Explicit adult fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Uncle is a silver-haired policeman 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
Part 7 is here
And now read on for Part 8!
Uncle and Sarge stood in the front room, looking at Gordon slumped asleep on the sofa. “What a dozy lad!” said Sarge. “He could use a bit of a wake-up call!”
In truth, it was an exceptionally hot Saturday afternoon in what had been a dismal summer. It was no wonder Gordon had nodded off. He was a sound sleeper, but soon he would be facing a sound caning! Both men were in their police uniforms and both held a crook-handled cane.
“How are we going to play this then?” asked Sarge.
“Well, I thought maybe we’d cane him at the same time. One of us on the left of him, and one on the right. We’ll alternate strokes. That way, he should get a uniform thrashing. If you’ll excuse the pun!”
“Very good! Looks like he’s stirring a bit. Or maybe not. He looks a bit older than nineteen. We’re caning him bare bottom?”
“Yes of course, it’s got to be that way. Adds to the humiliation. What about handcuffs? Shall we?”
“Oh yes! That would be fun. We’ll beat him police black and police blue to match, shall we?”
“Mmmm, indeed. Glad to see you’re getting into the spirit of things.”
“And I can stay the night?”
“Yes, of course. Although I’m not sure how to organise the sleeping arrangements. Do you want to sleep with Gordon or me or both of us?”
“I suppose a fuck’s out of the question?”
“Well, it is with me. I doubt Gordon will be up for it either as his bottom’s going to be sore as hell. We could have a jolly good wank together though, if you like. Gordon might be up for it as well. Is that what they call a circle jerk?”
“Well, I think you’d probably need more than just the three of us for one of those. But a trio could be fun. Or just the two of us. How are we going to wake him up then?”
“How about I stand by the sofa and cane the top of it? That’ll wake him up and then he’ll see you in your sexy uniform and with a cane in your hand.”
“I like it. I like it a lot!”
It worked a treat! The cane landed on the sofa with a resounding CRACK! Gordon leapt up, startled. Both policemen laughed like mad. Gordon walked over to Sarge and shook his hand, saying, “I’m Gordon, well-known naughty boy and evil masturbator!”
“Let’s get down to it, Gordon! We are going to cane you now. Six strokes each, simultaneously. I will be on the left hand side, and Sarge will be on the right.”
“Cool, thanks Uncle. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Was he joking? Had he turned into a secret spanko overnight? The boy was full of surprises today.
“Not as much as I have, boy!” said Sarge, bending him over the coffee table. Sarge then took down the lad’s jeans and underpants. An unmarked bottom was clearly displayed. Sarge gave it a quick SMACK! Suddenly, Uncle grabbed Gordon’s arms and snapped on the handcuffs!
“Shit!” exclaimed Gordon.
“WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” warned Sarge. The two policemen took up position behind Gordon, the double beating was about to commence!
“Aargh!” cried Gordon as the left and right canes thrashed his arse.
“OWWW!” It was a double-whammy alright!
“Oooh!” The canes hit home.
“Ow, ow, OW!” The heat and pain from the double strokes was immense.
“OOOH! No more please, Uncle! Sarge!”
“Right, get up Gordon! That’s all for now,” explained Uncle, “but there will be more later or in the morning. Sarge will be staying overnight as your guest. Is that clear?”
Well, it wasn’t really clear at all, but Gordon had no choice but to play along, “Yes, of course, Uncle.” Sarge unlocked the handcuffs.
“Right, come here!” Sarge instructed Gordon. Sarge slapped Gordon’s face, saying, “That’s for the foul language!”
Uncle started barking orders next, “Gordon, take all your clothes off. Take both canes and go and wait for us in my bed.”
Gordon left the room feeling subdued, with a sore bottom and wounded pride. In fact, everything was just as it should be! He closed the door. Sarge and Uncle spent a few minutes of quality time on the sofa, kissing and cuddling.
“Right, let’s go and see him then,” said Uncle.
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Adult fiction by Rod Cayenne…Over-18s only
DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The stern military man banged his fist on the desk, “Well, you’ve really done it this time, haven’t you? Cavorting naked all over the place, bringing yourself, your family and us into disrepute! I’d expect it of a greenhorn squaddie, but not a 27-year-old officer.”
“Yes Sir, sorry Sir! I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide upon.”
“Good. Anyway, I haven’t finished yet. Whatever will your father think of this?”
“My father is an impotent old fool.”
“Such disrespect! You will be caned!”
“Caned? Is that allowed?”
“It’s an old military tradition, you know. Barely legal, but appropriate in this case, I feel.”
“No buts. I’ve decided. Now, would you like a male or female to give you the punishment?”
“Oh well. A man, Sir. Definitely a man. Will you do it please, Sir?”
“Well, I shall, but I’ve decided that an element of humiliation would be an appropriate addition. So I propose to give you one dozen hard strokes on your naked buttocks. And then a female will give you a final six strokes, also bare. How do you feel about that?”
“Uncomfortable!” laughed the prince. “Who will the female be?”
“It’s not a laughing matter! I’ve thought long and hard about which female to assign this unpleasant duty to. Fortunately, a volunteer came forward. Someone who is old enough to remember the halcyon days of corporal punishment. Yet someone who has been besotted with you, as she has always been a great royalist. The lady in question is Miss Trenchard!”
Miss Trenchard was well known to the prince. She supervised the catering at the base, was in her fifties and had a reputation as a bit of an old battle-axe. She was of large build and, the prince reflected, would probably be a hard caner.
“You will report in full uniform at 6pm tonight. Punishment will take place in the Billiard Room. Miss Trenchard’s idea. I can’t imagine why!”
“Yes, Sir. Very good, Sir!”
An hour or so later, the prince was sat on the toilet. In the cold, lonely cubicle he played idly with the royal penis. It had seen some good times lately, but now its owner was due for a full military dressing-down! He’d never had the cane before, but somehow the idea was causing both fear and excitement at the same time. Just the thought of the two disciplinarians caused his cock to stiffen. He decided that both would be rewarded in the next Honours List, if he enjoyed his caning.
“Remove his cap, Miss Trenchard!”
“Yes Sir, with pleasure!”
“Undo his tie. Yes, that’s it. Now, undo his shirt buttons. That’s it. Remove the shirt. Good God man! You’re wearing a vest!”
“Yes Sir, sorry it was a bit cold on parade this morning, so I thought…”
“Are you a man or a boy? Vest, indeed! Get it off him, Miss Trenchard.”
“As you wish, Sir.”
“And what’s that silly charm thing around his neck? Get it off and put it in the bin, will you?”
“It’s probably gold and worth thousands, Sir.”
“OK, give it to me a minute then. Thank you. Now get his boots off.”
The prince sat down on one of the plastic chairs. Miss Trenchard gazed lovingly at the shiny black leather boots, carefully unlacing them and then removing both. She also pulled his socks off. She gave them a sly sniff as she laid them down next to his clothes. “Stand up,” she told him.
Without being asked, she undid his belt. Slowly his military fatigue trousers fell to the ground.
“Just those horrible boxer short things to go now, Miss Trenchard. Will you do the honours please? Thank you. Good God man! An erection! Another outrage! This may mean extra strokes. Miss Trenchard see if you can cure it, please!”
She grabbed the royal cock and twisted it. Soon it shriveled.
“Well done, Miss Trenchard. You deserve a medal for that.”
“Thank you, Sir. My pleasure,” she said, unable to believe her luck.
“Now then lad! You will bend over the billiard table here. You will remain in position until all strokes have been delivered and I have told you that you may rise. Any disobedience, standing up, fidgeting or excessive noise may incur extra punishment, as will any further sign of an erection. Do I make myself clear?”
“Miss Trenchard, please fetch the cane for me.”
She rummaged among the billiard cues.
“There are two here, Sir!”
“Aha! Let me have a look.”
The first cane was straight and had a coloured, braided handle.
“Ah, yes, the regimental punishment cane. Very severe, but entirely appropriate.”
The second was more like a school cane, with a beautifully curved handle.
“I wonder where that’s come from? I’ve never seen it before. Looks like it’s designed for recreational use. Still, it should sting a great deal,” he said as he cut it through the air with an almighty swish. “I will use the regimental cane, you may use the other.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Now just one more thing to do. Nip to the bar next door and invite any of the lads there to come and watch. Tell them it’s entirely unofficial, though! And no camera phones!”
He addressed the prince, “Most military men seem to have an interest in spanking and discipline.”
Soon an audience of seven beery lads had assembled. They feasted their eyes on the naked prince before them.
“It’s Princey!” bellowed one inebriated crowd member.
“Yes, indeed and Miss Trenchard and I will be putting this stupid boy through his paces. You are welcome to watch his punishment, but keep the noise down. And strictly no pictures please.”
CRACK! Out of the blue the regimental cane slashed down on the naked royal cheeks! This was accompanied by various oohs and ahs from the audience and some spontaneous applause.
“Quiet you lot! That was the first of the twelve strokes I’ll be giving with the regimental cane. Miss Trenchard will then take over and be using the traditional school cane on this naughty boy!”
This caused some laughter from the crowd and much embarrassment for the naked prince.
CRACK! A second stroke lashed down. The prince screwed up his eyes as he tried to cope with the pain. He didn’t want to cry out now that there was an audience. No doubt they’d been brought in to increase his humiliation.
CRACK! The third stroke was agony, causing the victim to gasp and buck.
“KEEP STILL!” he was commanded.
Then there was a distraction, as the barman also came and joined the crowd. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” he whispered to Miss Trenchard. She smiled and thought the same thing. Beneath her frumpy dress, her generous knickers were already moist from the excitement.
CRACK ! CRACK! Two fast strokes followed. The audience was hushed and a little flexing and swishing of the cane through the air followed.
CRACK! This time there was an anguished “ARRGH!” from the prince.
CRACK! CRACK! He was taking it comparatively well, considering that the cane was a severe rattan.
CRACK! The ninth stroke fell, with a gasp and some fidgeting from the prince.
“I SHAN’T TELL YOU AGAIN, KEEP STILL BOY!”
A few of the audience chuckled at this admonishment.
CRACK! The tenth stroke was accompanied by a loud grunt from the prince, who was not getting any pleasure from his beating, it seemed.
CRACK! CRACK! A final brace from the regimental cane and a sharp “YEOWWW!” from the prince. A round of applause from the audience followed. The beaten arse was red and sore all over. That rattan cane was clearly something special.
“That completes the dozen strokes with the regimental cane. That was for bringing disgrace on our noble regiment. Miss Trenchard will now take over. She will be giving a traditional six of the best using this school cane, just to remind the prince that he has been behaving just like a naughty schoolboy. I trust you will enjoy this, and ask again for some hush as we proceed.”
SWISH-CRACK! “YEEOWW!” Unexpectedly, the prince cried out. The sting of this whippier cane was awful on top of the earlier beating.
SWISH-CRACK! “ARRGH!” Clearly Miss Trenchard was an expert with the cane.
SWISH-CRACK! “OWWW!” Miss Trenchard’s face was flushed with sexual excitement.
SWISH-CRACK! The prince managed to keep quiet for this one, even though it stung like mad.
SWISH-CRACK! Perhaps he was getting used to it?
SWISH-CRACK! Perhaps he was enjoying it?
“Thank you, thank you Miss Trenchard! An excellent thrashing! It seems your time as a domestic science teacher wasn’t a complete waste of time!” The audience laughed at the joke. “Now, there is one additional matter to deal with…”
The prince groaned.
“I’m afraid that the prince flashed us earlier with his excited member, so I will award three additional strokes for that. Miss Trenchard, would you be so kind?”
Miss Trenchard would have liked to carry on all night, but fairness made her put down the cane and say, “Well despite the noise, I think he’s had enough, Sir!” The prince had taken 21 hard strokes, but at last his suffering was over. The audience cheered and clapped as he was allowed up and handed his clothes. Life would never be the same again for many of the participants and spectators. But was the prince happy?
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne.
All rights reserved
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by guest author sukemnsee
DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I was taking a short break in the Kingdom of Fife. Later, I would be going on to Glasgow for an organised tour that included the Edinburgh Tattoo. I was staying off the main road north, in a delightful B & B in the village of Auchtermuchty. I chose it because of the name, as it has come up once or twice over the years and I liked the sound of it. For those of you who do not know the area, it is in the east of Scotland, above Edinburgh going up towards Perth and not far from the home of golf at St. Andrews.
My nearest main town was Cupar and so the travel ticket I had was based on that area with some village extensions. There are some delightful places around there and I was quite content to meander, take a pub meal where I fancied and to enjoy the little-known area.
On a whim, I decided to go to visit Cowdenbeath, just because it was a name associated with listening to football results from the Scottish Leagues when I was younger.
I caught the bus and headed merrily off. To my surprise, as the bus pulled into a bus station part way, there were two uniformed officers doing a ticket inspection. I showed them my pass ticket and was met with a grimace as they studied it. I was ordered off the bus and taken to a small office at the rear of the building. I had to give my name and address and the younger man, went off to a computer to verify my details. The older man resembled a TV character from an old Ronnie Barker series. He was very stern and with his little greyed moustache, seemed unsmiling.
The younger man came back and said that the computer verified that I lived where I’d stated. He thought I was a high earner, living in a category nine home insurance area, which meant the property values were high.
This disappointed the older man, “So Mister, if I fine you the regulation £20 for this offence it will mean nothing to you, this is no guid at all, there is no reckoning here.”
I nearly blurted out that fines in my area were £80 but kept quiet.
“I need to punish you, but I would hae to take you before the Sheriff if I wanted you excluded from all our buses and he is not in session the now. I need something quicker and more focused.”
“I see, have you heard that it is Consensual Spanking International Day today, 8th August? You could have a pop at me for that. Go ahead, if you can!”
I was a bit impertinent there and he told me my blether was drivel. That said, the younger one said he could not find such a day in the calendar. I told him to find “The Canery” blog and he would see it there.
The older man said that a spanking was in order but that I need not think now or by the end that it was consensual! It was to set me on the straight and narrow.
“Bend over the edge of that desk there, Mister.”
The man was actually serious. I complied, feeling rather strange with the two men in the little office and not knowing how the sound would carry.
“You dinna think I am wasting my strap on claithes, get they trews and kecks down to your ankles!”
I bared as instructed, wondering by now if I had dozed off on the bus journey and this was all a dream…
This was no dream, a sharp swipe of his leather had just woken up all the nerves in my bottom!
“Do I not get a hand spanking to warm me up then?” I asked.
“Mister, we are not playing games here, my tawse will suffice.”
The younger man added, “You are being punished with a fine example of a Lochgelly tawse. This supple leather strap with its two tails is designed to make a swift impression and you will be red raw when we are done with you. This is our present frae Scotland to you, with the feared strap made in Main Street.”
This man knew how to lay it on. I could feel the full force of it alright!
Already I felt there was no space left untouched on my arse. The pain was building up as the strap lashed me, with more intensity than a standard belt. Maybe it was the tails the boy spoke of?
I grunted, I was really getting quite sore. In a recreational spanking, I would normally have asked for a break just here but this was a punishment and so that wasn’t an option. The strokes felt as if they were landing on earlier ones.
“Oooh!”, I was starting to get a little vocal. I was into that phase of clenching my muscles to see if it lessened the impact and also probably in anticipation.
“Dinna stop the now, there’s mair red to go yet!”
The younger guy was egging on the older guy. It brought home how I was being studied. This was more embarrassing in the tiny office, especially when compared to spanking clubs where you know there are distant, furtive audiences for each bit of action.
“ARRRGH!” that really set me on fire as landed on a spot where I’d already been thrashed. I wondered how my bottom looked, as it felt like a furnace.
I had no idea how long or how many this would go on for, would I have any say?
“Stand Up, Mister!”
I eased up into a standing position, a little embarrassed as I had a firm erection sticking out and my shirt was short and sort of rested against it.
“Hold up your left hand, palm upward, you can support it with your right hand.”
I screamed as he laid the tawse into my left palm. It was so sore and my fingers tingled like mad. It was amazing to think that this was the way schoolboys were punished! I was suddenly grateful for all the arse caning and plimsoll swiping I got at school!
“Raise the other hand now, Mister!”
This was inhuman I thought to myself, I would be useless for hours if both my hands were made that sore.
“C’mon Laddie, are you wanting me to start over again?”
I raised my right hand, finding it sore bunching my left hand in support.
I knew this was coming and sort of pulled away my hand, but not fast enough! It seemed to catch me on fingers more and that was certainly a mistake!
“Get that hand properly in place, or it’ll be so much the worse for you!”
I somehow raised that right hand.
I saw the strap come down, the split bit at the end making a double impact. I screamed once more and my eyes were watering, I was so close to crying.
“Get dressed, Mister.”
I reached down, past my now wilted pride and gripped the waistband of my trousers. It was agony but I did not want to linger. I reckon I had been strapped about twenty times, one stroke for each pound of the fine. I was so sore.
I left the office and made for the nearby men’s room. As I walked in heading for the cubicles, a young man of maybe North African origin smiled at me, and paused from his mopping. He seemed to me to make a very definite move to caress his bottom which looked attractive and snug in his brown coverall jump suit. Did he know what had just gone on? Maybe his store cupboard was within earshot of the tiny office. Maybe there had been many like me over the years?
On any other day, I might have seen this as a come-on but for now, the privacy of the cubicle was what I craved. At last, alone in the cubicle I could feel my tender hands and my even hotter bottom. I would love to have looked at my bum in a mirror there, but the place was too busy for that sort of thing.
I headed back to my lodgings, paying the bus fare this time. It was quite expensive. I stood all the way by choice.
I have to go now, just showered and refreshed. My bottom is still very red from that strapping.
The younger ticket inspector called me on my mobile. He must have got the number from the quick background searches he had carried out on me. Anyway, he is coming in his car to pick me up and take me back to his place.
He promises that I’ll enjoy myself, and satisfy him. He has taken the tawse home and got a pair of brand spanking new plimsolls and other toys. He had read up more of The Canery site and he a favourite story already, one called Rump Kilt Skin. He will let me have a consensual spanking this time. What could be more appropriate on Consensual Spanking International Day?
There’s the horn, I’m gone.
Story © 2012 by sukemnsee
Sore botty pictures © 2011 by Jonathan
Thanks to both for their contributions
Comments very welcome
Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne
1. WELL BEFORE THE HAPPY DAY
“Gerald, may I have a quiet word?”
“Yes, of course, wedding nerves?”
“No, it’s not that. I’m quite relaxed about that, as is Judith. I’ll try to be a good husband and make you a proud father-in-law. It’s about that early wedding present. The cane you’ve given her. What’s that all about?”
“Oh that! Well, it’s just in case, really. I don’t approve of hitting women, but I am a great believer in males needing a touch of discipline.”
“But I’m twenty-nine!”
“Yes, and Judith is a good deal older and more responsible than you are, son. I just thought it might help. Just in case there are problems.”
“Help? Problems? It sounds pretty barbaric to me!”
“Oh I don’t think so Jason, my boy. You see, I have experience of these matters. Two successful marriages, and a successful teaching career. I hope Judith will never need to use that cane.”
“Well I’m not happy about it.”
“Take my tip, Jason, just be loyal, hard-working and honest. Judith won’t need to use the cane then.”
2. A LITTLE NEARER THE HAPPY DAY
“Hello Gerald, I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unexpectedly.”
“Not at all, Jason. The door’s always open, you are family now, or will be soon. What brings you here? Missing Judith while she’s on her course?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really.”
“You’ve come here about nothing?”
“No, no. It’s that cane thing again. I’m worried.”
“Nothing to worry about, Jason. Just be sure to behave yourself. Come and sit down. Let’s talk.”
“What’s worrying me is, it’s going to hurt.”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Judith if she does decide to use it. I need to know how bad it is. I wondered if you could demonstrate?”
“Eh? Let me see if I’ve got this right? You want to sample the cane? And you want me to give it to you?”
“Er, no. I don’t really want it. But, maybe you should. I want this marriage to work, even in the bad times.”
“Well, I don’t know. This is a most unusual request.”
“Well, you caused it Gerald, by giving Judith that damned cane!”
“Hmmm. We do seem to have an attitude problem, Jason. Perhaps a taste of the cane would be appropriate.”
“Not so keen now, then?”
“I’m not keen at all, it just seems like a good idea. Oh, and I don’t want Judith to know, please.”
“Tut, tut! Secrets, too! Alright, alright. I can see your point of view is reasonable enough. Let’s do it, and keep it our little in-laws secret!”
“Thanks, Dad, er Gerald I mean.”
“You probably won’t feel like thanking me afterwards!”
“No, maybe not, how’s this going to work then?”
“Well, let’s see then. I think six of the best to get rid of any residual attitude problem.”
“Yes, a good round number. You can keep your trousers on. Not that Judith may be that kind if it comes to it.”
“We’ll do it in my study room. You can bend over the desk. Upstairs now, please.” The two men climbed the stairs. Jason went first, which gave Gerald a good chance to survey the bottom he was about to cane. It was a peach!
“Yes, that’s it. Over the desk!” Gerald instructed as he wandered over to the brass umbrella stand in the corner and selected a crook-handled cane. He sliced it through the air a few times. Jason flinched each time the cane swished. Gerald was minded to offer his future son-in-law the opportunity to back out, but then he decided not to. After all, in some ways he was looking forward to demonstrating just who was the boss. He looked at the rump offered submissively before him. It was a very tempting target. Best get stuck in!
Jason leapt up clutching at his sore arse. This was murder!
“JASON, JUST YOU GET BACK DOWN THIS INSTANT!” boomed Gerald. He was minded to award a penalty stroke but decided to see how the next stroke was received.
SWISH-CRACK! “Yeeeowwww!” At least he stayed down this time.
SWISH-CRACK! “Arrrghhh!” What a noisy boy he was! Hardly like a twenty-nine-year-old…
The prescribed six strokes had been delivered. Gerald returned the cane to the umbrella stand, giving a hearty laugh as he did so. “So how was the picnic?” he asked Jason who was still bent over the desk. “You can get up now.”
“Thanks, and yes, that was no picnic!”
“Now, let me see the marks.
You didn’t take it very well, Jason, I’m afraid. In fact, it was a pretty poor performance. Leaping up and all that noise!”
“Sorry Gerald. I was surprised how bad it was.”
“Good, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Now you know what to expect from Judith if you mess her about. And it goes to show I was right about your immaturity. Any trouble, and you’ll have me and my cane to reckon with as well. Is that clear?”
“Er yes, of course!” What an alarming development for Jason…
“Now if my calculations are right, there’s six weeks until the wedding. I suggest I give you another caning one month from today, so that’s the 12th of September. That will give your bottom time to be cleared up in time for the honeymoon. It’ll do you good and you need the experience.”
“Gosh no, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Believe me, I know what some men need and you are definitely in that category.” Already, Gerald was thinking in terms of twelve strokes for the next session. He was proud of Jason in a way. The lad’s peachy arse was just made for the whippiest of canes. He mused to himself that some more, perhaps monthly thrashings might be required, even after the wedding. Maybe not?
3. AFTER THE HONEYMOON
Judith stared at the mess in the kitchen. The living room was no better. Her new husband was turning into a bit of a slob, if she wasn’t much mistaken. He was sat on the sofa eating crisps and watching rugby on the TV. It was now or never!
“Jason, come here. What’s the meaning of this mess? Get me the cane, it’s under our bed!”
“Oh Judith, I’m sorry, let me tidy up.”
She scowled at him and ordered, “The cane! Now!”
Sheepishly, he went upstairs and retrieved the cane from its hiding place. He gulped as he realised the moment he had been dreading had arrived. At least Gerald’s canings had prepared him. He knew what to expect. Or did he?
“Right! Give me that cane now! I’m going to give you a bloody good whipping. I’m not putting up with this any longer. Have you had the cane before?” She whipped the cane through the air.
“Er yes, a while back. Twice. On my trousers.”
“Well those jeans are coming off, I can tell you. And your boxers! You can keep your rugby shirt and socks on. I rather like them!”
He was relieved that she liked those, perhaps this was just going to be a sexy sort of game? She made him bend over a little coffee table in front of the TV. He was on all fours with his arse sticking out nicely.
“How many?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Bah! How many will it take to make me happy? Maybe ten or twenty!”
“Twenty? That’s a hell of a lot.”
“No, it’s not. Yes, we’ll make it twenty. Prepare yourself!”
Soon the air was full of the sound of the cane swishing down on the peachy buttocks. It landed with a resounding and satisfying thwack each time. Judith was enjoying it enormously, and chuckling out loud! Jason wasn’t enjoying it one bit, but at least the strokes were not quite as beastly as those given by Gerald.
“My naughty, naughty husband! Don’t mess with me! Stick your bottom out for the second ten!”
Just then her mobile rang. Should she answer it? Yes, she should. It was her dad on the line. He must have a psychic link!
“I’m just using the cane for the first time. It’s the best wedding present we could have had. Yes, bare bottom! The place was a real pig sty.”
Jason blushed. Oh, the embarrassment!
“Twenty I think. You think it should be twenty-four? Yes, more traditional, I suppose. But no, I’m going to stick at twenty. No, he won’t be doing it again in a hurry. I’m halfway through. Yes, lovely red lines. He’s making a lot of fuss. How’s mum? Yes, we’ll come over for tea later. Bye. Love you!”
SWISH-CRACK! The eleventh stroke hit with a vengeance. Jason cried out. Judith flexed the cane.
SWISH-CRACK! The twelfth was even harder. Was it her dad’s influence?
SWISH-CRACK! He gasped.
SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry.
SWISH-CRACK! She laughed.
SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry again. He certainly was!
SWISH-CRACK! She was thinking about her dad.
SWISH-CRACK! The wedding present was terrific.
SWISH-CRACK! He was close to sobbing now.
SWISH-CRACK! His cock was stiffening.
“All done. Go and get into bed, I’ll be up in a minute!”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Picture © 2011 by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
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Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne
I like to think of my cock as a heat-seeking missile as I lock on to a target of a moist, inviting vagina or somewhere even tighter. Ready to explode but holding back, for our mutual pleasure.
I guess the cane is somewhat similar. It seeks out a warm bottom to hit and set alight. Of course, it can attack the same target time after time. It needn’t be limited to the traditional six of the best, either. For a true caning enthusiast, there is joy in repetition. A sustained campaign of pain will bring special rewards. Both participants can enjoy this, and swap roles if desired. When punishment is due, a female playmate may wish to acquire a strap-on missile of her own to launch deep-penetrating revenge attacks of a specialised nature.
I’d like to write more, but just now my presence is required at the rocket range in our bedroom. Happy war games, everyone!
Posted by Rod Cayenne, © 2012