♥ Site recommended story ♥
Author’s note: this was my first attempt at writing a spanking story. It was first published via a Yahoo! Group way back in 2006, in happier times. I have tidied it a little. I’d like to think there is still some pleasure to be gained from reading it.
A Day In The Woods by Rod Cayenne
The summer sunshine was warm and cheering. Johnny Jenkins, 45, was taking the family dog for a walk in the local woods on a Saturday afternoon.
The woods were beautiful. They were privately owned but open to the public. Johnny and the dog loved the place. There had been a noticeable rise in vandalism lately, and youths had been digging up the paths to make bumps, ramps and jumps for their mountain bikes.
Just then another dog came rushing towards Johnny, and then the two dogs ran off for a romp. They ran around and around and then Johnny was almost knocked over by the other dog! Catching his breath, he noticed the dog’s owner approaching.
I’m sorry! said the dog’s owner, a tall distinguished chap in his fifties. Johnny couldn’t help admiring the man. He had a grey leather jacket on and a rather attractive silver beard. Johnny was attracted to men with beards and he always had been.
It’s OK, said Johnny.
That is a gorgeous dog you have.
Johnny was regaining his composure. He leant against the side of the wooden bridge which crossed the brook in the woods. The other side of the bridge had been broken, and tossed into the brook. Johnny shook his head.
Just look what those kids have done to this bridge!
It’s appalling! the bearded man replied.
Those kids could use a good caning, Johnny blurted out,
Just like I got when I was at school.
Yes, indeed, said the bearded guy.
I was a teacher myself. I wouldn’t have hesitated to give those vandals a sound thrashing with my canes. Although I probably shouldn’t say that these days! he laughed and, if Johnny was not mistaken, winked.
Sensing things taking an interesting turn, Johnny said,
Mind you, I was a bit of a vandal in my late teens, and was never caught. I’ve felt guilty ever since. I don’t suppose you still have a cane?
As a matter of fact, I do, the retired teacher said.
If you want to feel it again, we can go back to my house now. The dogs can play in the garden. My wife will be at home but she is used to me dealing with naughty boys. She won’t mind at all.
The house was actually a detached bungalow, with twin bay windows. Dingy-looking net curtains hung at the windows and the whole of the front looked a bit run down. Inside was brighter, but still there was something a little dated about the place.
The teacher shouted to his wife,
I’m home darling! I’ve found another naughty boy to deal with. Please leave us in peace. It sounded as if this was a regular occurrence! Johnny wondered how the teacher found all these naughty boys. It must be his authoritarian air, Johnny rationalised.
I don’t have a study here, the teacher said.
The bedroom will have to do. This is my cane cupboard! he announced with pride, and flung the door open.
Johnny stared into the cupboard. Yes, there was no mistaking it was a cane cupboard alright! There must have been at least twenty canes hanging there. There were various colours, pale bamboo colours to rich, deep browns. Some with a traditional crook handle and some straight ones hanging from thin leather loops. There were at least two riding crops and also what appeared to be a red, synthetic cane. Clearly, this was a teacher who meant business!
Johnny had masturbated to caning fantasies for many years, but now here he was about to experience something he hadn’t felt for, say, 25 years…
May I keep my pants on, Sir? Johnny requested. This was a clever trick he’d picked up from spanking stories on the net. The question led the teacher on, and assured Johnny that he would at least have his trousers down for the thrashing to come.
Yes, you may for the first six strokes, boy, the teacher said,
But the second six will have to be bare, I’m afraid. Vandalism is something I cannot tolerate and deserves severe punishment.
So it was to be twelve strokes, Johnny thought to himself. Rather a lot, and twice as many as he’d ever had at school.
The teacher rummaged in his cane cupboard. He took a while and was clearly enjoying his task. He chose a pale and thin looking cane with a crook handle. He swished it through the air. The sound was terrifying. Johnny felt an erection coming on.
Over the chair, boy! the teacher instructed,
Don’t touch your trousers, boy. I will take those down!
And he did! He unbuckled the belt and the trousers fell to the floor. The teacher casually felt the buttocks and then the erection in Johnny’s underpants.
The old perv! Johnny thought to himself, but didn’t dare share his thoughts with the teacher.
Let’s get this over with, boy! the teacher said with an air of distaste. Johnny suspected he was relishing the moment despite this.
Yes, Sir! Johnny said quietly.
Ow! The first cane stroke reminded Johnny what he’d been missing all these years. The pain wasn’t too bad, but then the second stroke came rapidly. It hurt a lot more and Johnny’s eyes grew moist.
CRACK! CRACK! More strokes landed and Johnny was regretting revealing his teenage vandalism. Soon the six strokes on the pants were over.
Right boy, I am going to pull your pants down now and I don’t want to see an erection! Is that clear?
Yes, Sir! Johnny cried. The erection was long gone. The teacher pulled the pants down roughly. Six beautiful cane marks decorated Johnny’s boyish bottom.
The seventh stroke landed and it was agony!
Please Sir, I’ve had enough! Johnny cried.
Don’t complain! the teacher ordered,
This is long overdue, you vandal! Tell me what you vandalised boy!
Well, there was a bus shelter, Sir.
A bus shelter! The teacher was suddenly incandescent with rage.
A bus shelter used by less fortunate members of society? Pensioners, disabled, young mothers? the teacher asked.
Yes Sir, sorry Sir Johnny cried.
You will be lad, you will be!
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK !
Soon the twelve strokes were completed. Those last strokes from that whippy cane really stung like mad.
I am so annoyed with you boy, the teacher added.
Stay down for another six strokes. Bus shelter indeed! This time you will count the strokes and thank me for each one!
Ouch! One, Sir! Thank you Sir!
Soon, eighteen stinging cane strokes had been delivered. Johnny was distraught. He hadn’t expected so many strokes, so much pain and so much cruelty. But somehow it felt so right.
The teacher was looking happier. He was the one with an erection now.
One of my favourite canes, this one, he sighed,
I particularly like the crook handle on it. The shape is close to perfection and the sting has some real bite. He was certainly right about the latter! He took the cane back to the cupboard. The love for that cane and for all his canes was a joy to behold.
Meet me in the woods tomorrow at one o’clock, he snapped.
Yes, Sir. Thank you Sir! a very humbled Johnny replied.
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 © MMVI by Rod Cayenne
All rights reserved
♥ Site recommended story ♥
All three parts of this hot F/M story by Rod Cayenne presented together for the first time. Over 18s only!
The two nineteen-year-olds were sat on the bed listening to records. They were chatting noisily as the stylus hit the run-out groove.
“I reckon your Aunt Belle is really hot, Tim,” volunteered Simon.
“Yeah, she is, if you like mutton dressed as leopard!” his friend replied. The pair of them burst out laughing. “How about some Dylan next?”
Unfortunately, at that moment, Belle had been passing the open bedroom door and had heard the insult. She was mortified, especially as she had her favourite leopard print top on. She headed off to the kitchen, by which time the cruel words had really hit home. Tears formed in her eyes, and she sat and slumped at the table, head in hands.
An hour or so later, Tim let his friend out of the front door and they wished each other goodbye. Tim went to look for his aunt, and found her still at the table, looking worse for wear, and tearful.
“Hello Auntie, what’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? What’s the matter? I heard what you called me! Mutton dressed as leopard, indeed! You certainly know how to hurt someone.”
“Oh, sorry, Auntie. It was just a joke!”
“A hurtful joke at my expense! Really, you can be a real beast at times, Timothy.”
If there’s one thing in the world Tim hated, then it was being called Timothy. Of course, his aunt knew that and this was just the first assault of what was to be a prolonged attack.
“You are rude and disrespectful. I really regret letting you stay here while your parents are in Australia. I’d throw you out if you had somewhere to go. Bettina said I was mad having you here, and she was right! Disrespectful and thoroughly disobedient. If you were one of my pupils, I’d have sent you to the headmaster for the cane!”
“Oh auntie! I’m sorry. Really I am. What can I do to make things right?”
Unfortunately for Tim, the tears started flowing again. He felt terrible. He fetched a box of tissues from the sideboard.
“I’ll tell you what. You can cane me if you like! Anything to wipe the slate clean!”
“Pah! If only! If only! Anyway, I don’t have a cane here.”
“I suppose you could get one from the school though, couldn’t you?”
“Don’t be silly. Have you ever had the cane, Timothy?”
“No, no. I was always too good.”
“Now that I find hard to believe!”
“No, honestly. I was so scared of the cane that I always behaved myself at school.”
“I see. It seems to me, Timothy, that if you had been caned then perhaps your general attitude and behaviour would be more adult and respectful.”
“Maybe you’re right, Auntie. I feel so awful. Really. It sounds crazy, but maybe I’m overdue for a caning.”
“You certainly are. But I couldn’t possibly cane you. Or maybe I could! Are you willing to take a caning, if I can get my hands on a cane?”
“Yes, I suppose so, I just want to make things right.”
She got up and walked to the phone in the hall.
“It’ll hurt, you know! I’m going to ring the caretaker, to see if he has a key to the head’s study.”
But she drew a blank. Mr Martin was not answering. Maybe he had the TV on too loud, for he was as deaf as a post. She decided to cut out the middleman and ring the head.
“Ah, Mr Rodbourne! Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday evening. I’m ringing to ask a favour. I’m having trouble with my nephew. Yes, yes. Exactly! You’re right. Bettina did warn me he’d be trouble. Yes, I’d like to borrow a cane from the school if possible, please. You have a couple at home? Ideal! No, no. I want to cane him myself, but thank you for offering. I know! He’ll be sorry, alright! Can we come over now? Mrs Rodbourne won’t mind? We’ll set off soon. Thank you so much.”
Less than half an hour later Belle and Tim pulled up at the head’s house. They got out of the Rover.
“Tim, you go ahead and ring the bell, and ask Mr Rodbourne for the cane.”
The ambiguous nature of her request was not lost on Tim. She was tidying the boot of the old car, when Tim returned.
“He wouldn’t give me it. He wants us both to come in for a cup of tea,” said a rather red-faced Tim.
“Oh right, that’s very nice of him. He’s quite a sweet man.”
That’s not what Tim had heard. Mr Rodbourne’s reputation as a strict disciplinarian had spread way beyond the grammar school. Soon Belle and Tim were sat in the spacious lounge listening to Mr Rodbourne pontificating about rudeness and the virtues of the school cane. Tim was really embarrassed; even more so when Mrs Rodbourne joined them. What was worse was that she was wearing a leopard print scarf! Tim could only hope that Belle didn’t tell all.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to cane him now? You and Doris could watch. It would be better entertainment than The Generation Game!” he laughed.
“No, really. That’s very thoughtful of you to offer, but it’s a matter between him and me,” Aunt Belle sighed.
“Righty-oh then! I’ll go and get the sticks now.”
Soon Mr Rodbourne returned with two crook-handled canes.
“Take them both. One is thinner and will sting more, the other will bruise more. I would use both, if I were you. Use them on the bottom, not the hands. Bare bottom, if you can stand the sight. No hurry to return them. We won’t be needing them this weekend will we, Doris? And I have a new delivery due from the school suppliers. In fact, why not keep them? You might need to use them more than once,” he smiled.
“Why, thank you! You’re so kind. They’re just what’s needed, aren’t they Timothy?”
Tim blushed. Soon he was in the Rover again, heading back with Aunt Belle. He was shifting uncomfortably on the seat, dreading what was in store.
Back at Belle’s she made him go up to her bedroom. She stayed in the living room, swishing the canes, whacking cushions and testing her technique. She had used the cane before, but that was a long time ago. Ten minutes or so later, she climbed the stairs quietly. Tim was sat on the bed, looking worried.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be doing this tonight, I must say,” she laughed at him. “Mr Rodbourne recommended a bare bottom, didn’t he?”
Tim’s face reddened yet again. “Yes he did, Auntie. But that’s up to you. I’ll do whatever you decide.”
“Trousers and pants down then, Timothy.” His luck had run out. His boyish bottom and mannish penis were soon displayed to her.
“How many, Auntie?”
“A lot, I think! The traditional six won’t be enough. That’s for kids. You’re a man. You can take a lot more.”
Tim wasn’t so sure. He was alarmed by his aunt’s enthusiasm for dishing out a generous beating. He couldn’t understand how she, and earlier Mr Rodbourne, treated the matter so light-heartedly.
Swish-Crack! The whippy cane made first contact with the nineteen year-old’s bottom. It stung but it wasn’t too bad.
Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack!
Tim was gasping and squirming now as Aunt Belle laid into him some more. The cane hurt alright and gradually he began to yelp and cry as she beat him. He was feeling sorry for himself as the wicked cane whipped down again and again.
“That will do for now. I’ll give you some more in the morning, I think. With the thicker cane!”
“Yes, Auntie. Thank you. I’m sorry. I deserved that.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Now off to bed with you!”
“But Auntie, it’s only half-past eight!”
“Just do as you’re told, unless you want some more caning now?”
Tim apologised and went off to his room. Belle put the cane down. She had enjoyed beating him. She felt a little guilty about that. But only a little. She was deciding what to wear tomorrow. Perhaps that newish leopard print trouser suit? Yes! that would be wonderfully appropriate. She would give him the thrashing of his life while wearing it! She felt moist and strangely turned on. She would have to masturbate.
In his room, Tim felt his sore bottom. The individual cane strokes had not been too bad, but the cumulative effect had been close to overwhelming. He was pleased that he hadn’t broken down. He had taken his punishment like a man. He felt strangely turned on, and of course, he had to masturbate.
Simon Freshbrook knocked at the door.
Tim’s Aunt Belle answered, dressed only in a slinky black satin bathrobe.
“Oh hello Belle, I didn’t think you would be here. I was looking for Tim!”
“Yes, of course. But Timothy isn’t here. He’s gone to London for the day. It was my idea. I couldn’t stand having him around! He’s not in my good books.”
“Yes, I heard!” said Simon knowingly.
“Oh you heard did you, Simon? I wonder just how much you’ve heard? What a pity Timothy can’t be a good boy like you. Why don’t you come in for a minute?”
He wasn’t sure he should. After all, this was the fearsome leopard woman who had caned his friend! However, curiosity got the better of him, so he followed her inside. They sat down in the living room. Belle had some coffee percolating, so she offered him a mug. Despite the coffee, the room smelt of incense and patchouli.
Soon the conversation worked around to the mutton comment.
“I thought you’d be mad at me for laughing at his joke.”
“Well, I was for a few minutes. But then I remembered you had described me as hot. So I was quite flattered, really. Especially when I thought about it in bed.”
He blushed with embarrassment, “Oh yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”
“There’s no need to blush, Simon. You really are a sweet, sweet man.”
Simon was still rather embarrassed, especially as Belle patted his knee affectionately. He decided to change the subject, but there was only one on his mind. The cane!
“Err, I heard about the canings…”
“Yes, I thought Timothy might tell you about them. What did he say exactly?”
“Well, he said you borrowed a couple of canes from old Mr Rodbourne. He said that the evening caning wasn’t too bad. In fact, he said it turned him on a bit. But the morning one with the thicker cane was absolute hell.”
“I see! Turned on? Well, we can’t have that, can we? Anyway, I did get carried away the second time. I beat him like crazy.”
“Yes, but you were probably right to. Tim’s awfully immature. I sometimes wonder why I hang around with him. He is just like a naughty schoolboy, so a caning is just what he needed.”
“What a sensible man you are, Simon!” She stroked his knee this time. It wasn’t long before Belle and Simon were kissing passionately.
She led him upstairs to her bedroom. The very bedroom where his friend had received two canings, only a matter of hours apart. They spent the whole morning together. The sex was fantastic.
“I really should be moving on, Belle,” Simon said as he glanced at the bedside clock, “if only because Tim might come back early.”
“Screw him!” laughed Belle, as she lit a Gitanes cigarette. She didn’t believe her nephew would dare come back so soon.
“No, stick to screwing me!” laughed Simon. They cuddled.
“Belle, I wonder if I may see the canes, please? You do still have them, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mr Rodbourne said that I could keep them. He’s so kind and thoughtful. As is his wife. The canes are hanging on the rail in that wardrobe over there. You can have a look if you really want to, but I can’t see the fascination.”
Belle was one of those people who didn’t understand how the British male’s psyche is forever scarred by the shadow of the cane.
Simon made his way over to the wardrobe. He was still naked, and Belle couldn’t help thinking about how it would be fun to cane him, too. He returned to the bed, holding the two canes.
“Gosh! I’ve never had the cane. I bet it hurts. Shouldn’t I receive some punishment for laughing at Tim’s joke?”
“Yes, indeed you should Simon! Six hard strokes on your naked bottom with the thinner cane, for starters, I should think!”
“Yes please, Belle. Shall I touch my toes?”
“No, I don’t hold with that nonsense. Get on all fours on the bed, and I’ll thrash you like that.”
And she did!
He had taken the strokes comparatively well, and he had become aroused again. Inevitably, he entered her again, and she clasped on to his ridged arse, as it bobbed up and down as he thrust into her. It felt great.
“We should make this a regular thing once Tim has gone back to his parents. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.
“Of course! Thank you, Belle. I’ll need the cane as well though, please.”
“Yes really, Belle. I’m a very naughty boy!”
“You certainly are, you certainly are.”
Tim’s Aunt Belle was sorting out his washing. She was still very annoyed with him for his hurtful remarks. She had caned him twice for his sins. Even a wild morning of sex and caning with Tim’s friend Simon had only lifted her mood for a short time, although there was the promise of repeat performances. She became exasperated as she sorted Tim’s underwear. It all had tell-tale cum leakage in. And then she saw them. A pair of leopard print briefs! Was he having another joke at her expense? She examined them closely. Slightly cum stained, of course. Yes, they appeared to be new. So he was poking fun at her again, was he? She became agitated, and a little tearful again.
Gradually, she calmed down. A plan was forming in her mind. She went into her bedroom, and headed for the wardrobe. There, hanging on the rail were the two canes Mr Rodbourne had given her. Yes, it was high time they saw some more action! She removed them both and cradled them. Then she swished them around. How she loved the sound they made. Even better, was the sound they made when they made contact with bare male flesh! Today, they would be doing just that once again!
Tim returned to his Aunt’s at about 6.15. His bus had been delayed. He headed to his bedroom. On the unmade bed, his Aunt’s two canes were laid neatly. Right next to them were his new leopard print underpants. He gulped. He’d been looking forward to a quick wank before eating, but it looked like events would be taking a rather different direction. Indeed, he was sure of it as he felt the frosty presence of Aunt Belle immediately behind him.
“Well, I’m waiting for an explanation, Timothy!” she exclaimed.
Rather foolishly, Tim decided to play it cocky.
“An explanation of what Auntie?”
“Those leopard print briefs, of course. Are you poking fun at me and my taste in clothes again?”
“Oh no, Auntie. I meant them as a tribute to you. I happened to see them, and I thought of you.”
“Yes really, Auntie. You won’t be needing those canes today, really.”
“Just one problem, Timothy.”
“And what’s that Auntie?”
“I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. I’m going to cane you again. I was going to refuse to do your washing for you, but I’m not sure I can trust you not to break my washing machine.”
“Oh Auntie! My bottom’s only just recovered from the two canings. Please!”
“Get your jeans and pants off. Hurry!”
Once again his teenage bottom was presented to her for chastisement. Was it fair? Was it righteous? Was it deserved? Was it hell!
She lined the thicker cane up against his bottom and tapped it gently. She was anticipating his discomfort and her pleasure. Suddenly, a vision of Mr Rodbourne, the headmaster, popped into her head. He seemed to be egging her on. She sliced the cane down on Tim’s backside. He wailed!
Again she raised the cane and slashed it down again. Ah yes! It was making that sound she loved. The sound of rattan on bare male flesh! Tim too was making a sound she’d come to love as well. The sound of agony! How gratifying it all was. At the same time, it struck Belle how immature Tim was. His looks, his deportment, his attitude. In identifying this to Belle, his friend Simon Freshbrook had been completely correct. She slashed the cane down again.
“I think we’ll stop there, Timothy.”
Tim breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yes, we’ll stop there just for a minute while you put your leopard print underpants on for me. Then you can bend over for six strokes on them.”
Tim was furious that his aunt was playing games with him. He couldn’t help but feel that he did deserve this treatment, however. Despite what he’d said to her, he had bought that underwear to tease and goad her. Stupidly, he’d forgotten about the rattan consequences that could easily follow such an upset. Meanwhile, his aunt was lining the cane up again.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Let me pull them down for you Timothy. Another six, I think!”
“Oh no, Auntie, please, please!”
She pulled the leopard briefs down and then took them off him completely. She snapped the elastic waistband a little and then examined inside the briefs. A little damp patch of pre-cum was visible.
“I do hope you’re not finding this caning arousing, Timothy. That would never do. It would make me very angry indeed. You wouldn’t want to make me angry again, would you?”
“No definitely not, Auntie. Anything to keep you happy.”
“Well six hard strokes on your bare bottom will make me happy.”
“But just to drive home the lesson, I want you to put those lovely leopard underpants on your head while I thrash you!”
“Oh Auntie, that’s a bit kinky!”
“Shut up Timothy. I don’t do kinky. I do do a mean caning though. Put those pants on your thick head, and bend over again!”
So it was that Tim put the pants on his head, and bent over the bed, once again offering his backside submissively.
SWISH-CRACK! The cane sliced into his already sore buttocks.
SWISH-CRACK! How stupid Tim looked with the pants on his head and his arse reddening rapidly.
SWISH-CRACK! Belle laughed. What fun this was.
SWISH-CRACK! Tim gasped. This was no fun at all.
SWISH-CRACK! It was over. Belle pulled the underpants off her nephew’s head.
“Very good Timothy. Your caning is over.”
Tim was happy to hear this news. “Thank you,” he replied.
“Yes, your caning is over. Now fetch me that hairbrush from my dressing table!”
She was going to spank his bare bottom with the brush. If he made too much noise, she’d use the leopard print pants as a gag!
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Comments are here
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Reposted erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne. Over-18s only!
1. WELL BEFORE THE HAPPY DAY
“Gerald, may I have a quiet word?”
“Yes, of course, wedding nerves?”
“No, it’s not that. I’m quite relaxed about that, as is Judith. I’ll try to be a good husband and make you a proud father-in-law. It’s about that early wedding present. The cane you’ve given her. What’s that all about?”
“Oh that! Well, it’s just in case, really. I don’t approve of hitting women, but I am a great believer in males needing a touch of discipline.”
“But I’m twenty-nine!”
“Yes, and Judith is a good deal older and more responsible than you are, son. I just thought it might help. Just in case there are problems.”
“Help? Problems? It sounds pretty barbaric to me!”
“Oh I don’t think so Jason, my boy. You see, I have experience of these matters. Two successful marriages, and a successful teaching career. I hope Judith will never need to use that cane.”
“Well I’m not happy about it.”
“Take my tip, Jason, just be loyal, hard-working and honest. Judith won’t need to use the cane then.”
2. A LITTLE NEARER THE HAPPY DAY
“Hello Gerald, I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unexpectedly.”
“Not at all, Jason. The door’s always open, you are family now, or will be soon. What brings you here? Missing Judith while she’s on her course?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really.”
“You’ve come here about nothing?”
“No, no. It’s that cane thing again. I’m worried.”
“Nothing to worry about, Jason. Just be sure to behave yourself. Come and sit down. Let’s talk.”
“What’s worrying me is, it’s going to hurt.”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Judith if she does decide to use it. I need to know how bad it is. I wondered if you could demonstrate?”
“Eh? Let me see if I’ve got this right? You want to sample the cane? And you want me to give it to you?”
“Er, no. I don’t really want it. But, maybe you should. I want this marriage to work, even in the bad times.”
“Well, I don’t know. This is a most unusual request.”
“Well, you caused it Gerald, by giving Judith that damned cane!”
“Hmmm. We do seem to have an attitude problem, Jason. Perhaps a taste of the cane would be appropriate.”
“Not so keen now, then?”
“I’m not keen at all, it just seems like a good idea. Oh, and I don’t want Judith to know, please.”
“Tut, tut! Secrets, too! Alright, alright. I can see your point of view is reasonable enough. Let’s do it, and keep it our little in-laws secret!”
“Thanks, Dad, er Gerald I mean.”
“You probably won’t feel like thanking me afterwards!”
“No, maybe not, how’s this going to work then?”
“Well, let’s see then. I think six of the best to get rid of any residual attitude problem.”
“Yes, a good round number. You can keep your trousers on. Not that Judith may be that kind if it comes to it.”
“We’ll do it in my study room. You can bend over the desk. Upstairs now, please.” The two men climbed the stairs. Jason went first, which gave Gerald a good chance to survey the bottom he was about to cane. It was a peach!
“Yes, that’s it. Over the desk!” Gerald instructed as he wandered over to the brass umbrella stand in the corner and selected a crook-handled cane. He sliced it through the air a few times. Jason flinched each time the cane swished. Gerald was minded to offer his future son-in-law the opportunity to back out, but then he decided not to. After all, in some ways he was looking forward to demonstrating just who was the boss. He looked at the rump offered submissively before him. It was a very tempting target. Best get stuck in!
Jason leapt up clutching at his sore arse. This was murder!
“JASON, JUST YOU GET BACK DOWN THIS INSTANT!” boomed Gerald. He was minded to award a penalty stroke but decided to see how the next stroke was received.
SWISH-CRACK! “Yeeeowwww!” At least he stayed down this time.
SWISH-CRACK! “Arrrghhh!” What a noisy boy he was! Hardly like a twenty-nine-year-old…
The prescribed six strokes had been delivered. Gerald returned the cane to the umbrella stand, giving a hearty laugh as he did so. “So how was the picnic?” he asked Jason who was still bent over the desk. “You can get up now.”
“Thanks, and yes, that was no picnic!”
“Now, let me see the marks.
You didn’t take it very well, Jason, I’m afraid. In fact, it was a pretty poor performance. Leaping up and all that noise!”
“Sorry Gerald. I was surprised how bad it was.”
“Good, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Now you know what to expect from Judith if you mess her about. And it goes to show I was right about your immaturity. Any trouble, and you’ll have me and my cane to reckon with as well. Is that clear?”
“Er yes, of course!” What an alarming development for Jason…
“Now if my calculations are right, there’s six weeks until the wedding. I suggest I give you another caning one month from today, so that’s the 12th of September. That will give your bottom time to be cleared up in time for the honeymoon. It’ll do you good and you need the experience.”
“Gosh no, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Believe me, I know what some men need and you are definitely in that category.” Already, Gerald was thinking in terms of twelve strokes for the next session. He was proud of Jason in a way. The lad’s peachy arse was just made for the whippiest of canes. He mused to himself that some more, perhaps monthly thrashings might be required, even after the wedding. Maybe not?
3. AFTER THE HONEYMOON
Judith stared at the mess in the kitchen. The living room was no better. Her new husband was turning into a bit of a slob, if she wasn’t much mistaken. He was sat on the sofa eating crisps and watching rugby on the TV. It was now or never!
“Jason, come here. What’s the meaning of this mess? Get me the cane, it’s under our bed!”
“Oh Judith, I’m sorry, let me tidy up.”
She scowled at him and ordered, “The cane! Now!”
Sheepishly, he went upstairs and retrieved the cane from its hiding place. He gulped as he realised the moment he had been dreading had arrived. At least Gerald’s canings had prepared him. He knew what to expect. Or did he?
“Right! Give me that cane now! I’m going to give you a bloody good whipping. I’m not putting up with this any longer. Have you had the cane before?” She whipped the cane through the air.
“Er yes, a while back. Twice. On my trousers.”
“Well those jeans are coming off, I can tell you. And your boxers! You can keep your rugby shirt and socks on. I rather like them!”
He was relieved that she liked those, perhaps this was just going to be a sexy sort of game? She made him bend over a little coffee table in front of the TV. He was on all fours with his arse sticking out nicely.
“How many?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Bah! How many will it take to make me happy? Maybe ten or twenty!”
“Twenty? That’s a hell of a lot.”
“No, it’s not. Yes, we’ll make it twenty. Prepare yourself!”
Soon the air was full of the sound of the cane swishing down on the peachy buttocks. It landed with a resounding and satisfying thwack each time. Judith was enjoying it enormously, and chuckling out loud! Jason wasn’t enjoying it one bit, but at least the strokes were not quite as beastly as those given by Gerald.
“My naughty, naughty husband! Don’t mess with me! Stick your bottom out for the second ten!”
Just then her mobile rang. Should she answer it? Yes, she should. It was her dad on the line. He must have a psychic link!
“I’m just using the cane for the first time. It’s the best wedding present we could have had. Yes, bare bottom! The place was a real pig sty.”
Jason blushed. Oh, the embarrassment!
“Twenty I think. You think it should be twenty-four? Yes, more traditional, I suppose. But no, I’m going to stick at twenty. No, he won’t be doing it again in a hurry. I’m halfway through. Yes, lovely red lines. He’s making a lot of fuss. How’s mum? Yes, we’ll come over for tea later. Bye. Love you!”
SWISH-CRACK! The eleventh stroke hit with a vengeance. Jason cried out. Judith flexed the cane.
SWISH-CRACK! The twelfth was even harder. Was it her dad’s influence?
SWISH-CRACK! He gasped.
SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry.
SWISH-CRACK! She laughed.
SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry again. He certainly was!
SWISH-CRACK! She was thinking about her dad.
SWISH-CRACK! The wedding present was terrific.
SWISH-CRACK! He was close to sobbing now.
SWISH-CRACK! His cock was stiffening.
“All done. Go and get into bed, I’ll be up in a minute!”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Picture © 2011 by Jonathan, RIP
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