A few months after his mother had run off with another man, 22-year-old Johnny was at home, cursing.
“I hate Sundays, Dad. They’re so boring. Nothing to do. Boring, fucking Sundays.”
“Hey now, son. No need for the language. Why don’t you take the tube into town?”
“No, even in town, Sundays are so boring.”
“Or perhaps you should get a second job if you find Sundays too much to take. You know, I once got into big trouble at boarding school for saying how boring Sundays were. After that, I never even dared think Sundays were boring!”
“Ha! Really? Tell me what happened. You’ve never said much about your school days.”
“They were grim days, son. I got six of the best with the cane on my bare bottom for that!”
“I bet that hurt! And all for saying Sundays were boring?”
“Pretty much, yes, and for criticising the lack of things to do. I was caned a lot. Things were tough for me back then.”
“Gosh, yes! I suppose I’m lucky not to have had that experience.”
“Well, your mother and I were careful to choose a school for you which didn’t believe in the cane.”
“Although when I hear your language today, I think it might have done you some good, after all.”
“I don’t think so, Dad.”
“I’ll tell you what was funny, though. You’ll like this. On the last day of school, a few of us raided the housemaster’s study and we each nicked one of his canes.”
“Really? I bet he was annoyed with you?”
“I suppose so, but I never heard as we left school for good an hour or so later. I think I still have that cane somewhere.”
“After all these years?”
“Yes. It’s probably in the loft. I never throw anything away.”
Yes, that’s one of the things that drove mum off, Johnny thought to himself and then added, “If you ever find it, you can give me a stroke, just so I know what’s it’s like. It might make a Sunday seem less boring!”
“Haha, it would certainly do that, son! Once felt, never forgotten, I’d say. Why don’t I go and look for it while you put the kettle on? There’s some paperwork up there that I need to get anyway.”
It was almost half an hour later when Johnny’s dad returned. Johnny had half-expected him to return empty-handed. Instead, he had a pile of dusty looking paperwork in a hanging file, and a crook-handled schoolmaster’s cane.
“Well, that was a most productive search. I found several things I was looking for, including this cane. I think it’s in good shape despite its age.”
“Wow! That looks seriously wicked, Dad. Can I have a look, please? Your coffee’s going to be a bit cold, do you want me to warm it up for you?”
“No, I’ll drink it now, thanks. Still want to try a stroke of the cane?”
Johnny was playing with the cane. Swishing it, flexing it, studying it. What a strange other-worldly item it was. He’d never even seen one ‘in the flesh’ before.
“I’m not so sure now, to be honest Dad. I bet it hurts!”
“Oh yes, it certainly does. I guarantee it can cure the boring Sunday blues, though. I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you that taster stroke on your underpants. I don’t really want to see your bare bottom.”
“OK Dad. I’m game. As long as you promise it won’t be boring!” Johnny laughed, in his characteristically cock-sure manner.
“Oh ho, I guarantee it won’t be boring,” his dad said with a wicked glint in his eye and a big grin. “Well then. You can bend over this table, and drop your trousers.”
Johnny cleared the paperwork and mugs off the kitchen table. Dad picked up the cane and flexed it in his hands. It felt good. At last he wouldn’t be ‘on the wrong end of the stick’ for once. Dad put the cane down on the worktop and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
Treasure from the loft…
“Hurry up, Johnny! Trousers down, grip the edge of the table and stick your bottom out!”
SWISH-CRACK! The cane sliced through the air and made contact with Johnny’s grey underpants. A line of fire scorched across his bottom. It was sheer agony!
“SHIT! FUCK! YOU BASTARD!” cried Johnny, leaping up, clutching his bottom.
Dad was annoyed. He frowned at Johnny and pointed to one of the vacant chairs with the cane, “Sit down and listen to me!”
Gingerly, Johnny sat down on the hard wooden seat. It hurt his already throbbing bottom.
“Now listen to me! That foul language was uncalled for. And how dare you call me a bastard? I ought to give you a full six of the best for that! I’m not going to though, if only to prove that I’m not a bastard. I’m disappointed though! And you’re not bored now, are you?”
“No I’m not. Sorry Dad. It took me by surprise, that’s all. Wow! It still hurts like mad! I can’t imagine what six of the best was like. You must have been really brave. Sorry I swore.”
“OK, OK, I forgive you. Now, how about pulling your trousers up properly and making me a nice hot cup of coffee this time?”
“Sure, Dad. Thanks for forgiving me. Boy, I’ll never call Sundays boring again!”
The water in the kettle boiled just as Johnny put the coffee granules in his dad’s mug. The cane stroke throbbed beneath his trousers and underpants. Johnny rubbed his bottom. A warm glow was replacing the pain. He went to the fridge freezer to get the milk. He thought if his dad hadn’t been hanging around he might have stuck his hot bottom against the freezer drawers! A touch unhygienic, but just what was needed to cool his bottom down to normal temperatures. Instead he would just have to grin and bear it. But then, with every minute, his appreciation and excitement grew. In fact, he felt the stirrings of an erection.
“This might sound funny, but I could take six of the best. I feel I really deserve it after what I said.”
“No I don’t think so, son. As you may have gathered, your mother and I don’t approve.”
“Mum’s gone, Dad.”
“There’s no need to remind me, Johnny. Please don’t be hurtful.”
“Dad, I deserve it. Really, I do. You said as much yourself.”
“Did I? Did I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“OK Johnny, if you’re sure? You’re getting on my nerves a bit, so that’s another reason to give you it! You might wish you’d chosen the boring Sunday instead! Over the table again. This time we’ll have a bare bottom too, just so you get the full experience.”
“Come on now, I’m waiting. Don’t be a fool and annoy a man with a cane in his hand!”
Johnny duly bent over the table, lowering his trousers and underpants, and trying discreetly to control his erecting penis at the same time. His dad stared at his son’s bottom, which was surprisingly hairy and beefy. And there across the middle was a glorious red stripe, donated by the cane. Six more were to follow, and truth be known, this was turning out to be a most exciting Sunday for both father and son. Johnny gulped as his father swished the cane through the air.
SWISH-CRACK! The first stroke of six landed cleanly and effectively. Johnny took it well, gritting his teeth.
SWISH-CRACK! The second stroke was a more determined affair, with dad putting some real force behind the stroke. Again, Johnny managed to keep silent, pushing his bottom up ready for the next cane stroke. Dad smiled at his son’s obedience and improved performance under the cane.
SWISH-CRACK! This time Johnny gave a loud grunt as the old cane sliced into his naked rear. It was marking up nicely.
SWISH-CRACK! “ARGH!” This time Johnny obliged with some noise which his father found curiously gratifying.
SWISH-CRACK! “OWW!” Again, the cane was producing a satisfying response from its victim.
SWISH-CRACK! A final, hard stroke followed by “OUCH!” from Johnny, who was now close to tears.
“How was that, son?”
“It wasn’t too bad, thanks, Dad. Just what was needed and deserved. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I think it’s cleared the air somewhat. You took it well, and I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to my room now, if that’s OK?”
“Yes, of course, see you later.”
With his son upstairs, dad couldn’t resist having a wank at the scene of the action. He stared lovingly at the ancient cane before him. He pumped his penis furiously with the hand that had held the cane. It had been a most satisfying morning.
On reflection, of one thing we can be sure. Both men could see further exciting Sundays ahead.
Warning: Contains adult material. Forbidden to those under the age of 18.
This blog is intended for adults only. All listed sites, pictures displayed or referred to in this blog feature consenting adult models and players over the age of 18. All stories and artwork featured are fiction only and refer to adults in role play. This blog is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.
The owner of this blog does NOT condone, promote OR encourage the corporal punishment of minors or non-consenting adults.
Many people use the rattan cane in their adult relationships. Sometimes this is for domestic discipline. Others use it to spice up their sex lives. Some just like recreating experiences from long ago. You will find fictional stories here which explore these themes. All the characters are aged 18 or over.
All characters appearing in this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.