Calling In Some Help – Part 3 – The Rugby Coach Needs Some Help (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!

 

Saturday mornings were a time of the week that my son David had come to dread. After his last thrashing I imposed a tally system, so that any breaking of house rules is jotted down. Then on Saturdays I would examine the book to see if he needed to be given a sharp reminder. The reminder is with a cane, which Ted Wilson, my neighbour and David’s former headmaster, would use on his naked buttocks, hard. Quite often I would add a few swipes with a leather tawse beforehand, just to make sure he really felt the sting of the rattan.

Ted is an expert with the cane. He has many years of experience, ensuring David’s attention. He always targets the sit spot, landing the strokes in a tight band on the lower portion of the boy’s buttocks. He never gave less than four, often six and sometimes eight or ten. Even though David is a big burly rugby player he always ends up in tears by the time the punishment is over.

In addition to hating these Saturday morning canings he had the added humiliation of having to go off and play rugby in the afternoons.

The one positive thing in David’s life is sport. He is an avid football fan, though his biggest passion is rugby. He plays for a local amateur team every Saturday. Of course, after the match the lads usually end up having a few pints and he often arrives home in a drunken stupor. Then, being worse for wear is entered into the tally book and goes towards any punishment he may be due the following week.

He often had a very sore bottom as he walked down the path, his kitbag over his shoulder, heading off to his match. There is no possible way he could be hiding the marks so I had begun to wonder what his teammates must be making of his striped arse on show in the changing room and showers.

Then only last Tuesday I saw David’s coach in the supermarket. Owen Morgan is a big guy standing six feet two high. He is in his late thirties, married with two young children. He is very good looking and obviously very fit and athletic. I have known him for some years as he coached both the junior and senior rugby teams. He made it clear he wanted to have a quiet word with me so I arranged to meet him in the café after I had done the shopping. I saw Owen in the corner so I ordered a coffee and joined him.

Tom it’s good to see you. I don’t see much of you up at the club these days.

I find I have little time to come and watch David play these days, besides he is no longer a boy needing his Dad standing on the touchline encouraging him.

Owen raised his eyebrows and gave me a funny look.

Do you mind if I speak my mind Tom? David may no longer be a boy but I think you still treat him like one at home. I would have to be blind not to notice the cane welts on his backside most weekends. Last Saturday after the match I had a word with him and asked what this is all about. He broke down in tears and poured his heart out to me. In spite of everything though, he told me he still needs to be punished like this and he had become more respectful to both you and his Mother since your neighbour began caning him.

Yes, Ted Wilson knows how to wield a cane, and applies it with vigour to David’s bottom. His years as a Headmaster have stood him in good stead.

Owen’s eyes glazed over.

Mr Edward Wilson! Former Head of Westcliffe! He caned my arse on a few occasions when I was there. He knew how to lay it on. I was sore for days after he gave whacked me; he once gave me six of the best for bunking off maths so I could watch the rugby game. He certainly made an impression on me in more ways than one.

We both grinned but the glint in Owen’s eye made me suspect it had not been a totally unpleasant experience.

Tom can I be blunt with you? In the last few weeks David’s attitude has improved tenfold. It is obvious that the cane is having an effect on his behaviour in general. I remember how painful a caning from Wilson is. I have been having some disciplinary issues with a couple of members of the team, so I wonder, do you think there is any chance he might consider dealing with them the same way he deals with David?

I nearly choked thinking Owen was joking, but it soon became clear he was deadly serious.

If a couple of them show up with striped arses, I am sure the news will soon go round. If the others discover their own arses could be on the line, discipline will certainly improve. Fines seem to have little effect on lads these days. Maybe we need to return to a more physical form of punishment.

I left the café promising Owen I would speak to Ted and get back to him in a couple of days.

I thought Ted was going to have a heart attack when I told him of my conversation with David’s rugby coach. The thought of caning a couple of rugby hunks obviously appealed him!

Tell Morgan to bring them round here on Saturday morning. If David has done anything I will cane the three of them together. Maybe the coach should apply something to the lads’ arses to soften them up before I cane them. At school I recall my sports master’s used to wield a large rubber soled gymshoe to deadly effect. I think they should receive a few swipes with one before I stripe their seats for them.

I telephoned Owen who was eager to meet me at Ted’s house at eleven o clock on Saturday morning.

So on Saturday, I checked the log to see if David would need a trip next door. Since I had introduced the punishment log his behaviour had improved dramatically. No longer am I finding clothes all over his floor or crockery left in the sink. He has cleaned up his act and even helps around the house. The threat of punishment hangs over him but keeps him in line. He had even been to job interviews recently; one of them is very promising. I am finally beginning to think he is growing up. But until such time as he moves out and stands on his own two feet, I shall not be easing up on the strict regime which I have imposed.

The log showed that David only had a couple of minor issues, so a sore arse is not warranted. He went off to rugby with a smooth unmarked bottom. The same cannot be said for two of his teammates.

Danny Jones is a nineteen year old rugby back. He is only about five feet ten but his speed and agility make him perfect for evading the opposition, while taking the ball forward. He has light brown hair and hazel eyes. Firm flat stomach with very pert buttocks which just asked to spanked. His teammate, Harry Cattell plays fly half. He is taller than Danny, at six foot, with dark cropped hair and green eyes. He is very attractive and extremely athletic. Neither of them is built like a tank, they are wiry and agile. I was waiting on Ted’s doorstep when Owen walked up the path with the two players in front of him. I allowed them in and we all go into the lounge where Ted is sitting with a smile on his face eagerly looking forward to the morning’s activity!

The three guys were dressed in tracksuits.

Ted looked at the coach and narrowed his eyes. Owen Morgan! I remember you from year’s back. I think I had to cane you on a few occasions, back in the day. It must be more than twenty years ago?

Owen blushed, Twenty three, Sir to be exact. I still remember the last time.

At this point Owen’s hand subconsciously wandered round to gently touch his firm buttocks. Ted looked at the two lads standing by nervously, clasping their hands.

So what have these young pups been up to then?

Well, turning up late for practice, failing to follow instructions, disobeying my commands and finally going for a drink before training. Fines don’t seem to work and my last resort is to sack them both from the team. However they are both excellent players. I had a meeting with them the other night. As a result, they have agreed to submit to a punishment more in line with how you used to deal with things at school. I feel sure you can turn these lads around. You certainly changed my behaviour Sir.

A broad smile spread across Ted’s face as he continued to observe the three men.

Of course I can, though these young men are no longer schoolboys. The punishment must be stiffer than you received.

Addressing the lads directly, he went on, Gentlemen, I will cane each of you to save your rugby careers; but it must be severe. You will receive twelve strokes of the gym slipper which will be laid on by Mr Morgan here. Six hard swats on each cheek. These will be followed by eight hard strokes from my cane. Of course those tracksuits bottoms will have to be lowered along with any underwear. I want your bottoms bare for your tannings.

The lads and Morgan seemed quite shocked. Ted opened the drawer in his desk and extracted a large grubby looking oval shaped plimsoll which reminded me of the one my own gym teacher had always carried around during PE classes, ready to wallop any boy who breathed out of line. Next, he opened a cupboard and took out a long whippy rattan, placing it on the desk besides the slipper.

Mr Cattell, please wait outside in the hallway until we have dealt with Mr Jones here.

Harry grimaced before turning and leaving the office.

Ted, firmly in control told Jones, Stand in front of the desk lad. Pants and underwear down then bend over the desk. Reach across to grip the far side. And stay in position till you are told to get up.

Young Danny did as he is told, in the process revealing white Ralph Lauren underwear which ended up in a heap on top of his tracksuit bottoms. Bending forward his tight muscular buttocks opened and parted revealing some fine hair nestling between his cheeks. Ted handed the large slipper to the grinning coach.

Six hard ones on each buttock, Morgan.

I watched as Morgan lined the plimsoll up gently against the lads left buttock. He raised the slipper high in the air before bringing it swiftly and firmly down, to land with a loud smack on the pale exposed cheek. The sound was electric. Morgan raised the slipper a second time, his face set with grim determination, to crack a second stroke over the first. This time Jones grunted as the lower portion of his left buttock turned increasingly red and looking sore. A further four landed, all on the same side. The coach then moved round and repeated the punishment on the right cheek. Inside a minute a shocked and gasping Jones was fighting to stay bent over, the lower portions of his buttocks burning hot and looking as sore as they certainly were.

Morgan, looking grim, moved aside, while catching his breath as he recovered from his exertions.

Ted seemed very pleased and nodded his approval before speaking.

Get up Jones and go and stand in the corner. Cattell will be slippered before I cane you.

Ted opened the door and summoned Cattell into the office; he froze as the first thing he saw was the state of his teammate’s arse.

Cattell, go to the desk, let your pants and underwear down, and bend over to grip the far side.

Once again Morgan began to swipe the slipper hard across the presented naked muscular cheeks. Cattell’s backside is slightly hairy whereas Jones is smooth. By the time the twelfth had lambasted the guy’s arse he was holding on for dear life. He had sworn loudly halfway through the punishment and the reward is a thirteenth swipe with a warning to hold his tongue or the number of cane strokes would increase to ten.

Cattell stood and gripped his arse, his face contorted with pain, screwing his eyes tight as he tried his best to blink back the tears threatening to roll down his face. As instructed he hobbled across to the wall and stood next to his mate, hands on head.

I hope you are both thoroughly ashamed of yourselves. Big lads like you being treated like boys half your age. I hope Mr Morgan has made his displeasure felt across your posteriors. I will shortly be caning you to ensure the message has got through to you and your teammates, once they see the results.

I looked at the two very red athletic bottoms only inches away from me. I could feel a tightness in my pants as I drank in the sight of these guys. How could this turn me on? After all I am not gay. Maybe it is just the atmosphere and the testosterone in this room.

For a few moments Morgan and Ted chatted happily, remembering times gone by. They even laughed as Morgan recalled some of the thrashings he had received at this man’s hand. Finally Ted stood up and walked over to the desk. He picked up the cane and swished it through the air.

Right you two, approach the desk.

The two guys did as bidden, their semi erect cocks on show as they walked across the room. Their bottoms looked very sore yet even more punishment was coming their way.

Bend over the desk side by side. I want those backsides high and tight. Stay down till I tell you or there will be penalty strokes.

The lads complied, offering their reddened cheeks for more torment. Ted came behind and observed the sight before him. I glanced across at Morgan and can hardly fail to notice his raging cock which is tenting his tracksuit bottoms; so I am not alone!

Ted lined the cane up against Jones’s arse, and then as I had watched him do before with David, he raised it high, before lashing it down hard across the waiting buttocks. The swish, crack and cut is followed by a blood curdling scream from Jones’s throat. As Ted pulled the cane away and raised it ready for the second, the first stripe of fire swelled across the Rugger lads’ backside. Once again the cane lashed the seat, slightly lower than the first time. He now moved across, and measuring the distance sliced the first stroke across Harry Cattell’s backside. The lad jumped up completely surprised and let rip with a Fuckin’ hell. Ted ignored the remark before ordering the lad back down. He resumed his position and a second one landed quickly almost on top of the first. His reward is a lusty yell.

He now alternated between the two lads striking time and again leaving a pattern of red stripes across each backside. He struck the last two at an angle intersecting the first six causing the lads to howl loudly. Just after he cracked the last stripe across Cattell’s bottom he announced two penalty strokes for the swearing. These came very fast and zipped down with lightning speed across the lads arse. Cattell screamed out AHH, MY ARSE, before sobbing across the desk.

Right, get up and dressed, both of you. Punishment is completed. I hope you have learned your lesson?

The two young men slowly got up and painfully dressed, covering up their swollen striped buttocks. Each had tears rolling down their cheeks. When they were finally dressed they stood, hands gently massaging their stinging bottoms, unable to stop the tears from falling.

I hope that I have managed to get through to you lads. Remember, when you can sit down, why you have been punished. Now, if your performance and attitude fails to improve I shall be paying a visit to the club with my cane so I can thrash you in front of the rest of the team. I am also giving Mr Morgan here this old gymshoe so he can use it as he sees fit on you or any other member of the team who deserve it. Now you may go to your Match and best of luck for this afternoon.

Owen took the slipper with thanks, his large cock still quite swollen in his pants as he ushered the two distressed players out and down to his car, where no doubt they would have a very hard and bumpy ride down to the club.

Ted seemed to be really enjoying his new hobby and over the next few weeks, in addition to keeping David in line, he visited the club after training on Wednesday evenings. A new regime is now in force for the Rugger lads. Any bad behaviour is dealt with in the changing rooms by the application of the gymshoe and the cane.

Once more, Ted is more than happy he has been called in to help!

___________)

D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

(___________

Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

Calling In Some Help – Part 2 – David Needs A Reminder (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!

It had been almost two months since my son had received the hiding of his life. His former Headmaster administered a hard caning before I smacked his bare bottom almost blue. That had finally restrained his laddish behaviour. As a reminder, hanging up in his wardrobe, taunting him every time he opened the door, was the very same cane that had whipped his bottom. It was there as a warning that should his behaviour slip, he would find himself bending over for another hiding.

I saw Ted in the garden on a couple of occasions. He enquired how David’s behaviour had been since his punishment, and I was able to report had been very positive. He smiled at me with a knowing look.

But for how long Tom? David will need a reminder before long. You let me know if I can be of any more help. I shall be only too happy to cane him again.

I sensed Ted had enjoyed thrashing my son. It must have brought back memories of the many boys he had beaten over the years. This last time, there had been a distinct advantage. He had caned David on his bare bottom; something that would never have been allowed at school.

Ted proved to be right though. In spite of the threat of future punishment, David gradually began to slip slowly back into his old ways. Dirty socks and pants left in his bedroom for days on end was just the start. I opened his bedroom door one morning to find him masturbating furiously while watching porn on his computer. As soon as I entered he tried his best to hide his throbbing cock with one hand while attempting hopelessly to switch off his computer. His bedroom reeked of dirty socks and other unpleasant young male odours.

Dad! Get out! He hollered at me.

I stared at my son trying to hide his deep embarrassment at being caught wanking.

No David I will not get out. You seem to have forgotten the promise Mr Wilson and I made to you a few weeks back.

I walked to the wardrobe opened it and extracted the whippy rattan that Ted had given me.

I think you need another reminder son.

Dad no! I promise I will clean up my act. Please, that caning hurt like fuck. Mr Wilson could cane hard enough at school over trousers but on my bare arse it stung ten times worse. Please give me a break. My son’s eyes began to fill with tears as I held the cane in my hands.

One last chance David. Clean up this room, move your washing into the bin and if you need to masturbate do so when the house is empty or go to the bathroom. If your behaviour slips again we will be taking a trip round to Mr Wilson’s with this and he will cane your bottom harder than last time. Is that clear son?

David looked relieved at the reprieve and eagerly nodded his agreement. I knew of course that he was walking a tightrope. In spite of his assurances it was not long before David began to slip again. I received a phone call late one night, which proved to be the final straw. On the other end of the line David slurred out that he was at the police station. He had been arrested for peeing in a doorway as he walked home drunk. The police decided not to press charges but to let him off with a warning. When I arrived at the station to pick him up, the desk sergeant looked at me with pity.

It’s a shame he’s grown up sir. What that lad could do with is a bloody good hiding. Even lads his age could do with it every now and then. My lads are still teenagers and they know if they did anything like this I would leather their backsides so hard they wouldn’t sit down for a week.

The sergeant was obviously serious, so I said to him as I left, that tomorrow that is exactly what was planned for this big lad. He looked impressed.

I rose early and made my way round to Ted’s. The old man opened the door still in his dressing gown.

Tom you are early, what can I do for you?

Can I come in for a minute; I need to talk to you? It’s about David

Ted gave me a knowing look before bidding me enter. I was shown into the lounge and offered a cup of tea which I declined.

Does the young pup need another thrashing Tom?

Yes, he does. I went on to explain the events of the previous evening before going over his steady decline of the previous weeks. The old man sat shaking his head.

I think it is time the boy received a stern reminder Tom. Bring him round here in about an hour, and make sure he brings the cane with him. It’s time he had another bottom warming.

Dad please! I am sorry, it won’t happen again.

Sorry won’t do it this time son. Mr Wilson will shortly be giving you a caning and you will be getting some punishment from me as well.

David sat on his bed, tears rolling down his face as I told him to get dressed and prepare for his beating.

You know the choice son. Pack your bags and leave, or take your punishment. As long as you live under my roof you will do as I say.

Reluctantly David put on a pair of football shorts and a T shirt. He was still hungover though that was not going to spare him what was coming. Taking the cane out of the wardrobe I handed it to him.

This is for you; Mr Wilson will beat you with it.

David looked fearfully at the rod. My son was almost six feet tall with dark hair and hazel eyes. He has the build of a rugby player, chunky and meaty with a firm slender stomach and thick muscular thighs and buttocks. Yet his demeanour now was of a little boy fearful for his arse.

We made our way round to Ted’s; he opened the door as we walked up the path. David had slipped the cane under his arm trying his best to conceal the instrument in case anyone should see us. As I followed him up the path my eyes were glued to his shorts covered rear which would shortly be exposed to receive much needed punishment.

Hello David. I hear you have been misbehaving again young man. Come in.

David walked into the hall, Ted and I following. Ted walked past us and opened the door leading into his study.

David, wait here while your Father and I discuss your fate. Pass me the cane young man.

David handed the cane over and stood by the door, as had been the custom at school, his arms by his side awaiting the summons. I followed Ted into the study and closed the door.

Tom! He needs real big boy punishments this time. I want you to give him eight hard ones with this.

From a drawer in the desk Ted extracted a long strip of leather the last third of which was split into two strips. My eyes looked in wonder at this instrument.

It’s called a tawse Tom. I used to use it on occasion at school to warm the hands of smokers before giving them the cane. In Scotland this was used almost exclusively in schools, nearly always on the hands. I have often wondered what it would be like if used on a boy’s bottom. Now is the time to find out. Eight with the tawse, from you, then I will give him eight with the cane.

I thought it was a fairly hefty punishment but he did need to learn his lesson. Perhaps this would get through to David. I took the tawse from Ted who led me over to the sofa. He placed a couple of cushions together and told me to take a few practice swings to get the feel for it. While I was doing this he swished the cane a few times through the air limbering up ready for action. Once I had swung a few strokes I felt confident enough to give it a go, so with a nod to Ted, he opened the door and summoned David into the room.

Young man, stand by the desk hands at your sides. Your Father tells me you were arrested last night for urinating in a public place and being drunk and disorderly. You deserve a real thrashing for that. The fact you are twenty one and a grown man will not spare you; if anything the punishment needs to be particularly severe. I hope you are suitably ashamed? Have you any idea how your behaviour reflects on your parents? And then we must come to your laddish behaviour again. Your Father has told me he caught you literally in the act of masturbating while watching a pornographic video on your computer. Socks and underwear are once again being left strewn across your bedroom floor. And you are leaving plates and cups unwashed in the sink.

To sum up, you are a bone idle, layabout, who in spite of your age, still needs to have his trousers taken down to be given a good tanning. Stand in front of the desk. When David had done so, Ted went on, Let down your shorts then bend over. Your Father will be giving you the belt. Then I shall cane you.

David glanced in horror at me as he heard the sentence, seeming to notice the strap for the first time. My lad hitched his thumbs into the waist band of his shorts and slipped them down where they gathered around his ankles. He bent over the desk mooning both of us.

Was there a little provocation in the way he did that?

I placed the leather across the centre of the pale white buttocks, which were totally unmarked. David flinched as the cold leather gently caressed his cheeks. Raising my arm high I took aim and lashed the belt down. It landed with a loud splatt, dead centre. David gasped as the tongs of fire kissed his bottom. As I raised the belt for the second stroke I noticed two very distinct marks left from the first. The second landed a little lower and my son kicked his leg back and groaned.

He became more and more vocal through the remaining lashes as the leather tawse left a spectacular pattern across his buttocks turning them to a deep red colour. By the time I lashed the eighth he was crying out in agony.

Ted stood by watching, clearly impressed at the marks the tawse had left. As I stood aside he swished the cane and swapped places with me.

Now David that was a reminder of what to expect when you treat your parent’s home like a hotel. I will now give you the cane for urinating in public, being drunk, and causing your father to come to the police station to collect you. Eight strokes is very lenient. By rights I should give you a dozen, so think yourself lucky.

The cane swished through the air before Ted lined it up against David’s bottom. He took aim, then slashed the cane hard across the boys red striped buttocks. The crack of the cane rang round the study before David yelled lustily as the first stroke bit deeply into his already tenderised cheeks. Ted paid no attention to his yelp and lined up another. My lad’s buttocks quivered as the rod sliced a second time into his bottom. He screamed a pitying yell as the cane began to really get through to him.

Ted zipped the cane hard across his buttocks again and again, taking no notice of the crying and pleading. By the time the last stroke bit, David was howling. His backside was a mass of welts and stripes, he was crying real tears as the pain and humiliation of his punishment finally got through to him.

You can get up now David, Ted said gently.

My son slowly stood, his hands immediately went to rub and massage his stinging bottom. He stood in front of us, his face red and tear streaked. His large thick cock was at half-mast flopping around before us, while his hands were heavily engaged trying to ease the fire blazing across his behind.

Go and stand facing the wall, hands on your head and think about why you have been punished. Let me give you a word of warning. If your Father tells me you have been in trouble with the police again, your backside will be so sore you won’t be able to sit for a week

Ted nodded at me as David limped across the room. Like a little boy he obeyed without question, standing with his nose to the wall, his red sore bottom still bare, facing us.

Ted went out to make us a cup of tea leaving me alone with my son, who was still quietly sobbing in the corner.

David. I hope you have finally learned your lesson. Mr Wilson has suggested that maybe we ought to conduct maintenance spankings to keep you in order. Basically that means you will be punished every week regardless of whether you have done anything wrong or not. However I feel that may be a little harsh. I promise you this though, from now on, any breaking of the rules, however minor, will go into a tally book. Then on Saturday mornings we will be paying a visit here to Mr Wilson and your backside will pay the price. Is that clear?

David quietly whispered his understanding before Ted returned with our tea. After a full ten minutes of corner time David was allowed to dress. I was shocked that he actually apologised to both of us before asking if he could go home. I thought it was wise to return with him so I thanked Ted and we left together.

David went straight to his room, taking his cane with him. I thought it best to leave him for a while. After all it had been a long day and night. Hopefully he will now start to act more responsibly.

But if not well I can always call in some help!

To be continued…

___________)

D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

(___________

Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

Click to see comments

Calling In Some Help – Part 1 (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!

 

I was reaching the end of my tether. My son had been thrown out of university a few months before after he had been caught with drugs. Since then his behaviour has spiralled out of control.

David will be twenty one in a few weeks’ time. Since being kicked out of University he has done nothing. He gets up at midday, makes himself something to eat and leaves his plates and cups in a stack in the living room. His bedroom is a no go area. Pants and socks strewn on the floor along with porn DVDs, even dirty glasses and plates that he has taken to his room and not bothered to return to the kitchen.

He leaves towels on the bathroom floor. I even found the toilet in a mess after he had been in there. Overall he has turned into a slob with no respect for either us or our home. He often walks around the house topless, only wearing a pair of football shorts. When he can be bothered to go out he often returns in the early hours, banging doors and falling up the stairs in a drunken stupor.

My wife’s nerves have become frayed and she came close to a breakdown with the strain. I have tried talking to him but he simply does not listen. Even threats to throw him out have failed. He simply laughed at me.

It was after one of these heated arguments that I went into the garden to cool down. My neighbour Ted Wilson was out tending to his roses.

“Hello Tom, what’s wrong mate, you look a little stressed?”

“Yes, sorry Ted. It’s David! He is out of control. I don’t know which way to turn.”

Ted listened as I poured out my heart to him. Eventually, having got it off my chest, he leaned on his fork and gave me a long hard look.

“You need to take control back Tom. What that boy needs is a long hard thrashing. Even grown up boys need to be brought up sharp now and again.”

I stared at him, unsure how to answer. Ted is a retired Headmaster. For many years he had been in charge of the local Grammar school. David was a former student and had told me that Mr Wilson was not a man to cross. Ted himself admitted he had been a firm believer in corporal punishment and even sixth formers had not been immune from his cane. David had once found this out to his dismay and horror.

“I am serious Tom. That boy needs to know who is in charge. He needs to realise that actions have consequences and his behaviour is not acceptable. Your house, your rules! If he is not happy, then show him the door.”

I knew deep down that Ted was right. David was now a grown man and no longer a boy. Sensing my mood my neighbour suddenly came up with a solution.

“Look Tom, if you think that lad of yours is out of control, and from what you have told me, it sounds as if he is. Would you like me to deal with him?”

“Ted are you saying….”

“Yes I am. I have had plenty of experience handling young men, including your own son. Do not forget at my school I retained the use of the cane right up until I retired. That buffoon who took over from me abolished it straight away and now the school is in a downward spiral. I have a couple of canes here. They are still in perfect working order, so if you want me to punish David, I will gladly do it for you.”

I realised my neighbour was serious. Also, deep down, I knew I did not have the courage to take my son in hand; but knew that Ted would have no such problem. But would David accept a caning from him? I somehow doubted it. Though something had to be done, or Jean would become really ill.

“This needs to be sorted for your own wellbeing. Take Jean to her Sister’s for the evening and I will come around about seven if that’s ok?”

I agreed. After all, I was at my wits end. I had not punished David since he turned thirteen. Ted had caned him a few times during his school years, the last time when he was a sixth former, aged seventeen. That was almost four years ago now. How would Ted get him to agree to this?

He was right though. I really would have to stand up to him and if he refused to take his medicine, then for my wife’s sake, I would have no option other than to throw him out.

Ted arrived bang on seven o clock, carrying a package wrapped in paper. I showed him into the front room, a place we only used on Sundays or special days and we sat down to discuss what was going to happen.

“Tom. Leave the talking to me. I know how to deal with recalcitrant youths. All I ask you to do is stand firm. If he says he will pack his bags and leave then let him. In fact, offer to help. He won’t find anyone willing to put up with him for long, so if he goes, you must warn him he will only be allowed back after he has taken his medicine.”

I nodded my agreement.

“Call him down Tom.”

I did, so a few minutes later the door opened and David arrived in a pair of football shorts and a t shirt. His arrogant sway changed immediately on seeing Ted.

“Hello David. I hear you had some trouble at University?”

David blushed bright red, lowered his head immediately as he was in awe of his former headmaster, and looked ashamed.

“I also hear you have been disrespecting your parents, coming home late, drunk, going around like a slob, as I can see for myself. In general, you have become a liability. Are you aware how much your laddish behaviour is affecting your Mother?”

“Sorry sir, but I am not one of your students any more.”

“No you are not; if you were you would have felt my cane long before this. In fact I think that is just what you need young man.”

Ted then unwrapped the parcel, the cane emerging from its wrapping.

“What the fuck! No way Mr Wilson. I am not letting you cane me.”

Ted got up from his chair, and stood looking steadily at my son, who instantly seemed to regret his outburst.

“Young man, your Father has asked me here this evening because he is at his wits end. Your behaviour needs to be addressed. You will be punished, by a thrashing, or you must pack your belongings and find somewhere else to live.”

I thought for a minute David was going to leave the room. He looked from Ted to me and his eyes pleaded with me. Ted nodded at me and for the first time. I spoke.

“Sorry David, Mr Wilson is right. I can no longer control you. Your behaviour is way out of order and your Mother is worrying herself to death. Tonight you will be punished by Mr Wilson; or we can go and pack now, if you prefer.”

“But I have nowhere to go. You surely don’t expect me, a grown man, to take a schoolboy caning do you?”

“If you had behaved like a grown man, I wouldn’t have had to call on Mr Wilson.”

“But I am nearly twenty one Dad, not a kid any more.”

“Then behave like a man! Your attitude has been appalling. Mr Wilson has offered to give you a punishment which is long overdue. Even young adult men need to be punished sometimes. It is up to you. Take a beating, or go.”

Close to tears his shoulders slumped. He turned to face Ted.

“Alright Mr Wilson. I will accept a caning. How many sir?”

Ted considered before answering.

“Young man your behaviour recently, and this evening has been despicable. You have acted like a child half your age. It is my intention to make this memorable. To begin with you will receive eight strokes of the cane. Once I am done you are going across your Father’s knee for a good old fashioned smacked bottom worthy of a ten year old. Now like we used to do at school you will go to the chair and prepare to be punished.”

David gulped and very slowly walked up to the back of the chair and went to bend over.

“Shorts down boy and underwear!”

“But sir! That’s not how you did it at school.”

“You are no longer a schoolboy; but you are a spoilt brat that I intend to teach a lesson you will not forget for some time.”

David stood for a moment, his hands holding onto the side of his shorts, contemplating what was going to happen. He came to a decision and slowly pulled his shorts down. He was not wearing underpants. He bent over the back of the chair mooning Ted and me. Ted picked up the cane and swished it through the air before bringing it to rest across the middle of my son’s backside.

“Move and I will add penalty strokes.”

He raised the cane, then brought it smartly down landing with a crack across the chubby backside. David winced and his buttocks shook as he absorbed the first stinging cut. Ted raised the cane and cracked it down a second time just below the first stripe. This time David moaned and wriggled a little more. Ted got into his stride, striking each blow one below the other in a tight band no more an inch wide.

David became more and more vocal as the caning continued. His buttocks were red and striped. After number six had been cracked across and into the boys under bottom, Ted changed stance and cracked the next stroke at an angle intersecting each of the previous six strokes. David could no longer hold back and roared in agony. Before he had a chance to recover, the eighth landed, again at an angle, and he began to sob across the back of the chair.

Ted stood back and put the cane down. He admired his handiwork for a moment, watching the red stripes form across his former pupils buttocks.

“Stand up David. Go and stand in the corner for a few minutes. Leave your shorts off. While you are there, think about your behaviour and why this has been necessary.”

David stood up and gave his bottom a quick rub before kicking away his footy shorts and walking across to the corner. His eyes were wet with tears. I noticed his cock was semi erect. Had my son enjoyed his thrashing? Ted and I left the room for a few minutes, giving him a chance to think about his behaviour.

In the back room Ted said, “Right Tom, when we go back in there your son is going over your knee. He may be a grown man but he is not too old for a good old fashioned spanking. After the caning a smacked botty will do no significant damage, but will reinforce the punishment. It will also be very humbling for him to go across your knee. And Tom, make sure you lay it on hard.”

Moments later, we returned to the front room. David was still standing in the corner, naked from the waist down, hands behind his head. His backside had six clear horizontal welts with two further ones crossing them which looked raw and livid. I sat on the chair and at Ted’s nod I called my son to come over.

As he walked over I could not help but notice the raging erection he was now sporting. I patted my knee and without question David lowered himself over placing his hands flat on the floor. I could feel his cock pressing hard against my thigh.

“David, your Father will now give you a much overdue spanking. Learn from this and change your ways. If your Father tells me you have been behaving badly again, I will return with the cane, only next time you will receive twelve strokes with a long spanking to follow.”

I raised my hand high and for the first time in years struck hard across the red striped buttocks presented to me. My son immediately groaned as the fire returned. Time and again I struck his backside, left cheek, right cheek back and forth. As I continued to smack him my anger at his behaviour emerged.

“This is what you have needed for some time. That’s one for the dirty magazines, that’s one for swearing at your mother, that’s another for leaving your smelly socks on the bathroom floor, and that”, I slammed my palm down relentlessly across the exposed buttocks, “is for coming home drunk!”

David cried and yelled like a five year old, as I turned his bottom almost purple. At last my anger abated and my son lay prostrate over my knee sobbing gently. I allowed him to get up and he stood immediately placing his hands on his scarlet buttocks.

I was pleased to note his erection had gone.

“Get your shorts and go to your room young man. Think about your behaviour and learn from this. We will talk later.”

My Son bent down to retrieve his clothes and limped from the room one hand holding his clothes while the other was trying to soothe his burning cheeks.

I stood up, feeling a lot better, and poured two large brandies from the decanter.

“I think you got the message across Tom. His backside was blazing.”

I sat back and sipped at my brandy feeling pleased with myself. I had just taken all my built up frustration and anger out on David’s backside. Ted also seemed satisfied. He had been retired just over three years and I think he had missed wielding the big stick.

“Tom, I will leave this cane here with you. Hang it up in David’s wardrobe as a reminder that should he return to his old ways, the stick will be used again to correct his behaviour.”

I thanked Ted for what he had done and promised to keep in touch. After Ted left I went upstairs, the cane in my hands. David’s door was ajar. I looked at him lying face down on the bed. Still naked from the waist down, his backside was very red and the welts clearly now raised across his cheeks. His hands were resting gently on the scorched flesh. He had fallen asleep, no doubt worn out after what had happened. Quietly, I went in and hung the cane on the rail in his wardrobe, where he would certainly see it.

It seemed to work. David’s behaviour improved dramatically over the coming weeks. Whenever he went to extract a shirt or a pair of jeans, the cane was there to remind him. I cannot help but think though, that at some stage his behaviour will slip and once again I will call in Ted to assist me in bringing him into line. Something I feel sure, he would thoroughly enjoy.

 

To be continued…

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D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

Comments are here

Painting An Even Hue (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by special guest author Sukemnsee – strictly over 18s only!

 This can be read as a follow-up to “Great Uncle Rudolph” – or it works just as well as a standalone story…

 

A lovely sight is in front of me. A fit well-proportioned male of about 30 years is spread eagle over a small Pembroke table, naked, waiting for attention, unsure how much he really wants it.

Barry is no stranger to being naked but he is still quite a novice to being caned. He has come back willingly to me though after a recent first session,  which happened as a consequence of his actions that day.

I had mentioned to one of my good friends, Eric, that I needed a few odd jobs doing and he said he would send a lad right up my street to fit the bill and that is how Barry came to my home. When he arrived I told him I wanted the ceiling of my bedroom painted. It needed refreshing but working above my head was not something I wanted to do. He certainly was a hunk and I suppose Eric reckoned I would like the eye candy. He quoted 50 to do the work which I was happy with and I went off to bring up the paintbrushes etc. for him, the stepladder already being in the room.

When I came back upstairs I was initially shocked to find him stood naked waiting, trying not to show how much my eyes were feasting on a fine body, muscled, lightly haired and nicely endowed. I picked up a disposable jump suit for him to wear but he turned it down. Eric had neglected to tell me Barry’s unique selling point was as a naked handyman. The only assistance he might require as he was working with paint could be an assisted shower on completion of his task!

Obviously I had to make several visits to the bedroom during the task to see if he needed refreshment, or was it really just to ogle him working away above me on a ladder? If he only knew, or maybe he did, the thoughts coursing through my mind at those times.

I did have to run an errand so at one point I had left him some considerable time alone. On return I revisited the bedroom to see the ladder empty and he was lying down on the floor. Not injured as my first fear was but the cheeky blighter had mooched in drawers and found my bedroom stash of porn and when I arrived he was looking at one or two magazines that reflected my spanking and light BDSM interests. He did not seem fazed at all about being caught.

I thought it was a gross impertinence and told him so, my age difference meant I was adopting a paternal mode. He was ebullient and asked if he had to go over my knee for a spanking. Tempting as that was, I had already decided this warranted a caning and reaching further into the open drawer extracted a trusty cane that I had taken to using recently on a distant cousin. That changed his demeanour but to his credit, he did comply with my instructions and I gave him a taste of six of the best. I was not at my most severe but I did enough to leave him some beautiful red lines and I had seen him wincing as the cane was applied. I was a little more tender with him during his shower time and as he hoped he did get a bonus from me because of this extra attention.

Perhaps I should explain my renewed interest in caning. I had a relative that we called Great Uncle who died recently. Over the years he had hosted various gatherings of young men and although most sexual activity was just between us young men, he did allow his partner to slipper me after tennis matches which I invariably lost. Later, after the untimely death of handsome Gianni, he taught me how to cane some of his younger men. In recent weeks after sorting out the effects and the estate, I had taken to caning my distant cousin who in turn was allowed to slipper or strap me but I did not care for the sharp sting of the cane on my own flesh.

I had Barry here again now and was just gently tapping the cane as if to measure my strike. I paused and made him spread his legs wider, delighting in the greater visibility of his pendulous testicles. Now I was ready and gave him the first stroke. There was a cracking retort, the stroke was well placed with a sharp flick of the wrist. I drew the cane away. I elicited more of a gasp than any of the strokes from our first session. I was going to enjoy this new session as something in me liked the idea of dealing with such a fit, young and sexy man.

By now as the second and third strokes landed with great efficiency, Barry might have wondered why he chose to request this new punishment session. It was not as if he was used to being chastised and after the bravado of that first day, it could have been the end of the episode. Barry was however quite mercenary. He had felt that I was quite generous and a good prospect for securing regular commissions and possibly referrals too. In the two weeks since his last visit, he had found his marks while they lasted seemed to generate more in bonuses from his other client calls. Many of his men obviously had a deep seated interest or at least a curiosity and although he only paraded his wares for one or two female clients, even then one certainly seemed to have the potential to be a dominant female.  He wasn’t sure that he  could pursue that option.

The seventh stroke came down and reignited a lot of the earlier strokes as I got the flick of my wrist exactly right and he stood up briefly with a passionate yelp. I ordered him down again, warning him of the severe consequences of disobedience. He complied, probably only then realising that I was going way beyond six strokes this time.

I brought the strokes up to ten quite rapidly. The increased pace confused him. I was drinking in the sight of this shapely well-muscled posterior changing hue, there was now a lot of redness and some ridging  where the cane had found more tender flesh. He stayed in position willing himself to keep control and not yell out.

The next three strokes were distantly spaced. In the silence between the swish and the impact you could hear a clock ticking away seconds, a dog barking in the distance and especially the now more laboured breathing of Barry. As he was a keen exerciser at the gym who often strutted around the gym changing room without his towel, he knew how to use his breathing at times of exertion. I wondered when I had finished if he would parade these new marks there or for once be more discreet and use a towel for cover.

As I prepared for some final strokes, I saw a delicious quiver starting in his upper thigh.  He could no longer control his body’s reflexes in anticipation of fresh new pain. I laid the last two strokes deeply and angled so that earlier tenderness was reawakened. He was now struggling not to cry out and his face was red. He did really well though. I left quite a pause before I told him he could stand and that it was over, as he never quite knew if more strokes were coming. We had not discussed how many strokes would be sufficient this time but I decided to err leniently as I was now hoping he would be back for this more times in future weeks.

 

As he stood, the change in posture made him a little more uncomfortable and he gingerly reached back with his hands to soothe and feel his chastened rear. I told him to lie flat down on the bed and I would apply some soothing lotion. That was very successful and he was soon excited and I got greedy and was soon sated.

After he had carefully dressed himself and shared a pot of tea with me, he left. I think he was pleased overall and I was in no doubt that in time he would visit again.  Otherwise I would commission some new tasks! I did tell him that next time there would be some spanking as well as caning so that he would leave with a totally even hue and he just smiled sweetly and left. I so want him to come again soon.

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D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

(___________

Story © MMXV by Sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

See comments link at top of post