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Hot caning fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2013. All the characters are aged 21 or over. This story is suitable for adults only.
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.
Robert James strode into the house, making his way down the hall. He stopped quickly, as there before him stood his father, looking stern, with his arms folded, as if blocking the way.
“Robert, we need to have a chat. A little chat, a man to man chat. Come with me.”
They made their way into the father’s den. It was supposed to be a home office, but it was so untidy, it could have passed for a teenager’s bedroom. A motorbike in some state of dismantlement stood in the corner of the room, where the carpet had been folded back, presumably to avoid dirt and oil stains. The room was really being used as an overflow from the garage. A selection of girlie calendars adorned the walls, while the room stank heavily of cigarette smoke. Robert found it quite creepy in there, and wondered why his mother put up with it all, especially the calendars.
Reluctantly, Robert sat down, facing his father who was sat behind a rather battered wooden desk. A cloud of smoke rose from the roll-up hanging limply from the father’s mouth.
“Son, your mother was tidying your room the other day. She found a school cane under the bed. What was it doing there? You haven’t gone all kinky on us have you?”
“Oh that!” laughed Robert, as if it was nothing. “Well you know I collect antiques and curios and things. Well that cane came as part of a job lot of school memorabilia, which I quite liked in a nostalgic way. I picked the lot up for a song.”
“Oh, that’s good then. We were a bit worried. I took a look at the cane. Quite an evil item, reminded me of my old school days.”
Robert laughed again, saying, “Yes, I bet you were a naughty boy, Dad. Always in trouble, with a sore bottom?”
“Hmmm. Less of your cheek, son. I did have a few run-ins, and let me tell you the cane is no joke. A nasty punishment, indeed. I want you to promise me that you’ll never use that cane. Especially if you have a girlfriend.”
“Dad. Get real!”
“Well, I know what you youngsters can be like. Sadistic!”
“I mean it, son. Keep it as a curio if you must, but really your mother and I would rather not see it. Is that clear?”
“OK, OK then. I’ll put it on top of the wardrobe, out of harm’s way.”
“Well before you do, bring it down here, I want to have a good look at it.”
Robert duly did as he was told, reaching under his bed to retrieve the cane. He was telling the truth. He had bought the rattan as part of a lot at the auction down the road, and only hid it because he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t in the slightest kinky, being almost straight-laced in some ways.
“Here it is, Dad.”
“Hmmm. Nasty. Hand it over please.”
Dad flexed the cane a little and scythed it through the air. It made a fearsome noise. It reminded him of unhappy times spent in his headmaster’s study years ago.
“What do you think, Dad?”
“To be honest, son, I think we should chuck it on the bonfire. Your mother and I were both caned at school and we really hated seeing this thing after all these years. There should be a law against it.”
“There is, Dad, there is.”
“Yes, of course, stupid of me, just a turn of phrase, son. OK, take it back and put it on top of the wardrobe, like you said. Then I’ll know where to find it.” A mischievous chuckle from his father made Robert a touch nervous.
Robert took the lithe cane from his father’s hands and made his way upstairs. Standing on tiptoes, he was just about able to push the cane out of view on the top of the wardrobe. In doing so, he disturbed some dust which then filled the air for a few moments.
Robert slumped down on the bed. The air was still full of dust, but at least the cane was hidden. He moved his head around but couldn’t spy the rattan from any vantage point. He’d been surprised by his father’s vehemence about the evils of the cane. Of course, Robert had never experienced it, and didn’t have any interest in doing so. He might dispose of it, as it was proving to be a controversial acquisition. He didn’t want to upset his parents.
A few days later, it was Robert’s twenty-first birthday. As it was a Saturday, he spent a lot of the afternoon at the auction rooms but couldn’t find anything worth bidding on. He cycled home disconsolately. It had actually been quite a boring day, and he was regretting not jumping on a train to London, where he could have visited a world-class auction.
“Hello, Robert! Having a good birthday?” his father asked as he opened the door.
“No, not really, it’s been a bit shit, really!”
“Sorry, Dad. The auction was crap today. Total crap.”
“Language! Anyway, I’m sorry I haven’t got you a present yet. I wasn’t sure what to get you. Unless you’d like a birthday spanking? With that cane of yours?”
“Oh fuck off, Dad!”
Robert ran up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door. He hadn’t appreciated his father’s joke about the cane. It would have to go.
Suddenly, Robert’s father burst in, angrily. “I don’t appreciate being told to ‘F Off’ in my own house, son! Let’s make this a birthday to remember shall we?”
With that his father rolled up his shirtsleeves and reached up on top of the wardrobe, retrieving the cane.
“Dad, you cannot be serious!”
“Oh, but I am! You’re going to regret being rude to me. And you’re going to regret buying this cane!”
Robert’s face flushed a bright beetroot red. He was so embarrassed and felt about one foot tall.
“Dad, no please. It’s my birthday!”
“Shut up whining! Now, I want you on all fours on the bed, now!”
“Dad, no, this is insane!”
Father tucked the cane under his left arm and approached his son. Suddenly, the belt holding up Robert’s jeans was being unbuckled by his father! The denims were yanked down unceremoniously, followed shortly after by the boy’s underpants! Tears of shame were forming in the son’s eyes. He didn’t struggle, but buried his face in the pillows on the bed.
CRACK! A first stroke sliced through the air, whacking into the boy’s naked arse cheeks. It left an angry red line, and was accompanied by a loud gasp from Robert.
CRACK! A second stroke was accompanied by writhing from the boy.
“Keep still, unless you want double?” his father commanded. The man’s assertiveness was quite a surprise to his son, although perhaps not to anyone who has had an encounter with an angry man with a cane in his hand!
CRACK! The third stroke sliced into the lad’s tender, downy cheeks. He was marking nicely, for this was indeed a rather wonderful cane.
CRACK! An extra hard stroke struck just on the sit spot, causing an angry wail from the boy. His bottom was now looking like a naughty schoolboy’s, decorated with the consequences of impertinence and rudeness.
Father was enjoying dishing out this beating. He was beginning to understand the virtues of the cane, whereas previously he had only been aware of its vices.
CRACK! The fifth was again an extra hard one, higher up this time, scorching the naked boy flesh with evil intent.
CRAAACK! A sixth stroke lashed down, causing the boy to squeal and writhe.
Father decided that six was sufficient for now. Yes, a traditional schoolboy six of the best had been delivered to his immense satisfaction. Robert’s face was buried in the pillows, although it was clear he was sobbing gently. Father admired his son’s naked, striped bottom. He reflected that his son was now old enough to have his arsehole fucked. That was something he could never do to him, but further canings were definitely assured.
“Happy Birthday!” father cried as he placed the cane back on top of the dusty wardrobe.
Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne
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