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Brand spanking new fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne. All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
The understairs cupboard is my favourite part of Uncle’s house, for it is there that the three canes are kept. Well, I say three, but sometimes when I look there are only two canes there. And just once, there was just one. I’m not sure why the number there should vary, although Uncle once said something about oiling them. Maybe he takes them away to be oiled? I know one of his friends is an engineer, after all. Anyway, I am always caned over the desk in the big bay window, after the blinds have been closed to keep prying eyes away and to preserve some modesty. Not that I deserve it!
I like to look at the canes when Uncle’s not around. But when Uncle tells me to “Fetch the canes,” I never really know whether there will be two or three there. It’s part of the thrill for me. I’m sure that he doesn’t know that, although today he caught me playing with his canes. He wasn’t best pleased, or maybe he was?
“What’s going on here? Fascinated with the canes are you, lad? Well now. Well, aren’t you a bit old for the cane now, my lad?”
“Oh no, Sir, not at all!” At disciplinary times, he always insists that I call him Sir rather than Uncle or Uncle Ian.
“Are you sure? I mean really sure? I hope you’re not deriving some strange pleasure from these occasional punishments?”
“Oh no, Sir, not at all!”
“You’re repeating yourself lad! Very well, very well. Oops! There I go repeating myself too. Must be catching. Get in the front room and sort out the blinds, and just to be sure you’re not enjoying yourself, I think we’ll have you drop your trousers this time.”
“What? You can’t!”
“I can. Get them down. Now!”
“That’s it. And now to complete the set, as it were, your briefs can come down too!”
“Don’t argue with me lad! In fact, I’ll take them down for you!”
“Oh indeed! Oh ho, perhaps. Yes, all is revealed isn’t it? I see that you have a tattoo. Ugly things, I always think.”
“You do, Sir?”
“Yes, I do. Most inappropriate for a mere 18-year-old.”
“Almost 19, Sir!”
“Be that as it may, whatever were your parents thinking? It’s just as well they’ve let me take you under my wing. What a gross object that tattoo is, and there it is spoiling your posterior. Well, never mind, I will be spoiling your posterior some more. Let’s cane that ghastly tattoo off! At least it will give me something to aim at. Now, just let me select a stick. Aha, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure of this one before, have you, lad?”
“I’m not sure. I’m afraid I’m not a cane connoisseur.”
“Oh don’t worry lad, you will be by the time I’ve finished with you! Especially if you make a habit of looking at the canes when I’m not around! Now, this cane was sourced for me very recently by a very good friend of mine who lives on the coast. He tells me that this cane is the legendary Beast Of Bognor!”
“The Beast Of Bognor?”
“Don’t scoff, lad. This cane really deserves its reputation. Note the ridges on the shaft. Don’t tell me that you hadn’t noticed them?” Actually, I hadn’t. “Now, let’s have your bottom presented properly for punishment. That’s it. Bottom up and out a little bit more. That’s it. Yes, good. Offer it up for the cane. Here it comes!”
“He won’t help you now. Offer it up again!”
“I said he won’t help you. Offer it! Offer it!”
“Yes, you’re marking nicely. Tell me, is the Beast truly beastly?”
“Oh yes, Sir. It’s beastly alright! It’s the worst one you’ve got by a long way.”
“Good! There you are then, I told you’d become a cane connoisseur.”
“Yes, you did Uncle, I mean Sir.”
“Very well. We’ll keep that cane for another day. Let’s swap it for something a little less severe. I don’t want you badly marked today. We’ll award you another five strokes. Five crisp strokes with one of the standard canes. Making a total of just eight strokes today. I’m being exceptionally lenient, I’d say. Now then, prepare yourself!”
The fresh cane crashed down on my naked arse. I groaned, as the relief caused by use of a less severe cane was really only marginal. Barely noticeable, in fact. Ouch!
Again it lashed into me. I felt sick and confused. The pain peaked and then seemed to return in waves. Oh God!
He landed a couple of strokes in quick succession. The pain! Oh how I just wanted it to be over.
“Last stroke for today!” he announced with amusement in his voice. He cracked the cane down hard on me.
“Shit, that bloody hurt!” I exclaimed, jumping up from the desk. I clutched and massaged my wounded bottom, and then slowly pulled my white briefs up, covering the cane marks and the offensive tattoo.
“Hmmm. Bad language on top of blasphemy, now is it? I’ll remember that for your next caning. I can see that I need to keep a closer eye on you, young Colin. You can sleep with me in my bed tonight. In the meantime, be a sport and hang the canes back where you found them.”
So it was with some residual excitement and maybe some reluctance that I hung the three canes back up on the tarnished brass hooks inside the door of the understairs cupboard. As I did so, I wondered why he wanted me to share his bed tonight. It would mean I’d have to forgo my customary nighttime and morning masturbation. Perhaps I could fit a quick wank in now? Although right at that moment, my arse was throbbing horribly. Anyway, I just hoped he’d let me wear my pyjamas when I joined him in his over-large bed. After all, if I had to sleep in the nude, ugly cane weals and that tattoo he didn’t like would be visible to Uncle. That would never do. I only wanted him to see me at my best. I was worried too, as I was sure Uncle slept in the nude. I only ever saw him in a towel robe, with nothing underneath apparently. I’d often admired the curly tufts of thick, bushy black chest hair that poked out of the top of his striped robes. How strange then, that he insisted I wore pyjamas in my single bed. Then I remembered a particularly vicious ten stroke caning he’d given me for having excessive semen stains on my pyjama trousers. He’d made me wear the offending clothing as he thrashed me. At the time I’d felt it was really unfair as I’d only been masturbating while thinking about the canes in the understairs cupboard. Yes, he really could be a beast at times.
I can’t help but wonder if I am the only one. The only lad in Uncle’s life. Or whether there is another lad. Or man. Actually, come to think of it, that could explain the disappearing canes, possibly. All the same, I couldn’t help but wonder also what the night would bring.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This bonnie wee snippet © MMXVII by Rod Cayenne
Could be the start of something big
Thanks to Col for the initial inspiration, xx
Comments welcome, please use the link at the top of the story.