♥ Site recommended story ♥
More hot, brand new fiction by very special guest author JOELSTRAP. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery! All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
The Bare-Arsed Hitch-Hiker
Joe raised his eyebrows as he took in the young lad standing by the roadside, thumb extended in the traditional sign of a guy hoping for a lift. The youth was worth looking at. He was around six feet tall, a large sun-hat failing to contain an unruly mop of thick, curly black hair. He wore no shirt and his sun-tanned torso was lean and muscular, as were the long, bare legs which ended in black trainers. His face was young, good-looking and sexually appealing. His shorts were pale-cream and at the front both revealed and concealed a generous endowment. What really caused Joe to raise his eyebrows though was the back of the boy’s shorts; or rather the fact that there wasn’t one. From just below the waist the whole area of material which should have covered the buttocks had been roughly cut away, and all that remained was a narrow strip above the hem-line on each leg. The kid was going commando and Joe admired a perfectly-formed bottom, tanned as golden-brown as the lad’s back. Joe brought the car to a halt a few metres past the youth and watched in his wing-mirror as he trotted up to the passenger-side window.
The smile was broad and confident, the teeth white and even, the voice low and pleasant on the ear.
“You don’t need your thumb to attract attention when you’ve got an arse like that on display,” remarked Joe.
The boy grinned even more broadly.
“Thanks. I wasn’t having much luck, so I went behind some bushes, ripped the rear outta my shorts and tried again. The girls like a nice arse,” observed the boy thoughtfully.
“So do the boys,” said Joe.
“I’m quite partial to a guy with a good body,” the boy observed, his bright gaze sliding appreciatively over Joe’s athletic frame.
“So am I,” replied Joe. “You got a pack?”
The boy patted the front of his shorts.
“Oh yeh. All in working order too.”
“I meant,” said Joe with a smile, “a rucksack.”
The youth coloured slightly under his tan.
“Oh, right, yeh; behind the bushes. I’ll get it.”
He trotted off and returned with a large pack which he deposited in the rear-seat on Joe’s instruction; and then slid his body into the front passenger-seat.
“You heading into town?” he enquired.
“Yup; and out the other side,” said Joe.
“Town would do me fine,” the boy said. “I’m hoping to get into the Youth Hostel for the night. I’m Brad.”
“And I’m Joe. What are you planning to do in town? You’ll be in trouble if you walk around like that; and they might not let you in the Youth Hostel either.”
“Guess I’ll have to put on my jeans; but it’s a bit hot for them. I’ll see if I can get another pair of shorts in a charity-shop tomorrow.”
“Pity to hide a fantastic behind like that.”
Brad looked at Joe.
“You like my arse, huh?”
“What’s not to like?”
“Except for one thing,” said Joe.
Brad looked interrogatively at him.
“It needs to be beaten.”
“Huh? Beaten? What the hell for?”
“Standing around on a public road with it on show, and not a stitch of material to cover its delicious curves and breathtaking contours,” said Joe.
“Oh; yeh, well, it’s like I told you. I needed to attract attention to get a lift. And you gotta admit, it worked,” observed Brad.
“Just because it worked, doesn’t mean it’s acceptable behaviour,” Joe told him sternly.
The boy looked suddenly contrite.
“I guess not,” he conceded. “But, bloody hell, guys don’t get their hides tanned for misbehaving these days.”
“No reason why they shouldn’t if they agree that’s what they deserve.”
“You think I deserve a beating?” asked Brad, a note of incredulity in his voice.
Brad was silent a few moments as he considered.
“Okay, I guess I do. So, you offering to thrash me?”
“What? But you can’t!”
“Well it’s….you just can’t!”
“Listen. I think you deserve a beating; you think you deserve a beating. What’s the problem?”
“But I’m nineteen, and I’ve never been beaten in my life!”
“What’s that got to do with it, Brad?”
“Hmm. Nothing, I guess. But I don’t even know you.”
“You know that I believe that badly-behaved young guys need to have their behinds tanned,” said Joe. “What else do you need to know about me?”
“How are you going to beat me?”
“Yeh? Okay, I guess. But what I meant was, what you gonna use on me?”
“What do you think?”
Brad eyed Joe and took in the broad leather belt at his waist.
“That seems like a useful-looking belt,” he said. “Or I suppose you could spank me with one of your trainers.”
“Yup. I could; but that’s not what I’m intending to do.”
“A table-tennis bat? A wooden-spoon? A hairbrush?” hazarded Brad.
Joe shook his head.
“A bit brutal, I’d have thought,” said Joe.
“I dunno. Tell me.”
“Do you know what boys used to get used on them in the good old days of corporal punishment at school, Brad?”
“Eh? Yeh, I’ve read about the cane. Old Wackford Squeers in Nicholas Nickleby! He used to cane the hell out of them! Hey! You’re not telling me you’ve got a cane, are you?”
“Too right I am!”
“Oh; sorry. But, gee, a cane? What are you doing with a cane?”
“You, my lad, are going to find out!”
“I don’t think I want to be caned.”
“You’ll be caned if I say you’re going to be caned. Understand, Brad?”
To his own surprise, Brad heard himself saying, yes, very softly. His penis was so large that it was trying to force its way painfully out of the top of his shorts. He slid a hand into his waistband to adjust things. Joe slapped his hand away.
“Hands on your knees!” he snapped harshly; and Brad obeyed instinctively.
“I was only….” he began.
“Hold your tongue!”
Brad looked at him and was about to speak when he caught the look on Joe’s face. He remained silent. His protesting penis was causing him considerable discomfort and he squirmed in his seat, trying to ease the pressure.
“How the hell can I sit still when my cock’s trying to go through the bloody roof and you won’t let me touch it?!” demanded Brad angrily.
Joe drew into the side of the road and stopped the car.
“Do you want to get out?” he asked.
“What? No!” Brad replied. “I just….”
“You are needing to have your attitude adjusted, young man. You will not argue with me, and you will not lose your temper with me. Is that clear?”
“Yeh; I’m sorry,” Brad responded submissively.
He looked sideways at Joe from beneath his eyebrows and his throbbing penis strained for another few millimetres of length. Joe would be no more than twenty-three or twenty-four, Brad estimated. He admired the muscular arms, the broad, deep chest, the slim waist and the massive bulge in the groin; and he didn’t miss the fact that Joe was as aroused as he was.
“So, you gonna beat me at your place?”
“Yup. Nice, quiet, country cottage. No nosey neighbours. It’s actually a holiday-house belonging to my parents, but I live in it since I’m working in town here.”
“And then you’ll bring me back into town, to the Youth Hostel, yeh?”
“If you want.”
“Why wouldn’t I want?”
“You might want to stay the night at the cottage. I’ve got a spare room.”
“You’re gonna thrash my arse with a bloody cane and then you think I’ll want to stay over?” demanded Brad.
“That’s exactly what I think,” replied Joe, laying a hand on Brad’s bare leg and sliding it gently but firmly up inside his shorts until his finger-tips touched Brad’s balls.
Brad felt a thrill streak through his body and he held his breath. Joe’s hand insinuated its way even further up until strong fingers encircled Brad’s balls and a long forefinger stroked the root of his penis. Brad gasped audibly.
“You’ll think about staying over, Brad?”
“Yeh,” panted Brad.
“I thought you would.”
Brad was desperate to touch his genitals, but made a big effort and obediently kept his hands on his knees. Joe’s fingers stroked the length of his pulsating shaft and he quivered on the brink of orgasm, beads of pre-cum oozing from the exposed head of his cock where it protruded well above the waist-band of his shorts.
“Boy, you need to be beaten,” remarked Joe as he withdrew his hand and returned it to the steering-wheel.
They had passed through the town and were now negotiating a twisting country road which led up into the hills. Joe glanced at the randy youth at his side and smiled to himself. Caning this boy was going to be sheer delight. Joe imagined Brad bent over, his bottom bare, the smooth arc of his buttocks presenting a perfect target for the stinging rod. He visualised him wincing and flinching and then squirming and writhing as the sting burned deeper and deeper into his fully-rounded rump. He pushed a hand into his own jeans and adjusted his over-excited organ. Brad eyed him.
“What you thinking about?” Brad asked.
“The exquisite pleasure of caning you.”
“Pleasure? You’ll really enjoy thrashing me?”
“Bloody right I will.”
“I don’t think I’ll enjoy it,” said Brad.
“As if I care.”
For some reason this callous remark sent a spasm of excitement through Brad’s already over-stretched cock. He was about to reply when Joe slowed the car and turned into a rough track.
“Almost there,” he said.
Brad thought about the cane. If they were nearly there, then he was close to getting his bottom caned. His penis pulsed strongly with excitement while in his head anxiety and anticipation chased each other relentlessly. The car came round a corner and behind a rise in the ground, Brad saw the cottage. It stood in a patch of land, a lawn and flower-beds at the front and shrubs at the sides.
“What do you think?” asked Joe.
“It doesn’t look like the kind of place where a guy gets his first caning,” said Brad unexpectedly.
“Wait until you see the punishment horse and the handcuffs and the whips,” replied Joe.
Brad sat up straight, a look of alarm on his face.
“I’m joking,” said Joe.
“You worry too much.”
“Hey! Amn’t I allowed to be worried when I gotta caning coming my way anytime soon?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you feel it.”
“That’s what I’m worried about!”
The car stopped and Joe jumped out, signalling Brad to do the same. Brad retrieved his pack and followed Joe into the cottage. Joe eyed the rucksack.
“I see you’ve already decided to stay,” he observed with a grin.
“Well, you’re hell of a dominant; and you look pretty hot too,” said Brad daringly.
Joe’s eyes widened.
“Insolent boys get caned,” he said.
“So what? You’re gonna cane me anyway.”
“True; but I can add extra strokes for insolence.”
“I wasn’t being insolent,” Brad protested. “That was a compliment. I really meant it.”
“You got a honeyed tongue, I’ll grant you that,” said Joe. “But we’ll see if you still want to say complimentary things about me after I’ve put a few cane-welts on your arse.”
Brad swallowed and looked uneasy.
“Right! Get those shorts off; such as they are; t-shirt too, and your trainers and socks. I want you buck-naked, boy!”
Brad leapt to comply and within a few seconds was standing nude before an admiring Joe in the hallway of the cottage. He carefully kept his hands behind his back, refusing to try to cover his towering erection or swollen balls. Joe nodded approvingly.
“Wow!” he said softly. “You’re one big boy!”
He stepped forward and placed a hand flat on Brad’s bare chest and looked into his eyes. Brad returned his gaze. Joe passed the palm of his other hand lightly over the glistening tip of the youth’s penis and felt his body jerk in response. He smiled and ran a finger up Brad’s thigh and across his stomach before scything it back down through the thick hair in his groin and grasping his balls firmly. Brad rose a little on to his toes.
“Ready for the cane?” he enquired as if he was offering Brad a beer.
“I dunno,” replied Brad candidly, “but I’ll take it.”
“Because for some reason I think I want it; and maybe need it too,” he added.
He pushed a hand into Brad’s hair and pulled him firmly in his wake into the living-room. He released him and strode to a cupboard from which he took a slim cane and slashed it through the air. Brad winced at the sound, his resentment at being hauled by his hair driven out by the realisation of the imminence of his caning. Joe arched the limber cane in front of Brad’s large, wide eyes.
“Think you’ll feel this, Brad?”
“Oh, hell, yeh!”
“Why are you getting a beating?”
“For baring my arse in public; and for showing a bit of attitude,” replied Brad, suddenly meek and docile.
“Bend over with your hands on that chair, legs well apart.”
Brad obeyed. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and was aware that his penis was still fully erect. Whatever his brain might think, his body wanted to be caned. Joe touched the rod on his bottom, slid it over the skin, let him feel the cane; let his buttocks know what was coming to them. He was as aroused as Brad was and gazed at the beautifully-formed and perfectly-presented behind. He rapped the cane several times on Brad’s rump and then delivered a strong, accurate stroke which brought Brad’s head up with a snap and forced a gasp from his throat. Across the centre of the youth’s behind, a red line emerged slowly from the sun-tanned skin. Joe flexed the cane a couple of times and touched it lightly on Brad’s bottom a little below the first welt, savouring the tension in the boy’s body as he waited, and surreptitiously adjusting his own strong arousal. He swung the cane and with a snap it whipped a second line of fire across Brad’s buttocks, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a powerful tensing of the glutes. Joe smiled, raised the cane and hit lower and harder. Brad’s body jerked and a barely-stifled yelp escaped him. For a moment Brad’s right hand left the chair and looked as if it might attempt to come back and rub his bottom; but he gained control of it and forced it determinedly back to its place.
Joe was impressed. He hit Brad again, lower still and just as hard. This time the yelp of pain wasn’t stifled and Brad bucked as his rump sizzled with searing fire.
Joe went round to the youth’s head and took a handful of the thick hair, twisting it so that Brad was forced to look up at him. He showed the lad the cane and watched the anxiety in the handsome young face.
“Next one’s going down where you’re really sensitive,” Joe informed Brad. “Right where your arse merges into the tops of your legs. It’s really gonna hurt. You man enough to take that, Brad?”
Stung by the implied insult, as Joe intended, Brad gave him a scornful look.
“You cane me; I’ll take it,” snarled Brad.
Joe smiled at him, released his hair and went back behind him. He saw Brad’s frame tense as he anticipated the fifth lash of the cane. Joe made him wait for almost half a minute, sliding the cane tantalisingly across the curved mounds of his rear, before he delivered a hard stroke full along Brad’s crease. The boy squealed and writhed and kicked out violently with his right foot before settling himself, breathing hard and noisily. Joe gave him just a few seconds before he wielded the cane yet again crossing two of the earlier welts. As fiery pain blazed a savage furrow across his behind, Brad grunted and clenched his buttocks desperately as he fought his agony.
Joe was about to lay down the cane when he noticed that Brad was pushing his bottom out, as if expecting, possibly inviting, another stroke. He passed his hand swiftly through between Brad’s legs and felt the youth’s semi-erect penis hardening further under his touch. Joe resumed his position to Brad’s side, raised the cane, and administered another hard stroke between two earlier welts. Brad shuddered and squirmed; and then steadied and waited. Joe hit him at an angle, slashing a ferocious band of fire across highly-sensitive and ridged flesh. A squeal was accompanied by a desperate scrubbing at his rump by Brad’s right hand.
“Felt that, did you?” Joe enquired.
“Yes, sir,” panted Brad.
“Good. No more obscene shorts, boy?”
“No more, sir.”
“And a respectful attitude to me?”
“Very respectful, sir.”
Brad rose stiffly and stood feeling his way with both hands over his caned rump.
“Fuck, but that was sore,” murmured Brad. “My arse feels like it’s been blasted with a blow-torch. That’s some cane you got there.”
“You think I know how to use it?” asked Joe with a grin.
Brad turned round to face Joe, his hands still caressing his beaten rump, his erection towering unimpeded towards his navel.
“You know how to use it,” Brad confirmed in tones of deepest admiration. “That was sheer hell.”
He continued to rub at his bottom, staring fixedly at his bare feet, before suddenly raising his head and giving Joe a flash of golden smile. “And I kinda liked it,” he said.
“Okay. Get your kit back on; proper jeans over your arse; and we’ll have some food.”
Joe went through to the kitchen and Brad fetched jeans and pants from his pack, putting them on carefully over his thrashed rear, before pulling his shirt back over his head. He picked up the cane and examined it, running a wondering finger along its smooth curve. “Fuck! You’re a beauty,” he muttered to himself, before laying the rod down and following Joe into the kitchen.
“So; do you want me to show you the spare-room?” asked Joe.
Brad shook his head.
“You’re not staying the night after all?”
“Oh, yeh, I’m staying the night; but I won’t be needing the spare-room. Any guy who can beat me like that can do what he wants with me.”
Joe turned towards him and Brad suddenly grabbed Joe’s junk and smiled into his face, having gained his full attention.
“And this is the rod you want to use on me next, isn’t it?” he asked softly, his strong thumb sliding up the hard shaft of Joe’s penis, stimulating it powerfully even through his pants and jeans.
Joe reached round and clasped Brad’s buttocks with both hands, squeezing hard so that the boy squealed.
“Quite right,” Joe confirmed. “But you obviously haven’t learned not to get attention by inappropriate means. Baring your bottom on a public road isn’t on; and nor is grabbing a guy by his balls. Hands on the table and bend over.”
Brad obeyed. Joe delivered a series of hard and swift smacks with the flat of his hand and Brad flinched and gasped as his tender flesh was re-stimulated by the spanking. On Joe’s command he stood up and then rubbed at the seat of his jeans.
“You’re a fucking sexy bugger when you behave like that,” he informed Joe with awe in his voice. “Now you got my full attention; and I’m not complaining about the way you did it. I never thought that a guy would get himself into my pants by beating the shit outta me with a cane.”
“And you’d better give the performance of your life tonight; because if I’m not satisfied, you know what you’ll get, Brad?”
Brad grinned happily.
“A caning,” he said softly.
“And it’ll be just like your cock,” Joe informed him.
“Long and hard,” said Joe.