Aunt’s Birthday Present (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

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

All the characters are 21 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

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

Mum’s Birthday Present (F/F)

A favourite spanking story by Rod Cayenne, repeated by popular demand.

All the characters are age 21 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

“A cane?”

“Well Mum, you said it was almost impossible to get you anything. What do you get the woman who’s got everything?”

“Yes, I did say something like that didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. And then I remembered you saying something a while back along the lines of you’d like to hold a cane again, just once to remind yourself how powerful it made you feel.”

“Well, yes I may have done. It certainly takes me back. I feel just like Head Girl again,” Mum said grinning and swishing the beautiful crook-handled cane through the air.

“You like it then?”

“Oh yes, Carol darling! It certainly takes me back, it certainly does.”

“Did you use the cane much, Mum?”

“Oh yes! It was expected, encouraged. I was a bit of a beast, really. I feel a little guilty about it now. It wouldn’t be allowed now, would it?”

“No, certainly not. Anyway, is it a good one?”

“Yes, I’d say so. Let’s try it on this cushion, shall we?”

Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK! Swish-CRACK!

“There we are! Six of the best. Very impressive. Thank you darling.”

Mother and daughter kissed.

“You’re welcome Mum. I had to buy it from an online sex shop.”

“Really, do people find it sexy?”

“Well someone must, otherwise they wouldn’t sell any, would they?”

“I remember being on the receiving end too. Phew, it burns like fire.”

“Really? It seems so thin and inoffensive.”

“Yes, but it’s whippy as you’ve seen and bites like a snake. Not that I’ve been bitten by a snake, of course. Not at all sexy, anyway.”

“So Mum, one thing has always puzzled me. You used the cane at school, but you didn’t believe in it at home?”

“No. Your father and I argued about it, but I was adamant. No cane in our house. Although I regretted that a bit when Penny went off her head.”

“The drugs?”

“Yes, that was difficult. To this day, I don’t know where she got them from.”

“I do Mum. It was me. I’ve always felt very, very guilty about it.”

“YOU? Oh no, no, no!”

“Yes, sorry Mum. Still Penny’s turned out fine hasn’t she? All those dressage awards!”

“No thanks to you!”

“Mum!”

“Well, frankly I’m very disappointed with you. Very. If I’d found that out at the time, I probably would have got a cane!”

“Really? I had a lucky escape there then!”

“Yes!”

“You’re not happy with me now are you, Mum?”

“No I’m not! I think you’d better leave, before I say something I might regret later.”

“What, like ‘Bend over’?”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking of at all, but it’s not a bad idea.”

“Really, Mum? If it would help, I’d do it.”

“No. Don’t tempt me. Wait! Yes, let’s do it!”

Carol was a bit shocked that her mother had suddenly expressed a wish to cane her. This hadn’t been in her plans when she bought that jokey present. She was a bit old for the cane, too.

“Seriously, Mum? Don’t you think I’m a bit old for it? I’m twenty-nine, remember.”

By this time, Carol’s mother had pulled a dining chair into the middle of the room. She obviously wasn’t joking.

“Shut up Carol! Of course you’re not too old. Now bend yourself over this chair. We’ll start with a traditional six of the best. Like that cushion just had!”

“Oh, Mum!” exclaimed Carol, remembering what a sound thrashing the cushion had taken. Indeed, dust from the cushion was still in the air, and visible in the streams of sunshine coming through the window.

“You can keep your skirt and knickers on if you behave yourself, although the skirt will be raised out of the way.”

“Oh, Mum!”

“Six of the best, then.”

Swish-Crack! Mum wasted no time slashing the first stroke down on her daughter’s pert knickered bottom.

“AARGH!” Carol cried, leaping up and clutching her bottom. She massaged her cheeks frantically.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Carol? You’re meant to stay in position. Really, the girls at school were so much better behaved.”

“Well they were probably used to it!” Carol exclaimed, still rubbing her bottom frantically.

“Carol, I suggest you bend over again, right now, unless you want me to repeat the stroke!”

Filled with horror at the suggestion of an extra penalty stroke, Carol bent over submissively for her mother, somewhat embarrassed by events. Mum flexed the cane, eyeing the temptation before her. Carol’s bottom was more womanly than pert, offering an ample and very punishable target. Mum prepared herself for the next stroke, telling herself that there was no point in holding back! After all, this was likely to be the one and only time the cane would be employed for its designated use.

Swish-Crack! The second stroke landed on Carol’s white lacy knickers. The daughter gasped, and her face flushed. This was quite an experience, one she thought she would never have.

Swish-Crack! The cane landed again, causing Carol to squeal, much to her mother’s satisfaction.

CRACK! A heavy, brutal stroke crashed onto Carol’s bottom. She leapt up again! Her mother frowned as she watched Carol rubbing her bottom.

“That’s cheating, my girl! No-one dared to rub their bottom in my study at school. Get your knickers down, hurry up! Bend over again! And an extra stroke for getting up!”

Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Mum was getting into her stride. Her daughters naked, striped bottom was a delightful sight. It seemed to encourage and beckon the whippy stick.

Indeed, the cane lashed down again, causing a very vocal shriek.

“I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you properly yet! Stay down for two more!”

“Oh, Mum!”

CRACK!CRACK! On and on it went, two more each time. Mum’s taste for caning had been rekindled. Carol just felt sore and stupid, wriggling as the cane lashed her bum.

A few days later, Mum was over at her other daughter’s home. Mother and daughter were sat on the rattan sofa in the conservatory, enjoying a Pimms in the spring sunshine.

“Mum, I heard about Carol’s caning.”

“Oh, you did, did you? Well, let me tell you Penny, she deserved every one of those strokes.”

“But Mum, there were over twenty, I’m told. That was a bit harsh. Especially as it was me who was caught with the drugs.”

“Being caught was your own stupid fault. You took your punishment.”

“Yes, Mum. But Community Service hardly compares with what you gave Carol the other day.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t believe in punishing twice for the same thing. You don’t want the cane do you?”

“Yes, I do actually. Have you got it with you?”

“No, of course not. I’m not going to keep it in the car, now am I? Now who’s being stupid? It’s hidden in the bedroom where your father and I can keep an eye on it. We don’t want Carol breaking it.”

“OK Mum. I do deserve a good whipping, though. I thought you might not have the cane with you, so I thought we could use one of my riding crops instead. Let’s go into the living room, I’ve left my favourite crop in there.”

__________)

Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome – please use link at top of story

Old comments are here

Son’s Birthday Present (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

 

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!”

“Dad!”

“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!”

“Language, Robert!”

“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!”

“DO IT!”

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

Comments welcome – please use the link at the top of the story

Comments from the original posting are here

Dad’s Birthday Present (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot and erotic entertainment by your host, Rod Cayenne.  Repeated as part of the new “Birthday Present Trilogy” season. 

All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

“Hello John.”

“Hello Dad!”

“Just ringing to say thank you for my birthday presents. The tie’s lovely, those gold stripes are very eye-catching. The other present was more of a surprise though.”

“Really? It’s to replace your broken one.”

“Yes, so I gather, but really, a school cane? I’m surprised you can still get them. My old one was at least thirty years old.”

“That’s probably why it broke then. It wasn’t hard to track down a new one via the internet.”

“Oh, I always forget about the internet. I hardly ever use it.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Anyway, thanks for the cane. I can’t see it getting any use though. When my old one broke on your brother’s bottom, I thought it was a sign to call a halt to that sort of thing. After all, Lawrence is eighteen now. A bit old for the cane, I suppose.”

“You caned me when I was twenty. Lawrence and I were talking and we reckoned a father should use the cane until his sons get to twenty one, maybe.”

“Really? What an odd notion. Especially in this day and age.”

“Well Lawrence and I are both a bit old-fashioned, perhaps thanks to you. In fact, it was his idea to get you a replacement cane. It was just easier for me to get hold of one.”

“So, let me get this right. He’s expecting me to cane him for another three years or so?”

“Well, you’d have to ask him that, I guess, but he is still living under your roof. Until he moves out. And only if he screws up, I guess.”

“Oh, he’ll do that alright. He’s a lot less responsible than you were at his age.”

“Well, you’re probably right, Dad. Although, as I said, you caned me at twenty for that car business.”

“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about that. I was really angry with you.”

“Yes, I remember, and so does my bottom.”

“Really, I let you off quite lightly there son.”

“If you say so, Dad.”

“Yes, I do say so. A dreadful business. You deserved all twelve of those strokes!”

“You’d better watch out that Lawrence doesn’t pull a similar stunt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that John, I know what signs to look for.”

“Yes, Dad. I suppose you do.”

“I’ll have a quick chat with Lawrence anyway. He needs to consent to my use of the cane, now he’s eighteen, I feel.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Dad. Anyway, he won’t object. Remember it was his idea to replace the cane.”

“Oh yes. Anyway, how are things with you, John?”

“Well, alright in some ways, not so good in others, to be honest. I think I’m getting a bit too fond of the beer.”

“Yes, well there is a family history of that.”

“I know, Dad. I just need some motivation to say no. A little temperance.”

“Hmm. I see. It’s a bit of a problem then, son?”

“Yes, and I don’t want it interfering with my job.”

“There’s always the cane.”

“Sorry Dad, what do you mean?”

“What I mean John is that regular, hard canings might help wean you off the alcohol.”

“Oh, Dad! I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.”

“Yes, well you have now, haven’t you?”

“Dad, I’m twenty five!”

“And still on the shelf and drinking yourself silly. I’ll come over Friday evening with both my presents, and we can talk it over.”

“Oh, Dad.”

“Make sure you’re in. And tip any alcohol away. You’re sobering up as from today. Is that clear?”

“Yes Dad.”

Friday evening soon came around. Dad looked very smart in his navy blue blazer, cream slacks, white shirt and the birthday tie. He parked his dark green Subaru in the large public car park and made his way over to the block of flats where his son John lived. He puffed away at a big, fat cigar as he strode purposefully. Under his left arm was a long, thin cardboard box, still with some gift wrap on. It was the box the cane had come in, and of course it wasn’t empty!

John answered the door, looking sheepishly at his father. He knew exactly what was in that box, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it.

The two men discussed the problem like mature adults. Dad had a leaflet about alcohol units. He read parts of it out loud and then they did an audit of John’s alcohol consumption. It was bad, very bad. Dad took a tour of the flat, looking for bottles. The only ones he found were empties. The fridge, however, revealed a secret stash of cans of extra-strong lager. Dad took enormous pleasure in opening the ring pulls and tipping the fizzy muck down the kitchen sink.

The elephant in the room was the cane, of course. Dad had returned to the lounge and both men stared at the box. Silently, Dad opened the box and extracted the cane from the pink tissue paper it was wrapped in.

“A nice touch, that tissue paper,” Dad observed.

“Yes, aimed at the married couples market, I believe.”

“Really?”

“Yes, that’s what they told me in the shop.”

“I thought you bought it on the internet?”

“No Dad. I found out about the shop on the internet, but went and bought the cane in person. Mainly as time was tight.”

“What sort of shop was it?”

“Oh a sex shop, you know.”

“I’ve never been in one actually, son.”

“Well they told me a lot of couples buy canes to spice things up in the bedroom. Seems a bit strange to me as a cane like that hurts like hell. Maybe they only tap each other with it.”

“Yes, maybe. Takes all sorts, I suppose. Well, this cane will be used for punishment only! You’re getting a dozen. Count yourself lucky that we’re not basing it on your units.”

“Yes, you’re right there, Dad.”

“Of course, just like when you were young, the strokes will have to be on the bare.”

“No, Dad. I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“I’ve decided, John. Now, no arguing with me unless you want me to increase the tariff.”

Reluctantly, John dropped his blue Wranglers. He hesitated as he reached his boxers. He really didn’t want to expose his bare flesh to the cane, and at twenty five, he wasn’t keen on his father seeing his bum crack, arsehole, cock and bollocks. However, he gave way. Perhaps it was the way his father was slashing the cane through the air with malicious intent! The boxers were removed and folded neatly along with the blue jeans.

“Over this chair! Right over! Bend down and stick your bottom out, John.”

WHACK! The cane lashed down. It had been five years, but that first searing stroke reminded John just why the cane was to be feared!

CRACK! A second stroke lashed down without any respite. John was distinctly uncomfortable, his bottom writhing already. He was determined not to cry out, though.

CRACK! The third stroke caused John to grunt as the pain kicked in. He was annoyed with himself, but it was too late, his father had heard and taken some satisfaction at this first audible sign of distress.

CRACK! The fourth stroke whipped down. Dad was enjoying the spectacle, and really appreciating his birthday present. What a thoughtful choice it had been!

CRACK! The fifth caused a heavy sigh from John who was now convincing himself that giving up alcohol would be a great idea.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Dad was increasing the tempo of the beating, much to John’s distress.

CRACK!CRACK! John was beside himself with pain. He’d forgotten what a great beater his father was and how much a cane used in anger could hurt.

But the cane wasn’t really being used in anger. It was doing a good imitation, but the truth was that his father was enjoying every sadistic stroke, and every wince and groan from his son. At times like this, Dad felt completely detached from family ties, empathy and compassion. He was an old-fashioned, old school sadist, really. An erection was stirring in the old man’s slacks, for the first time in two or three years! He stopped and flexed the cane, and then began tapping it gently on his son’s naked arse. He slashed it down again with an almighty WHACK!

This time John couldn’t keep still and raised his head high, gasping with throbbing pain. He’d been counting silently, so he knew there was just one stroke left of his sentence.

CRACK! The final blow was wicked and merciless. John’s eyes were moist, and his arse was a scarred battlefield.

“Very good,” his father announced. “I think you’re learning a lesson here, John. Two more strokes to drive it home!”

There was no time for argument. John regretted staying bent over as the resounding CRACK of stroke thirteen echoed around the lounge.

“ARGH!” John cried, just like a teenager. His father’s erection was straining to break free, such was the sexual excitement in the air. Once again, the cane was flexed with pleasure and menace in mind.

CRACK! Stroke fourteen slashed down, creating the sorest, reddest line yet. But at least it was over.

“Cover yourself up, John! You look quite ridiculous like that.” Now Dad was adding to the humiliation with cruel words. He put the cane down on the coffee table.

Gingerly, John climbed back into his boxers, and then pulled his Wranglers over them. His arse was aglow, throbbing, hot and uncomfortable. His father’s penis was much the same, stiff and aching.

“The cane and I’ll be doing random spot checks from now on. No alcohol in the flat at all. Is that clear?”

“Yes Dad.”

“I can’t stop any longer. I’ve promised Lawrence a thrashing tonight as well.”

____________

Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne

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Comments from the original post are here

Uncle’s Birthday Present (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne.  Repeated from 2013 as part of the new “Birthday Present” season. 

All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

I’d grown very fond of Uncle Robbie as I left my teens and moved into my early twenties. When I was younger, I’d found him to be rather stuffy and old-fashioned. As I matured though, I began to appreciate his ways. After all, he was a product of his harsh upbringing.

He had often regaled me with tales of his school days. Of his permanently sore bottom, courtesy of strict teachers and sadistic prefects. Then again, he eventually became a caning prefect himself. He was less forthcoming about that! I suspected he was a little ashamed about how he had become a small cog in the machinery of institutionalised brutality.

We used to joke about how I could have benefited from just such a regime. After all, it was no secret that I was a bit lazy and lacking in ambition. Despite this and the depressed local economy, I had managed to secure a part-time position at a local outlet.

Every now and then, it had become customary for me to spend a weekend at Uncle’s place – a timber-clad bungalow in a lovely wood, miles from any neighbour. Those weekends were really special, as we would spend hours exploring the woods, and catching up. There was no TV, but the radio was almost always on, usually blaring  classical pieces and often from a foreign station.

This particular weekend, he picked me up straight from work in his beaten-up old Ford. I’d had a bit of a struggle securing the time off, I told him as we headed back to his place.

I knew it had been his birthday the previous day. I’d bought him a little something, and wrapped it neatly in one of my more productive moments. I handed it to him as soon as we got into his place. He looked surprised, although it wasn’t the first time I’d remembered his birthday.

He took his time unwrapping the present. As the contents were revealed he gasped, then chuckled. It was a school cane with a crook handle. It was rather aged, as I’d bought it from an antiques dealer near where I lived.

He picked it up and swished it around. A broad grin crossed his face. He slammed it down on the arm of the chair next to him. It made a fearful crack, causing us both to laugh heartily.

“Well, thank you for the present,” he said eventually, “And really, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s OK, Uncle. I thought you might like it. It’s not new you know, it’s from an antiques bric-a-brac place.”

“No, Liam. When I say you shouldn’t have, I mean I might be tempted to use it this weekend!”

I laughed nervously. Stupidly, I hadn’t foreseen that eventuality.

“Yes, a very dangerous present. A cane begs to be used, you know? You’d better watch your step, my lad!”

We both laughed. It wasn’t my step I had to watch, it was my arse! I was glad when the subject was dropped as we decided to eat. Over teacakes and jam, there was no more talk of it.

As it was a lovely fresh autumn evening, we took a stroll out into the woods. We saw a deer in the distance. I was quite captivated by it as it seemed so wild and untamed. Uncle told me all about the mating habits of deer, and about the rutting he’d seen more than once.

Back at the bungalow, we both stared at the cane lying on the coffee table. Its presence was making me nervous and I was regretting buying the thing. We didn’t talk about it during the rest of the evening, as Uncle was keen to hear about my job and the family. Only when it was time to turn in, was the subject of the cane brought up, somewhat awkwardly.

“I must thank you again for the cane, Liam. Most thoughtful. Now, why don’t you hang it on the hook on your bedroom door tonight? It’ll remind you to be good. No wanking tonight, mind!”

I was shocked to hear him use that word. In truth, by this time I was terrified of that cane. I did as was expected, however, and hung the cane on the back of the bedroom door. After washing, I lay silently on the bed. The ghostly light from the corridor shone through the glass panel above the door, and onto the cane. The pale light seemed to emphasise the curve of the handle of the cane.

In some ways, I wished I was back home with Mum rather than spending the weekend with Uncle Robbie. Perhaps because of what he had said, my urge to masturbate was strong. As I played with my stiffening cock, I stared at the cane. I wondered what it would feel like to receive a good thrashing from it. I didn’t want it, I told myself, but it would certainly be an experience to remember. My cock was rock hard and desperate for relief. I fantasised about Uncle Robbie caning me as I rubbed my cock frantically. It was a strong orgasm, with cum spurting everywhere. I used some toilet paper I’d sneaked in from the smallest room to dry up the evidence. I didn’t want Uncle to find it. My arse was on the line!

It was a beautiful morning. Sunlight was streaming into the room through the thin curtains and the glass panel above the bedroom door. Time for an early morning wank, I told myself. But evidently, it was later than I thought as suddenly I could hear Uncle Robbie calling me and telling me I had twenty minutes before breakfast was ready. I rushed to the bathroom and had a quick shit, shower and shave.

I dressed hurriedly. As I pulled on my jeans I saw the cane glistening in the sunshine. I took it down and flexed it. As if in a trance, I brought it with me as I made my way into the kitchen/diner.

I put the cane down on the small table. Uncle Robbie looked surprised to see it. We sat down to eat. I tapped at my boiled egg, and we made small talk about the weather and the morning. After breakfast we enjoyed a second cup of filter coffee.

“So, why is the cane here, Liam?”

“I thought you might want it back,” I sighed.

“Nothing you want to confess to then, Liam?”

“No, Uncle.”

“Quite sure?”

“Quite sure, thank you, Uncle.”

“Really? I thought I heard noises in the night. Wanking noises.”

“Well, maybe just a little, Uncle.”

“Come off it Liam. No-one has a little wank. A quick one, or a slow one maybe. But you had a full one, didn’t you?”

“Yes, alright I did.”

“Aha! So I’m getting the truth now. Tell me more about it! Uncle wants to know!” he said, picking up the cane.

“Uncle!”

“Come on Liam, tell me about it. We’re both grown men. No need to be shy with me.”

“Well it was a very good one, if you must know.”

“Tell me honestly, Liam, was the cane in your thoughts?”

“Errrrr. Yes, a little, Uncle.”

“Pah! There’s that ‘little’ word again. You had a good wank and you found the thought of the cane exciting, didn’t you boy?” Uncle Robbie had adopted a more authoritarian air.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Good. In that case a caning does seem to be in order, as you disobeyed me and played with yourself. And you want to find out what the cane’s like don’t you?”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I did want to find out what a caning was like. I was ready for it, but not what came next.

“Very good. Now, drop your trousers and pants, and bend over this chair.”

“Bare, Uncle?” I asked, the horror of the thought only just sinking in.

“Of course! I’m not caning you through those bloody thick jeans. You’d hardly feel a thing. The pants won’t make much of a difference but I’ve never caned a bottom that wasn’t bare, and I’m not going to start now. Get them down, lad.”

Slowly, I eased my jeans down, followed by my pants. I felt incredibly foolish with my bottom bared towards him.

“Come on, come on!” he goaded me, “I want to try out my present!”

I bent over submissively, offering my bottom for chastisement. It felt like a very strange thing to have to do. Strangely too, it felt quite thrilling.

Suddenly, the first stroke whipped down. It stung like blazes, I’d never felt anything quite like it! I felt hot all over, but my bottom was definitely hotter still and rapidly overheating. I reflected on how stupid and naive I’d been to furnish Uncle with this instrument of torture.

After a lengthy pause, a second stroke landed a little below where the first had marked me. Again, I was astonished by the severity and intensity. I felt flushed in the face, as I suddenly began to realise that the pain was starting to bring pleasure, too.

As the third stroke fell, I realised I was enjoying the caning. Of course it hurt, but the pain and sting produced waves of erotic pleasure. I wasn’t sure how to react, as I’d never experienced sexual pleasure from a man before.

I let out a most unmanly squeal as the fourth stroke cut into my naked cheeks. I heard Uncle chuckle behind me.

“Feeling it then?” he asked, but it was a question I had no intention of answering.

He slashed another stroke down, saying, “I asked you a question, lad. Are you feeling it?”

Well, as questions go, it was a pretty stupid one. No-one could not feel a caning. Especially one like that. I grunted an affirmative. I’d had five strokes and was hoping that number six would be the final one. I was enjoying the session, and was becoming turned on, but felt that six strokes was all I could take.

After another long pause, stroke six slashed down, slicing into my sore cheeks with real force. My arse throbbed and ached. My cock was stirring. I told myself I’d had my six of the best, so I decided to stand up.

“Not so fast, young man!” Uncle Robbie admonished, “I do believe you can take a little more. Besides which, I’m enjoying using this present of mine too much to stop just now. Bend back over for me please. Bottom out a bit more. That’s it!”

Well, I had to admit I admired his mastery, honesty and even his sadism. As the seventh and eighth strokes hit home, I had to admit to myself that I was enjoying the proceedings too. Nine and ten followed rapidly, which I hadn’t expected. I gasped at the double dose of pain.

Another brace of strokes followed. That was surely it, I told myself. I’d taken a sound caning of a dozen strokes. I started to rise. He pushed me back down again, roughly. I heard the swish and crack of stroke thirteen. Waves of pleasure and pain rushed through me. He whipped a fourteenth stroke down.

That was it! He helped me up, rubbing my bottom gently as he did so.

“Go and sit on the sofa,” he commanded. Soon he joined me. He put his arm around me and said, “Thanks for the cane, Liam.”

“Thanks for the caning, Uncle.”

I seized the initiative and kissed him on the cheek. He followed through immediately, and our lips met passionately. We went to bed. I had lost my caning virginity that day. My anal virginity joined it later that morning too. He was quite the skilled lover. We didn’t see much of the woods the rest of that weekend. I did see rather more of the cane, and my bottom got several more workouts from the rattan and from Uncle’s cock.

As soon as I passed my driving test I moved into the bungalow in the woods. I never regretted buying him that birthday present. It was used constantly, and always with me on the receiving end. He died a few years ago. Now I have a younger lover, and he is the one on the receiving end. I think Uncle Robbie would have approved.

____________)

Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome – please use the link at the top of the story

Comments from the original post are here

Grandpa’s Birthday Present (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot caning fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2013.  All the characters are age 18 or above.  Strictly adults only!

“What a stupid thing to buy me!”

“Dad!”

“Well, I retired from teaching almost twenty years ago, why would I want a cane?  A walking cane perhaps, but not a punishment cane!”

“Dad, you’re so ungrateful!”

“Well, it’s a particularly useless present, son. The cane’s made for a boy’s flesh. No chance of this being used. Unless young Julian’s stepped out of line, of course?”

“Oh no, no, no, no! Leave Julian out of this. He’s a bloody good kid, raised thousands for charity, just you be the loving grandfather figure to him, please Dad.”

“OK son, glad to hear he’s such a paragon of virtue. No faults that need correcting at all?”

“No, none at all. Really! Listen, I only bought that cane as a joke. I thought you might want to mount it on the wall or something. Like a trophy.”

“You really are a stupid boy,” said the old man, flexing the cane in his bony hands. “I ought to beat that stupidity right out of you. Just like old times!”

“Dad, get real please! You can’t do that! For heaven’s sake!”

“How much did this cost you, then, son?”

“Well, you shouldn’t be asking me that, as it was a present.”

“But I want to know!”

“OK. OK, it was a tenner, Dad.”

“A tenner, eh? Well, that’s what we used to call a ten stroke caning, back in the day.”

“Oh, Dad!” said the son, not liking at all where this was leading.

“Come on, boy. I want to play with my birthday present. And you’re the only one here. Get that bottom bare for me!”

It had been a long time since this particular father had caned this particular son. The air was electric. The tension broke as the son agreed quietly.

Both men sighed as the son’s trousers dropped to the floor, and were then stepped out of. Underpants followed. By now, the son was beginning to feel really stupid. His father, however, was just beginning to enjoy his birthday. Again, he flexed the cane and allowed himself a hearty laugh, much to his son’s disdain.

“A tenner then, son.”

“I’d rather have a sixer, Dad.”

“Big boys need rather more than a sixer, lad. Maybe a dozen, or a baker’s dozen?”

“Oh Dad! OK, OK! I’ll settle for a tenner then.”

“Good boy! Bend over the table please. That’s the stuff! Bottom right out, please.”

CRACK! A first stroke landed, taking its victim by surprise, followed by horror as the pain kicked in. This was going to be no picnic! His father had lost none of his touch! For an old man, he packed a mean punch!

SWISH-CRACK! The cane landed wickedly on the mature son’s buttocks, leaving a scorching red line of pain.

CRACK! The old man laughed as he landed a third stroke right on target. He hadn’t lost it!

CRACK! The meaty cheeks were sliced again, causing a loud groan from the victim. Despite this, his obedience and submissiveness made him thrust his bottom up ready for the next assault.

CRACK! The cane lashed down.

CRACK! Again the cheeks were thrust upwards to receive the punishment, which the son found curiously unwelcome and welcome at the same time.

CRACK! The birthday present lashed spitefully, as weal upon weal marked the buttocks.

CRACK! The caning was near ending, but both men were enjoying the unusual turn of events. Father’s sadism had been rekindled, and his son’s submission complemented it perfectly.

CRACK! The penultimate stroke caused an unwilling wail of discomfort.

CRACK! It was over! Dad dropped the cane and flopped down exhausted in the nearest armchair. His birthday treat had made it a memorable day. He chuckled to himself as he noticed his son was still bent over the table, red striped rear clearly displayed.

Eventually, the son raised himself from the table, rubbing his bottom as he did so. A wry smile crossed his face as he caught his father’s gaze.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind about this cane! It’s a splendid present, thank you son. I think we should use it on birthdays and anniversaries. It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“And maybe we could give it an outing on the first of every month?”

“Yes, alright Dad.”

________________)

Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne

Comments most welcome – please use link at the top of the story

Comments from the orginal 2013 post are here