Erotic entertainment by Rod Cayenne, not to be confused with earlier story “Blue Rinse Brigade”
They were just off duty, though still in uniform. In the secluded part of the pub garden, they were enjoying a drink together, watching the boaters on the river. “This is good stuff, Sarge!” said WPC Rose Hill as she puffed on the spliff.
“Yes, young Rosie, it certainly is the finest in the city. There’s a dealer in my block,” Sergeant Jon Radcliffe replied. “Of course, I should really bust him, but he’s a mate, really. A really nice guy. He sees that I am looked after.”
“With dope I suppose?”
“Yes,” said the sergeant, “And a pound or two of flesh.” It was his turn to have a draw on the dope.
“Flesh? You mean like a hooker?”
“Not exactly, Rosie. I like a bit of bottom spanking, and he provides me with a willing victim now and then.” Obviously the dope had loosened the sergeant’s tongue and inhibitions.
“Oh, I had no idea. You shouldn’t really be telling me all this, should you? Although a lot of us cops are into S&M.”
“Yes, indeed. Most of us, I’d say. You definitely are, Rosie!”
“I’ve seen the log of your internet usage. Clearing the cache isn’t enough, you know. You really shouldn’t be looking at that sort of thing. Especially at work. I’ve seen it all on your log – spanking, caning, paddling, bare bottoms and cheeks galore.”
“Yes, Rosie! Sarge here knows all about it.”
“But Sarge, it was research!”
“Research, my arse!”
“Yes, you’ve been a very naughty and very stupid lass, haven’t you Rosie?”
“Yes, I suppose I have.”
“Yes, there’s no supposing about it at all. Now, I can be forgiving. How about you come back to my flat so that we can conduct some in-depth research together?”
“Have I got much choice?”
“No, not really,” he said puffing on the oversize spliff, “I think you know that you really do need to come back with me.”
“But what about my mum?”
“Well, you can’t bring her as well!” cackled the sergeant, as swirls of smoke engulfed the pair of them.
“No, I didn’t mean that, silly! I meant, what am I going to tell her?”
“Just tell her you’re on a hot date with your boss. It’s the truth, after all. Tell her not to wait up.” He winked at Rose as she picked up her mobile.
Strangely, she repeated his words verbatim to her mother. Now it was Rose’s turn to wink at him.
They walked hand in hand back to his flat. She trusted him implicitly, although she was sure she was going to get a very sore bottom very soon. Yes, she was sure about that alright. She was almost looking forward to it!
Back at the flat, the coffee was freshly ground and almost intoxicating. There was no messing about with Sergeant Jon. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted her bottom, and he had carefully engineered the whole evening around his kink. Already her trousers were at half mast.
“Knickers down, Rose.”
She started to protest, but he reminded her that she had been viewing bared bottoms in police time. She felt that she had to oblige and so she slipped down the delicate white lace panties.
“Oh yes! Very nice indeed. What a delightful bottom you have, young Rose.”
Her hands covered her front, but her bottom was exposed. The pretence was over. She knew what she had to do. She draped herself over his lap. Beneath her, his cock began to stir. He raised his right hand and slapped it down on her bare bottom. Not too hard, but not terribly gently either. She gasped audibly, and then his hand slapped down again and again.
They were both enjoying it. She wriggled like a minx on his lap, while his sadistic urges were making him stiffer by the second. His hand smacked down again and again on her beautiful bottom, which was turning redder and redder. It was most satisfying, and he continued for a while longer. Then suddenly he pushed her off his lap, saying, “I think perhaps sterner measures are called for!”
He headed into his bedroom, and came back with a black leather studded strap.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “It looks fierce but it’s not as bad as it looks.”
He showed her it. Across the front the word POLICE had been embossed.
“That’s never official issue, Jon!” she exclaimed.
“No, it’s not. I just had that added as a customisation. I was thinking of having E II R stamped on it as well. Some of my spankees really like the thought that it’s a police punishment strap.”
“That’s a laugh, isn’t it?” she smiled. “They must be pretty naive.”
“Yes, indeed. Almost as naive as you have been with your less than secret surfing habits. Over my lap again!”
He gave her about thirty stinging strokes with the leather. It was a warm, caressing pain that she felt as it hit home relentlessly. There was a delightful crack each time it landed. By the end she was quite sore, but also quite turned on.
“Take my trousers off!” he ordered. Slowly, she unbuckled his thick leather belt, and gently unzipped him. His genuine police-issue trousers fell to the ground.
“Now get my pants off!” he commanded. She edged them down, revealing his proud erection.
“You can give that a bloody good suck in a minute, but first there’s something else I need from the bedroom.”
He returned with a crook-handled rattan school cane. He whipped it through the air, with a broad grin on his face.
Rose was stood in front of him, gently rubbing her soundly spanked bottom. She couldn’t manage a grin at all. In fact, she looked quite crushed and crestfallen.
“Oh Jon, I don’t think I can take any more, my bottom’s really sore now! Not the cane. Please.”
“Now who’s being silly?” he asked, “This is for my bottom. The cane is for men. Real men and naughty boys like me! Are you going to cane me then, Rose?”
“Oh yes! Thank God. Yes please!”
“Good lass. Thank you. I deserve it. I’ve been a very naughty boy. I’ll just bend over the dining table for you. Don’t hold back now, I can take a lot!”
SWISH-CRACK! The first stroke landed with venom, and how Rose smiled as the red stripe appeared on his hairy, naked bottom. She was going to enjoy this! It was revenge for her own still smarting, chastised bottom.
SWISH-CRACK! The second stroke was harder, for little did the sergeant know, Rose was an experienced caner. She had enjoyed an outrageous affair with a female flatmate who had introduced her to the delights of the rattan rod. Right then, she didn’t want to disabuse the sergeant of his notion that the cane was for males only.
SWISH-CRACK! She was going for gold alright!
SWISH-CRACK! She desperately wanted to hurt and punish him.
SWISH-CRACK! This was such a turn-on for her.
SWISH-CRACK! Six strokes had been delivered but she sensed that he wanted more, and could take them.
SWISH-CRACK! His bottom seemed almost defiant as the marks of the cane seemed to fade fast, as if by magic.
In the end, he did take a lot. 24 strokes on his bared bottom. Rose didn’t hold back at all. She relished every whippy stroke that she inflicted. His meaty, male arse was made for the cane. She’d caned him hard. Harder than she’d intended. Towards the end of his beating, the marks left by the cane strokes had become more prominent and persistent. She took the opportunity to feel the damage. And afterwards, she did suck his stiff cock as though her life depended on it. They ended up in bed, and were married a year later. At least half the station attended the reception at the Police Club.
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
* IMPORTANT – DISCLAIMER *
This is a work of fiction. The author does not participate in substance abuse or condone it.
FURTHER DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Adult entertainment by your host, Rod Cayenne
The story so far: 22-year-old Johnny has been caned every Sunday lately. He has grown to like this, and to value the motivation the beatings give him. Mum has joined Dad in administering the thrashings.
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Now read on for Part 6:
It was Saturday night. Johnny was enjoying a meal with his parents at the local Indian. It was a convivial atmosphere. Johnny dunked his naan bread in the curry.
“Johnny, I still have a few months on the lease on the flat I was staying in while your father and I were apart.”
“Well, we were wondering whether you’d like to stay there until the lease is up. It would give you a taste of independence. You can have it rent-free as I paid it all in advance.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you. Are you sure I’m ready?”
“Yes, why not? You’re 22! Maturing fast into a fine young man.”
“You’ll love it. A place of your own. Oh, you’re not worried about missing out on your canings are you?”
“I was a bit. They do hurt and humiliate but they’re just what I need to maintain a focus on things.”
“OK, we’ll keep them up. You can come to us on a Sunday or we can offer a mobile caning service!”
Even dad Phil had to laugh at that! He’d been quiet for the last few minutes ever since he had burnt his tongue.
“So who’s on duty tomorrow?” Johnny asked nonchalantly.
“Your father, I think. He’s got a few scores to settle with you this week. Not least for laughing at him for burning his tongue, isn’t that right, Phil?”
“Mmm,” he grunted. Suddenly finding his voice, he added, “Yes, I’ll be burning Johnny’s arse good and long tomorrow.”
“There. That’s nice. It’s all settled then. We could go and look at the flat afterwards. Now, who wants dessert?” Mum asked.
“I’d better have the ice cream,” Dad chipped in.
Later that night, Mum and Dad had turned in. Johnny went into the kitchen to make a milky drink before going to bed. He was surprised to find the cane already laid out ready on the kitchen table. He picked it up. It was fast becoming an old friend. He swished it around lovingly, and tested it on his palm. Yes, that cane had brought a lot of pain but a lot of happiness too. In some way, he was hoping its presence was helping reunite his parents. They both seemed to enjoy their new hobby of thrashing Johnny! He decided to take the cane up to bed. After all, chances were that he would be first up in the morning.
Meanwhile, up in the master bedroom, Dad Phil and Mum Gloria were naked in each others arms. They were chatting conspiratorially.
“You know, I really think that the cane is the best thing that ever happened to this family,” Gloria said.
“Yes, you could be right. Once we’ve got Johnny into the flat and out of the way, you’ll be able to cane me a lot more.”
“Oh don’t worry about that Phil. You are going to be one sorry, sorry boy!”
“I thought we’d have him completely naked tomorrow. Do you like the sound of that?”
“Oh yes! Yes I do! He’s a really handsome fellow. I hope he’ll get an erection.”
“Well, I can’t promise you that, of course. Perhaps you should undress him?”
“No, no. How about we both do?”
“OK. How many strokes? I’m giving him six to start off with for laughing at me for burning my tongue. What else can we punish him for?”
“I’ll give some thought. Now how about giving me a lick-out with that sore tongue of yours?”
Phil was only too happy to oblige. Licking Gloria seemed to help soothe his tongue. He started on her clit, then worked down into her moist cunt. Finally, he couldn’t resist licking all around her peachy bottom. She squealed with excitement as he hit the spot!
“I think you should give him twelve strokes for masturbating.”
“Whaat? We don’t know he has been, Gloria.”
“Of course he has. He’s 22! There are used tissues all over his bedroom. Anyway, all men of his age do it!”
And in later years too, thought Phil with some guilt.
“If he denies it,” she continued, “Give him some more for lying!”
“Gosh, you really are a hard bitch tonight, Gloria!”
“Watch your mouth Phil! You need another lesson, I do believe. I’ll make your bum as sore as your tongue! Is the cane under your pillow?”
“No, I took it downstairs.”
“Go and fetch it then!”
“But Gloria, Johnny will hear us!”
“I doubt that, he usually falls asleep with his headphones on.”
Phil slipped his dressing gown on and made his way downstairs. But the cane was nowhere to be found. He was disappointed. He really couldn’t get enough of that sting and bite that only the cane can give. He reported back to Gloria.
“Well, I wonder what Johnny’s doing with it. He should show a bit more respect for it. It’s not a toy or plaything.”
“You can say that again!” Phil affirmed.
“Well, it looks like your thrashing has been postponed, Phil. Anyway, I’ve decided that tomorrow we’ll both beat Johnny.”
“Yes, good idea. I’m game!”
“I thought you might be. Now make me happy…”
He did make her happy, and he had a good time himself, even if just then he’d rather have had a caning. There would be plenty of time for that once Johnny moved out. And move out he would!
At about 9.30 the following morning, Phil made his way downstairs. He was bleary-eyed, and to tell the truth, a bit shagged. Johnny was up, sat at the kitchen table finishing a bowl of Corn Flakes and a strong tea. He was staring at the cane on the table in front of him.
“Morning! Aha, the cane is back, I see Johnny. I believe it went for a midnight ramble last night?”
“Ha, how did you know, Dad?”
“Dads are experts on the cane, you know Johnny.”
“Well, you’re certainly an expert with this one, Dad. Anyway, I did take the cane up to my room as I had a sudden urge to look at it under my microscope! Fascinating stuff, rattan. Do you think this one is from Malaysia?”
“No, I don’t Johnny. This one is from London, from a fake Ming vase in my housemaster’s study!”
“Very funny, Dad! I bet it is finest Malay rattan. It certainly packs a punch!”
“Good. that’s just what you need. Your mother and I will be sharing your caning today. And just to make sure you’re not enjoying it too much, it’ll be a naked caning. Is that clear?”
“No erection today either, understand? Stick me some toast on please.”
Meanwhile Dad went over to the kitchen window and struggled with the venetian blind.
“Bloody thing!” he cursed, but eventually got it to fall. He then closed the slats. “I think we’ll have some privacy today. We don’t want any nosy neighbours staring in like your mother did.”
That event had really rejuvenated the marriage, however. Dad reflected on how wonderful that cane was. He thought about all the wasted years when the cane had been idle and neglected up in the loft. He spread some marmalade on his toast and sighed.
“Dad, do we have to do it in the kitchen? It would be so much more natural in my bedroom.”
“Nonsense, Johnny! We now have a tradition of caning you in the kitchen. Your bottom is usually clean, so there are no hygiene worries.”
Dad picked up the cane and waved it at Johnny.
“The word ‘extras’ keeps springing to mind, Johnny. Do you know why that might be?”
“Yes! You will be. Besides, your bedroom is a terrible mess. There’s no room to swing a cat, or a cane! It’s getting smelly in there too. You’ll have to keep the flat cleaner than that you know! Anyway, look smart, I think I can hear your mother coming.”
She marched in, looking very pleased with herself. “Get his top off, Phil!”
Johnny stood up, and Dad pulled the sweatshirt and tee-shirt off him. Johnny immediately felt a blast of icy Sunday morning air and huddled himself. Mum just laughed.
“Now the bit I’ve been waiting for!” she announced as she strolled over and unbuckled the canvas belt holding his chinos up. They slid down gracefully revealing red boxers beneath. Quickly, she yanked them down too. An erection was apparent to all.
“Disgusting!” Mum said. “How dare you? Get your socks off! Six for the erection, Phil! Over the table, Johnny!”
Johnny bent over as instructed. His masculine bottom was on view to both parents, while hidden from view, his erection throbbed against the wood of the kitchen table. Johnny wasn’t sure that he was enjoying all this extra humiliation, but his penis was definitely cocksure of the excitement!
Dad slashed the cane down brutally. It cracked across Johnny’s naked cheeks, leaving a bright red line. Dad stopped, as he had prearranged with Mum Gloria. She walked over and felt Johnny’s bottom, tracing the cane line with her forefinger. She then slapped Johnny’s arse hard and decisively. Johhny groaned. Mum backed off and Dad slashed the whippy cane down again harshly. A third stroke followed straight away, and then Mum resumed her inspection, again gently tracing the marks. She gave him another purposeful slap.
“Very good, Phil!” she announced. “But you can make them harder. You need to beat him really hard for that disgusting erection.”
“Yes Gloria! Three extra hard ones!”
And they were! Possibly the hardest Phil had ever managed. He smiled with satisfaction as he surveyed his son’s beaten buttocks.
“Six for laughing at my burnt tongue!” Dad Phil announced. Johnny groaned, remembering the days when his dad could take a joke without inflicting retribution!
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Dad’s tongue was better now, but his mood was not.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“An extra three, I think. For general attitude. Then your mother can take over.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
These had been milder strokes, but Johnny would soon feel the full wrath of his mother. Dad handed the cane over, almost as if he was in a relay race. Mum received the baton with grace, ready for a record-breaking lap.
Unannounced she slashed the cane down rapidly, CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“These ones are for masturbating, Johnny!” she suddenly announced.
“But Mum!” her son started.
“Don’t start!” she replied. “I found lots of spunky tissues in your room. You should be disposing them down the toilet. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes Mum, sorry Mum.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! She was really in her stride now. But she stopped, aware that she had given him the full dozen stroke tariff agreed with Phil.
“Very good. Now you can go to your room and gather up those tissues, and flush them away. Then I want you back here for a final reminder.”
Both parents laughed as the very naked and very striped 22-year-old left the kitchen. Mum and Dad hugged and started to kiss and pet each other. They were both turned on.
Johnny was up in his room, totally naked, on all fours and picking up tissues from the floor of his bedroom. He stopped for a moment to soothe his sore bottom. This had been quite a beating, and it wasn’t finished yet.
Johnny hadn’t realised just how many tissues there were until now. Better make it two trips to the loo. He didn’t want to be in trouble for causing it to be blocked! He made his way to the bathroom, and dropped the first collection of tissues into the waiting water. As he flushed the toilet, he caught a glimpse of his striped bottom in the mirror. It was quite a mess, with angry red lines where the cane had been.
Back in his room, he gathered the final tissues up from the floor and the bedside cabinet. He’d fill another tissue or two later, he promised himself. Yes, it would have to be later when the fires raging on his backside had calmed down. He felt the stirrings of another erection, just from thinking about today’s events. He made his second trip to the bathroom, flushing the last pieces of evidence away. He’d have to be a lot more careful in future, he told himself. Both parents were on his tail, as it were. From downstairs he could hear his mother calling. Time to face the music. The music of the cane whipping his backside once again!
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Photography © 2012 by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
Commenting is welcome – read the comments here
Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne
It’s funny how families grow apart. I had always lived near my kid brother Evan, but we didn’t see much of each other. We used to be close, but with the passage of years we had drifted apart. Then something happened which brought us closer again…
That particular day, I’d decided to visit him, for the first time in ages. I wasn’t sure how I’d be received, but he was really pleased to see me. I sat down on his plush sofa as he brought the coffee in. He came and sat right next to me, which was unusual. Normally, he’d have sat opposite while we chatted. I didn’t think too much of it to start with as we made small talk. Then, suddenly, he put his hand on my knee and said to me, “There’s something I need to tell you. I’m gay.”
Well, I was a little surprised, but it might have explained why neither of his marriages worked out. I laughed a little, perhaps nervously. Then I wagged my finger at him, saying, “Dirty boy!”
“Yes, that’s me, a dirty old boy!” he laughed.
I reassured him, “Don’t worry bruv, it’s cool, I’m quite kink-friendly. I’ll support you in any way I can.”
We hugged a bit. And then a bit more.
“Kink-friendly, eh?” Evan asked.
“Yes, well, you know!” I replied.
“No, I’m not sure I do,” he pressed.
By this time I was getting a bit annoyed with him. “Yes, we all have our little kinks and fetishes, don’t we? Well your kink is your gayness, mine is something else. Have you got a boyfriend then?”
My ruse to change the tack of the conversation didn’t work, as he said, “Never mind all that, what about your kink?”
“I told you, I don’t want to discuss it.”
“But I told you my secret.”
“Well, you’re not going to find out mine! I’m going to leave if you carry on.” I got up to leave.
“Well now, let me guess…foot fetish…no…leather no, I don’t think so…bondage, no…spanking, spanking, yes, that’s it isn’t it?”
“Eh? Errr. Yes, alright, but how did you know?”
“I like it too. So really it wasn’t hard to guess. It’s a bit of a shared interest then! Let me show you some of my toys,” he laughed.
Soon Evan reappeared in the room with a selection of straps, canes and crops.
“Gosh, they look severe. I’m more of a hand spanking type myself, really,” I explained.
“Don’t lie to me bruv. I can tell.” Well, of course, he was right. He knew me far better than I thought he could.
“OK, OK. Let me see them, Evan. Tell me about them.”
“Right! That’s more like it! Alright, first up is this riding crop. Not very severe. It’s a genuine equestrian item, bought from the tack shop down the Boulevard.”
“Really? I always found that place a bit intimidating. Never went in.”
“Oh, I know what you mean. It’s a bit seedy and run down. Chris, the owner, is gay too. We’ve had a few spanking sessions together.”
“No, it’s true! I’ll have to introduce you. Watch out though, he gives it hard!”
“I like to dish it out.”
“Don’t lie to me Jack. You’re a sub!”
“No, really, I like a bit of both.”
“Hmm, I’m not convinced! I’ll give you the chance to prove it later.”
“No thanks, Evan!”
“Shut up Jack, now look at this.”
“Wicked cane, bruv.”
“I’ll say. It’s just like old Mr Smith’s one!”
“Don’t talk to me about that bastard! My arse will never forget him.”
“I always found him to be very fair. Strict, but fair.”
“He had it in for me, I’m sure.”
“Mmmm maybe. He let me off twice, a nice bloke, I always thought.”
“We’re going to have to agree to disagree about him, bruv. Maybe he let you off because he was gay too.”
“OK, but maybe we could play Mr Smith and pupil in a minute.”
“You’re not suggesting…”
“Well, I don’t know. Sounds a bit gay. It could be fun, I suppose. What else have you got?”
“A rubber spanking strap. Nice wooden handle. Rather severe.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Mail order from a company in Lancashire. I don’t think they’re trading any more. A pity, as their service was exceptional.”
“Is that a martinet?”
“Oui, mon frère!”
“I’ll have to try that!”
“Yes, you will. It’s a strange sensation, you need a few strokes to get the full effect!”
“And another cane?”
“Yes, this one has a straight grip, rather than the crook handle. Much the same as the Mr Smith one, otherwise.”
“And another cane? You must really like caning!”
He talked me through the rest of the collection, picked up the Smith cane and said to me, “Let’s play!”
“Errr yes. Mr Smith, Sir! You wanted to see me?” Suddenly and effortlessly I slipped into the role of naughty schoolboy.
“Ah yes! Davies, Senior, isn’ t it?”
“Well, young Jack. I’ve had some very disappointing reports about you. Slacking, laziness, surliness, and to top it all, I hear you were masturbating in the gym changing room!”
“Oh yes, Sir. I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.”
“I will forgive you Davies, but you will not escape punishment. Why can’t you be a good boy like your younger brother? What’s his name?”
“Ah yes, Evan. A good lad. Only occasionally naughty. I did let him off the cane the other day.”
“You did Sir?”
“Yes I did. You see, I’m not a beast or ogre. However, Jack I feel you do need pulling up. A good thrashing is just what you need to smarten up your ideas, to knock you into shape.”
“Yes, my considered opinion is that nothing short of six of the best with my favourite cane is required in your case!”
“Yes, six of the very best!”
“Bare bottom, I’m afraid Davies!”
I scowled at my brother, wanting to break the role play. He just held his finger to his lips to tell me to be silent. He also gave me a sly wink. It was enough to encourage me to trust him and continue the play. Unfortunately by this time I was getting a huge stiff erection. A bare bottom caning would reveal all!
“Well get your trousers and pants down, lad! I haven’t got all day!”
He was preparing a dining chair for me to drape myself over. I took my trousers and briefs off, revealing my proud and shameless erection to him. The words “Sorry, Sir,” slipped out.
“Yes, you will be Davies. I see you have an erection! I’ll see if I can get rid of that for you. Not many erections last after a stroke or two of my cane on the boy’s bottom. Bend right over the chair for me.”
I duly did this, with my cock uncomfortably in the way. I sighed and wondered what on earth I had let myself in for. My younger brother was a fine actor, playing the role to perfection, but would he be able to deliver? To give me the bitter sweet caress of the cane that I craved so often? I decided it would be fun if I hammed it up a bit for the sake of the scene.
SWISH-CRACK! My brother slashed the cane down on my bare arse.
“Ouch! Oh Sir!” I cried. In truth, it hurt a great deal, although not as much as I made out.
“OWWW!” I cried, this time somewhat more earnestly.
“ARGH!” I cried again, by this time aware that my penis was behaving itself rather better.
SWISH-CRACK! Oh my god, that one REALLY did hurt!
SWISH-CRACK! Evan, or rather “Mr Smith” chuckled as the cane hit desperately hard on my naked arse.
“Last one boy! Take it like a man!”
“Oh, brother!” I cried, leaping up, rubbing my bottom, something Mr Smith would never have allowed! Fortunately my brother was too busy laughing. It had been fun!
“Want to swop then?” Evan asked. So we did, he became the naughty boy, and I was Mr Smith. Only Mr Smith would have kept his trousers on. I chose not to dress, to allow my sore bottom some air. It also allowed my cock the freedom it deserved. I picked up the cane, enthusiastically.
I decided to continue the role playing along similar lines and did my best Mr Smith imitation, “Ah, Davies Junior, isn’t it? Why have you been sent here lad?”
“Smoking, Sir. Matron caught me. She confiscated my cigarettes and insisted I reported to you, Mr Smith, Sir!”
“Oh dear, dear! Smoking, eh? Well, I can’t let you off this time Davies.”
“But Sir, Matron has confiscated my ciggies, I can’t offend further.”
“Nice try, Davies! You are becoming almost as devious as your brother, what’s his name?”
“Ah yes, Jack. He benefits from regular beatings. From me and from the headmaster.”
“I know Sir. He says you both have it in for him.”
“Does he now? Does he now? How interesting. However, this does reveal you to be a disloyal sneak, young Davies. Two extra strokes for that!”
He gasped. This time it was my turn to hold my finger to my lips in a request for silence. The game continued. I pointed to the chair with the cane.
“Over here, Sir?” Evan asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Don’t forget to pull your trousers and underwear down for me, boy!”
“Unless you want me to do it for you?”
“Sorry, Sir. No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll do it right now, Sir!” Evan revealed his masculine backside to me. It was plump, generous and inviting. It was the kind of bottom that was made for punishment. For remorse. For contrition. For the cane. Forever.
“Six of the very best is mandatory for smoking, as you know Davies. Plus two extra for your most unsporting disloyalty to your brother. I make that eight good hard strokes. Unless there’s anything else you wish to confess to?”
“Well Sir. No, I don’t think so. Although I have been masturbating rather a lot lately!”
“Very good, that’s more like it. A bit of honesty from you. Of course, I can’t excuse your self abuse. If I recall correctly, that is also a six stroke offence! Very well, fourteen strokes for you lad!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I lashed the cane down on my brother’s naked bottom. Disappointingly, he was taking it in his stride. Perhaps his boyfriend or boyfriends caned him regularly?
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Six strokes had been delivered without so much as a murmur from my brother. I was starting to get annoyed. Just like that bastard Mr Smith would have done.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Was he dead? No, a little wriggle displayed signs of life after all!
CRACK! The tenth one was met with a loud goan. At last I was getting somewhere! I wanted to break my brother’s will. I wanted to hurt him.
CRACK! The eleventh one, accompanied by a distressed yelp. I was feeling guilty, suddenly. I didn’t want to hurt him.
CRACK! The twelfth, and I had eased off. I allowed myself a short study break. I studied the beautiful, sore, throbbing red lines decorating his backside. I was in some kind of sadist’s heaven.
“Last two,” I advised him. “For disloyalty. Whatever would your brother have said? Well, lad? These will be extra hard.”
CRACK! Unlucky thirteen whipped into his flesh with renewed vigour.
“ARRRGH!” he cried, which I found gratifying. And horny.
“Last one! Enjoy!” I smirked as I slashed the cane down as hard as I could manage
“OWWWWW!” Evan exclaimed, jumping up from the chair, clutching his sore, obedient bottom.
We stared at each other with a love only brothers can share. I smiled and he picked up the martinet. A long evening lay ahead.
It felt a bit weird waking up with him lying naked next to me. Our lives had taken an interesting and unexpected turn. We spent a lot of time together from then on, and I got to know his bedroom very, very well.
Story © 2012, Rod Cayenne
Photography © 2012 by Jonathan, used here by very kind permission
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Belle has caned her 19-year-old nephew Tim twice for insulting her. Since then she’s had a passionate morning with Tim’s mate Simon. Strangely, Simon asked for a taste of the cane, too.
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Now read on for Part 3:
Tim’s Aunt Belle was sorting out his washing. She was still very annoyed with him for his hurtful remarks. She had caned him twice for his sins. Even a wild morning of sex and caning with Tim’s friend Simon had only lifted her mood for a short time, although there was the promise of repeat performances. She became exasperated as she sorted Tim’s underwear. It all had tell-tale cum leakage in. And then she saw them. A pair of leopard print briefs! Was he having another joke at her expense? She examined them closely. Slightly cum stained, of course. Yes, they appeared to be new. So he was poking fun at her again, was he? She became agitated, and a little tearful again.
Gradually, she calmed down. A plan was forming in her mind. She went into her bedroom, and headed for the wardrobe. There, hanging on the rail were the two canes Mr Rodbourne had given her. Yes, it was high time they saw some more action! She removed them both and cradled them. Then she swished them around. How she loved the sound they made. Even better, was the sound they made when they made contact with bare male flesh! Today, they would be doing just that once again!
Tim returned to his Aunt’s at about 6.15. His bus had been delayed. He headed to his bedroom. On the unmade bed, his Aunt’s two canes were laid neatly. Right next to them were his new leopard print underpants. He gulped. He’d been looking forward to a quick wank before eating, but it looked like events would be taking a rather different direction. Indeed, he was sure of it as he felt the frosty presence of Aunt Belle immediately behind him.
“Well, I’m waiting for an explanation, Timothy!” she exclaimed.
Rather foolishly, Tim decided to play it cocky.
“An explanation of what Auntie?”
“Those leopard print briefs, of course. Are you poking fun at me and my taste in clothes again?”
“Oh no, Auntie. I meant them as a tribute to you. I happened to see them, and I thought of you.”
“Yes really, Auntie. You won’t be needing those canes today, really.”
“Just one problem, Timothy.”
“And what’s that Auntie?”
“I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. I’m going to cane you again. I was going to refuse to do your washing for you, but I’m not sure I can trust you not to break my washing machine.”
“Oh Auntie! My bottom’s only just recovered from the two canings. Please!”
“Get your jeans and pants off. Hurry!”
Once again his teenage bottom was presented to her for chastisement. Was it fair? Was it righteous? Was it deserved? Was it hell!
She lined the thicker cane up against his bottom and tapped it gently. She was anticipating his discomfort and her pleasure. Suddenly, a vision of Mr Rodbourne, the headmaster, popped into her head. He seemed to be egging her on. She sliced the cane down on Tim’s backside. He wailed!
Again she raised the cane and slashed it down again. Ah yes! It was making that sound she loved. The sound of rattan on bare male flesh! Tim too was making a sound she’d come to love as well. The sound of agony! How gratifying it all was. At the same time, it struck Belle how immature Tim was. His looks, his deportment, his attitude. In identifying this to Belle, his friend Simon Freshbrook had been completely correct. She slashed the cane down again.
“I think we’ll stop there, Timothy.”
Tim breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yes, we’ll stop there just for a minute while you put your leopard print underpants on for me. Then you can bend over for six strokes on them.”
Tim was furious that his aunt was playing games with him. He couldn’t help but feel that he did deserve this treatment, however. Despite what he’d said to her, he had bought that underwear to tease and goad her. Stupidly, he’d forgotten about the rattan consequences that could easily follow such an upset. Meanwhile, his aunt was lining the cane up again.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Let me pull them down for you Timothy. Another six, I think!”
“Oh no, Auntie, please, please!”
She pulled the leopard briefs down and then took them off him completely. She snapped the elastic waistband a little and then examined inside the briefs. A little damp patch of pre-cum was visible.
“I do hope you’re not finding this caning arousing, Timothy. That would never do. It would make me very angry indeed. You wouldn’t want to make me angry again, would you?”
“No definitely not, Auntie. Anything to keep you happy.”
“Well six hard strokes on your bare bottom will make me happy.”
“But just to drive home the lesson, I want you to put those lovely leopard underpants on your head while I thrash you!”
“Oh Auntie, that’s a bit kinky!”
“Shut up Timothy. I don’t do kinky. I do do a mean caning though. Put those pants on your thick head, and bend over again!”
So it was that Tim put the pants on his head, and bent over the bed, once again offering his backside submissively.
SWISH-CRACK! The cane sliced into his already sore buttocks.
SWISH-CRACK! How stupid Tim looked with the pants on his head and his arse reddening rapidly.
SWISH-CRACK! Belle laughed. What fun this was.
SWISH-CRACK! Tim gasped. This was no fun at all.
SWISH-CRACK! It was over. Belle pulled the underpants off her nephew’s head.
“Very good Timothy. Your caning is over.”
Tim was happy to hear this news. “Thank you,” he replied.
“Yes, your caning is over. Now fetch me that hairbrush from my dressing table!”
She was going to spank his bare bottom with the brush. If he made too much noise, she’d use the leopard print pants as a gag!
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne