Erotic Fiction by Rod Cayenne
Summary – Caning, Adult Male/Adult unspecified
He looked as handsome as ever. His silver hair glistened in the summer sunshine and was a sharp contrast to his immaculate black police uniform.
“Thanks for coming. As I said last time, this may be your last ever caning. But that’s up to you. If you remember, I promised you twelve strokes for lying to me about the cigarettes. You have given up now haven’t you?”
“I spoke to your parents about your brother masturbating in the front room. It’s not acceptable but all three of us agreed that you mentioned it to me in order to get him into trouble. That is unforgivable and terribly disloyal. We think you mentioned it in the hope of getting him a caning! Well, are we right?”
“No Uncle. That’s not right. You brought the subject of my brother up, not me.”
That was true. But Uncle had a sixth sense about these things. Or perhaps he had already discussed it with the parents?
“Yes I did, but you dropped him in it! I’m not sure he should be caned. After all, all men masturbate. But the three of us agreed that you should be caned for sneaking on him!”
“WHAAAT? That’s just not fair!”
“Life isn’t fair. Anyway, your brother has been told that you will be caned for sneaking on him. That sort of information should have remained within the four walls of your house.”
“Yes, Uncle, maybe you’re right. But I may not be able to look him in the eye again.”
“There’s no maybe about this. I’m always right. Don’t you forget it. I hope there is no element of schadenfreude here. You should be supporting your brother, not reveling in his misfortune and misdemeanours.”
Uncle sounded more like a judge than a policeman. He was obviously well practiced in what he saw as his role.
“Yes Uncle. Sorry.”
“You need to be a lot more considerate about your family in future. Swearing, sneaking, drinking, lying, smoking, I can see a pattern here. Twelve for lying to me and twelve more for sneaking. That’s twenty four well-deserved strokes.”
“Oh Uncle! I’m not sure I can cope with that many!”
“It’s a lot but you can take it. Your bottom is made for it. Trust this old cop. A couple of points first. One, if you try to touch your bottom like you did last time, I will handcuff your hands. You won’t like that, believe me. Two, you will be caned bending over this chair. You will place your hands on the seat of the chair. Bare your arse and bend over.”
“Yes Uncle. Please go easy on me.”
“I’m afraid that this cane doesn’t do easy. Its role is to teach you a hard lesson.”
“I think we’ll have you count the strokes out loud this time. It should keep you focused and stop you putting your hands on your bottom. Don’t forget to count or it will be extra strokes for you. Understand?”
“Of course, Uncle.”
He picked up the cane and lashed it down hard.
“One Sir you mean!”
“Sorry Uncle, One Sir!”
“That’s more like it.” He slashed down the next stroke.
“Arrgh! Two, Sir!”
He eased off a little for the next four. Then the thought of being lied to, of the deceit sprang back into his mind.
“I’ll teach you to tell me lies!” He slashed the cane down with all the venom he could muster.
“OWWWWWWW! Seven, Sir!”
The cane lashed down again and again and again.
“Two last strokes for lying.”
They were vicious and the 22-year old was close to tears.
“Now then. The little matter of telling tales. That just won’t do. You know, my cane just can’t abide sneaks.” He laughed at the thought he had just shared. “It’s a shame your brother isn’t here to watch. We’ll start the count from One again please.”
CRACK! The cane thundered down on the striped cheeks once more.
“OWWWW! One, Sir.”
SWISH-CRACK! A fearful sound as the cane bit once again.
“ARGH! Two Sir.”
“Less noise please. And no more sneaking!”
SWISH-CRACK. Just a quiet groan this time.
SWISH-CRACK! A more severe stroke designed to really hurt.
“OWWW! Four, Sir!”
“Ouch! Five, Sir.”
SWISH-CRACK! He laid this stroke on hard.
“AAAARGH! Nine, Sir!”
Obviously the cumulative effect of the strokes was proving hard to endure, the young bottom bucking and clenching under the power of the cane.
“ARRGH! TEN, SIR!”
“OWWWWWW! Eleven Sir!”
“Ready for the last stroke of maybe your last caning ever?”
“Yes, Uncle Sir.”
“It’s going to have to be a memorable one, isn’t it?” With that, he slashed the cane diagonally across the naked bottom, so that the stroke crossed many of those already inflicted.
“AARRRRGGGGH!” cried the youngster.
“Don’t forget to count!” said Uncle considerately.
“Oooh, Twelve Sir, thank you Uncle!”
He could have awarded an extra stroke for that forgetfulness but he knew well that the caning had been tough, and probably a little unfair.
“Good, you took that well. Stay there while I ring your parents. No rubbing while I’m gone!”
On reflection, he was slightly disappointed that the double caning had been taken so well, despite some vocalising. He’d expected the handcuffs to have been needed, but that wasn’t the case. He put the cane down and headed for the kitchen. The distant phone conversation could be heard, but not in any detail. Uncle was laughing a lot. The bastard! He wouldn’t have been pleased if he’d seen all the bottom rubbing that had going on in his absence! After what seemed like an eternity, he returned.
“Right. You can get up now. We have agreed that that will be your last caning for now. I will be sourcing a cane for your parents to use in emergencies and when I am not available. When you get home, you will show your marks to your parents, and then send your brother round to see me.”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 4 is here