Taking A Break by Vickie Shan
Report to my study
You won’t be needing those
Bare bottom, I’m afraid
Get them off
I’m waiting
Bend over
Call me Sir
That’s no excuse
Get back down
You’ll be sorry
See me
Right off
We need to talk
You asked for it
I hope you’ve learnt your lesson
Stick it out
Double next time
Stay still
Did I ask for your opinion?
Right up
Thank me after each one
Less of your cheek
Do you want some more then?
Fetch the cane
I wasn’t born yesterday
Touch your toes
Six of the best
___________)
posted by Rod Cayenne, © 2012
Illustration by Vickie Shan
Comments welcome
Part 2 is here
Fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne
“David Leggatt!”
“Sam Mortimer! Gosh it must be 30 years…how are you?”
“Oh I’m OK, twice divorced, four kids, still relatively sane.”
“Yes, I’m divorced too. Got time for a beer?”
“Can’t drink – doctor’s orders. How about a coffee?”
“Yes. Let’s go in here.”
The two school chums enjoyed a leisurely coffee in the Parade café. “My drinking finished off the second marriage. Then the doc said I had to give it up. It’s been difficult.”
“I can imagine. I wouldn’t like to have to try. I still have an odd tipple now and then. Do you remember “Corky” Corrigan was always hungover? Maybe that’s why he always used to cane so hard.”
“Tell me about it! He used to frighten us with his talk of scorchers and corkers! Although I could never tell the difference between a corker and a scorcher. Could you?”
“Not really. Every stroke hurt didn’t it? I think a corker was meant to sting awfully and a scorcher was more of a burn. But they were all agony.”
“I’ve got a cane at home if you want to research the matter further.”
“Really? Well I don’t know about that, but I’d certainly like to see your cane, for old time’s sake. Are you free now?”
“Yes of course. I’m on the bus route.”
“No need. I’ve got wheels”
And what wheels they were! A red Jaguar, fresh from the showroom. The two friends were soon up in the master bedroom, playing with the cane.
“Where did you get it from?”
“The wife got it from her dad, who was a beak. It could probably tell a few stories.”
“OK, are you up for a few strokes?”
“Well, only if you don’t think it strange.”
“Bare bottom of course.”
“Oh ho, I don’t know about that!”
“Don’t be silly, you always had a cute arse.”
“Well OK then. I will if you will. How about we each take six of the best and after each stroke decide whether it was a corker or a scorcher?”
“OK, sounds like fun.”
You first then, bend over the bed end and get your arse bare! That’s it.”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Ouch! Oooooh. Well, it stung like mad, so definitely a corker.”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Ouch – Corker!”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Yeeow! That hurt like the blazes, so I guess that makes it a scorcher!”
“Yes, I guess so. You’re marking up nicely! Can I have a feel?”
“Sure, make yourself at home!”
“No real damage there, here comes the next one…”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Corker!”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Oww – Corker!”
“Last one coming up!”
SWISH-CRAAAACK!
“AAARGH! – Wow! Definitely a scorcher!”
“Haha. So two scorchers and four corkers!”
“Yes, let’s swap then. Get your arse in gear lad!”
“Don’t you mean out of gear?”
“Well, yes. Get them off for me!”
SWISH-CRACK!
“OWWW! Ooh I’d forgotten how much that hurt! A scorcher maybe?”
“Not sure? Perhaps I’d better just feel the mark…mmmm….not too bad, no ridge, I’d say a corker!”
“OK”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Owww! Oh. Can’t decide again.”
“Let me feel again. Aha, still fairly smooth. Just a corker I’m afraid.”
SWISH-CRAACK!
“Jesus! Definitely a scorcher.”
“Don’t blaspheme unless you want extras!”
“Sorry. I really don’t want extras.”
SWISH-CRAACK!
“God! Scorcher!”
“I told you not to blaspheme mate. You were warned. Two extra!”
“OK, sorry.”
“You will be!”
SWISH-CRAACK!
“Scorcher!”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Corker.”
SWISH-CRACK!
“Corker!”
SWISH-CRAAACK!
“Owww! Definitely a scorcher!”
“Right. That’s your lot! Let me feel the marks again!”
Soon the friends were examining each other intimately.
“I guess you could say we’ve both got weals now!”
______________)
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotica by Rod Cayenne
The two ladies were enjoying a pot of Darjeeling tea together. Only the finest china was appropriate for such an occasion. They sat at the kitchen table sharing chocolate biscuits and tittle-tattle.
“Look at this!” said Brenda producing a laptop. “It’s a computer! I’m on the internet now!” She booted the machine up and was soon showing her friend Audrey family snaps and websites on knitting and ballroom dancing. “It was a present from my nephew Tony, he’s a such a good boy. He’s got a top job in computing.”
“It’s impressive, Brenda,” said Audrey admiring the silver machine. “But aren’t there a lot of dangers with these things, people stealing your identity, stalkers and pornography?”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Audrey. There is a lot of pornography, yes, but let’s be honest, everyone likes to look don’t they?”
Audrey spat out her tea in disbelief, “Brenda, I can’t believe you just said that! Bless my soul!”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, you old fraud! Look at these for example.”
There were pictures of handsome men with proud erections, gorgeous bottoms and muscled physiques.
“Oooh! Well yes, bless me, I can see the attraction, I suppose. Couldn’t we be arrested for looking at this?”
“By a hunky young copper, I suppose? No, don’t be ridiculous, everyone looks at this sort of thing these days.”
“They do? My, my, what a sheltered life I’ve lived!”
“I’m looking for a toy boy online. After all, there’s more to life than tea and knitting.”
“Really?”
“Yes, one I can mother, pamper and spoil. And spank his bottom when he’s bad. A man in his 30s I should think.”
“Oh my!”
“I especially fancy the idea of the bottom smacking, actually. It seems a lot of younger men are looking for a strict maiden aunt figure.”
“Gosh Brenda, I’m seeing you in a new light.”
“Yes I feel quite liberated!”
“Well don’t go burning your bra just yet!”
“No I’ll do that when I’ve found my naughty boy online.”
“I used to use the cane at school, you know…”
“Well, no I didn’t know. Come on then, tell me more.”
“Well perhaps it would be best if I brought my canes around. I kept a few as souvenirs when abolition came along. Now you mention it, I’d quite like a toyboy to thrash as well.”
“Well, when I said you were a fraud I hadn’t expected such a rapid confession.”
“Must be the cane. It always seems to get to the bottom of things!”
“Yes, don’t remind me. I used to be on the receiving end.”
“Why am I not surprised? You have always been a naughty girl, Brenda. I’ll go and fetch the canes, then we can talk about luring us some toyboy action.”
_________________________________________
A few months later, Brenda is thrashing her thirty-something boyfriend with a harsh, thick leather strap.
“Eighteen!”
“Yeeow!”
“Nineteen!”
“Aargh!”
“Twenty! That’s it for now. Now lick my boots! That’s it. Nice aren’t they?”
“Oh yes, I love them!”
“Of course you do! Now lick me out!”
“Mmmmm.”
“That’s it! Good boy!”
“Mmm.”
“Now, how about a surprise?” Brenda asked, staring at the clock.
“Mmm, yes please!”
“How about an appointment with the headmistress and her cane?”
“Ooh yes, beat me with the cane!”
“Well, that’s the surprise! I’m not the headmistress. My friend Audrey is! It’s just coming up to 12 – she’ll be here in a minute. Go downstairs and wait by the front door. Don’t bother to get dressed. She only canes bare bottoms!”
Soon Audrey drew up the drive in her old Beetle. She was dressed in a tweed suit, but with shiny white Mary Quant-style boots. She looked a good ten years younger than usual, the blue rinse gone and her hair dyed blonde and swept up in a bun. She walked over to the passenger side, opened the door and retrieved a long bag.
“Ah, you must be Wayne,” she said as he timidly opened the front door, hiding his nudity behind it. “Gosh, what a red bottom you have. It’ll be black and blue by the time I’ve finished with it!”
“Audrey. How nice of you to drop in. I’m afraid young Wayne here says he deserves an appointment with the cane. Can you oblige by some chance?”
“Oh, I suppose so. It’s dreadfully inconvenient though. I should be out walking the dog. He’ll have to convince me that he’s fully deserving of my attention.”
“That won’t be necessary Audrey. I can give you a full report. Wayne is a wanker. He plays with himself incessantly. He has a boot fetish and licks my boots when I am not around. He also has a crafty cigarette despite my clear decision that he should give up.”
“I see, he sounds thoroughly disobedient. Wayne, take this bag upstairs and empty the contents on to your bed! Hurry up lad!”
“Gosh this is fun Audrey! How long since you caned in anger?”
“Not that long actually, my dear. I had a neighbour who liked a touch now and then.”
“Oh Aud! You really are a dark horse, aren’t you? Anyway, there’s a naughty boy waiting upstairs. Can I watch?”
“Of course, darling!”
“Good. Thank you. I do so like to watch!”
Upstairs young Wayne emptied the bag as instructed. He could only gulp as half a dozen canes and a solitary riding crop dropped onto the floral quilt.
“Well Wayne! What do you think to those? Have you had the cane before?”
“Err, no.”
“Let’s make up for lost time then. I will give you thirteen strokes. Brenda will watch. Bend over the bed.”
Wayne was wondering if there was any significance to the number thirteen when suddenly the first stroke of the cane whipped down. He couldn’t believe how much it hurt! He wanted to swear out loud but before he could, a second stroke lashed down. Brenda clapped her hands with joy.
“Oh yes! This is great!” exclaimed Audrey as she cracked a harsh third stroke down on Wayne’s peachy naked cheeks. “I’ll have to borrow him from you Brenda!”
WHACK! A fourth one landed on Wayne’s red bottom. The two ladies laughed simultaneously. Wayne didn’t feel like laughing. Instead he grimaced and offered his bottom up for another stroke.
WHAACK! He didn’t have long to wait for the fifth. The burn was intense and all-consuming.
“Do it harder, Audrey, he can take it!”
WHAAAACK! Brenda was right. He could take it alright. He offered himself up for more and more.
WHACK!
WHACK!
WHACK!
Wayne was a tough fellow who could take a lot of whipping. Audrey changed canes.
“Last four now Wayne. Take them like a man, not a wanker!”
WHAAACK!
WHACK!
“OWWW!”
WHACK!
“YEEEOWWCH!”
WHACK!
“AARGH!”
“Well, you were a bit noisy there Wayne, but I’ll forgive you just this once. What do you say – shall I give Brenda thirteen strokes as well?”
_______________)
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
“Mum! Is that you? I can’t chat for long. This phonebox smells like a public toilet and I think I’ll be sick if I stay here long. I’m not used to these decimal coins either. Blasted things! Anyway, how are you?”
“I’m fine thanks. Lovely weather here. Paul’s just left for a pop concert.”
“Good. It’s kind of you to have him stay while we’re away. I know he’s not a teenager any more, but we couldn’t trust him with the house.”
“It’s my pleasure darling. Are you having a good break? Been in the sea yet?”
“No, not yet. We had some trouble with the Morris on the way down but Derek soon sorted that. The sea air’s given him a new lease of life though! We’ve been in bed most of the time! The cottage is lovely and the bay is secluded.”
“Good! I’m so glad, after all you’ve been through.”
“Yes, thanks again Mum.”
“Ooh, one thing. Actually I did have a little bit of trouble with Paul.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I caught him masturbating. Naked as a jaybird he was. All he could say was “Oh, Nan!” I wasn’t happy.”
“Was this in his bedroom?”
“Oh no! That would have been forgivable.”
“Where then?”
“In the orangery. It’s lucky we’re not overlooked!”
“What a strange place to be doing it. He wasn’t expecting you, obviously.”
“Obviously not! I must say, he’s got a lovely masculine figure. Though at 22, he should be out courting, not playing with himself.”
“Oh mum, I’m so sorry you saw it all.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I rather lost my temper with him and hit him with your dad’s cane!”
“Ha Ha! Good for you! I remember that cane well. We’ve never laid a finger on him ourselves. How many did you give him?”
“Ten, I think. It was going to be six, but I was a bit worked up.”
“Sounds like it! Still, he’s lived to tell the tale, and it might have helped you with your decimals! How did he take it?”
“Not very well. He was play acting a little I think! Jumping about. Wiggling his bottom like a girl. Kept saying ‘Oh, Nan!’ which really annoyed me. Sorry would have been more appropriate.”
“Yes, indeed but I bet he was feeling really sorry for himself by the time you’d finished!”
“Yes, I think so. He’s certainly minding his behaviour now.”
“So I guess this was all on his bare bottom.”
“Oh yes. Bare bottom. It’s a nice bottom, I must say. Anyway, I could hardly ask him to put his Y-fronts back on for the caning, could I? That would have been strange. His bottom was already bare. It’s a nice big penis he’s got, too. He’ll make a lucky girl very happy one day.”
“Mum, you really are incorrigible!”
“Maybe, but you two have been too soft on him over the years. His bottom has been long overdue for some harsh treatment. That’s what comes from sending him to that trendy school, I suppose.”
“Oh mother, let’s not go over that again!”
“Run by hippies.”
“Mum! Please, no more! We may have made mistakes. But Paul is generally a good lad, and passed his apprenticeship with flying colours. He’ll soon be a fully qualified aeroplane technician. Not a bad feat for someone who had hippy schooling.”
“All the same, I’m a bit worried about him. He should be out courting, as I said. He’s not one of them is he?”
“No mum, he’s not. I expect he’ll be looking for girls at the concert.”
“Well, he’d better not bring some floosie back here! Otherwise I’ll be getting the cane out again!”
“Well Mum, before we come and pick him up, I’d be very grateful if you did get your cane out again. Give him another dose, just to teach him some manners.”
“Really darling? If you’re sure? I must say it was exciting in a strange kind of way. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“Yes, Mum. Do it for me and Derek. We can hardly start beating him at the age of 22!”
“Why ever not? I just have…”
“Er, yes. That’s a point. Maybe I’ll talk to Derek about it. After all, Derek used to get the cane all the time. But in the meantime, do give Paul another caning. Knock any remaining cockiness out of him. Tell him it’s a reminder, or maybe you can find some other fault or reason.”
“Yes, I’m sure I can. Leave it to mother! By the way, in case you’re interested, I think old Mr Carmichael at New Road Hardware sells nice, whippy punishment canes. I think maybe that’s where your dad got his from all those years ago.”
“Really? Thanks, I’ll call in to pick up a couple. One to use on Paul, the other for Derek!”
“Now who’s being incorrigible?”
_________________)
story and photo © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotica by your host, Rod Cayenne
Illustration by Vickie Shan
So, you had your first caning!
And now that the marks have faded, much to your surprise you are back for another. Why is that? Did you enjoy your first caning? Or did you feel cleansed and relieved afterwards? Maybe you felt sexy, aroused, turned on? Perhaps you had to masturbate afterwards?
There can be no pretence now. You are back for more, so you must have gained something from it. The pain must have turned into some kind of perverse pleasure. And what of the person who caned you? Are they constantly in your thoughts? With a whippy cane in their grip? Do you lust after them or just for their cane? Have you shared your feelings with them?
Your life has changed and you will forever be controlled by the cane. You will think about it at the strangest times. When you wake, in the car, on the toilet. In church, in the supermarket, at the football ground.
Your bottom has found its destiny at last. Those fleshy mounds were made for caning. They must be exposed to feel the full effect of what they are about to receive. They can absorb every stroke that is offered so generously. You will crave the punishing strokes more and more. You have arrived.
___________)
Illustration by Vickie Shan
Text © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Caning & Spanking @ The Canery 