♥ 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.”
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Caning & Spanking @ The Canery 