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.
“Bend over!”
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.
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story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
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Part 2 is here