Posted in: caning
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Erotic fiction by your host Rod Cayenne, originally in two parts, but now combined for the first time.
Eric was a near neighbour, and a plumber. He was popular down our street so he was the natural choice when we needed some plumbing done. He was handsome, with dreamy blue eyes and shortish dark hair. I felt some pride at having his immaculately polished van parked outside.
“Some nasty old lead piping here, Wilbur,” he said to me, “I recommend stripping it out.”
I was daydreaming at the time. I was thinking of his blue eyes but at the same time lusting after his ‘builder’s bum.’ His bum crack was on display to me as he was on all fours with his head in the sink cupboard. There was enough visible for me to see that it was a nice hairy, chunky bottom.
“Did you know that the Latin for lead is plumbum?” I asked him, and immediately felt embarrassed. He caught on quickly.
“Yes I did know that. You’re not looking at my plumber’s bum are you? It’s very popular with my clients. Some of the ladies offer me money to get a good look. Others want to spank it!”
“Really?” I was feeling strange and not at all in the mood for lying. “The Mrs and I like spanking games.”
“Aha!” He stood up and waved his wrench at me. “So do you get to be the naughty boy?”
“Errr, sorry Eric. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Most inappropriate. But if you really want to know, sometimes I am the naughty one, sometimes not. But please, keep it secret.”
“It’s OK Wilbur, your secret’s safe with me. You know, us plumbers are pretty unshockable. I think it comes from working with toilets all day! Anyway, I quite fancy some spanking, right now. Are you up for it?”
“Eric! What are you suggesting? I’ve never done it with a man before. I’m not sure.”
“Come on. It’s no problem, a bottom’s a bottom after all. You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure. Wendy’s not around is she?”
“No, she’s on a conference.”
“Say yes, then.”
“OK, OK. We’d better go upstairs.”
In the main bedroom, I shut the window and drew the curtains. Eric promptly sat down on the bed.
“OK you get to be the naughty one first. Jeans and pants down, then over my lap!”
“Yes, of course bare bottom. Now hurry up, time is money, naughty boy!”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
By the end, my arse was really, really sore. He could hit a lot harder than my dear wife!
“Want your revenge now, Wilb?” he asked.
I certainly did, and I soon had his cute bottom bouncing up and down on my lap as I slapped away. I hadn’t dressed so he and I were enjoying flesh on flesh contact. There was a problem though! It was my penis which was hardening rapidly as Eric squirmed and wriggled on my lap. I decided to go with the flow. Obviously Eric was a man of the world and I suspected that this experience was one he deliberately engineered with some frequency. Certainly his writhing and thrusting as my hand slapped down seemed designed to tease and stimulate me.
“I’m getting hard,” I confessed. Well, they say it’s good for the soul.
“Naughty boy!” Eric admonished, as he got up from my lap. He rubbed his bottom and grinned at me, “I think our friendship is sealed now, don’t you Wilbur?”
“Sure is.” We were both happy, and both our cocks were showing excitement. “Do you want to try out some of our spanking toys?”
“Yep! Why not? What have you got?”
I pulled our ‘toy chest’ out from under the bed. I removed the lid to reveal our collection of crops, canes, slappers, handcuffs, butt plugs and lube. What a pity there were no condoms, I thought to myself. I leant over and picked up our large wooden hairbrush from the dressing table.
“OK Eric. The cane I think. Let’s have your trousers back on please. I want to discipline you in full builder’s bum fashion!”
He bent over the bed for me and I edged his trousers down a little so that his gorgeous, tempting builder’s crack was revealed. I couldn’t resist giving his crack a sniff. It was sweaty, musky and inviting! I gave him a dozen hard cane strokes, and then bared his bottom for a further six. By now we were both well turned on. He stood up and put his arm around me. He whispered gently, “I’ve got some condoms in the van…”
Wendy answered the knock at the door. The bell didn’t work, but husband Wilbur hadn’t got the inclination to fix it or get it fixed. Similarly, he had dithered over getting plumber Eric to sort out their bathroom plumbing. The truth was, that Wendy had to thrash Wilbur now and then to give him some motivation. Anyway, here at the door was that handsome plumber, come to strip out some old lead piping. Only Wilbur was not here. He’d had to disappear as his mother was very ill. So it fell to Wendy to be at home while the work was carried out.
After half an hour or so, Wendy went to find Eric to offer him a cup of tea. He had his head in the undersink cupboard, and was flashing a little bit of builder’s bum Wendy’s way.
“Rather nice” she muttered to herself, as she walked downstairs to put the kettle on. She was a bit of a bum fan and often played spanking and anal games with husband Wilbur.
On her return to the bathroom, she found Eric engrossed in his work, and his trousers had slipped further, revealing rather more of his rather nice arse. Wendy was puzzled to see some red marks on the cheeks.
“Excuse me Eric, I know I shouldn’t ask, but aren’t those cane marks on your bottom?”
“Ooops!” said Eric standing up rapidly, wrench in hand, while pulling his jeans up with the other. “I thought they’d have faded by now. Sorry if I’ve offended.”
“It’s OK Eric, but those really are cane marks, aren’t they?”
He nodded, and blushed.
“I thought so! Tut, tut! Not a disgruntled customer I hope?”
“Errr no. A spanking enthusiast, you might say. And happy customer.”
“Eric, I’m surprised! Do you like that sort of thing then?”
“Eric, you’re not being honest with me, are you?”
“OK, OK! I like it. I do kind of like that sort of thing!”
Little did Wendy suspect that the cane marks were ones inflicted by her own husband, the straighter than straight Wilbur.
“Well, make sure you do a good job here or you’ll be getting a good thrashing from me too!”
“How about if I do a really good job. Do I get a thrashing as a reward?”
Now it was Wendy’s turn to give an enigmatic “Maybe.” She then added “We do have a couple of canes here, as it happens…”
A few minutes later Wendy was lounging in the conservatory. She felt a little drowsy and dreamy in the summer sunshine which beat down through the glass. She was thinking about plumber Eric, his bottom and his taste for the cane. She was getting turned on.
Upstairs, Eric too was daydreaming. His erotic thoughts were about Wilbur and his masterful way with the cane. He’d accept a thrashing from Wendy, but right now she seemed only second best.
Two hours later, the work was complete. They bumped into each other on the landing.
“How about my reward then, Wendy?”
“I’ve just put a couple of canes on the bed, Eric! You will be getting a dozen bare bottom, now go and get ready while I nip in the loo.”
He felt slightly foolish as he bent over the bed end, sticking his bare bottom up for punishment.
Wendy returned. “I’LL TEACH YOU TO FLASH YOUR BOTTOM AT ME, YOUNG MAN!” she shouted, clearly getting into some sort of role. She picked up one of the canes, flexed it and thrashed it down on the bed, not far from where Eric was awaiting his first stroke. “AND I EXPECT TOTAL HONESTY FROM MY BOYS, NOT EVASIVENESS, IS THAT CLEAR?”
“Yes, of course, I’m very sorry.”
CRACK! At last, the first stroke. It was hard!
“SHIT!” said Eric as the pain hit him.
CRACK! Number two, maybe even harder!
“Eric, I’m stopping your thrashing now. I won’t have that sort of language here in my bedroom.”
“Sorry, Wendy. You’re a great caner, please carry on. I’ll watch my tongue!”
“Make it so.”
CRAACK! Half way through and boy, could she cane!
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“YEEEOW!” This was even worse than at his dad’s. Worse than Wilbur. This must be what Wilbur gets!
CRACK! CRACK! It was over. He was so sore, he just stayed bent over while the pain sank in.
“That was fun! We must do it again, Eric. I’m kind of turned on now, how about you give me six?”
Eric couldn’t believe his ears. Was she really offering her peachy arse to him?
They swapped places. He lifted her skirt and pulled her lacy white knicks down. She was indeed turned on.
CRACK ! CRACK ! She squealed! Was it with satisfaction or was it with pain?
CRACK! It was with satisfaction.
CRAACK! It was with pain.
CRAAAACK! It was with pain!
CRACK! It was with satisfaction.
They collapsed into each others arms. He kissed her gently and whispered:
“I’ve got some condoms in the van.”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
♥ Site recommended story ♥
By Rod Cayenne. Reposted hot erotic fiction from 2013.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” my man Evan asked me.
It was a fantastic location. A veritable desert strand of a beach, a beautiful headland, and nearby a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), or Safleoedd o Ddiddordeb Gwyddonol Arbennig (SoDdGA) as they say here in Wales! The tide was out, but the salty smell of the ocean was still in the summer air, and the song of the gulls echoed all around.
Rather incongruously, there were a couple of concrete pillboxes along the beach. Obviously relics of WW2 rather than the Cold War, they had seen better days. Indeed, the shifting sands had meant both concrete structures were well out of true level. We made our way towards the larger pillbox, and a small gang of teenagers rushed away as we approached. Perhaps the sight of two leather-clad bikers walking hand in hand gave them the willies? No matter, I always think an absent teenager is an ideal teenager.
We ducked as we made our way into the pillbox. Guys must have been shorter in those days, I told myself. The octagonal interior of the little concrete building was a little disconcerting at first. Piles of sand had encroached quite a lot, but there was just about sufficient height for us to be able to stand. The place smelt a bit of piss, of course. These places always do! There were beer cans – local bitter, strangely – and empty Sterling fag packets. Someone must have bought a job lot!
“Well?” he asked again, somewhat impatiently, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes, I think so!” I laughed, “This would be a great place for a seedy fuck!”
“Yes, dead right it would be, loverboy! And for some discipline too! No room to swing a cane, but we could bring the leather strap,” he laughed as he said it, “Hot and well-shagged bottoms tonight! Here, take this plastic bag and clean the place up, boy! We don’t want any accidents or incidents while we’re on the job do we?”
It wasn’t a particularly pleasant task. In the end the bag contained tin cans, fag packets, some broken glass and even a human turd. I tied the handles up tight and we took the bag with us, depositing it in the bin in the car park where Evan’s Triumph Bonneville awaited us.
That evening we packed my backpack excitedly. A can of Carlsberg for me, an energy drink for him. A packet of heavy duty condoms and a tube of our favourite lube. A couple of battery torches and our mobiles. Finally, pride of place for our brown leather spanking strap. We both enjoyed a bit of the leather from time to time, although I was the sub more often than not.
I felt quite excited as we headed back to the beach. The vibrations from the engine of the Bonneville throbbed around my thighs as my cock stiffened inside my leather chaps. I held onto Evan for dear life as he threw us around the corners of the long, winding coastal road. This time we parked near our chosen pillbox. We kissed passionately at length before he led me back through the brambles to our venue. It was now late evening and fortunately, no-one else was around. We flashed our torches to examine our surroundings again. I moved some fresh cans and crisp packets out of harm’s way. The place stank of piss even more than earlier on. We stuck our torches upright in the piles of sand covering the floor. We needed a little illumination for what was to come next!
“Drop them!” he ordered. I complied, pulling my leather chaps right down. I bent down on all fours, jockstrap still in place and my head only just above the sand-covered floor. “Fifty!” he announced.
I should explain that our leather strap is heavy duty. It must have cost Evan a fortune to buy. It was a hard thrashing. The strap lashed and lashed again. I gasped, groaned, writhed and cried out. Fifty strokes was a hell of a lot. All the noise the strap and I could make was muffled by the sound of the crashing waves, now that the tide was in. My arse was aflame, sore and I wasn’t sure a shagging after my beating was a great idea at all. Evan was sure, however, and his sheathed cock was soon persuading me that all was not lost. I was turned on by our seedy surroundings, my throbbing arse cheeks and the rhythm of my lover’s cock exploiting my most private place. We were both sweating profusely in our leathers and soon he came noisily inside me.
I slumped right down, my arse and my brain exhausted by our exertions. My boner was as stiff as a surfboard, aching and dying for relief. I wasn’t sure that he’d want me to reciprocate, as he’d been in one of his more dominant moods that day. He smiled at me in the faint torchlight, as he removed the condom from his shrinking cock. He tossed the rubber aside saying, “Let’s leave something for the next occupants to clean up!”
I was a little shocked. I picked up my can of lager and tugged at the ringpull. “That was great, thanks,” I sighed, still recovering from the hard beating and fuck.
He grabbed at his can. Those energy drinks don’t half smell strange, but then so did the pillbox. I traced my fingers through the sand, and then a little later he whispered, “Want some revenge then?”
“You bet!” I said, staggering to my feet and pulling my leather chaps up properly. This wasn’t an opportunity I got very often! I undid his belt and slid his leather jeans right down. Evan’s bottom was magnificent! A little puppy fat, but rather hidden by thick, dark matted manhair. I sniffed at his arse. Wonderful! I picked up the strap and lashed it down on my lover’s mounds, before he had time to change his mind.
“ARRRGH!” he cried immediately. For a sometime dom, he could be quite a wimp when the tables were turned. I intended him to have a full fifty too, but lost count around the thirty mark! Eventually, I threw the punishing strap down and in my most assertive tone ordered him to put a rubber on my swollen cock. The lube squelched rudely out of the tube as I rubbed the stuff all over the condom. Soon I was home in his hot hole, thrusting for dear life. At times like this, Evan can become quite submissive and docile. I fucked him roughly.
Afterwards, we laid in each others arms for a while. He said he wished he had a cigarette, and I told him he wasn’t taking up that filthy habit again! We kissed again and again. That late evening, I felt the balance in our relationship had altered subtly, with me taking on a more equal role. We would return to that pillbox, and its smaller neighbour just along the beach, on a regular basis from then on.
Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne
All rights reserved.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
♥ Site recommended story ♥
By popular demand, a repeat outing for this hot erotic fiction by special guest author David Stewart.
WARNING ADULTS ONLY
David was 37, and reasonably successful. He was married to an adoring wife, had two kids and a job that paid the bills.
He did however suffer from a certain degree of discontent. It was to do with his personal behaviour. He acknowledged that he was rash, and could mouth off at times. He hated this as he always felt embarrassed if he upset anyone. He was basically a decent fellow.
One Saturday morning he was hassled and needed petrol. As he made his way through town, he approached a small roundabout. The car on his inside was going ahead and not turning left as he had anticipated.
Driving through the roundabout, David acknowledged his mistake with a raising of his hand but this was met by an angry flash from the older driver, now behind him. Again David raised his hand and again he was flashed. Blinded by annoyance David started to give the other driver the “wanker’s handshake.” David sped off.
At the petrol station he had just started to fill up when the other driver approached him. He had followed David into the garage. A heated exchange led to David saying, “Look, I am sorry and was totally at fault. What can I do but apologise?”
The other driver, an older chap about mid 60s, started on about the ignorance of youth, bad manners, and so forth. David suddenly felt as if he was being lectured by an older relative and became rather subdued, realising how much he had upset the older driver.
“Look Sir, I am truly sorry, and yes it was ignorant and rude of me to wave at you like that. I accept totally that I am at fault, and I am sorry.”
“Sometimes sorry is not enough young man! Manners like yours need to be taught a lesson, That’s what’s wrong with society nowadays.”
David perked up at these clear undertones and replied “So you think I need to be taught a lesson do you?”
“You most certainly do young man,” was the response. A stand-off ensued.
David, in a low voice, said “You are probably right to say that Sir, but at my age what exactly kind of lesson could I be taught?”
The older man replied “In days gone by, young chaps like you who disrespected their elders were given a damned good thrashing. That always taught them a lesson and they were the better for it. Nowadays of course you suggest that and the goodie two shoes brigade will have you up for cruelty. I bet you would benefit from that!”
They both looked at each other and impulsively David replied “I am sorry and you are right Sir, I did disrespect you and probably do need to be taught a lesson.”
The older man took a card from his pocket and handed it to David. “My mobile number if you decide to go down that route, lad.”
David was now sporting an erection that showed his interest in what the older guy was suggesting. Was this man actually offering to give him a spanking?
The following day David had thought long and hard about it. He decided to call the number.
“Er, hello, Mr Green?”
“Yes this is he, and you are?”
“I am that disrespectful lad you spoke to in the garage yesterday, Sir.”
“Ah yes, the one who needs a lesson in manners.”
“Sir, can I ask exactly what you meant when you said that?”
“And what do you think I meant, as I thought it was pretty clear?”
“Eh, well I thought you were suggesting some form of, well kind of you know?”
Mr Green interrupted “Oh spit it out lad, say what you mean.”
“OK Sir. I thought you were suggesting I would benefit from being chastised by you.”
“Yes lad that is exactly what I suggested…and your question now is?”
“Well Sir, if I did think that was the best way forward what would happen?”
“What would happen lad is that you would come over to my house and I would give you some old-fashioned punishment. You would have your arse well thrashed.”
There was a silence and then Mr Green spoke again. “Well lad, you are either sat there cock in hand or you are thinking you need this. Which is it?”
Had Mr Green but known, and he possibly did, it was both.
Taking a deep breath David replied “Sir, I am serious and think it would be for the best if you did punish me for my behaviour.”
“Right then. No time like the present. Can you come now? I live just outside the town.”
15 minutes later David was knocking on Mr Green’s front door.
The door was answered by an elderly lady who said, “Ah, you must be David. Come in.”
David was taken aback but followed through to the lounge where Mr Green was. “This is my wife,” he said and formal introductions took place.
“Cup of coffee David, we were just having ours?”
As she left the room Mr Green, seeing David’s reaction said, “She knows why you are here, lad.”
For whatever reason David had thought Mr Green would be living alone. As they drank the coffee Mrs Green asked all sorts of reasonable questions about why David was in the area, as he was Scottish and this was England. Then she said “Well David, I believe my husband is going to teach some manners today, is he not?”
“Eh yes he is, Mrs Green,” replied David.
“Well I am sure it is for the best. Now will you follow me please, David?”
David followed Mrs Green to the upstairs study where she told him to wait for Mr Green. She then left him on his own. David viewed his surroundings. He saw a desk, chair and cupboard which all reminded him of his old Headmaster’s office.
After a few minutes Mr Green entered the room and removed his jacket.
“Right lad! I intend to teach you a sound lesson today. I will give you a well-deserved spanking, followed by the cane. Have you had the cane before?”
Blushing deeply, David admitted that he and his wife sometimes played bedroom games. They owned a cane that she would often lay it on his backside.
Mr Green’s eyes opened widely at this and he said, “Ah, an aficionado?” asking, “And have you experienced any discipline from a man before?”
David confessed that in the past he had been disciplined by an older friend. He further confessed that he knew he had missed these disciplinary sessions and that he was pleased to have met Mr Green.
“It is open to question if you will remain pleased for long, David, but we will see. Right now I want your trousers and socks off please.”
David complied. He had expected this.
“Now your top as well please.”
Standing only in pants David felt very vulnerable. Mr Green pulled the hard backed chair into the middle of the room and called David to his side.
“Get over my lap then, lad.”
David placed himself over Mr Green’s knees. David felt the old man’s hands rest on his pants. A hard slap followed, and then another close after. A thorough spanking followed.
“Stand up and take your pants down for me. That’s right. Kick them off.”
Back over his chastiser’s lap the hard spanking resumed, this time on his naked rear. This raised more than a few yells from the victim!
The door opened and Mrs Green entered. “Now David dear, you are being a bit noisy. I can hear you downstairs, and as the back door is open for some air, the neighbours may hear too!”
David felt humiliated as Mrs Green smiled and looked at him draped over her husband’s lap. The spanking finished, David stood up. He couldn’t avoid the admiring eyes of Mrs Green. She spoke to her husband, “Now dear, as David was brought up in Scotland have you considered your tawse? I know how much you like to use it.”
What was going on here? That was what David was asking himself, as the husband and wife talked about him in a matter of fact sort of way.
“Good idea! Right David. I am going to tawse you. You will raise your hands up and take three on each palm. After each stroke change hands.”
David had not been tawsed for over fifteen years but he remembered the drill well. Mr Green opened one of the desk drawers and produced a blackened leather two-tailed tawse. He raised it over his right shoulder, then brought it whistling down on the very apprehensive David’s palm. David shouted out and grabbed his palms between his legs and shouted “Fuck!”
“Not good, David. And in front of Mrs Green!”
“Sorry, sssorry Mrs Green,” stammered David. He raised his palms again. The tawse landed viciously again. David’s reaction was similar but without the swearing. He took six agonising strokes.
“And are you learning a lesson?” asked Mr Green.
Going to the cupboard, Mr Green selected a cane from several hanging within. He instructed David to bend over the desk.
“Hold on tight lad! You have twelve strokes to come, and if you stand up I will add two penalty strokes.”
Feeling humiliated under Mrs Green’s gaze, David did as instructed. He waited to feel the cane. He knew it was going to be delivered much harder than his wife ever did. Still with that thought in mind, a sudden cracking noise accompanied by excruciating pain proved him correct!
David yelled out an agonising “AAAAAAAARGH!”
A second stroke followed with similar reaction. The caning continued apace and after the eighth stroke David was in such agony, that he jumped up, hoping for some respite. Realising immediately that he was in the wrong, he bent back over. As the twelfth stroke cut home Mr Green said, “And now as promised two extra for standing.“
The first of these landed suddenly, cutting deeply across the other strokes. The final stroke landed alongside. David held on tightly, in case there was more to come for having sworn. Fortunately, that had been forgiven or forgotten and David was told to stand. He stood in front of his chastiser and his wife, naked and close to tears with pain and humiliation.
“Now I believe you need to apologise to my wife for your language and to me for your behaviour. I think should also thank me for teaching you a lesson.”
David started to speak, “Mrs Green, I am ever so sorry for my language and I hope that you were not offended.”
Mrs Green smiled and said, “It was very rude of you, but you have been punished and I accept your apology.”
“Mr Green, Sir, I am sorry for my disrespect yesterday and for my general behaviour. I also want to thank you for teaching me the lesson you have today.”
Mr Green smiled and shook David’s hand.
“I accept your apology David and you took your beating well. I believe in corporal punishment and I think you can see the benefits of it as well. We live close to each other, so if you ever feel the need for another lesson then Mrs Green and I are always here to help you.”
David was left to dress and then ushered out of the house. As he was being shown out by Mrs Green she asked, “Will we see you again David?”
“Yes Ma’am I am sure you will. I’m sure you will.”
David left a pained but happy chap who knew what had been missing from his life until now. And now he knew how he could get it again. Then his thoughts turned to his scorched bottom and how he would explain the stripes to his wife, if she saw them.
story © 2012 by David Stewart, used here by very kind permission
Photograph © by Pete, model: Rod
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♥ Site recommended story ♥
All four parts of this hot F/M story by Rod Cayenne presented together for the first time. Over 18s only!
It was a misty morning. I was taking my dog for a walk on the ancient track. Crossing a road at one point, I saw a couple unloading an estate car in the lay-by next to the track. She was dressed in horse-riding apparel, he was wearing just white shorts, a white t-shirt and running shoes. She strode purposefully towards me, while he followed a little way behind. She had a leather-bound riding crop in her hand. She gave me a friendly smile, so I said, “Morning! Have you lost your horse?”
“Oh no,” she replied. “No, no, no. Not at all – this crop is for whipping my husband’s bottom with.”
Naturally, I was taken aback at this revelation. However, I decided to play along as things were sounding interesting.
“He does look like a naughty boy,” I said. “May I watch?”
She wagged the black plaited crop in my face and then said, “Yes, why not! You are naughty boy too, but on this occasion you may be our look-out! We often come here on gloomy days for a taste of outdoor discipline.”
We walked on for a few minutes before she stopped and said “Bend over here, Paul.” Obediently her husband bent, touching his toes and looking uncomfortable as his shorts rode up around his ample bottom.
“He’s getting at least fifty strokes – first twenty on his shorts,” and with that she laid into him. The leather crop struck down repeatedly as he squirmed and tried to muffle his cries. What a scary sound it made.
“Shorts down,” she ordered. Skimpy black briefs didn’t offer much protection as she whipped another ten strokes down on his cheeks.
“Pants down now for the next twenty,” she laughed. I was enjoying the spectacle, and even more so now as he edged his briefs down to reveal a hairy but reddened arse to me and to his wife. These strokes seemed even harder and he gasped, cried out, wriggled and screamed.
“A disappointing display from you today Paul!” she said to him. “I’m sure our guest would like to join us later at home to see you at the mercy of my cane.”
“Oh no!” he cried and “Oh yes” she and I chuckled. She licked her lips and then said to me, “Have you ever had the cane? I said, have you ever had the cane?” she demanded again. My face went red. I reckon my arse did too and I gave it a quick rub.
“Er yes, my father used to…”
“But not your mother?” she quickly interjected.
“Er no, she didn’t really approve of that sort of thing.”
“What a pity,” she replied “I always think a woman looks so much more powerful with a cane in her grip. Don’t you agree, Paul?” Her husband quickly nodded his agreement. What a poor fellow, I thought to myself. She handed me a thick address card. “Do join us at 8pm,” she added. Was it an invitation or an order, though?
They headed off for their car. I stared at my dog and then at the address card. Why would she have had cards made? Perhaps she was a hooker I thought to myself. A high class one, maybe.
The morning mist was slowly clearing as I in turn headed back to my car. My mind was in turmoil as I drove back home. What a scary lady she was. But also horny. An erection was stirring in my pants and I kept thinking about my arse. I wasn’t sure that I ever wanted to feel the cane again. If I went along to watch Paul’s torment, could I be sure I wouldn’t get a dose too?
I decided to not go along but to try to find them again on another misty morning. At least, that’s what I decided for a few minutes before I changed my mind and decided to go along and join them for the evening’s entertainment. I rang the bell promptly at 8pm.
She answered the door in her dressing gown. She had a crook-handled school cane in her hand. “Do come in,” she purred, and as she did, the gown came undone revealing a black lace twinset and a huge black strap-on!
At this point, I didn’t really know where to look. She pointed to a door with her cane and said “In there now! Paul has had to go out so we will have to make our own entertainment.” I had been set up good and proper or so it seemed to me!
“Trousers off!” was her next command. So there was to be no foreplay! “I’m going to beat you hard. Like your father did.”
She wasn’t wrong there. Dad was a devil when he had a cane in his hand.
“Over the arm of the sofa, now!” I had walked into a trap but truth told, I was thrilled beyond belief. Here was this sex goddess commanding me as my erection rose. She yanked my briefs down.
“Six of this senior cane. Count!” The strokes were hard. The strokes were brutal. I cried out after each stroke despite resolving not to.
“Thank you for beating me,” I said after stroke number six. This was a phrase my father used to insist I said after being caned.
“My pleasure. But we’re not done yet. Fetch my riding crop from the table.”
I had to bend over her lap while she assaulted my arse with the crop. It was the same plaited black leather item she had used so wonderfully that morning. Oh boy, was that thing beastly! I didn’t count but I must have had around thirty strokes. My arse throbbed. Now I knew how Paul had felt.
“OK, now fetch the lube from the table…”
“You know what I’m going to do with this, don’t you?” she said as she stroked the black strap-on penis.
“Paul always takes it like a man. I hope you can do the same for me boy. I bet your father didn’t have one of these did he?”
“Er, no, just the cane,” I replied somewhat stupidly. The lube squelched out of the tube with a rude noise.
Just then her husband Paul slammed the front door and crashed in to the room we were in.
“Paul where the hell have you been? You are late. You are disobedient and you will pay! I’ve had to beat our guest to relieve the boredom. Mind you I think our guest might have enjoyed it. Isn’t that right boy?”
“My name is Peter,” I replied as I was getting rather tired of being called a boy. “But yes, maybe I did enjoy it in a funny kind of way. Are you going to cane Paul now, that’s what I came to see?” I was being cheeky and assertive, anything to divert her from the thought of ploughing me with that hideous strap-on thing. My arse was throbbing and my eyes were already moist. The last thing I wanted was that plastic cock making life even more uncomfortable!
“Yes indeed. What an excellent idea! The senior cane, I think. Twenty strokes. Bare. Drop them, Paul!”
She strode off and came back with a thicker looking cane. It was darker-coloured than the one she had used on me and it had the most beautiful crook handle.
“This will teach you not to be late!”
The cane thrashed down on his cheeks. They were already reddened by the misty morning’s cropping. Nasty welts were appearing.
The last couple were cross strokes, I think. Boy, did his arse look sore!
“Now then boys,” she said. “I want you to be friends. Peter and Paul. How cute. Play your cards right Peter, and you could replace Paul in my affections.”
If this was a taste of her affections, I wasn’t so sure I wanted it!
“Now to show me you are good friends, Paul why don’t you lick Peter’s sore bottom and then Peter you can do the same for Paul. The one who does it best may get to lick mine – not that mine is sore, of course.” How humiliating this evening was turning out to be!
Having my arse tongued after the thrashing was quite a turn-on, and it did ease the pain a little. I won the competition to lick the lady’s arse too.
“You may call me Mistress,” she said. “Although my real name is Lauren. Now get upstairs! Paul you can sleep on the sofa tonight. And no wanking!”
I headed for the master bedroom. Although it was now dark, I could see that the view of the bay from the window was magnificent. I switched the bedside lights on. I mentioned the wonderful view to her as I stared out of the window.
“Yes, and so is the view of your arse! I’ve done a good job there.”
“You certainly have, Mistress.”
To my immense relief, she removed the strap-on cock, and let it fall to the ground. Knickers and bra followed. She got on the bed and on all fours, pointed to her bottom and said, “Service me!”
I was happy to oblige. My tongue wandered over the fleshy contours, darting in and out of the crack to service her arsehole. Although gamey, it tasted sweeter than the one I had serviced earlier. My hands massaged her pussy and clit. It was hard not to slobber over her arse. It was just so heavenly. The sex that followed was curiously unsatisfying. I had rediscovered my submissive side and somehow fucking her just didn’t feel right.
After we had both come, I started to fall asleep. Suddenly she elbowed me in the ribs.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me! Fetch the cane from the wardrobe!”
Gingerly, I opened the mirrored doors of the wardrobe. There were a variety of outfits – fetishy rubber ones, a nurse’s top, furs, policewoman, traffic warden, and air hostess uniforms. Perhaps she was a hooker after all, as I had previously surmised. Thank goodness I had worn a condom! And why was I getting a freebie?’
Hanging on the end of the wardrobe’s rail was a knobbly looking cane. I took it down, and couldn’t resist swishing it around as I returned to her.
“That’s for me to play with, not you!” she admonished me. “I was going to give you six, but we’ll make it twelve now, I think.”
“Yes Mistress,” I replied obediently.
That knobbly cane – possibly a malacca – hurt like hell. She cackled as it whipped my naked cheeks, time after time.
She was counting the strokes out loudly.
I managed to stay silent for the last stroke. Goodness knows how, and heaven knows what Paul thought! He must have heard a lot of our nocturnal activities.
That was the worst cane I’d ever been disciplined with, and I’ve known a few in my time. She gave it back to me, and I returned it to the wardrobe. As I returned to the bed, she pinched the cane marks several times, adding to my pain and humiliation. Eventually we fell asleep.
As dawn broke, I slipped downstairs discreetly. Paul was nowhere to be seen. My arse hurt like never before. I opened the front door, only to find it was another misty morning.
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 © 2011 by Rod Cayenne