had been. But I didn’t dare move, or even breathe.
John stepped back and said, “Turn around and put your hand out.”
The naked man turned and put out his right hand. His cock was still stiff. This time John didn’t hold his wrist. He gave him six hard strokes. Again after each stroke I saw the stiff cock twitch. He kept his eyes open this time, and watched each stroke as it landed.
And he gave him the same on the other hand. The cock twitched as before.
After the last stroke John reached down and fondled the hairy balls and lightly stroked the cock. The naked man just moaned gently as he closed his eyes.
John, sensibly, didn’t stroke that cock for long.
He put the belt back on the counter, and picked up a cane which I hadn’t noticed before.
He stood in front of the naked man. He raised the cane and ran the other end of it over the naked man’s chest, and over his nipples. Then he let it wander down through the belly hair. He then moved it to between the naked man’s legs and used it to stroke the hidden balls. The naked man was breathing in short bursts, almost panting.
“You’ve been caned before?” John asked.
The man said, “Yes Sir” softly.
“I’m going to give you 12 hard strokes. Fast. Then you will turn back and face me. Understood?”
“Turn around and bend over.”
The naked man turned around and laid over the counter as he had done for the belt.
John seemed to be a man of his word.
As soon as the naked man was in position, he checked his own position and raised the cane. I could see the naked man’s body tense in anticipation.
John gave him a good hard stroke. The naked man grunted softly. John raised the cane again and immediately gave him another stroke. Another grunt.
The strokes got harder and the grunts got louder.
After the last stroke, John said, “Twelve.”
It had taken less than a minute to stripe that beautiful young bottom, already reddened by the belt.
The naked man turned around. He was breathing heavily, but had a smile on his face. A smile of relief, perhaps. And satisfaction, too. His cock was still stiff.
John started to put the belt back on. The naked man walked over to John and thanked him.
“My pleasure, I assure you,” said John with a broad grin.
John waited while the other man got dressed.
They shook hands and said goodbye. The other man left. John started to open the blinds. I heard the front door close.
“Now or never,” I thought.
I pulled the pantry door open and entered the kitchen just as John turned after raising the last blind.
His mouth dropped open and his eyes opened wide. Who wouldn’t have been startled?
“It’s alright,” I said swiftly. ”You certainly know how to use a belt and a cane. I couldn’t do better myself…and I‘ve belted a few arses.” His mouth closed,but still he said nothing. I walked across the kitchen and stood opposite him. He still looked a bit nonplussed. I explained how I’d started earlier than we’d arranged and that I’d been in the pantry when they arrived. I then told him how hot the whole thing was.
“Especially watching a naked man get the strap on his hands…from a man in a business suit. Really horny,” I said. “I’ve never had the strap on my hands,” I added.
“It’d be my pleasure to help you out,” he said, grinning at last. He walked to my side and ran his hand over my arse. “I could warm this up for you, too.”
“Are you free tonight?” I asked.
“Want to come to my place?…just out of town…nice and quiet.”
“Love to!” he said. He continued to feel my arse.
“You really got him going…you know what it feels like to get it, don’t you?” I asked.
“Do you still get?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” he said, giving me a slap on the bum.
“What would you say to you coming to my place about 7 and giving me what you gave that beautiful man? I’ll get something in for dinner, then I’ll give you what you gave him.” And I then started to feel John’s arse.
“I’ll bring my grown-up toys,” he said.
“Oh yes,” I replied. “And wear the belt, too.”
“All I need now is the address,” said John. He looked at his watch. “God…I must get going…I’ve got an appointment at 2.30.”
I wrote out my address and phone number and handed it to him as he put his jacket back on.
“See you tonight,” I said as John headed for the door.
I returned to the pantry, grateful that my erection seemed to be subsiding at last.
Story © 2012 by cpman, used here by very kind permission