♥ Site recommended story ♥
Fiction by Rod Cayenne
I shook my head in wonder. I’d always considered myself a connoisseur of Victoriana, but even I was lost for words. What a magnificent building!
This gents toilet was located on the edge of the park, right by the main road. I admired the fine wrought ironwork, delicate stained glass in the fanlights, the copper pipework, the marbled white tiles; a truly remarkable building.
“Can I help you sir?” asked the Toilet Attendant. I suddenly realised that I must have looked rather strange admiring the toilets rather than using them for their designated purpose.
“Oh sorry! I was just admiring this remarkable building!”
“Ah yes, sir. I understand. It’s gorgeous isn’t it? Most people don’t even notice. I love it too. Do you know what’s the best thing about it?”
“No, I’m not sure that I do. Please tell.”
“I own it!”
“You own this? How come?”
“Well, I live in the big white house next door. When I heard that the council were going to board this place up, I made them an offer for the freehold.”
“Gosh!”
“Yes, well, I’m retired, quite well off, and I loved the building. So I thought, why not? My original plan was to turn it into a cafe, but I couldn’t bear the thought of destroying any of the original character and fittings. So at the moment, I’m running it as a pay loo, not that I’m covering my costs and it’s almost a full-time job.”
“Wow! That’s what I call dedication.”
“Thanks. Fancy a cuppa in my office? I can tell you all about the place.” He did, at length. We sat in the rather seedy office as he gave me a run-down on the intricacies of the Victorian lavatorial engineering. At times, his monologue got quite boring. I began to see him as an aged white van man-cum-plumber, but then the conversation took a more interesting turn.
“Vandalism is a problem. Graffiti mainly – the tiled surfaces deter a lot of it, but obscenities get scratched and scrawled onto the doors, phone numbers, swear words, penis drawings, threats and invitations. Then you get the guys wanting to use it for sex. You get a very cynical, jaded view of life in here. Some of the things guys want to do to each other! Sheesh! I’ve ended up unshockable. I’d like to thrash the lot of them!”
“Yes! With a Victorian cane, I suppose?” I blurted out without a lot of thought.
“Oh yes, I’ve got one of those. Want to see it?” He winked at me. I gazed into his blue eyes and admired his distinguished white beard.
“Yes please.” The tension in the air was becoming electric.
“It’s back at the house. OK, we’ll head off soon, it’s almost closing time.” I was hoping I could persuade him to give me a caning. I’d developed a taste for it at school, and indulged from time to time as an adult.
Closing the place down and locking up took quite a while. By this time I was gagging for a beating from this sexy, interesting fellow. His house was next door, as he’d said. It was imposing and full of character. We made our way into his study, a room of very Victorian atmosphere. Rows and rows of leather spined books lined the room. The stench of stale cigar smoke hung in the air. He sat behind the desk, opened a drawer, and produced a cane. It looked old, with a gorgeous patina and a traditional shepherd’s crook handle.
“I suppose you want to try it?” he asked. Yes, he’d read me like a book. “Bare?” he enquired.
I was a little embarrassed. All my adult canings had been from women, and I’d usually had to pay for the privilege. I nodded shyly.
“Over the desk then, my good man! Trousers and underwear down.” I didn’t need telling twice. I slipped everything down and folded my shirt up so that this chap could have an unobstructed target. “Not bad,” he said. “Of course, I’ve seen a lot of bare bottoms in my time. Not just in the toilets, but over this desk too.” So, he was no amateur! I braced myself for what was to come. It was a dozen. Full on, fast, relentless and merciless. Oh boy! I’d really enjoyed it! My first adult caning by a man.
“Wow!” I said at the end of the thrashing. I could feel each and every stroke throbbing. I pulled my pants and trousers back up. He smiled enigmatically, and opened the desk drawer again. He slapped a wicked looking leather strap down on the blotter.
“I think a dozen with this strap will do you good. And maybe another six with the cane. As you’re dressed, we’ll head back to the park toilets!”
He was an imaginative disciplinarian alright. Soon we were back in the toilet building, with the entrance doors firmly locked! He made me strip, go into a cubicle and hold onto the bowl while he leathered my arse with that wicked strap. It burnt like mad. I was turned on like never before. The depravity of the situation wasn’t lost on me. He then ordered me out onto the main floor near the urinals. Here, bent over like a naughty schoolboy, I received a crisp half-dozen more strokes of the cane. By this time, he too was naked. His circumcised cock stuck out proudly, as I stood up. Clearly he was enjoying our session as much as I was.
He asked me if I wanted more, but I really had to decline. “How about a fuck then?” he asked.
“I’ve never done it with a man before, Sir,” I confessed.
He took my hand and smiled, saying, “Don’t worry, a lot of men have lost their virginity in these toilets!”
He nipped into his office and came back with a condom and a tube of lube. There was a little pain at first as he entered me, but then I began to like it. We fucked on all fours like wild animals on the black and white tiles. My knees began to hurt. Still, they were original Victorian tiles, he assured me.
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Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne
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