Grading The Punishment (F/M) repost

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Reposted hot erotica by guest author Fred Spankmanbare

So if my wife uses her canes more often than her hairbrush, and always on my bare bottom, what other ways do we use to deal with the question of grading my punishment to suit different offences? As I said in my previous post (“How I Became a Spanked Husband”) we don’t use corner time, cross-dressing or any sort of humiliation; none of those things is a turn-on for either of us and adds nothing to the simple effectiveness and mutual satisfaction of straightforward adult domestic spanking. Nor do we agree with spanking or caning on underpants or pyjamas, even for milder infringements, since any garment tends to defeat the whole purpose of the exercise. Instead, my wife varies the number of spanks, their severity, and the position in which I have to present myself to be disciplined. In terms of the number of cane strokes, an “ordinary” offence usually gets 15-20. From time to time, however, I have to stay in position while she applies 24 strokes or even more.

For special offences, a more lengthy session takes place. On first presenting my bottom, and despite what I said earlier about always on the bare (this is for special sessions, remember) I am allowed to wear what we call my Punishment Panties. These are tight-fitting, male, cotton underpants of the jockey type, and when I have pulled them on taut and smooth she makes me bend over and gives me 24 hard strokes of the cane. Then there is a pause. I have to get up, still gasping, take down the Punishment Panties and bend over once more, presenting my sore, striped and now completely exposed, unprotected, bare bottom for the second part of my punishment – another 24 hard strokes. These are events to remember, I can assure you. During a severe punishment such as this, and especially when she has finished, my wife likes to see (and feel) the weals raised by her cane.

Severity can also be varied to match the offence by choosing the appropriate instrument. My wife’s increasing order of severity for disciplining me is hairbrush – cane – leather riding whip, or even a mixture of two or more of these. Variety is the spice of life, after all! The black leather riding whip is very effective. My wife uses it like a cane, and the little tab on the end makes a nice ‘whap’ sound on bare buttocks as she lashes it across my bottom (she doesn’t just flick me with the end-tab). Before the session, she tells me why and how I am to be punished, for example: “Your behaviour has been absolutely terrible. You simply have to improve, and you know you deserve some really strict discipline. Go up to the bedroom now. I’m going to give you the cane.” My stomach churns, and after a moment I reply “yes, very well. How many strokes do you want to give me?” “You need lots”, she says, “but 24 should be enough if I cane you hard.”

 

On other occasions, the tension may build up to very high levels before such a discussion, and at those times I frequently ask her directly if she would like to use her cane or hairbrush on me. I tell her that we both need her to do it – a tension reliever for her, retribution for me. She usually agrees, and we make an appointment for later. Sometimes, instead of asking directly (particularly if things are really bad) I get ready for bed before her (without my pyjama bottoms), take out her favourite cane or her whip and lay it on her pillow. I wait under the blankets, heart thumping in anticipation. Her usual reaction is along the following lines. “Ah! Good!” she would exclaim when she comes in and sees the punishment instrument laid out ready for her to use, “I’m glad you understand that you deserve some strict attention. I want to spank you really thoroughly because I have a lot of steam to work off, so I’m going to cane you very slowly as well as hard. I want to use my whip on you as well, for the final strokes”. She peels off the blankets completely. “I’m glad to see you’ve already bared your naughty bottom. Now – turn over and present it for caning. Put your pillows under you. You know the position I like to have you in for discipline. How many strokes do you think I need to give you?” I think about this for a moment; better not choose a number that’s too low or she may well double it,  so I clear my throat and murmur “at least two dozen, please”. She agrees, so the required and mutually welcome disciplinary session gets under way. By the time she has finished (the two dozen may have been increased to 30, the final six being with her riding whip) her mood is much lighter and more relaxed, as it always is after she has administered discipline. When my bottom stops quivering I too have a great feeling of release.

 

My wife also grades the punishment severity by varying the way in which she makes me bend over. For hairbrush spanking it’s OTK, of course, with her sitting on the edge of the bed. Her preferred position for a caning or whipping, however, is to have me lie flat on our double bed with a pillow or two under me to raise my bottom into a more rounded presentation. She kneels on the bed and briskly administers the agreed discipline. I am allowed to wriggle and squirm, as long as I keep my bottom up. For a more serious session (like with my Punishment Panties on) I have to kneel on the bed on elbows and knees, bottom right up in the air, skin taut (and panties taut too, when they’re being used). Sometimes I get whipped downstairs in the dining room or kitchen, using a chair reversed against the table. I fetch her cane from the bedroom as instructed, or her riding whip if she has chosen to use that, and return downstairs. I have to bare my bottom as usual, and kneel on the chair with my head and shoulders on the table. The agreed number of strokes is then administered deliberately and thoroughly. I find that these positions, where I have to bend right over so that my buttocks are stretched, result in a more severe punishment than being whipped lying on the bed when my bottom is soft and relaxed.

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Story © Fred Spankmanbare, 2011 

Comments welcome

How I Became A Spanked Husband (F/M) repost

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

Red hot erotica by very special guest author Fred Spankmanbare, repeated from 2011.

 

Ouch!

As a disciplined husband I am regularly spanked on my bare bottom by my wife, who sometimes uses her hairbrush but her favourite is a thin whippy cane. Let me tell you how it all started.

Many years ago my wife and I started spanking for sex play. During that phase she got spanked as well as me, of course, but gradually things developed so that it was me who was given a warm bottom much more frequently than her. We also introduced the cane. I had to teach her how to use it properly, because although she had been spanked as a child and was therefore pretty good with the hairbrush, her only experience of the cane had been on the hand at school, when such things were still permitted. She had no experience of bottom caning, but I was glad to find that she was a willing pupil and a quick learner. When she was on the receiving end she preferred to get the hairbrush rather than the cane, but she was perfectly happy to use both on me.

During our more adventurous sex sessions we would sometimes use a sag bag (bean bag) on the living room floor – they are very good for support in a variety of positions, including spanking. During the spanking intervals my wife would get into position first. She would lie across the top of the sag bag and cheekily display her pert buttocks for me to use her own hairbrush on her, which I would do briskly and noisily until her bottom was rosy pink. We would then resume sex very excitedly, only to break off again later (before climaxing) so she could take her turn at administering the spanking.

Over quite a long period the spanking and caning sessions moved almost imperceptibly, but steadily, from sex play to something more serious and even more gratifying for both of us. For some time now she has been the one who administers the discipline, very thoroughly, strictly, and to our mutual benefit.  We both find that the best way of dealing with problems is for her to give me a good spanking or caning on my bare bottom. We both find this very satisfying, and much better than arguments and days of angry silence. It clears the air wonderfully.

She has insisted from the outset that I am always punished “on the bare”, and although she still uses her hairbrush from time to time, her preferred instrument is the cane. Her favourite cane is a thin, whippy crook-handled one about 27 inches long and no thicker than 1/4 inch. I fully agree with her bare-bottom approach – it’s the only way to properly apply the hairbrush or the cane, or anything else that she may use for the purpose. So whenever I need to be punished, I take down my trousers and underpants, or my pyjamas, and bend over obediently for her. I know it is for my own good, and that my wife also has a need to administer her discipline in this way in order to relieve her tension, anger, disappointment or whatever else has made the discipline necessary.

A hairbrush spanking is always very effective, but sometimes it is too noisy. Perhaps some disciplinary wives/girlfriends regard the possibility of other people overhearing the spanking as part of their man’s punishment, but my wife prefers discretion (she always closes any open windows before dealing with me). So unless we have the house to ourselves, we find the cane a better alternative. The menacing whisper of the cane doing its work, and its mean whap on contact, while more severe on my bottom, make much less noise than the loud smack of the hairbrush on bare buttocks, especially when my oohs and aahs are added! For the same reason, my wife has a shorter straight cane, the same thinness as the crook-handled one, which she brings with us on holidays for the occasions on which she needs to make me “bare and bend” in a hotel room or in the bedroom of a friend’s house. She has three canes altogether – the third one is a straight cane 25 inches long and thicker than the other two; she sometimes uses this one when she feels I need more strict attention. Her favourite is the crook handled one, however.

 

I get the impression that in America the paddle is the usual instrument of choice, but in Britain most couples seem to prefer the cane. I have heard the cane described as a totally feminine instrument, not just in the sense that it is a very effective way for a wife to administer discipline, but also in the sense that the cane itself is essentially feminine. It is lightly built, very efficient, gets on with its work without fuss, and leaves a lasting impression! True, don’t you think?

Another nice approach I heard about is the one used by a disciplinary wife in Australia, writing in ITC spanking magazine. She has names for her punishment instruments, and makes appointments for her husband with Harriet or Caroline. Harriet Hairbrush, and Caroline Cane! Neat.

In conclusion I can say that although my wife’s discipline is painful while she is dealing with me, the after-effects are well worth it. Anger dispersed, friends again, air cleared completely, a great sense of release and a well-marked, glowing, tingling bottom to remind me of the experience for some considerable time afterwards. Its like coming down from a sort of a high.

We don’t use corner time, cross-dressing or any sort of humiliation; those things may be OK for other people, but not for us. In my next post I’ll tell you how my wife grades my punishments to suit different offences.

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© MMXI byFred Spankmanbare, and used here by kind permission

All rights reserved.

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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 persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment.

Aunt’s Birthday Present (F/M) repost

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot femdom erotica by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2013 by popular demand.

Aunt and nephew surveyed the presents on the dining table.

“Well quite a good haul this year!” said Aunt Suze as she looked into her nephew’s eyes, “Thank you for the chocolates, Tommy.”

“My pleasure Auntie,” he spoke softly, “It’s the least I can do for you for letting me stay for the week.”

“Nonsense, my boy,” she purred, “The pleasure is all mine. You know I hate to be all alone in this big place during my birthday week.”

“Yes, Auntie. It looks like someone else knew I was coming. I’d guess that’s why they’ve bought you this cane.  Don’t you think?”

Well, the rattan cane certainly looked out of place there on the table.  A silken scarf, chocolates, a floral table mirror, a couple of hardback romantic novels and two sets of gift vouchers all looked at home.  But there, incongruously, was a rattan punishment cane with a crook handle right in the middle of the other presents.

“Yes. I wonder who bought it? I’ve never had an anonymous present before. Obviously someone who thinks you’ll need keeping in line. But we both know you won’t, don’t we Tommy?”

“Well, it certainly is a strange present to receive in this day and age. But I suppose if I’m really, really bad, you could use it on me.”

“No, Tommy. Out of the question. It’s quite a sick present in a way. I could never hurt you. You’re my favourite, you know.”

Tommy blushed with embarrassment. As the day wore on, however, Tommy thought more and more about that cane. Secretly, he began to fancy a thrashing. Aunt Suze was an attractive lady with a fine figure and a most beautiful face. It was surprising she was single, he reflected. He wondered whether she was frustrated, and began to fantasise about her and about being punished by her. She wouldn’t rise to the bait, however, when he nagged her about the rattan rod, in a discreet but persistent manner.

In the evening, they sat over warm cocoa in the harbourside cafe. “I’ve had a lovely birthday, thank you, Thomas.”

But all that twenty-something Tommy could think about was that bloody cane. Try as he might over the next few days, he couldn’t goad Aunt Suze into hitting him with it. Even a plea for just one stroke “for fun” fell on deaf ears.  Every night and every morning he would masturbate to the thought of Suze caning him. Hard. Bare bottom. Mercilessly. Enthusiastically. Cruelly. Somedays, he would sneak off to the bathroom during the day, to knock another quick one off.

All too soon, the end of his holiday arrived. One last try for a caning failed miserably. Suze informed him that the cane was most likely destined for a charity bag. Tommy’s face fell with disappointment. It had been a great holiday for both, but he felt it lacked that extra frisson that a good, hard caning might have added. Suze drove him to the station, and waved him off with a tear in her eye. He was a good lad, after all, and she was very, very fond of him.

Over the next few days, Tommy was tortured by thoughts of the cane and his aunt. He wanted to go and visit her again, to get down on his knees and beg for a caning. He began to research his new-found interest on the net. It seemed to be a popular fetish! Tales of cruel aunts and docile nephews weren’t that hard for him to find, and those stories gave him some comfort as he wanked away as he read them. Eventually though, he had to accept that his aunt just didn’t share his fascination with the cane.

A few days later, Tommy was round at his sister’s house. Amy was somewhat older than him, and newly divorced. He wondered how she managed to afford to run a place on her own, but then he remembered she had a second income from a rental property, as well as her office job. Her house was really quite plush. He was really envious, as he was still stuck at home with their parents. His bedroom really was a grim, grey and lonely place, full of fantasies and masturbation, but little else.

“Did you have a good holiday with Auntie Suze, Tommy?”

“Yes, terrific, thanks! I love it there on the coast, and she is so sweet and such good company.”

“Mmmmm yes. I know what you mean. So were you a good boy for her or were you a naughty boy who got his bottom caned?”

Tommy choked on his cola, “You what, sis?”

“I asked whether you got your bottom caned? I bought her that cane, you see. I thought she might need it to keep you in line.”

“You bitch, Amy!”

“Language, Tommy, language!”

“Well, really! The very idea. But sorry to upset your plans. I was good all week and Suze had no use for that wicked-looking cane.”

“Pity, pity. It might have done you some good. You know, you’re the very definition of fecklessness.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Amy. I just need to get my shit together.”

“You certainly do, young man! Loafing around all day. You want to be careful you don’t end up unemployable, and your language is shocking.”

“Amy!”

“Well, it’s true.  A good motivational caning is just what you need.”

Tommy laughed nervously, and then conceded, “Yes, you’re probably right there.”

“Of course I am, silly. Now, it’s just as well I bought a pair of canes, isn’t it?”

“What?” said Tommy as the penny dropped.

“Yes, I’ll just go and get my cane.”

“But Amy…”

“I’ll give you but, Tommy! Butt with two Ts!”

Soon Amy returned with the cane in her hands.  It was identical to the one he’s seen at Aunt Suze’s house. It was now or never, fight or flight. Suddenly, he told himself he might never get an opportunity like this again.

Amy chuckled, “Yes, I think a good caning is just what you need. It might teach you to appreciate Mum and Dad rather more than you do at the moment. They don’t like you hanging around when you could be working. Get yourself down to an agency.”

“It’s not easy, Amy.”

“Neither will this caning be!” she laughed. “Now, I think we’ll start with twelve on your boxers.”

“Twelve? That’s a lot!”

“Oh, I don’t think so. After all, you’re not a schoolboy, so you deserve rather more than six of the best.”

“If you say so, sis.”

“I do say so. Now bend over the table and get those jeans down for me!”

Amy was shocked to find that her brother was wearing rather old-fashoned white briefs. Still, they did look clean. And after all, she didn’t want her brand new cane to get soiled!

She flexed the cane and brought it down with a resounding CRACK! on her brother’s bottom. Poor Tommy had never felt the cane before and was surprised by just how much it hurt! All manner of expletives ran through his mind, though none escaped from his mouth. Shit, it hurt!

CRACK! A second lusty stroke hit his pristine white pants. He gasped as the pain overwhelmed him briefly.

CRACK! What a bitch Tommy’s sister was turning out to be. He regretted going round there.

CRACK! How much more could he take? He couldn’t stand the thought of wimping out in front of his sister.

CRACK! He allowed himself a loud gasp, that wouldn’t be too embarrassing, would it now?

CRACK! There was no faulting Amy’s rhythm as she beat him with relentless fervour.

CRACK! All the same, Tommy couldn’t help but writhe with discomfort as the cane whipped down again and again. Whatever had made him wish Aunt Suze had caned him? This was no fun at all.

CRACK! Tommy’s arse was now aglow and ablaze, but through it all he was beginning to get some satisfaction. Perhaps it was a bit sexy?

CRACK! A vicious stroke made him reconsider, briefly. But no, it was good, cleansing and satisfying. It was almost ecstasy.

CRACK! He couldn’t let his sister know how satisfying it was. But then, maybe she was finding the same thing too? After all, she was the sadistic one who had bought the pair of rattans!

CRACK! He’d lost count but in a way he hoped it would go on forever.

CRACK! That was it! She tossed the cane aside. But a bombshell was to follow!

“Now then Tommy, you took those well, but I think a further six strokes on the bare will improve your attitude immensely.”

Without further ado, she slid his pants down gently, revealing a scarred, hairy but attractive rump. She wasn’t Aunt Suze, but she was close enough…

 

___________)

Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Comments from the original 2013 posting are here

A Visit To The Canery – complete (F/M, M/M)

WARNING ADULTS ONLY

Both parts of this adult erotica by Rod Cayenne, published together for the very first time.

– PART ONE –

At the top of the stone spiral staircase was a room known as ‘The Canery’.  Like all the rooms in the old schoolhouse which my aunt and uncle had bought there was a brass door plaque with the room name on.  I must admit I was wondering if these nameplates were recent additions, as the brasses showed little sign of polishing.  I’d always fancied myself as a bit of a sleuth, and I felt sure there was some forgery afoot here.

Later that weekend I was sitting in the small dining area grandly called ‘The Refectory’ with my aunt, when my curiosity got the better of me.

“Aunt Pauline, are those brass plaques original features?  They look new to me.”

“How very astute, Richard.  Only one or two are originals.  The ones saying ‘Headmaster’ and ‘Kitchen’, if I remember correctly.  We had the others made locally, in a similar style.  I can see why you joined the police, you are quite a sharp lad.”

“Well, I just noticed, that was all.  Tell me about ‘The Canery’, that’s an unusual word, in fact, is it even a real word?”

“I’m not sure to be honest, Richard.  When we bought the place we did some research, asking the locals  about the place.  Ex-pupils insisted that the tower room was known as ‘The Canery’ and indeed, that’s where canings took place.”

“I see.  I wonder why not in the Headmaster’s study?  It seems a bit strange.”

“Yes it does, doesn’t it?  I think this was quite a strict place.  We found half a dozen canes hidden around the place, so it seems likely that the tales about ‘The Canery’ are true.”

“Really?  This is a most interesting building.  I can see why you bought it.”

“Yes, we fell in love with it.  Truth told, it’s a bit big for just the two of us.  You’d be welcome to stay.”

“Well, thank you but I am committed to the Section House a little longer, but after that, I’d love to.  Are you sure Uncle Bob wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh I wear the trousers in this relationship.  So what I say goes, generally.  Talking of which, would you like to see the canes we found?”

Only later did I think about the strange logic in what Aunt Pauline said.

“Yes please.  Crime and punishment are always interesting to us coppers.  We often discuss bringing back the cane and birch.  With the louts of today, we’re always talking about it down at the station.”

“Really?  How fascinating, and yet none of your contemporaries can have experienced corporal punishment at school.  Or at home, I would hazard a guess.”

“No indeed.  The canes?”

“Oh yes.  I’ll go and fetch them.  I think I left them in the bedroom.”

Again, I didn’t pick up on what Aunt Pauline was telling me in a roundabout way.  I must have been in a particularly dim, unsleuthful mood that day.  She was gone a while, during which the heavens opened and torrential rain poured down.  A distant clap of thunder followed.

“Shit!  Bang goes our walk,” I said.

“Yes, looks like we are stuck here.  And I hope I won’t be hearing that word again, young Richard!” she admonished.  She dropped the canes on to the refectory table.  “It’s a word I detest.”

“Sorry, Aunty.”

“Apparently swearing would have got the pupil six of the best at this school.”

“Thoroughly deserved I suppose Aunty.”

“Yes, you’re lucky we live in more enlightened times now.”

“Yes.  Although I must admit I’d love to know what it was like.”

“Really, Richard?”

“Yes, although I suppose that’s a bit weird.”

“Yes, but I suppose it could be fun to invent a little caning game as our walk is off.  I’ll tell you what.  Go to the headmaster’s study and take these canes with you.  I would have suggested a visit to ‘The Canery’ but it’ll be a bit cold up there today.”

So it was the I made my way to the white wooden door with the brass “Headmaster” plaque.  I was carrying the six canes, and thinking how little they weighed.  Suddenly Aunt Pauline appeared.

“Good lad!”  She took the canes off me and went into the office.  Just before closing the door she said “You wait outside here like a naughty schoolboy.  Knock on the door in five minutes.”

I timed the five minutes to the second, although I was feeling silly about this game we’d arranged.  I wasn’t sure now that I wanted to discover what a caning was like.   I knocked anyway.

“Come!”

As I entered I was shocked to find Aunt Pauline sat behind the headmaster’s desk, wearing a mortar board and gown.  In front of her, on the desk, lay two of the crook handled school canes.

“So Richard, you have been sent to me for using swear words in the Refectory!  I need to know what you said so that I can determine the punishment! What filthy language did you use?”

“Just shit Ma’am,” I replied.  Strangely, I could feel myself blushing.

“Disgusting behaviour!  I hope it didn’t put any of the younger boys off their dinners!”

“No Ma’am, sorry Ma’am!”

“I think this calls for a thorough thrashing for you, boy!  Six of the best.  On your bare bottom!”

“Whaat?” This was more than I’d bargained for.  I’d half expected the traditional six, but not bare!

“Don’t you what me!” Aunt Pauline replied, her acting skills improving by the second.

She picked up one of the canes and gestured to a stool in the corner of the room. It was pale wood, possibly pine, with a cushioned brown leather seat.  It looked too modern to be at home in this old-fashioned place.

“Pull it into the middle of the room.   That’s it.  Now, allow me to take your trousers and underpants down.”

I’d never thought of Aunt Pauline in a sexual way before.  Today was different, however.  This game was turning me on.  Fortunately, I managed to avoid an erection as she undid my belt and pulled my trousers and briefs down.

“You do realise that this will hurt a great deal Richard?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Good.  Make as much noise as you dare.  This place is nicely secluded.  However, I must warn you to stay in place over the stool.  Jumping up, rubbing or moving will incur extra strokes.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

At this point we were both enjoying the game, although I wasn’t comfortable that my bare bottom was on view to her.  I was worried that she would see my arsehole, which I had always regarded as the most private of places.  I was less worried about my cock, as I was always proud of it and liked to show it to anyone who expressed an interest in it.

CRACK!  The cane lashed down on my naked bottom, but I managed to stay quiet, despite waves and waves of pain.

CRACK!  It struck again, and in much the same place.  I gasped for air.  Wow!  The pain was truly phenomenal!

CRACK! “YEOW!” I cried, once again astonished at the pain the slim cane had produced.

CRACK! “Owwww! No more, please.” I begged for mercy as I’d had my fill of this particular game.

CRACK! She was ignoring my discomfort.

“Last one Richard, let’s make it a hard one shall we?”

CRAAACK! “SHIT!” I cried out before realising shamefully that I had repeated the very word that had caused me all this pain in the first place.

“Well, you have failed me Richard.  It seems that six of the best has not cured your foul language problem.  I am disappointed.  You will receive another six to see if we can help solve that little problem.”

I had another little problem.  Despite the pain, my cock was becoming erect.  I was embarrassed.  Aunt Pauline noticed and laughed heartily.

“Take off all your clothes and follow me!” she commanded.  We walked out of the study and along the corridor, with me totally naked and with my hands covering my embarrassment.  This did mean I was unable to sooth away the burning pain in my bottom cheeks.  She was walking purposefully, flexing the cane as she went.  We reached the spiral stairs and I realised that the caning would continue up in The Canery.

“Oooh it really is cold up here!” I exclaimed.  The room was octagonal, with windows on each face.  It had a neglected, musty air.  In fact, it was quite a creepy place.

“Well, I did tell you it would be.  We’ve only ended up here because of your filthy language!  Still another sixer should warm you up nicely.  I want you on all fours over this trunk.”  She used the cane to point out the dusty item she wanted me to mount.  I duly did so and it felt really humiliating.  I realised that in this position, on all fours, escape would be impossible.  Once again, I worried about my most intimate areas being so cruelly exposed.

CRACK! CRACK CRACK! The cane lashed down again, fast and hard.  This time I was determined to watch my language.

CRACK! “YEEOWCH!” I cried.  She was trying to break my will, I felt sure.  She was strangely silent as she thrashed me.  Still, the cane did all the talking, I suppose.

CRACK! “AARGH!”

CRACK!  “OWWW!”  At least that was it.  It was over.  My arse throbbed awfully.

“There, that was a fun game!” said Aunt Pauline, reverting to her old self instead of the strict role she had been playing.  “Did you enjoy it Richard?”

“Only in a funny kind of way,” I said, as I was more concerned with my runaway erection, which seemed to have a mind of its own.  “At least I know what it’s like now.  And the lads at the station were right.  They should bring it back for the louts!”

“Yes indeed.”

I gazed through one of the windows at the foul weather and said “I suppose it was more fun than a walk out in that!”

We laughed and had a quick hug.  She touched the tip of my stiff penis affectionately.

“Nice!” she said.

After a couple of minutes I had composed myself sufficiently to head down the spiral stairs, followed by Aunt Pauline.  I was still naked and looking forward to picking my clothes up from the Headmaster’s study.  Aunt Pauline was still in her headmistress outfit, cane in hand.  As we reached the bottom of the stairs we bumped into a wet Uncle Bob who didn’t seem in the least bit surprised to find me naked and his wife in her strict outfit.  All he asked was, “When’s Richard moving in then?”

– PART TWO –

“Hello Uncle Bob. I’ve come for that frank chat.”

“Good timing. Your Aunt Pauline is out.  Let’s go into the Headmaster’s study, shall we? I think you paid it a visit not too long ago.”

“Er yes, I did.  I just wanted to see what the whole thing was like, Uncle.”

“I quite understand.  We’ve all been there.  The natural curiosity of the unthrashed male.”

“Er yes.”

“So how was it for you?”

“Interesting.”

“Come on now, Richard! This is meant to be a frank discussion. You need to open up. Let me speak plainly first. Your Aunt Pauline enjoys caning men.”

“Er yes, uncle.”

“But, and it’s a big but…so do I!  So if you move in with us, you’ll be getting the cane from both of us.”

“Oh!”

“So as to help you make your mind up, I will cane you now. Bare your bottom for me boy!”

Events were moving fast.  Richard’s bottom had recovered from his Aunt’s caning, which in truth, had not been that hard.  He undid his belt, and his black slacks fell to the ground.  Boldly, he pulled down his scarlet Y-fronts, too.   His hairy buttocks were revealed to Uncle Bob.

“Over the stool!”

Richard felt vulnerable and embarrassed.  It was one thing to display his bare bottom to his aunt.  It was kind of different to be showing it to his Uncle.  It felt kind of gay.  His worst fears were confirmed when Uncle Bob’s warm hands started to feel the naked cheeks.  Why was he doing that?

“Quite a soft bottom you have there, Richard.  It needs some toughening.   I shall have to compare notes with your Aunt Pauline.  Now tell me, how many strokes did she give you?”

“The full six of the best, Uncle.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me!  It was more than that from what I saw!”

“Oh!” said Richard, having forgotten their encounter at the bottom of The Canery steps.  “Actually, it was six of the best in here, and then six in The Canery.”

“Nice try at a recovery, Richard.  So six and six, making twelve in total.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Well, it sounds to me as if you need some help with counting and remembering numbers.  So you can count out each of the strokes I am going to give you!”

“Yes, OK Uncle.  How many am I going to get?”

“Well, at least a dozen, to test your numeracy!”

He laughed sadistically, and picked up the cane.

“I’m going to enjoy this.  See if you and your soft bottom can too!”

CRACK!

The first stroke landed.  It was hard.  Very hard.  Yes, Uncle Bob was a hard, hard caner!  It was appropriate.  Richard gasped, and just in time remembered to count.

“One, Sir!”

Uncle liked the sound of that.  Of being called ‘Sir’.  It was appropriate.

CRACK!

“Two Sir!”

CRACK!

“Owww! Three Sir!”

CRACK!

Richard grunted and counted the stroke.  And the next one.

CRAACK!

“Six, Sir!”

“We’ll stop a minute there, Richard.  I’m afraid I must feel the marks to gauge the severity.  I’m not doing it for my pleasure, you realise.”

“No, of course not, Uncle.”

Both men knew it was a lie.  Of course, Uncle Bob was enjoying his roving hands as they surveyed the surface of Richard’s arse.  It was quite humiliating for Richard in some ways, yet quite satisfying in others.  Richard thrust his bottom towards the caressing hands.  It was appropriate.

“May I have some more caning now, Uncle?  Please?”

“I see you are an impatient lad, Richard.   I’m not sure I like that in a boy, you know.  It may need to be thrashed out of you.  Yet your yearning for more punishment is admirable.”

“Thank you, Uncle.  I really need it.”

“Yes, you do.  Right.  Brace yourself!”

CRRAAAAAACK!

A really nasty stroke sliced into the lad’s arse.

“ARRRGGHHH!” he cried and then added, “Seven, Sir!”

“WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON HERE?” demanded Aunt Pauline as she burst into the study, “Some homosexual spanking scene, I see!”

“Errrr, I was just playing at being headmaster for the boy, no harm, darling!”

“Well judging by the sound I just heard, it was hardly playing.  Just look at that nasty mark on Richard’s bottom!  In future, you must ask my permission before caning him.  Is that clear?”

“Err, yes darling.”

“Good.  Now I think you both deserve a good caning from me.  I’ll see you both up in The Canery in five minutes.  You can take your clothes off now, both of you!  And give me that cane, Bob!”

And so it was that the trio re-assembled in the cold room at the top of the stone spiral staircase.  Once again The Canery would resound to the noise of naughty male bottoms being chastised.  It was appropriate.  Bob and Richard were both naked, Pauline had once again donned the gown and mortar board.

“Right, I want both of you to bend over the chest.  Richard, you know the form.”

So it was that the two naked men were bent over the dusty old chest.  There wasn’t much room, so uncle and nephew were close to each other.  This really did feel gay, thought Richard, and rather nice, too.  He winked discreetly at Uncle Bob, who was feeling much the same.  Their euphoria was short-lived, however, as Aunt Pauline laid into them both with the cane.

CRACK!  CRACK ! CRACK!

She alternated between the two bottoms, lashing the cane down indiscriminately, and much more harshly than Richard had been expecting.  The two men were sweating profusely despite the coldness of The Canery.  The cane strokes were criss-crossing and wrapping around, and despite her outfit she was more sadist than headmistress this time around.

“I’ll have no gay play or familiarity here!” she insisted, “I’ll beat that out of you!”

And she did.  For a day or two.  But that severe thrashing had brought Uncle Bob and his nephew even closer to each other.  They were united in masochism and lust for each other and for Pauline.  A few days later, Richard moved out of the Section House and into the old Schoolhouse.  It was appropriate.  It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

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Story and photo © MMXII by Rod Cayenne

All rights reserved.

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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 persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Comments welcome…

Independence Day 2015

Sometimes I feel a little sorry for Americans.  Yes, they got their independence, but they got the paddle instead of the cane!  Very few of them will know the pain and the thrill that only the cane can give.  If only they knew what they were missing…

 

Let’s see some stars and stripes! Bottoms up!

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Posted by Rod Cayenne on the 4th July – this is a revised version of an earlier post

Underpants by Primark, canes from under the bed

Comments welcome