Mum’s Birthday Present (F/F)

Erotic entertainment by Rod Cayenne

“A cane?”

“Well Mum, you said it was almost impossible to get you anything. What do you get the woman who’s got everything?”

“Yes, I did say something like that didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. And then I remembered you saying something a while back along the lines of you’d like to hold a cane again, just once to remind yourself how powerful it made you feel.”

“Well, yes I may have done. It certainly takes me back. I feel just like Head Girl again,” Mum said grinning and swishing the beautiful crook-handled cane through the air.

“You like it then?”

“Oh yes, Carol darling! It certainly takes me back, it certainly does.”

“Did you use the cane much, Mum?”

“Oh yes! It was expected, encouraged. I was a bit of a beast, really. I feel a little guilty about it now. It wouldn’t be allowed now, would it?”

“No, certainly not. Anyway, is it a good one?”

“Yes, I’d say so. Let’s try it on this cushion, shall we?”

Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK!

“There we are! Six of the best. Very impressive. Thank you darling.”

Mother and daughter kissed.

“You’re welcome Mum. I had to buy it from an online sex shop.”

“Really, do people find it sexy?”

“Well someone must, otherwise they wouldn’t sell any, would they?”

“I remember being on the receiving end too. Phew, it burns like fire.”

“Really? It seems so thin and inoffensive.”

“Yes, but it’s whippy as you’ve seen and bites like a snake. Not that I’ve been bitten by a snake, of course. Not at all sexy, anyway.”

“So Mum, one thing has always puzzled me. You used the cane at school, but you didn’t believe in it at home?”

“No. Your father and I argued about it, but I was adamant. No cane in our house. Although I regretted that a bit when Penny went off her head.”

“The drugs?”

“Yes, that was difficult. To this day, I don’t know where she got them from.”

“I do Mum. It was me. I’ve always felt very, very guilty about it.”

“YOU? Oh no, no, no!”

“Yes, sorry Mum. Still Penny’s turned out fine hasn’t she? All those dressage awards!”

“No thanks to you!”

“Mum!”

“Well, frankly I’m very disappointed with you. Very. If I’d found that out at the time, I probably would have got a cane!”

“Really? I had a lucky escape there then!”

“Yes!”

“You’re not happy with me now are you, Mum?”

“No I’m not! I think you’d better leave, before I say something I might regret later.”

“What, like ‘Bend over’?”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking of at all, but it’s not a bad idea.”

“Really, Mum? If it would help, I’d do it.”

“No. Don’t tempt me. Wait! Yes, let’s do it!”

Carol was a bit shocked that her mother had suddenly expressed a wish to cane her. This hadn’t been in her plans when she bought that jokey present. She was a bit old for the cane, too.

“Seriously, Mum? Don’t you think I’m a bit old for it? I’m twenty-nine, remember.”

By this time, Carol’s mother had pulled a dining chair into the middle of the room. She obviously wasn’t joking.

“Shut up Carol! Of course you’re not too old. Now bend yourself over this chair. We’ll start with a traditional six of the best. Like that cushion just had!”

“Oh, Mum!” exclaimed Carol, remembering what a sound thrashing the cushion had taken. Indeed, dust from the cushion was still in the air, and visible in the streams of sunshine coming through the window.

“You can keep your skirt and knickers on if you behave yourself, although the skirt will be raised out of the way.”

“Oh, Mum!”

“Six of the best, then.”

Swish-Crack! Mum wasted no time slashing the first stroke down on her daughter’s pert knickered bottom.

“AARGH!” Carol cried, leaping up and clutching her bottom. She massaged her cheeks frantically.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Carol? You’re meant to stay in position. Really, the girls at school were so much better behaved.”

“Well they were probably used to it!” Carol exclaimed, still rubbing her bottom frantically.

“Carol, I suggest you bend over again, right now, unless you want me to repeat the stroke!”

Filled with horror at the suggestion of an extra penalty stroke, Carol bent over submissively for her mother, somewhat embarrassed by events. Mum flexed the cane, eyeing the temptation before her. Carol’s bottom was more womanly than pert, offering an ample and very punishable target. Mum prepared herself for the next stroke, telling herself that there was no point in holding back! After all, this was likely to be the one and only time the cane would be employed for its designated use.

Swish-Crack! The second stroke landed on Carol’s white lacy knickers. The daughter gasped, and her face flushed. This was quite an experience, one she thought she would never have.

Swish-Crack! The cane landed again, causing Carol to squeal, much to her mother’s satisfaction.

CRACK! A heavy, brutal stroke crashed onto Carol’s bottom. She leapt up again! Her mother frowned as she watched Carol rubbing her bottom.

“That’s cheating, my girl! No-one dared to rub their bottom in my study at school. Get your knickers down, hurry up! Bend over again! And an extra stroke for getting up!”

Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Mum was getting into her stride. Her daughters naked, striped bottom was a delightful sight. It seemed to encourage and beckon the whippy stick.

Indeed, the cane lashed down again, causing a very vocal shriek.

“I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you properly yet! Stay down for two more!”

“Oh, Mum!”

CRACK!CRACK! On and on it went, two more each time. Mum’s taste for caning had been rekindled. Carol just felt sore and stupid, wriggling as the cane lashed her bum.

A few days later, Mum was over at her other daughter’s home. Mother and daughter were sat on the rattan sofa in the conservatory, enjoying a Pimms in the spring sunshine.

“Mum, I heard about Carol’s caning.”

“Oh, you did, did you? Well, let me tell you Penny, she deserved every one of those strokes.”

“But Mum, there were over twenty, I’m told. That was a bit harsh. Especially as it was me who was caught with the drugs.”

“Being caught was your own stupid fault. You took your punishment.”

“Yes, Mum. But Community Service hardly compares with what you gave Carol the other day.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t believe in punishing twice for the same thing. You don’t want the cane do you?”

“Yes, I do actually. Have you got it with you?”

“No, of course not. I’m not going to keep it in the car, now am I? Now who’s being stupid? It’s hidden in the bedroom where your father and I can keep an eye on it. We don’t want Carol breaking it.”

“OK Mum. I do deserve a good whipping, though. I thought you might not have the cane with you, so I thought we could use one of my riding crops instead. Let’s go into the living room, I’ve left my favourite crop in there.”

__________)

Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Comments are here

Dad’s Birthday Present (M/M)

Erotic entertainment by your host, Rod Cayenne

“Hello John.”

“Hello Dad!”

“Just ringing to say thank you for my birthday presents. The tie’s lovely, those gold stripes are very eye-catching. The other present was more of a surprise though.”

“Really? It’s to replace your broken one.”

“Yes, so I gather, but really, a school cane? I’m surprised you can still get them. My old one was at least thirty years old.”

“That’s probably why it broke then. It wasn’t hard to track down a new one via the internet.”

“Oh, I always forget about the internet. I hardly ever use it.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Anyway, thanks for the cane. I can’t see it getting any use though. When my old one broke on your brother’s bottom, I thought it was a sign to call a halt to that sort of thing. After all, Lawrence is eighteen now. A bit old for the cane, I suppose.”

“You caned me when I was twenty. Lawrence and I were talking and we reckoned a father should use the cane until his sons get to twenty one, maybe.”

“Really? What an odd notion. Especially in this day and age.”

“Well Lawrence and I are both a bit old-fashioned, perhaps thanks to you. In fact, it was his idea to get you a replacement cane. It was just easier for me to get hold of one.”

“So, let me get this right. He’s expecting me to cane him for another three years or so?”

“Well, you’d have to ask him that, I guess, but he is still living under your roof. Until he moves out. And only if he screws up, I guess.”

“Oh, he’ll do that alright. He’s a lot less responsible than you were at his age.”

“Well, you’re probably right, Dad. Although, as I said, you caned me at twenty for that car business.”

“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about that. I was really angry with you.”

“Yes, I remember, and so does my bottom.”

“Really, I let you off quite lightly there son.”

“If you say so, Dad.”

“Yes, I do say so. A dreadful business. You deserved all twelve of those strokes!”

“You’d better watch out that Lawrence doesn’t pull a similar stunt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that John, I know what signs to look for.”

“Yes, Dad. I suppose you do.”

“I’ll have a quick chat with Lawrence anyway. He needs to consent to my use of the cane, now he’s eighteen, I feel.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Dad. Anyway, he won’t object. Remember it was his idea to replace the cane.”

“Oh yes. Anyway, how are things with you, John?”

“Well, alright in some ways, not so good in others, to be honest. I think I’m getting a bit too fond of the beer.”

“Yes, well there is a family history of that.”

“I know, Dad. I just need some motivation to say no. A little temperance.”

“Hmm. I see. It’s a bit of a problem then, son?”

“Yes, and I don’t want it interfering with my job.”

“There’s always the cane.”

“Sorry Dad, what do you mean?”

“What I mean John is that regular, hard canings might help wean you off the alcohol.”

“Oh, Dad. I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.”

“Yes, well you have now, haven’t you?”

“Dad, I’m twenty five!”

“And still on the shelf and drinking yourself silly. I’ll come over Friday evening with both my presents, and we can talk it over.”

“Oh, Dad.”

“Make sure you’re in. And tip any alcohol away. You’re sobering up as from today. Is that clear?”

“Yes Dad.”

Friday evening soon came around. Dad looked very smart in his navy blue blazer, cream slacks, white shirt and the birthday tie. He parked his dark green Subaru in the large public car park and made his way over to the block of flats where his son John lived. He puffed away at a big, fat cigar as he strode purposefully. Under his left arm was a long, thin cardboard box, still with some gift wrap on. It was the box the cane had come in, and of course it wasn’t empty!

John answered the door, looking sheepishly at his father. He knew exactly what was in that box, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it.

The two men discussed the problem like mature adults. Dad had a leaflet about alcohol units. He read parts of it out loud and then they did an audit of John’s alcohol consumption. It was bad, very bad. Dad took a tour of the flat, looking for bottles. The only ones he found were empties. The fridge, however, revealed a secret stash of cans of strong lager. Dad took enormous pleasure in opening the ring pulls and tipping the fizzy muck down the kitchen sink.

The elephant in the room was the cane, of course. Dad had returned to the lounge and both men stared at the box. Silently, Dad opened the box and extracted the cane from the pink tissue paper it was wrapped in.

“A nice touch, that tissue paper,” Dad observed.

“Yes, aimed at the married couples market, I believe.”

“Really?”

“Yes, that’s what they told me in the shop.”

“I thought you bought it on the internet?”

“No Dad. I found out about the shop on the internet, but went and bought the cane in person. Mainly as time was tight.”

“What sort of shop was it?”

“Oh a sex shop, you know.”

“I’ve never been in one actually, son.”

“Well they told me a lot of couples buy canes to spice things up in the bedroom. Seems a bit strange to me as a cane like that hurts like hell. Maybe they only tap each other with it.”

“Yes, maybe. Takes all sorts, I suppose. Well, this cane will be used for punishment only! You’re getting a dozen. Count yourself lucky that we’re not basing it on your units.”

“Yes, you’re right there, Dad.”

“Of course, just like when you were young, the strokes will have to be on the bare.”

“No, Dad. I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“I’ve decided, John. Now, no arguing with me unless you want me to increase the tariff.”

Reluctantly, John dropped his blue Wranglers. He hesitated as he reached his boxers. He really didn’t want to expose his bare flesh to the cane, and at twenty five, he wasn’t keen on his father seeing his bum crack, arsehole, cock and bollocks. However, he gave way. Perhaps it was the way his father was slashing the cane through the air with malicious intent! The boxers were removed and folded neatly along with the blue jeans.

“Over this chair! Right over! Bend down and stick your bottom out, John.”

WHACK! The cane lashed down. It had been five years, but that first searing stroke reminded John just why the cane was to be feared!

CRACK! A second stroke lashed down without any respite. John was distinctly uncomfortable, his bottom writhing already. He was determined not to cry out, though.

CRACK! The third stroke caused John to grunt as the pain kicked in. He was annoyed with himself, but it was too late, his father had heard and taken some satisfaction at this first audible sign of distress.

CRACK! The fourth stroke whipped down. Dad was enjoying the spectacle, and really appreciating his birthday present. What a thoughtful choice it had been!

CRACK! The fifth caused a heavy sigh from John who was now convincing himself that giving up alcohol would be a great idea.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Dad was increasing the tempo of the beating, much to John’s distress.

CRACK!CRACK! John was beside himself with pain. He’d forgotten what a great beater his father was and how much a cane used in anger could hurt.

But the cane wasn’t really being used in anger. It was doing a good imitation, but the truth was that his father was enjoying every sadistic stroke, and every wince and groan from his son. At times like this, Dad felt completely detached from family ties, empathy and compassion. He was an old-fashioned, old school sadist, really. An erection was stirring in the old man’s slacks, for the first time in two or three years! He stopped and flexed the cane, and then began tapping it gently on his son’s naked arse. He slashed it down again with an almighty WHACK!

This time John couldn’t keep still and raised his head high, gasping with throbbing pain. He’d been counting silently, so he knew there was just one stroke left of his sentence.

CRACK! The final blow was wicked and merciless. John’s eyes were moist, and his arse was a scarred battlefield.

“Very good,” his father announced. “I think you’re learning a lesson here, John. Two more strokes to drive it home!”

There was no time for argument. John regretted staying bent over as the resounding CRACK of stroke thirteen echoed around the lounge.

“ARGH!” John cried, just like a teenager. His father’s erection was straining to break free, such was the sexual excitement in the air. Once again, the cane was flexed with pleasure and menace in mind.

CRACK! Stroke fourteen slashed down, creating the sorest, reddest line yet. But at least it was over.

“Cover yourself up, John! You look quite ridiculous like that.” Now Dad was adding to the humiliation with cruel words. He put the cane down on the coffee table.

Gingerly, John climbed back into his boxers, and then pulled his Wranglers over them. His arse was aglow, throbbing, hot and uncomfortable. His father’s penis was much the same, stiff and aching.

“The cane and I’ll be doing random spot checks from now on. No alcohol in the flat at all. Is that clear?”

“Yes Dad.”

“I can’t stop any longer. I’ve promised Lawrence a thrashing tonight as well.”

____________

Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Comments are here

Museum Cane (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

* Hot, long and explicit fiction by special guest author JOELSTRAP * 

David glanced at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering in the west, obscuring the hills around the lake, and rain seemed imminent. He tried to decide where to go for some shelter and concluded that the most sensible option would be to get on a bus to the next village and hope that by the time he arrived there the rain had stopped. Even as he made up his mind to do this however, large fat drops began to spatter the ground and he speeded up his pace. It was as he was approaching the bus-stop, that he saw the old school.

Outside, a sandwich-board proclaimed that it was a museum, open to the public, and free of charge too. It was almost five o’clock and the door was closed, but it opened when he turned the handle tentatively. He entered, and ambled round various displays about local history, artifacts dug up in the district, photographs, some brown and curling at the edges, of local worthies long-since gone to their eternal home. Towards the back of the building, he came across an old classroom which was furnished as it would have been in Victorian times when the school was built.

Rows of hard wooden seats faced a teacher’s tall desk with a high stool behind it. The children’s desks were ink-splashed, paint-stained and carved with the initials of generations of bored youngsters. On the side of the teacher’s desk, from a hook screwed into the wood, there hung a slender cane. David gazed wonderingly at it. He knew about corporal punishment in school although it had been abolished well before he was born eighteen years earlier. For some reason the lithe rod fascinated him and as he tried to visualise himself bending over one of the wooden desks and being hit across his bottom with the cane, his penis rose swiftly and he was forced to thrust a hand into the front of his jeans and rearrange things a little.

He glanced round but there was no-one else in the room. He reached out a nervous hand and carefully lifted the cane from its hook. He held his breath as he arched it gently, savouring its slim length and whippy feel. This, he was certain, would sting like hell. As he flexed it slowly he saw himself bending over and a muscular young master wielding the cane across his buttocks. He imagined the pain, how he’d wince and perhaps gasp, how his gluteal-muscles would tighten as the cane hit him and how……

Hello! What are you up to?

David jumped and spun round to face a tall young man, perhaps in his early-thirties, who was watching him with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Er, I was just looking. Sorry, I suppose I’m not meant to touch things.

Don’t worry. It fascinates you, does it? Want to try it?

Try it? You mean that you………..you’re offering to, you know, cane me? panted David, wide-eyed.

Sure. Like to feel what it’s like to get a cane lashed hard across your bare arse?

David gulped.

I………I don’t know….I mean it’s kind of an exciting idea…but I don’t know if I could take it.

Just say the word and you will know, said the young man.

Oh, God! I’m not certain. Could I think about it? asked David uneasily.

You’ll have to hurry. I’m finished here in ten minutes.

He disappeared and left David alone with his tumbling thoughts. Want to be caned? That’s what the young man had said. Caned! His penis rose so sharply that he gasped as he struggled to release it from the constrictions of his clothing. David decided that he did want to discover the secret of the cane. He’d never been thrashed in his life. This was an experience of past generations and one to which he’d been denied access. It was the responsibility of every enquiring boy to experience as wide a range of things as he could in life; and surely getting caned was a worthwhile adventure.

David gave a tentative call.

Out in the vestibule, came a faint response.

David made his way through and found the young man placing the sandwich-board behind the door.

I, er, well, yes, I’d like to try the cane if you don’t mind………, David said, and then trailed off into embarrassed silence.

Sure, mate. Just go and wait for me in the school-room, he said to David. Stand in front of the teacher’s desk and don’t touch the cane!

Yes, sir, replied David in mock seriousness.

The young man gave him a stern look.

Now! he ordered.

Unsure why, David hurried to obey.

He grew increasingly nervous as he waited for the young man to come and cane him. How much would it hurt? Would he disgrace himself by leaping up and running out like a coward? Not if he could help it! Footsteps! He was coming; and so was the caning. David swallowed and blinked uneasily.

The young man came to the desk, took the cane from its place and bent it into a smooth curve.

You do not touch things in museum displays, boy, said the young man grimly. Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

You’re going to be punished for your behavior, to teach you to keep your hands to yourself in future. Three strokes of the cane on your bare buttocks. Understood, boy?

Yes, sir.

Drop your jeans and pants and bend over that desk.

David unbuckled his belt, unzipped his denims and slid them to his ankles. He put his hands at the waistband of his pants and hesitated. He’d never shown a stranger his tackle before and he was embarrassed because he had a massive erection which he could hardly conceal once his pants came down.

Hurry up, boy.

David took courage and slipped his pants down too; and then turned and bent over the desk, legs apart, hands gripping the sides.

He felt the touch of the limber cane, cool wood against his hot flesh, which was tense and with a sheen of sweat. The young man rapped the cane lightly on David’s bare skin so that he flinched apprehensively.

Don’t move! ordered the young man.

David steadied himself and waited while several long seconds crawled by. He felt the cane being lifted from his rump and heard it whistle as it descended hard and fast towards his vulnerable globes. He felt the impact of the stroke and then a split second later a streak of fire seared across his buttocks so that he bucked slightly and gasped aloud. The pain burned deeper as he clenched the muscles in his behind and then, just as it reached its apogee, the young man wielded the cane again, etching a slender band of fire just below the first.

Fuck!

David uttered the expletive with venom as he gripped the edges of the desk so hard that his knuckles showed white. His body shuddered. A few seconds later the third stroke lashed across his bottom and he failed to completely stifle a yelp. His lower body was quivering uncontrollably and for a few seconds he drummed with his feet on the floor as he struggled to process the raging inferno in his rear.

Stand up, boy!

Stiffly, David rose. He placed his hands tentatively on his buttocks and was surprised at the heat there. With the soft pads of his fingers, he traced the three raised welts across his rump, wonder glowing in his face; and even as he did so, his penis rose steadily to its full length.

Seems you liked that, observed the young man, grinning broadly.

David felt himself going bright red and muttered about pulling up his clothes.

Felt it though, didn’t you? persisted the young man, clearly enjoying himself.

Hell, yes, David admitted, caressing his bottom ruefully. I never realised that getting my tail tanned would hurt like that, he confessed. But…..yeah, I reckon I did kind of like it in a funny kind of way. It hurt like hell, but it was exciting, you know, challenging, too; and I took it.

David pulled up his pants and jeans and the young man restored the cane to its place on the side of the desk.

Thanks, said David, extending his hand to shake that of the young man.

A minute or two later he was on his way down the road. The rain had stopped and as he ambled along slowly in the late-afternoon sun, he was acutely aware of a pleasant glow in his bottom, and a stiffie like a flagpole tenting the front of his jeans.

You got caned; and you liked it! David thought to himself.

And you’re going to get caned again, aren’t you? said his bottom and his cock simultaneously.

David smiled to himself and gave his comely rump a careful scrub.

What do you think? he asked them silently.

His buttocks seemed reluctant to deliver a definite view, one moment urging another meeting with the slender cane and the next reminding warningly of the intensity of the sting which that implement could inflict.

David’s pal, Nicol, was staying with a friend for two nights, which is why David had found himself on his own in the lakeside town in the middle of their holiday together between school and college. As he devoured his evening meal, walked in the evening sunshine by the water’s edge, and downed a couple of pints in the local hostelry, the caning played over and over in his mind as if it was on an endless loop. In his sleeping-bag that night, he experienced one of his best-ever orgasms as he relived the beating while stroking his throbbing penis. Next morning, he decided to go back to the museum and to see if another session with the cane could be arranged with the young man.

When he arrived there around half-past ten, he found the door wide open and several people wandering about inside. An elderly lady, who looked as if she’d been the schoolmistress there in nineteen hundred, gave him a disapproving glare as his rucksack bumped against the glass-panel in the door.

Sorry, David muttered, resolving to take more care. The old dragon looked as if she was quite capable of caning him if he damaged anything. He wanted to be caned, but definitely not by her. After wandering around hopefully for almost twenty minutes, there was no sign of the young guy from the previous day. David decided it wasn’t his turn on duty and that he was going to have to ask about him. He approached the dragon diffidently, smiling as politely and submissively as he could.

Er, excuse me, sorry to bother you.

It’s no bother, she replied, giving him a look which suggested he was the most bothersome thing she’d seen in a long time.

I was in just before five yesterday afternoon and there was a young chap on duty here. I’ve got an, er, photograph that I said I’d bring back to show him. Will he be in later on today?

Photograph? said the dragon interrogatively and it suddenly dawned on David that she thought it might be an indecent photograph.

Er, yes, of the sunrise on the lake with mist rising off the water, he babbled, improvising desperately. Very beautiful.

I’m sure, she responded dryly, suggesting she thought the likelihood of the photograph being so innocent was slightly less than that of Martians landing on the village street. In any case, there is no young man works here; only myself and Mr.Simmonds, who is in his sixties.

But yesterday afternoon, I met him here and ………

Besides which, she continued, over-riding him grimly, the museum closes at four.

But it wasn’t………

Good morning. Please take care not to hit anything with your rucksack on the way out.

David stared helplessly and then with a swiftly muttered thank you to which he appended an inaudible for nothing, he headed outside and sat down on a bench in the sun.

Now what? he asked himself. I didn’t imagine it. That young guy really was there and it was nearly five o’clock; and I did get caned; and I’ve got the marks to prove it; but why should the old witch lie? Damn, damn and damn!

Disconsolately, David made his way back to the centre of the town for coffee; and then he spent the remainder of the morning rowing angrily across the lake in a hired boat before retiring with blistered palms for a pub-lunch. In the afternoon he mooched around the shops and along the lake-shore until it was almost five o’clock when he went back to the museum. The door was however locked and no young man was in evidence. Sulkily, David headed for the café where he’d arranged to meet Nicol when he returned from visiting his pal.

Nicol was the same age as David and the two had been friends for several years. He was always good fun and they were soon laughing hilariously at Nicol’s account of his meeting with his friend. They dined alfresco by the water’s edge, seated on a wooden bench at a table outside the pub. After they’d eaten, David went into the bar and emerged with two foaming pints and slid himself on to the bench beside Nicol. As he did so, he let out a howl of pain and beer slopped from both glasses as he crashed them clumsily on to the table-top.

What the hell’s the matter with you? demanded Nicol. You’re spilling the beer.

Fuck the beer. I’ve got a fucking great splinter in my fucking arse, said David, making things quite clear.

Nicol’s eyes widened.

Straight up?

No! Straight in! elucidated David savagely, standing up and feeling his left buttock carefully.

Come on. We’ll go into the lavvy and have a look, said Nicol.

We? I’ll go and have a look. You stay and guard the beer.

David headed off into the bar, walking slowly and wincing as he moved. In the privacy of the toilet he dropped his jeans and pants and looked at his behind in the mirror. A splinter of wood, fully an inch or more in length had been driven into the flesh, near enough the surface that he could see it as a dark line beneath the skin. One small piece protruded and he grasped it between two fingers and gave a tentative pull. Pain seared and he gasped and swore luridly under his breath. It appeared that the sliver of wood was rough at the edges and wasn’t just going to slide out easily. A tiny trickle of blood seeped from the entry-point. David washed it with a wet paper-towel, pulled up his clothes and headed back outside.

Well? demanded Nicol.

No, replied David sourly. Bloody great skelf, right in deep and it won’t move. I’ll have to get a doctor.

Nicol stood up.

You sit here and wait and I’ll go into the bar and……..what?

You trying to be funny, mate? growled David, his brow clouded with wrath.

Eh? I’m only going to…….oh, I get it. Right. Well, just stand and wait then. Won’t be long.

Nicol trotted off inside and emerged a minute or two later.

They say we should go up to the hospital and somebody in A & E will see to you. It’s just a ten minute walk up the road apparently. Better drink our beer first; pity to waste it.

The two lads hastily gulped down their drinks and then headed off, slowly, towards the hospital. It took a lot longer than ten minutes at David’s pace and he was relieved when they arrived. A bustling woman showed him to a cubicle, after establishing why he’d come, and told him to pull down his jeans and pants and to lie face-down on the examination couch. The nurse would be in shortly and should be able to help him. Nicol sat himself on a chair and watched as David bared his behind and climbed on to the couch.

Suffering shit!

David glared at him.

What? he demanded. It’s only a bloody splinter in my arse.

Nicol was grinning broadly.

What? demanded David in rising irritation.

Looks like the splinter’s not the only wood that’s been invading your backside recently, observed Nicol gleefully. Who’s been a naughty boy, then?

Oh, fuck! I forgot that, said David, glancing round at the cane-marks still showing clearly on his bottom.

I never knew you were into getting your bum thrashed, said Nicol.

I’m not. I mean, it just sort of happened. I didn’t plan it.

Sure. Just went into a shop and asked if they did beatings; and there you were, nicely striped.

Just shut up, will you. I’ll tell you what happened.

David related the tale of his experience with the young man and the cane the previous day and of his frustration at what had passed at the museum earlier that morning. Nicol listened, gently caressing his crotch.

You sure you weren’t imagining it?

Do these look like they’re imaginary? snapped David, nodding towards the marks on his bottom.

Nicol stood up and bent down to inspect the cane-lines at close quarters.

Shit! They’re real enough, he admitted. Did they hurt?

What do you think?

But you want more?

Well, yeh, I think so. It was kind of, you know, exciting; got me going down below. I just wondered if I could try it again.

At that moment there was a sound of footsteps approaching and the two boys fell silent. The curtain was torn aside and in came a male nurse.

You! gasped David, staring disbelievingly.

For a moment the nurse hesitated and then spoke.

Of course. The guy I caned at the museum yesterday. Knew you by your stripes, he added with a grin.

Thanks a bundle, muttered David with an embarrassed look.

So, you got a splinter up your arse, eh? How’d you manage that, then? Get your mate to paddle you with his cricket-bat and he hit you so hard a bit came off his bat and penetrated you?

Ha, bloody ha! snarled David.

Now that’s an idea, murmured Nicol.

The nurse turned to him and shook his hand.

You think he needs a spanking, mate?

Well, he seems to have got a kick out of that caning you gave him. He was back at the museum this morning, looking for more.

Oh, he was, was he? I suppose I could oblige. He’s got a very cane-able pair of buttocks there and I wouldn’t mind another chance to put a few more stripes on them for him. Maybe you’d like to help?

You bet! I could….

Do you two mind? If you’ve quite finished discussing how you’re going to cane the fuck out of my behind, maybe you could spare a few seconds to get this bloody splinter out, David snapped sarcastically.

Sorry, mate. I’m Ronan by the way. I’m a nurse here; but I guess that’s obvious. Right; let’s have a look. Hmmm. Nasty. Painful?

Well, it’s not exactly pleasant, said David.

Ronan busied himself with antiseptic, towels, tweezers and a magnifying-glass. He grasped the end of the splinter and pulled firmly. David yelled.

Right, said Ronan thoughtfully. I think I’ll have to get the doctor.

He went out and returned several minutes later with a middle-aged doctor who examined the splinter, made no comment about the cane-marks, told Ronan to inject some anaesthetic into the area around the injury and said he’d be back shortly to make a small incision so that he could extract the splinter. He went out and Ronan took a syringe from a drawer.

Oh, fuck! muttered David.

What’s wrong?

You gonna shove that fucking needle in my bum?

Sorry, mate. Doctor’s orders. You heard him. I’ll be gentle, he added.

He was as good as his word and although David winced as the needle went in, he found the pain a lot less than he’d feared. By the time the doctor returned the area was numb and he was able to remove the splinter swiftly and painlessly before inserting a few small stitches and leaving Ronan to put on a dressing. A few minutes later David was standing, fully-clothed and thanking Ronan for his efforts.

You weren’t as gentle as that when you were caning me, said David.

You didn’t want me to be, countered Ronan.

I guess not, agreed David. So what’s the story about you and the museum. The old dragon who was there this morning said there was no young guy working there and that the place closed at four anyway.

Ronan grinned.

I’m off duty in about an hour. I’ll meet you down at the bar on the lakeside and tell you all about it, okay?

Great. See you later.

The two boys returned to the bar and found a cushioned seat inside where David managed to perch in reasonable comfort, balanced on his right buttock. Ronan duly arrived, insisted on buying them drinks and then explained that his mum was the museum cleaner and normally went in after it closed at four o’clock; but she’d had an emergency dental appointment the previous afternoon so Ronan had agreed to go and do the cleaning for her as he was off duty at the hospital. He’d omitted to lock the outside door while he was working and that’s why David had gained entrance outside opening-hours.

So, said Ronan, swallowing a large measure of his beer, how about this caning. You wanted more, huh, David?

David considered for a while before answering, and the other two, perhaps instinctively realising that he was feeling his way in strange territory, sat in silence and gave him time. David put down his glass and addressed Ronan.

I honestly don’t know exactly what I want, he said candidly. You did something completely unexpected to me with that cane yesterday and there’s a part of me wants to explore those feelings further.

He stopped and Ronan waited, anticipating more; but David remained silent.

And the other part? prompted Ronan.

Scared bloody stiff, confessed David.

I suppose that’s natural; but if you’re up for it, I’d like to have an exploratory session with you, just to see how you respond to the cane used in different ways; pushing your limits a bit maybe, letting you feel the sting and finding out how your body reacts. Trouble is, I can’t do it just now because your bum’s injured and I don’t trust my aim to be accurate enough to be sure I could avoid the stitched bit.

David shuddered.

Fuck, no! I don’t want that bit of my arse caned, thank you very much.

The three young men sat in silence for a minute or two.

So, I guess that leaves you, said Ronan turning to Nicol. Up for a caning?

There was a spluttering noise as Nicol half-choked on a mouthful of his beer and sprayed the table with liquid.

Wh…what? Me? Caning? Not fucking likely!

Why not? asked David. Aren’t you a bit curious to find out what it feels like?

There was an infinitesimal pause.

No, said Nicol.

The other two hadn’t missed the pause.

Not even a tiny little bit of wondering about it? suggested Ronan. The fiery kiss of the cane on your bare skin, the searing stimulation of your behind, the powerful forward-thrust of your body at each stroke? You do want to know, don’t you?

This time the hesitation was much longer.

I don’t think so.

But you’re not certain? So why not try it? There’s nothing to lose and maybe a hell of a lot to gain, said Ronan.

Scared? enquired David sympathetically. So am I; like I would be if I was doing a bungee-jump; but I’d still do it if I got the chance because I want to know what it’s like.

How about coming along to the museum now, suggested Ronan and I can let you have a look at the cane; just to help you decide. It’s your choice though. If you don’t want it, that’s okay; and there’s no shame in it either. How about it?

Nicol looked hard at his feet for several seconds.

Okay, he said. I’ll come and look. I’ve never actually seen a cane for real; but I’m not promising anything mind.

Understood, said Ronan, draining his glass.

Nicol and David did likewise and the three headed off along the road towards the museum. Ronan had to leave the other two for a few minutes while he dashed home to borrow his mother’s key to the building; but he was soon back and was letting them in and closing and locking the door behind them. They made their way through to the schoolroom and Ronan and David let Nicol go in first.

He walked slowly through the room, running fingers lightly over the rows of heavy wooden desks with their inkwells and lifting lids. He slowed further as he approached the teacher’s desk at the front and stopped abruptly when his eyes came to rest on the slim cane hanging from its hook on the side of the desk.

For several seconds he just stared from a distance of a couple of metres and then he went forward and reached out his hand and took the cane from its place. He ran a careful index-finger along its length and then, holding it in both hands, arched it gently. He released the lower end and whipped the rod through the air swiftly. There was a whistling sound. He raised the limber cane above his shoulder and lashed it down hard so that the air whined.

Fuck! he breathed.

Both David and Ronan found themselves powerfully aroused as they watched Nicol discover the potential of the cane, and surreptitiously rubbed their engorged organs. Nicol appeared to have forgotten that they were there. He stroked the cane across his denim-clad rump and then bent over and tried to hit himself but found he could get very little power behind a horizontal stroke. He caressed the cane for a moment or two and then an idea came to him and he bent forward and wielded the cane hard in a vertical line down his right buttock. There was an appreciable crack and Nicol gasped audibly and began to rub furiously at his behind.

Ronan went forward and gently took the cane from Nicol.

Bend over that desk, boy, he ordered in a quiet voice and, as if in a dream, Nicol obeyed at once.

David admired the full curves of his buttocks, beautifully-displayed under the close-fitting denim of his jeans. He slid a hand into his pants and stroked his throbbing cock. Ronan laid the cane across the centre of Nicol’s bottom and tapped it several times. Nicol remained still, body taut, tension in every muscle. There seemed no doubt that he was up for it.

As Ronan raised the cane, the whole room seemed to be waiting in profound silence. David held his breath and his hand ceased to move as it grasped his penis. His eyes leapt from the upraised cane in Ronan’s hand to the expectant buttocks and, even as his gaze flickered back to the rod, Ronan brought it down swiftly. The silence was shattered by a sharp crack as wood and boy were brought into explosive contact. David saw the blue-jeaned bottom move forward and the buttocks quiver as the muscles were clenched hard; and from Nicol’s throat he heard the air expelled in a deep sigh.

Ronan flexed the limber rod a few times, making Nicol wait, before he brought it down a second time across the stretched denim over the youth’s behind. Nicol yelped, leapt upright clutching at his bottom and turning a red face towards Ronan.

Right. That’s enough. I don’t fucking like it and I’m not taking any more.

Okay, replied Ronan equably. It’s your call.

So now it’s your turn, said Nicol, and he reached out his hand to take the cane from Ronan. Give it here.

Ronan hesitated.

I’m waiting, said Nicol quietly, hand still outstretched.

Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible thread attaching him to Nicol, Ronan’s hand moved forward and gave the cane to Nicol’s waiting fingers.

Bend over, ordered Nicol softly and to David’s astonishment Ronan obeyed at once, displaying a firm, taut pair of buttocks, clad in the ubiquitous denim; not as tightly-fitting perhaps as Nicol’s, but nonetheless revealing the full contours of a bottom which in David’s opinion was as cane-worthy as that of Nicol himself.

Six, said Nicol. Don’t move. If you break position, I’ll start again.

Hey! I never made you take……..

Hold your tongue! I’m in charge and you do as you’re fucking told. Get it?

There was a breathless pause.

Got it, replied Ronan in a barely-audible whisper.

David stared. He had never seen Nicol in this kind of mood but something in his dominant mastery of Ronan and the ease with which he appeared to have gained Ronan’s submission, impressed him deeply and his cock rose steeply. As Nicol prepared to begin the caning, David was torn between watching Ronan get it and watching Nicol handing it out.

The cane was raised and brought down, and in the aftermath of the stroke, David heard the snap of rod on bottom, saw the buttocks clench and then heard the sharp intake of breath. Ronan it seemed had felt the stroke. Nicol meted out a second, eliciting a similar response. For the third he aimed at Ronan’s crease and whipped the cane just as it made contact with his body. The savage sting of the stroke made Ronan give a convulsive leap into a semi-upright position as he scrubbed frantically at his injured flesh. Nicol watched him impassively and said nothing.

Ronan continued to massage his rump for several more seconds and then glanced at Nicol; but he just stood quietly arching the cane. Wordlessly, Ronan re-positioned himself.

First stroke, observed Nicol softly. Understand?

Yes.

Yes what?

Yes, sir.

How the hell can he submit to this? David asked himself as he caressed his soaring erection. That’s nine he’ll have had, assuming he doesn’t get out of position again. Why’s he just doing as Nicol tells him; and why does Nicol seem to expect that he’ll be obedient? I don’t get this.

He was jerked sharply from his thoughts by the crack of the cane and then the half-stifled yelp which was forced out of Ronan. Nicol repeated the pattern of the first three, whipping the cane hard across Ronan’s crease at the third; but this time, although Ronan squealed aloud, he stayed down, his buttocks quivering. Nicol meted out two more, higher up on Ronan’s behind, and then lashed the rod in a long diagonal across the tensed bottom for the final stroke. Ronan groaned and squirmed, rising on to his toes, glutes tightly clenched, as he processed the searing pain; and then he slowly relaxed as he mastered himself.

That’s it. Stand up.

Ronan obeyed, gave his behind a careful rub and then extended his right hand wordlessly to Nicol who took and shook it.

That was fucking brilliant, mate, David enthused to Ronan. You must have had the cane before?

Ronan gave him a watery smile and shook his head.

First time, he said. And, boy, does it sting!

I’ll bet. That was a hell of a lot harder than you hit me, and that was sore enough, David confessed. But I don’t understand. Why did you just let him thrash you like that? And, he added turning to Nicol, where did you get the power to be so….so…masterful?

You like it, huh? asked Nicol, smiling and flexing the cane.

Well, yeh, it’s impressive. I, eh, I never really realised that you could……

How would you like me to cane you?

You?

Nicol nodded.

Cane me? With, with that thing? Like you caned Ronan?

Again Nicol nodded.

I dunno. You were hitting bloody hard. I don’t know if I could take that.

You’ll take it if I tell you to take it, David. Won’t you?

I…well…I…..

Something curious seemed to be happening in David’s brain. He had decided to make quite clear that he was not going to be intimidated into submission by Nicol as Ronan had been, but instead the words which he found himself uttering expressed quite the opposite.

I guess, said David, dropping his eyes.

Ready for it, then?

Eh? Now? No fucking way! I’ve got a ruddy great cut in my arse, remember?

Don’t worry. I’ve got a lot more confidence in my aim than Ronan has in his. I can easily avoid the injured bit. It’s really quite small. You’ve got plenty of unblemished buttock for me to work on.

But I ……

Get your jeans and pants down!

What!

You heard me.

On the fucking bare? Not fucking likely, mate!

David backed away, holding his bottom as if he feared assault immediately.

And if I don’t have your bottom bare, how do you think I’m going to see where not to hit you?

David hesitated as this sank in.

Well, er…I suppose…that is….well okay, I guess you have to be able to see….but, on the fucking bare? That’s sadistic. I’m not taking that. Sorry.

I’m waiting, David.

I’ve told you. I’m not taking it on the bare.

Nicol arched the cane slowly.

The longer you make me wait, the more strokes you’ll get, he warned quietly.

I’m not getting any bloody strokes. Just leave me alone, okay?

You want it.

No, I don’t.

Ronan interjected.

Maybe you should wait until he’s healed and then you can cane his jeans. Getting it through mine was bad enough. On the bare skin must be hellish.

When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it, snapped Nicol. Now keep quiet. I’m handling David and I’ll thank you to keep out of it.

Ronan took a couple of strides forward until he was standing almost chest to chest with Nicol, who didn’t budge a centimetre. Ronan was breathing hard but Nicol appeared calm and untroubled.

You’re not my fucking master, snarled Ronan.

No?

No!

I think I am.

Well, you think wrong then, don’t you?

I don’t think so. Like another six of the best, Ronan?

What? Course not! But I’m not your slave.

Go and stand over there and hold your tongue, instructed Nicol, pointing with the cane. One sound out of you and I’ll have your jeans and pants off and you’ll find out just how hard I can hit and how much I can make it burn.

You……..

Hurry up, Ronan.

For several seconds Ronan stared straight into Nicol’s eyes and then slowly he turned away and went and stood where he’d been told. Nicol turned his attention back to David.

Why haven’t you got your jeans down?

You didn’t tell me to…..and anyway, I don’t have to do as you….

Get them down now, David.

I’ve told you; I’m not taking it on the bare; not the way you caned Ronan. I…I couldn’t stand that.

David blinked back tears. Nicol came and took his hand and looked straight into his eyes.

Do you trust me, mate?

What? Well, yeh, of course I trust you. It’s not that. I know I wanted to feel the cane again; and I still do, but not yet and not on my bare arse.

If you trust me, said Nicol quietly, then you’ll know I won’t give you anything you can’t take. Do you trust me?

I……I…..oh, God! Why are you doing this?

Suppose you stop asking questions and get your jeans and pants down for six of the cane? suggested Nicol.

For a long minute, David stood irresolute as he fought an internal battle; and then he made up his mind.

Nothing I can’t take?

That’s right. That doesn’t mean you won’t feel it; for you will; but you’ll take it, Nicol assured him.

Silently, David undid his belt, pushed his denims and pants to his ankles and then bent over the table. Nicol tapped the slim cane across the centre of the youth’s bottom and then drew it back and delivered a firm stroke which elicited a flinch and a sharply-indrawn breath from David. He meted out another slightly lower and then a third at an angle so that the cane avoided the dressing over the stitched cut. The tip of the rod caught David painfully on the crease and he yelped and a hand flew back to scrub fiercely at the stinging flesh.

Hand away, David, said Nicol and David obeyed.

You’re remembering that if you move out of position, I start again, aren’t you? enquired Nicol.

Yes, sir.

David was indeed remembering and was rather pleased with himself that he’d also remembered the requirement to say sir.
The cane was stroked gently across the skin just above the crown of his buttocks and he tensed himself for the stinging stroke which followed a few seconds later. His glutes were squeezed together and his legs trembled slightly. Both Nicol and Ronan could hear his breathing as he steadied himself.

David was determined that he was going to take his six without incurring any penalty. He knew what had happened to Ronan. The strokes he’d taken so far were certainly considerably more painful than those Ronan had given him the previous day; but he admitted to himself that they’d been bearable and a part of him was up for the challenge of the two remaining cane-cuts. Nicol inflicted both at an angle so that they cross-hatched earlier welts and ensured that David experienced a more intense sting. He bucked hard at each and gasped aloud as a searing burn excoriated his bare rump. White-knuckled, his hands gripped the edge of the table desperately.

That’s six, announced Nicol. Well taken.

David felt a glow of achievement and stood up slowly. He felt his way carefully across the tram-lines on his buttocks and uttered a soft fuck under his breath. He then pulled up his pants and jeans and shook Nicol’s hand formally as Ronan had done.

Ronan came across and hugged him and the two stood holding each other tightly for a minute or two, bonded in a shared experience of pain accepted and dealt with. Each was aware that the other was fully aroused.
Nicol hung the cane back on its hook on the end of the teacher’s desk.

Okay, mate, he said to David, a trace of a smile playing round his mouth, it’s time you and me went back to our tent to round things off.

Round things…..?

David felt his face burning as understanding dawned.

But…….

Come! Now!

Looking as if he was sleep-walking, David turned and followed Nicol out of the building. Ronan came behind them, locked up, and wished them good luck before heading off home. Nicol took David’s hand, and in stunned silence David walked, unresisting, back to their campsite. There, the two lads crawled into the tent and Nicol closed the flap.

Nick, said David, rather shyly as he looked at the boy he’d thought that he knew, the boy who had turned out to be rather different, the boy who had caned him hard, who had given him orders which he had obeyed and with whom his relationship had unexpectedly changed.

Huh?

You ever, um, beaten a guy before you caned me and Ronan tonight?

Nicol shook his head.

Why?

You just seemed, you know, good at it. You looked like you knew exactly what you were doing; and the way you took charge and got us both to do as you told us; that was pretty awesome. I still don’t quite understand why we just submitted to you. I mean, I guess I wanted the cane and even though I knew it was going to hurt like hell, I felt okay with letting you do it. You can’t half hit hard, though, he ended in a tone of only slightly-reluctant admiration.

Nicol said nothing and poured hot milk into two mugs before adding spoonsful of coffee and handing one to David.

I’ve imagined doing it often enough, he said at last after lying back and taking a long drink.

What? Caning a guy?

Caning you.

Me!

You’ve got a fantastic pair of buttocks there, mate, just begging to be thrashed; and I must have thrashed them fifty times at least this holiday – in my imagination that is. Being so close to you in this tent and seeing your fantastic bum at close quarters every fucking day, and sometimes seeing it bare; fuck, it was bloody torture, mate. I never dared tell you ’cos I just assumed you’d be appalled at the idea of getting a spanking from me and you’d probably tell me to fuck off and never want to see me again, confessed Nicol.

David stared, open-mouthed at these revelations.

Fuck! And I never even suspected; but you’re not gay!

Oh, yes I am; and I just love the idea of spanking a guy.

Not just the idea, said David, giving his behind a rueful scrub.

Nicol grinned broadly.

True. I just adored the reality. Caning those gorgeously-rounded buttocks of yours was sheer heaven.

How about Ronan’s?

Sure. He’s got a great bottom too and I loved thrashing it. I’d cane the pair of you hard any day of the week; every day of the week if you were up for it; but if I had to choose, I’d go for yours.

Wow!

So, said Nicol, laying a hand on David’s inner thigh and caressing the denim-clad skin, you think we should take care of our balls?

David slid his hands round to his front where his jeans bulged suggestively. He grinned at Nicol and nodded, eyes bright.

Get ’em off then, boy! ordered Nicol.

David at once began to strip and Nicol wasn’t far behind. Shortly after, two naked young men were working shyly at each other’s genitals while indulging in some serious kissing. Semen spurted and was rubbed into bare chests and then more kissing and an extensive manual exploration of a pair of nude bodies followed. Attention began to focus on straining cocks and squirming balls once more and again copious quantities of youthful spunk shot out, accompanied by bass-cries of delight and fulfillment.

Lying back, naked, entwined with Nicol, David sighed deeply.

Nick? You planning to cane me more in future?

You bet I am!

You haven’t got a cane.

I’ll soon get one. Don’t worry; and once your bum’s healed, I’ll be able to really cane the fuck out of you.

David frowned and looked worried.

It’s okay. Trust me. Nothing you can’t take.

But it’ll hurt?

Sure. It’s meant to; and I promise it will. You got any objections, Dave?

David kissed Nicol on the mouth for several seconds and then, as he withdrew his lips, said softly; No; none. I just wanted to be sure.

He squirmed against Nicol’s naked body and sought his mouth again. Nicol’s two hands clasped his friend’s thrashed buttocks tightly, and squeezed them, so that the ridges left by the cane stung. David kissed him with greater passion. As far as he was concerned, a cane had no place in a museum. It didn’t belong to history only; it also belonged to the present and needed to be in constant use. With Nicol handling it, and his own buttocks presented for discipline, he had no doubt that it would be.

Well-caned bottom pulsing pleasantly, David slid into a contented sleep.

___________)

Story © 2013 by Joelstrap, used by very kind permission

Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link

Comments are here

New comments are always welcome  

 

The Quest For A Bigger Penis (M/M)

Explicit fiction entertainment by Rod Cayenne

I knew I was in big trouble as soon as Dad called me into his little office. He stood there with one of his many canes in his hands. I gulped with fear, for I had never been able to take his canings stoically. No, there were always tears, cries and desperate pleading and wriggling under the lash of the cane. I had hoped now that I’d turned eighteen, that the canes might be retired. It seemed not.

“Peter, you were sick in bed this morning. You hadn’t been drinking again, I hope?”

“No Dad. Sorry. It was nothing like that.”

“Good! Otherwise this beauty would be teaching you a lesson.”

I didn’t share his view of what constituted beauty. In fact, I would have classified that whippy cane as a beast! As one of those rare strict Methodists, I knew he didn’t like me touching alcohol.

“So, what did make you sick then, lad?”

I didn’t feel like lying. It wasn’t really in my nature. I thought it best to confess, so I pulled the blister pack of blue pills out of my leather jacket. I handed them to my father. I could tell that he thought they were drugs.

“It was these that made me sick Dad, they taste awful!”

He read the lettering out loud, “Vigorlon Penis Enlargement Pills! I don’t believe it! These things are just a con! I can’t believe that a son of mine was so stupid as to fall for one of these scams!”

I stood there embarrassed, and red-faced.

“I’m sorry Dad. It was just a whim when I bought them.”

“Over the internet, I suppose?”

I nodded.

“With your card?”

I nodded.

“You stupid boy! So this is what you waste your allowance on! You’ll probably have to cancel your debit card too. I wonder what else you’ve been looking at on the internet, you haven’t been looking at pornography?”

I couldn’t lie. My Methodist upbringing had taught me that lying was a most serious sin. Of course I’d been looking at porn.

Again, I nodded at Dad.

“Well, that’s good,” he laughed. “Most men do.”

I was amazed when he said that, so I just nodded again, this time with a little smile. I was even more amazed when he put the cane down on the desk and offered me a chair. He poured me a glass of water from his cut-glass decanter.

“Well, well, well,” he said eventually, “I really don’t know what to make of you, young Peter. You’re at a difficult age, aren’t you? Part man, part boy, I’d say. Maybe more boy.”

Once again, I found myself nodding in agreement. Experience had taught me never to argue with Dad once we were in his small home office. I drank the water nervously. It was refreshing, as I was still dehydrated after being sick. Things were looking good. He picked up the cane and placed it back in the brass umbrella stand, where it was kept along with several other rattans and a rather faded gents umbrella. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was too good to last, however.

“NOW LISTEN TO ME!” Suddenly, his tone became fierce. “I am quite insulted that you feel that the penis your mother and I gave you at birth isn’t big enough! The Lord moves in mysterious ways, you know.”

Here we go, I thought to myself. My bottom started to tingle.

“And! Let there be no doubt in your mind that I am very, very unhappy that you have spent money, the hard-earned allowance money I’ve given you, on this rubbish!”

He waved the strip of pills at me. Slowly, he popped each of the remaining blue tablets out of the blister pack. He counted the pills out loud. There were fifteen. I just knew where this was leading.

“Fifteen pills, fifteen strokes!” he announced. He reached behind him and selected a more severe rattan with a crook handle.

“But Dad, I’m eighteen now!”

“Good point, Peter. We’ll make it eighteen, then. Over the desk, trousers down!”

I wasn’t going to argue. I bent over submissively and the first cane stroke hit home. Oh, it was a hard one, for a first stroke. He was really angry, I could tell. He’d been hiding it well, but now the cane was letting him vent his full fury. That was reinforced by the second and third strokes which were straight out of the fires of Hell.

“Underpants down! Fifteen strokes on the bare for the fifteen pills.”

I wasn’t going to argue, as I lowered my pale blue Jockeys. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that it was a hundred pills I’d ordered!

Stroke four sliced into my naked flesh. I was gasping, close to hyperventilating. I cried out loudly. I knew that would amuse him. For a religious man, he had a streak of sadism. Yes, there was a lot of cruelty within him.

I took the fifth quietly, and then the sixth much the same. He moved things up a gear as the seventh was by far the hardest yet. By now I was squirming under the cane’s vicious caress. My bottom was writhing, first in one direction, then the other in a vain attempt to avoid the blows of the cane. Eight! Nine! Ten! I was counting them quietly under my breath, while silent salty tears streamed down my face. This was a hellish beating!

He stopped and grunted. Suddenly, his hands were feeling the cane ridges on my bottom. He’d never done that before, and it was so humiliating, especially as he barked at me to keep still. He changed canes.

“Number Two cane to finish off, Peter.”

In all my years, and through numerous beatings, I could never fathom out the significance of the numbering system of his canes. Perhaps there wasn’t one, and this was all part of a sadistic game? All I knew was that Number Two cane was named appropriately, as it hurt like shit.

“AARRGH!” I cried as the eleventh stroke slashed down, quickly followed by a twelfth, landing just below.

Dad laid thirteen and fourteen diagonally, which was agony. The final four strokes were aimed at the tops of my thighs, his speciality, and they stung like mad. Strangely, all I could think about was that I wouldn’t be wearing my Speedos down on the beach for a while!

I wasn’t crying heavily, but my face was covered in snot. Dad offered me a tissue. I’d been trying not to say thank you, as an act of defiance, but it just sort of slipped out. He grinned when I said it. At times like that I really hated him. My only consolation was that my mother and sister were out shopping, so my beating had been a private, man thing.

That evening, I was over at my friend Andrew’s house. Somehow the story of the day’s events came out. I’d been trying to hide it, as I knew my friend had an unhealthy interest in my beatings. He managed to worm every little detail out of me this time. Nonetheless, he asked if he could see the marks, almost as if he didn’t believe me.

“Pervert!” I accused.

“No, really, I just want to understand. Although I could put some cold cream on them, I’m sure my mum’s got some in the bathroom.”

Reluctantly, I agreed. Andrew traced each and every mark with his forefinger. I’d found the day pretty confusing all round. My head was far from clear. Maybe it was another side-effect of those blue pills?

Andrew came back from the bathroom with a jar of cream. Gently, he massaged it into my bottom. My cock suddenly burst into life! It was rock hard. We gazed into each others eyes and knew we were going to have to take things further. No erection pills would be required! This time he put his forefinger into the jar of cream and then shoved the finger up my arsehole. His lips caressed my cock. He worked that cock for all it was worth. I came heavily in his mouth.

We lay exhausted on his bed for a few tender minutes. I offered to reciprocate. He just laughed.

“Not likely, mate. I’m not sticking my todger in there. Those pills have dyed your tongue blue. They could be poisonous, you know. Chinese, were they? I don’t want a blue cock, you know!”

I was really turned on by then. I offered him anal instead. I wanted it myself, but was a little reluctant only because my arse was still sore after the caning (and despite the cold cream massage). Andrew couldn’t believe his luck. Fortunately, he had a condom, and with the help of the cold cream we were soon at it. He thrust and thrust into my willing, striped arse. The knobbing felt even better than his forefinger had. It wasn’t long before he shot his load. It had been a short fuck alright, but we were both satisfied.

We lay in each others arms again, gently petting. He whispered in my ear, “Could you sneak out one of your dad’s canes? I want to try it.”

It seemed a strange request at first. But as I laid there in the afterglow, it seemed to make sense eventually. After all, it was a caning that had brought us together and I knew just which cane to smuggle out. It would have to be Number Two.

______________)

Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne

Comments always welcome

Comments are here