Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
“He really whipped you hard this time, didn’t he?” she remarked as she ran her fingers over the fresh ridges on my bottom. “I’m glad, because you deserved it!” Then she slapped me.
Oh yes! This was my wife indeed. Despite our happy marriage, her distaste for thrashing me had increased lately. In frustration, she agreed that I could satisfy my urges elsewhere. I think she had a female in mind when she mentioned the idea to me. I immediately knew it would be hard to secure the services of a female, other than a professional at a large fee. No, it dawned on me that I could get what I needed from a male, for free, for certain.
The internet has confirmed what I had long suspected. All men are perverts! And the sort of pervert who would be happy to cane my bottom would be easy to track down. An older man would be an easy find, I figured. In the event, I bumped into my old art teacher, Mr Morden. He was a strict man when I was at school, famous for his taste in cravats and canes!
It wasn’t hard to manipulate our conversation to old punishments, and modern pleasures! He still had a cane, but it hadn’t had any use since his retirement. He hadn’t lost his touch, as we both discovered in our first, tentative session. Subsequent occasions had been more satisfactory, with me baring my bottom for the stick. It became a regular fortnightly meeting. Usually it was a Friday evening, which let my bottom recover before the ravages of a Monday morning at the office.
Fortunately, Mr Morden wasn’t interested in any sexual activity (although I suspect he usually relieved himself soon after I departed). This meant I could hotfoot it back to the loving arms of my wife and give her the satisfaction of feeling my ridged and hot bottom as soon as I got home. On a good day, we’d shag like mad. On a bad day, she would make me bend over for a session with her strap-on cock! Boy, that could be a rough ride after a good caning! Ouch! I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that beastly thing…
We renewed our vows in church recently. It seemed only natural to invite Mr Morden to the ceremony. He looked very smart in a pale cream suit and paisley cravat. I’m sure that he winked at me as I walked by with my wife on my arm.
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Aunt Belle has had to cane her 19 year-old nephew Tim for insulting her. He had suggested that her leopard print clothing was inappropriate for her age.
Part 1 is here
Now read on for Part 2:
Simon Freshbrook knocked at the door.
Tim’s Aunt Belle answered, dressed only in a slinky black satin bathrobe.
“Oh hello Belle, I didn’t think you would be here. I was looking for Tim!”
“Yes, of course. But Timothy isn’t here. He’s gone to London for the day. It was my idea. I couldn’t stand having him around! He’s not in my good books.”
“Yes, I heard!” said Simon knowingly.
“Oh you heard did you, Simon? I wonder just how much you’ve heard? What a pity Timothy can’t be a good boy like you. Why don’t you come in for a minute?”
He wasn’t sure he should. After all, this was the fearsome leopard woman who had caned his friend! However, curiosity got the better of him, so he followed her inside. They sat down in the living room. Belle had some coffee percolating, so she offered him a mug. Despite the coffee, the room smelt of incense and patchouli.
Soon the conversation worked around to the mutton comment.
“I thought you’d be mad at me for laughing at his joke.”
“Well, I was for a few minutes. But then I remembered you had described me as hot. So I was quite flattered, really. Especially when I thought about it in bed.”
He blushed with embarrassment, “Oh yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”
“There’s no need to blush, Simon. You really are a sweet, sweet man.”
Simon was still rather embarrassed, especially as Belle patted his knee affectionately. He decided to change the subject, but there was only one on his mind. The cane!
“Err, I heard about the canings…”
“Yes, I thought Timothy might tell you about them. What did he say exactly?”
“Well, he said you borrowed a couple of canes from old Mr Rodbourne. He said that the evening caning wasn’t too bad. In fact, he said it turned him on a bit. But the morning one with the thicker cane was absolute hell.”
“I see! Turned on? Well, we can’t have that, can we? Anyway, I did get carried away the second time. I beat him like crazy.”
“Yes, but you were probably right to. Tim’s awfully immature. I sometimes wonder why I hang around with him. He is just like a naughty schoolboy, so a caning is just what he needed.”
“What a sensible man you are, Simon!” She stroked his knee this time. It wasn’t long before Belle and Simon were kissing passionately.
She led him upstairs to her bedroom. The very bedroom where his friend had received two canings, only a matter of hours apart. They spent the whole morning together. The sex was fantastic.
“I really should be moving on, Belle,” Simon said as he glanced at the bedside clock, “if only because Tim might come back early.”
“Screw him!” laughed Belle, as she lit a Gitanes cigarette. She didn’t believe her nephew would dare come back so soon.
“No, stick to screwing me!” laughed Simon. They cuddled.
“Belle, I wonder if I may see the canes, please? You do still have them, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mr Rodbourne said that I could keep them. He’s so kind and thoughtful. As is his wife. The canes are hanging on the rail in that wardrobe over there. You can have a look if you really want to, but I can’t see the fascination.”
Belle was one of those people who didn’t understand how the British male’s psyche is forever scarred by the shadow of the cane.
Simon made his way over to the wardrobe. He was still naked, and Belle couldn’t help thinking about how it would be fun to cane him, too. He returned to the bed, holding the two canes.
“Gosh! I’ve never had the cane. I bet it hurts. Shouldn’t I receive some punishment for laughing at Tim’s joke?”
“Yes, indeed you should Simon! Six hard strokes on your naked bottom with the thinner cane, for starters, I should think!”
“Yes please, Belle. Shall I touch my toes?”
“No, I don’t hold with that nonsense. Get on all fours on the bed, and I’ll thrash you like that.”
And she did!
He had taken the strokes comparatively well, and he had become aroused again. Inevitably, he entered her again, and she clasped on to his ridged arse, as it bobbed up and down as he thrust into her. It felt great.
“We should make this a regular thing once Tim has gone back to his parents. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.
“Of course! Thank you, Belle. I’ll need the cane as well though, please.”
“Yes really, Belle. I’m a very naughty boy!”
“You certainly are, you certainly are.”
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotic fiction by guest author David Stewart
Mother-in-law was a rather fearsome lady, never one of David’s great admirers. She was scathing about his lack of achievement and inability to provide, as she thought, what her daughter deserved. A lawyer by calling, she had an authoritative tone and dominant nature, that in truth David had often admired. He saw much of that in her daughter, his wife, and this was one of the reasons that the couple had lived so happily in their ten years together.
In truth, she was well off the mark and David was a thoughtful and hard-working individual devoted to his wife, who, in their private life, was every bit as dominant as he perceived her mother to be.
It was one of the bi-annual visits to the house that she made her discovery. As usual David had spent the week making sure the house was cleaned and ready for his mother-in-law to arrive. His wife had ensured, with two sound thrashings that he had done so. Hidden from all the family was the fact that David was subservient to his wife and had been since early in the relationship.
On the second night of the four night stay the alarm bells sounded as David, with bravado and too much wine, had argued with his wife over something quite silly. Never the less, if looks could kill, David would have been collecting his insurance premium, or rather his wife would have.
His mother-in-law commented about “David is being brave tonight, is he not?”
His wife replied, “Yes he is, or rather he is being silly tonight and will pay the price after your visit.”
Smiles and laughter led to a blushing face from David and his mother-in-law rounded on him saying, “Oh, so you will be on the end of some retribution when I am gone, will you David?”
David blushed, his wife laughed and his mother-in-law added, “Perhaps the canes you keep upstairs are explained now?
It was his wife who blushed now, and his mother-in-law continued, “I did wonder, who used these and I am pleased to assume it is you, my dear, who chastises David here! Is that the case?”
A conversation where his wife opened up and admitted to taking charge led to David feeling totally humiliated as his wife and mother-in-law started to discuss marital domestic discipline.
“I am no stranger to this my dear, as I can assure you that your late father was as obedient to me, and was soundly thrashed at times by me. That is the secret of success!”
Almost oblivious to David’s presence they both discussed how early on in the relationships they had discovered that their partners were basically in need of guidance and discipline and one thing led to another. “I used to take your father over my knees for the hairbrush at regular intervals, both as a reminder and also when he was badly behaved. Much the same dear as I recall doing to you with the same hairbrush!” It was David’s wife who blushed as her mother recounted how she would administer the hairbrush with good effect to both sisters at times.
The wine continued and eventually all retired to bed. In bed that night David apologised, but as they cuddled, he was obviously excited about what his mother-in-law had revealed and pressed his wife for more intimate details about how she herself had been spanked with that brush.
“She was a real monster with that brush and the mere threat of it was enough, once we had sampled it a few times. I got it till I left the house at 21 and it was a most humiliating experience, but I suppose was never given unless deserved.”
Question after question led to some marital fumblings and at one point his wife made the comment “I think it is you that should perhaps sample her brush next?”
David drew a breath and could not hide the delight at this prospect saying “Ooh, my darling, how absolutely humiliating that would be!”
In the morning all were a bit embarrassed, and at lunch the mother-in-law suddenly started the conversation that altered the day, “So my dear, last night?” adding “Last night was an eye-opener and I have decided that my stay should not interfere with your marital discipline. I suggest we send David home and we continue to the shops. After that we can join David and you can do whatever you would do to him as punishment for his intolerable behaviour last night. I suggest if the boy wants to be disrespectful in front of his mother-in-law then I deserve to see his punishment?
So after some small talk it was accepted and David returned home. It was a lonely wait of mixed anticipation and fear for the three hours before they returned.
“Mother wants to see you punished as I would do normally, and I see no reason not to do that. Go and get ready for me now David, and we will be along when we are ready.”
As he headed out the door he turned to his wife and asked “Err, darling, is that exactly as I would be for you?”
She smiled and both her and her mother laughed and she said “Yes, exactly!”
So it was that twenty minutes later his wife and mother-in-law entered the bedroom and found a naked David, head lowered and blushing with his shaven cock and balls on display. A cane, three-tailed tawse and heavy bath brush were laid out on the bed.
His mother-in-law tried not to look amused, but she was.
“Now perhaps an apology to myself and Mother? And then your usual?”
David, still head lowered, said, “Darling, I am sorry for answering back the other night. I deserve this thrashing. I also want to apologise to you, Alison, for having to be a witness.”
“You will be sorry very soon David, now bend over!” said his wife in her strictest tone. He bent over the edge of the bed, grateful not to be exposed any longer.
“So how many will you give him?” asked his mother-in-law. The magical sentence of 36 was announced.
The caning started and David yelped and the next landed shortly afterwards. He took the full 36 and heard various comments from the audience culminating in “Good show, darling!”
The caning stopped and the order was given to lie on the bed. The tawse was administered to his backside 36 times too, and each blow brought a yelp from the ever-suffering David.
“Are you feeling sorry now David?” asked his mother-in-law.
“Yes, yes, I am very sorry.”
“I think you may like to take over mother” his wife said and handed the brush to her mother. The brush was then used with amazing force on poor David’s burning cheeks! He was amazed at the strength of the woman.
What also amazed him was the tirade of verbal insults she gave with the spanking, “You deserve every one of these, David!” “This will teach you to obey your wife!” “My boy you need this so much!”
The force of the beating caused David to shout out, “For fucks sake, I am sorry, sorry!”
His mother-in-law asked, “What was that you said David?”
“Ssssorry, I said I was sorry!”
“Yes, but did you not say the “F” word as well?”
“Yyess. Ssorry I did! I am sorry I did not mean to, just it is so sore, and it slipped out!”
“Stand up David!” his mother-in-law commanded and he gratefully stood in front of her, his hands covering his front.
“Swearing is unforgivable and your wife knows what happens now don’t you my dear?”
His wife blushed, thinking back to the days when her mother spanked her, then she smiled knowingly and said, “Yes Mother, you would start again, wouldn’t you?”
His humiliation was complete as both ladies burst into laughter. He was taken by the ear and almost thrown back on the bed and told by his mother-in-law, “50 smacks and any swearing you’ll get the same again!”
The spanking that followed caused David to cry out a lot. But he did not swear and despite tears welling he managed not to cry for real.
The thrashing over, David stood up and his wife raised her eyes to the ceiling. David reacted by saying, “Alison, thank you for my spanking which was deserved.”
After a pause his wife added, “And what else do we say after a spanking?”
He added, “Oh and Alison, if I ever deserve another please don’t hesitate, because I need to be disciplined when I am naughty.”
It was a well-rehearsed sentence that David always had to use, but somehow both ladies found it so humorous and before laughing too much his mother-in-law sarcastically added “Thank you David. Be assured I shall do so!”
That concluded his thrashing, and for the remainder of the visit his behaviour was impeccable.
Before leaving, his mother-in-law sat both of them down and said, “Now I may have found David’s reactions amusing, but I am proud of you both. You my darling for taking charge, and you David for accepting the need for a strong woman to lead you. I shall help out again if needed, and this is obviously our secret. It is, I am sure, the secret to a very successful marriage, so long as you my dear never forget that David requires discipline, and plenty of it!”
To be continued.
Story ©2012 by David Stewart
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The two nineteen-year-olds were sat on the bed listening to records. They were chatting noisily as the stylus hit the run-out groove.
“I reckon your Aunt Belle is really hot, Tim,” volunteered Simon.
“Yeah, she is, if you like mutton dressed as leopard!” his friend replied. The pair of them burst out laughing. “How about some Dylan next?”
Unfortunately, at that moment, Belle had been passing the open bedroom door and had heard the insult. She was mortified, especially as she had her favourite leopard print top on. She headed off to the kitchen, by which time the cruel words had really hit home. Tears formed in her eyes, and she sat and slumped at the table, head in hands.
An hour or so later, Tim let his friend out of the front door and they wished each other goodbye. Tim went to look for his aunt, and found her still at the table, looking worse for wear, and tearful.
“Hello Auntie, what’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? What’s the matter? I heard what you called me! Mutton dressed as leopard, indeed! You certainly know how to hurt someone.”
“Oh, sorry, Auntie. It was just a joke!”
“A hurtful joke at my expense! Really, you can be a real beast at times, Timothy.”
If there’s one thing in the world Tim hated, then it was being called Timothy. Of course, his aunt knew that and this was just the first assault of what was to be a prolonged attack.
“You are rude and disrespectful. I really regret letting you stay here while your parents are in Australia. I’d throw you out if you had somewhere to go. Bettina said I was mad having you here, and she was right! Disrespectful and thoroughly disobedient. If you were one of my pupils, I’d have sent you to the headmaster for the cane!”
“Oh auntie! I’m sorry. Really I am. What can I do to make things right?”
Unfortunately for Tim, the tears started flowing again. He felt terrible. He fetched a box of tissues from the sideboard.
“I’ll tell you what. You can cane me if you like! Anything to wipe the slate clean!”
“Pah! If only! If only! Anyway, I don’t have a cane here.”
“I suppose you could get one from the school though, couldn’t you?”
“Don’t be silly. Have you ever had the cane, Timothy?”
“No, no. I was always too good.”
“Now that I find hard to believe!”
“No, honestly. I was so scared of the cane that I always behaved myself at school.”
“I see. It seems to me, Timothy, that if you had been caned then perhaps your general attitude and behaviour would be more adult and respectful.”
“Maybe you’re right, Auntie. I feel so awful. Really. It sounds crazy, but maybe I’m overdue for a caning.”
“You certainly are. But I couldn’t possibly cane you. Or maybe I could! Are you willing to take a caning, if I can get my hands on a cane?”
“Yes, I suppose so, I just want to make things right.”
She got up and walked to the phone in the hall.
“It’ll hurt, you know! I’m going to ring the caretaker, to see if he has a key to the head’s study.”
But she drew a blank. Mr Martin was not answering. Maybe he had the TV on too loud, for he was as deaf as a post. She decided to cut out the middleman and ring the head.
“Ah, Mr Rodbourne! Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday evening. I’m ringing to ask a favour. I’m having trouble with my nephew. Yes, yes. Exactly! You’re right. Bettina did warn me he’d be trouble. Yes, I’d like to borrow a cane from the school if possible, please. You have a couple at home? Ideal! No, no. I want to cane him myself, but thank you for offering. I know! He’ll be sorry, alright! Can we come over now? Mrs Rodbourne won’t mind? We’ll set off soon. Thank you so much.”
Less than half an hour later Belle and Tim pulled up at the head’s house. They got out of the Rover.
“Tim, you go ahead and ring the bell, and ask Mr Rodbourne for the cane.”
The ambiguous nature of her request was not lost on Tim. She was tidying the boot of the old car, when Tim returned.
“He wouldn’t give me it. He wants us both to come in for a cup of tea,” said a rather red-faced Tim.
“Oh right, that’s very nice of him. He’s quite a sweet man.”
That’s not what Tim had heard. Mr Rodbourne’s reputation as a strict disciplinarian had spread way beyond the grammar school. Soon Belle and Tim were sat in the spacious lounge listening to Mr Rodbourne pontificating about rudeness and the virtues of the school cane. Tim was really embarrassed; even more so when Mrs Rodbourne joined them. What was worse was that she was wearing a leopard print scarf! Tim could only hope that Belle didn’t tell all.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to cane him now? You and Doris could watch. It would be better entertainment than The Generation Game!” he laughed.
“No, really. That’s very thoughtful of you to offer, but it’s a matter between him and me,” Aunt Belle sighed.
“Righty-oh then! I’ll go and get the sticks now.”
Soon Mr Rodbourne returned with two crook-handled canes.
“Take them both. One is thinner and will sting more, the other will bruise more. I would use both, if I were you. Use them on the bottom, not the hands. Bare bottom, if you can stand the sight. No hurry to return them. We won’t be needing them this weekend will we, Doris? And I have a new delivery due from the school suppliers. In fact, why not keep them? You might need to use them more than once,” he smiled.
“Why, thank you! You’re so kind. They’re just what’s needed, aren’t they Timothy?”
Tim blushed. Soon he was in the Rover again, heading back with Aunt Belle. He was shifting uncomfortably on the seat, dreading what was in store.
Back at Belle’s she made him go up to her bedroom. She stayed in the living room, swishing the canes, whacking cushions and testing her technique. She had used the cane before, but that was a long time ago. Ten minutes or so later, she climbed the stairs quietly. Tim was sat on the bed, looking worried.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be doing this tonight, I must say,” she laughed at him. “Mr Rodbourne recommended a bare bottom, didn’t he?”
Tim’s face reddened yet again. “Yes he did, Auntie. But that’s up to you. I’ll do whatever you decide.”
“Trousers and pants down then, Timothy.” His luck had run out. His boyish bottom and mannish penis were soon displayed to her.
“How many, Auntie?”
“A lot, I think! The traditional six won’t be enough. That’s for kids. You’re a man. You can take a lot more.”
Tim wasn’t so sure. He was alarmed by his aunt’s enthusiasm for dishing out a generous beating. He couldn’t understand how she, and earlier Mr Rodbourne, treated the matter so light-heartedly.
Swish-Crack! The whippy cane made first contact with the nineteen year-old’s bottom. It stung but it wasn’t too bad.
Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack!
Tim was gasping and squirming now as Aunt Belle laid into him some more. The cane hurt alright and gradually he began to yelp and cry as she beat him. He was feeling sorry for himself as the wicked cane whipped down again and again.
“That will do for now. I’ll give you some more in the morning, I think. With the thicker cane!”
“Yes, Auntie. Thank you. I’m sorry. I deserved that.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Now off to bed with you!”
“But Auntie, it’s only half-past eight!”
“Just do as you’re told, unless you want some more caning now?”
Tim apologised and went off to his room. Belle put the cane down. She had enjoyed beating him. She felt a little guilty about that. But only a little. She was deciding what to wear tomorrow. Perhaps that newish leopard print trouser suit? Yes! that would be wonderfully appropriate. She would give him the thrashing of his life while wearing it! She felt moist and strangely turned on. She would have to masturbate.
In his room, Tim felt his sore bottom. The individual cane strokes had not been too bad, but the cumulative effect had been close to overwhelming. He was pleased that he hadn’t broken down. He had taken his punishment like a man. He felt strangely turned on, and of course, he had to masturbate.
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
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Part 2 is here
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Hot and explicit true story by David Stewart
I’ve always felt that I wanted to be spanked, and I’m not sure why.
It was always ladies I fantasised about until I was about 22, when I made a friend who would introduce me to the world of adult discipline.
To set the scene here, I was a young police officer. I met John, who was 59 and a retired teacher (or so he told me). I had been schooled in Scotland and he had taught on both sides of the border. I met him as a result of a call to assist with some children that were causing a nuisance. We had a chat over coffee about ‘the kids of today’ and so on. Over a few visits the story was always the same, about people lacking discipline nowadays and eventually I guess we both learnt that each other was more than interested in the topic. He did ask me if I was disciplined at home and in school, and did I think I was better for it. In hindsight, nowadays he would be called a pervert, but there you are and remember this was the late ’70s.
He made an unusual comment one visit, asking, “Do you ever miss the way a spanked bottom or tawsed hands dealt with an issue and then it was over?” I answered, “I suppose so, in a strange way.”
As I left that night John made his move and said, “You know David, if you ever felt the need to revisit those days of a spanked bottom, then you only need ask me to do it for you.”
Well I left, and I gave my cock a thorough workout later that day. The following day I called him and spoke nervously about the comment. Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself if I got it wrong, I asked, “What did you mean last night when I left, about if I ever felt the need or something?”
“David, I know some adults still miss that old fashioned spanking thing and as a friend if you felt you needed it, then I would do it for you.” It was a s simple as that, but it had taken about six visits before he asked. I said that I thought I did and he said, “Well if you do David, bring your PE kit to change into and we will see to it!”
Two days later I turned up in uniform along with a bag with shorts and vest in it, and we had a coffee. “Did you bring anything with you today, David?”, he asked. Nervously I showed him the plastic bag and then its contents. John then went on to try to relax me, which was impossible. He told me he had friends who he spanked, and not to think I was unusual in any way.
Eventually he said something about “So should we go and deal with you then?” We stood and went to what was a small study. It had a desk with leather chair, a hard-backed chair in the corner, and a small cupboard on one wall.
“So how should I deal with you, David?”
I said, “Just like my father would, Sir.” There had been no request to call him Sir, it just felt right.
“I will leave you to change then into your shorts and vest.”
When he returned some five minutes later I was stood there with an erection in my PE shorts. He smiled and pulled the hard-backed chair out, told me to go over his lap and then he spanked me over my shorts for a while. I left that night disappointed, to be honest.
The next time I visited, we chatted about it. I had brought my kit again. He asked me how it had been. I suddenly blurted out that “It was not quite as I expected.” Asked why, I said, “Well I was always spanked on the bare bum and it always really stung. I always felt as if I had been punished then.”
John looked at me, smiled, and said “Ah David, so you want a proper spanking do you, pants down, over my knee and one that teaches you a lesson?”
“Well yes, Sir,” I stuttered. “It’s just that I always thought spankings should be like that.”
As a result, a few minutes later I was at John’s side and having my shorts and pants pulled down. This caused my erection to stick out (and be ignored by John). I was then pulled over and I got the hardest spanking I could remember. I recall yelling out “Oh Sir, I am so sorry!”
After the spanking, I was made to stand in the corner, bottom bare and hands on head. That was the way it went for a few months until one day I turned up without my kit. Over coffee we were chatting about spanking and I said, “It makes me regret forgetting my kit today.” John smiled and said, “Well David, I think, if you don’t mind, and as I have seen most of you anyway, we can do without the PE kit from now on, if you want.”
We went up to the study and John for the first time stood watching me and said “Right David I want all your clothes off today.” I was soon stood naked and erect as he gazed at me. “Does it excite you that I am going to spank you David?”
“Do you usually have a wank afterwards, thinking of me spanking you?”
“Yes, usually Sir!”
He moved closer to me. “Do you ever think of me touching your cock David, or does that thought never enter your head?”
“I do Sir, sometimes.”
His hand started to move towards my cock. He touched it and it stood even more erect. He pulled back and then had me over his knee, spanking that erection out of me. It was a harder than usual spanking and I nearly cried. Afterwards he put his hand between my cheeks and made me erect again. So it was that I was wanked for the first time by another guy. That became the norm and I would visit for a spanking at least twice a week and I started to visit him on my days off. It was only a short while before I started to wank him off as well.
After about six months he re-introduced me to the tawse. In doing so, he revealed his love of tawsing. The norm then became for me to have to take six of the tawse along with any spanking. Normally, this was after the spanking, as he liked my hands to be warm when I touched him. After a tawsing, they were really hot!
It was a year before I got caned and I was warned how sore that experience would be. We had discussed it before, but I was still rather unaware of the pain a cane could cause. I recall being told that the cane would be applied next time I came and to make an appointment on a day off. He promised me a real ‘six of the best’ and I got that, for sure.
It was six days later. I visited him nervously. This time, John was very different. “Come in boy!” was his command and I was taken directly to his study. A a cane lay on the desk. He lectured me and told me I was to be caned, six strokes and if I stood up or touched my bottom that stroke would not count and he would add another.
Naked, I stood waiting and Sir said to me in a softer tone, “Now remember David, you asked for this and I need to give you it as I would if it were a real punishment. It is going to hurt like nothing you have experienced before, but I have explained all that already, haven’t I?”
“Yes Sir”, I said.
“And you still want to find out what a real caning is like?”
“Yes Sir, please Sir.”
His attitude changed suddenly, “Right boy! Over the desk, and grip the far side.”
The cane was tapped a few times before it thrashed down. The sound felt delayed, as if it came after the hit . There was a distinct moment when I felt nothing, but then a fearsome pain cut through me! I stood up and grabbed my bum, only to hear a very unsympathetic, “Get down boy! I expected better!”
The next stroke elicited a real yell from me followed by a third then a fourth which both did the same. It was true agony and I had to wait for the fifth stroke. The sixth cut deep into my cheeks and then Sir spoke, “Now you have to be given the first stroke again and then one extra. Are you ready boy?”
“Sir, please no more! I’m so sore!”, I whined.
“You wanted a real caning, now take the last two like a man, David!”
Almost immediately the cane delivered the penultimate stroke, followed shortly by the eighth, final stroke. In tears, I stood up and Sir cuddled me, and then made me stand in the corner. After a while the flames of pain diminished. He led me to the bedroom where he undressed and we got into bed. In the end, I stayed the whole night after being taken out for a curry.
Our relationship lasted for over six years and during that time my bottom was constantly spanked and caned. My hands were tawsed so often that I lost count! It was the only time I have had a long relationship with another guy. Believe it or not, the reason we stopped was because by then I’d met my wife. The marks were too conspicuous to have. She became my chastiser. I have however, always retained a desire to be spanked by another older guy and especially to be hand tawsed by one. I have met a few guys who can tawse school-style and are happy to spank a naughty lad like me.
So that’s the true account of how I came to be into spanking.
Text © David Stewart 2012, used here by very kind permission
picture © by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
I hope you’re going to comment on this one
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Uncle is a silver-haired policeman soon to be facing retirement. His disciplinary cane is back in use. His 19-year old nephew, Gordon, is staying with him for a fortnight, with the aim of curbing excessive masturbation.
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Part 6 is here
And now Part 7!
“Aha! What are you doing Gordon?”
Uncle had caught him masturbating in the bathroom.
“Oh I thought you were on the phone, Uncle.”
“Not good enough, my boy. I thought I’d made it clear that there was to be no masturbating in my house! You’ve been caught red-handed. And soon you will be red bottomed!”
“But Uncle you don’t understand. I’m nineteen, I have to do it! Weren’t you ever my age?”
“What a stupid question, Gordon. That will cost you extra strokes. And to think you questioned the appropriateness of my erection the other day!”
“I’m sorry Uncle.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what we’ll do Gordon. You can finish masturbating and then you can report to me in the front room.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“You won’t be thanking me soon, Gordon.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Uncle disappeared and Gordon sat down on the edge of the bath. Soon he was pumping his cock for all it was worth. His fingers played with the head and then he tightened his grip on the shaft. He was fantasising but it wasn’t some lithe beauty in his thoughts, it was his handsome uncle, his erection and his cane! The spunk came copiously. For a laugh, Gordon wiped himself clean using his uncle’s bath towel. If he was going to be punished, he might as well do something bad, he thought to himself. He got up but was pretty exhausted. He sat down on the loo seat for a couple of minutes. Uncle was soon calling him…
“Come on Gordon! I haven’t got all day!”
Down in the front room Uncle was waiting flexing the cane.
“How many Gordon?”
“That’s up to you Uncle.”
Gordon stared at the floor.
“Nineteen, I think Gordon, since you had the cheek to ask me if I’d ever been that age!”
“That’s a lot Uncle, but you know best.”
“Yes, I do. Now, I want all your clothes off!”
Slowly Gordon peeled off his clothes. This was getting to be a familiar experience.
“That’s it. I’m glad to see your cock has calmed down.”
“Yes Uncle.” This was all so humiliating for Gordon.
“Now, hold your hands out in front of you.”
“Eh?” said Gordon. Surely uncle wasn’t going to cane his hands instead of his bottom? What a terrifying thought!
“Just do it!” Uncle snapped.
Gordon held his hands out, only to find Uncle snapping a pair of handcuffs on them!
“Oh!” said Gordon, somewhat shocked.
“Yes! It won’t be easy for you to masturbate with those on, will it?”
“But Uncle, you let me finish off.”
“Yes, I did. That was a kindness you didn’t really deserve. I’ll have to make up for it with some unkindness shortly. Now, go and stand over there!” Uncle pointed to a corner of the room with his cane. Gordon made his way over, totally naked and with his hands securely cuffed in front of him.
Uncle put the cane down and picked up his phone.
“Hello Sarge! Yes, things are fine. Yes, I’m just going to cane him again now. If you want to come over Saturday evening, you can give him a good thrashing too. No, no, the marks should have faded by then. You want to listen to his thrashing now? OK, but you might want to put it on the speaker, so you and the other lads can hear it properly. How many, you say? Nineteen! Maybe one extra for luck. Maybe I’ll use the new cane so his bottom’s nice and clear for you on Saturday. No it doesn’t mark quite as much as the old one. I’ll try to make it sting though! OK I’ll put the phone right here by the arm of the sofa so that all of you can hear everything. OK.”
Gordon had gone pale. He’d heard every word of course. He was his uncle’s plaything and now there was to be an audience, at a distance.
“Bend over then Gordon. I’ll just get the other cane.”
Uncle had obviously been practicing with this cane because it stung far more than last time .
Gordon was squirming and sweating. This was bad, bad news. Now that uncle had got the feel for this cane, it seemed like the sting was even worse than the old police-issue one! To make matters worse, the handcuffs were uncomfortable. At least Gordon could be sure he wouldn’t get an erection while he was so humiliated.
“Owwww!” At last Gordon was sharing his pain! Uncle smiled contentedly and, down the phone line Sarge and his colleagues laughed aloud. They were enjoying their camaraderie, almost as if they were at a football match.
“Harder! Beat him to a pulp!” shouted Sarge. The other police laughed and clapped. Fortunately for Gordon, Uncle did not seem to hear the advice coming down the phone line. Gordon felt tears welling in his eyes. It wasn’t the pain. It was the humiliation. Surely his parents wouldn’t approve of all this?
Maybe it was the pain, after all…
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne