♥ Site recommended story ♥
Adults only – erotica by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012. All the characters are 18 or older.
Working on a preserved railway line is such a privilege. It’s voluntary and unpaid, but keeping Britain’s railway heritage and steam locomotives in action is really fulfilling. I love the smell of the engines, the soot, the coal, the oil and grease. They are really evocative smells that take you back to a golden age.
I was discussing this with Erwin one day. He was one of the older guys on the line, a widower of around 75, I’d guess. As we spoke of our love of the olden ways, it became clear he’d seen a lot of tragedy in his life.
“Life can be so cruel,” he said, shaking his head and stroking his beard. “I’ve known a lot of loss. That’s what makes the vandalism on the line so annoying. Those little bastards don’t know how lucky they are. Back in the days when the line was in full service, they’d have been too scared to vandalise the place.”
“Too scared?” I asked.
“Yes, of the police, the courts, the magistrates, teachers and parents. In those days the birch would have sorted them out!”
“Yes, I suppose so. A little harsh and barbaric, though Erwin, don’t you think?”
“Maybe, son, maybe,” he sighed and looked mournful.
“A good guardian would most likely have had a cane on hand for any seriously naughty behaviour too.”
“Naughty?” I chuckled.
“Well, you know what I mean. Naughty’s probably not the right word. Devilment, mischief, wickedness.”
Indeed, I did know what he meant, although his language was quaint and other-worldly.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever had the cane, have you, young Rod?”
“Err no, it was abolished just before I started school. Thankfully, although I was a well-behaved pupil, on the whole.”
“On the whole?”
“Well, you know, Erwin. Nobody’s perfect.”
“No. I know I wasn’t and that’s how I got to know about the cane and the hard lessons it taught.”
“Oh, yes. Hmm. I’d rather not dwell on it though. Although I do have a couple of school canes at home.”
“You do? How come?”
“Well, as well as railway souvenirs, I also collect some school memorabilia. The canes came as part of a job lot. Nasty items, really. I should throw them away, to be honest.”
“Of course you shouldn’t! They’re history. They should be treasured and preserved, just like we are doing with the railway.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, they are wicked items, probably still have a nasty bite to them.”
“Don’t they get brittle with age then?”
“No, I don’t think so. That’s just me!”
We both laughed long and hard as we walked along the railway tracks back to the signal box, where our buddy Will saw us arriving and put the kettle on.
“I was just telling Rod about my school memorabilia, and the canes in particular, Will.”
“Why, has he been a naughty boy then?”
“Well, you know, he can be a bit tiresome, can’t you Rod?”
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“Will’s a retired teacher, you know. Well used to caning bad lads.” Erwin winked at us both knowingly.
“That was a long time ago, Erwin. It’s not the done thing nowadays. We shouldn’t even be talking about it.”
“In denial!” Erwin exclaimed.
“Yes, I am!”
“OK we won’t mention it again. Why don’t we all go back to mine, so Rod can see the canes and school stuff, and you can tell us all about your teaching days.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to mention it again? Well anyway, yes, and I’d like to see your nameplates and other railway stuff, too. Right then, when you’ve finished your tea, we’ll go in my Austin.”
Three grown men squashed into Will’s restored Austin A35 and drove the short distance to Erwin’s bungalow.
“Gosh, this stuff must be worth a fortune,” said Will as he surveyed the old loco nameplates on the walls of Erwin’s place.
“Yes, I believe so. I plan on leaving it all to the Railway, to the Trust. I’ve got no heirs. Not that I’m planning on going anywhere just yet,” he chuckled.
Soon, over another cuppa, they were examining the school memorabilia too. Books, caps, badges, a school desk, and a brass bell which still rang out clearly.
“What do you think of these canes then, Will? Pretty nasty, eh?”
Will picked up the canes, swishing and flexing them at length, and smiling.
“Actually, they’re real beauties. Still got a lot of life left in them, I’d say.”
All this was making me a tad nervous. Just then I dropped my cup. It shattered as it hit the hard, tiled floor.
“Naughty boy!” Will exclaimed. “Hold your hand out for the cane!”
Erwin nodded at me. Rather stupidly, I complied.
Will slashed the cane down on my right hand.
The pain was intense! I shook my hand and cried out, “Oh, bugger!”
“Tut, tut! Foul language as well as carelessness. That has to be worth six of the best!” Erwin said.
Will just nodded and swished the cane a little.
“Bare bottom!” Erwin added and winked at Will, who nodded again.
Just then I began to suspect that I had been set up. However, I felt intimidated by my seniors and like a zombie removed my hi-viz waistcoat and sooty blue overalls.
“Hurry up lad!” Will barked. “Over the desk, pants down!”
Erwin laughed as my hairy buttocks were revealed.
“Make sure you teach him a lesson, Will. I don’t like that sort of language in my home. I feel defiled!”
CRACK! The first stroke hit home. I was then the one who felt defiled. It hurt like a burning flame. I gripped onto the desk, although this wasn’t easy as my right hand was still throbbing from the stroke it had received.
CRACK! The second stroke of the six was even worse and I struggled to keep still. Despite this, I thrust my bottom out for the next stroke.
CRACK! The third was just as bad, I wanted to cry out, but was worried that some profanity or blasphemy would slip out.
CRACK! Will thrashed the cane down, lower this time. If anything, it was worse.
CRACK! A fifth stroke was agony, but I was determined to be silent. To grin and bear it.
CRACK! The sixth and final stroke landed with a certain finality. I shot up and rubbed my burning cheeks.
After that caning, I felt sure that my bottom was steaming…
Will and Erwin just laughed and laughed. The sadists! Then Erwin said, “You’d better sweep up the broken cup. Here’s the dustpan and brush. I’ll send you the bill later.” They laughed again.
A few weeks later, Erwin died suddenly. He bequeathed his railway collection to the Trust, but left the school memorabilia to me! A few weeks later still, Will and I started seeing more of each other. Strangely, I would bend over the wooden school desk, and accept harsh bare bottom canings from him. Maybe this is what Erwin wanted for me?
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
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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.