Bitter Tears On The Gold Coast (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Another chance to read this hot caning fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne.  With special thanks to long lost penpal Jim for his considerable input. All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!

All around the liberal world same sex marriage arrived suddenly. Australia was no different. The country that had once been a part of the British empire had embraced many of the motherland’s traditions, from the monarchy to cricket to caning. The traditions had travelled the globe, to the West Indies, to India, to the Commonwealth. Now, the new vogue for gay weddings passed seamlessly into Australian law. A plebiscite voted in favour and was followed by the Marriage Amendment (Definition and Religious Freedoms) Act 2017, passed the Australian Parliament on the 7th December 2017. Royal assent was given by the Governor-General the following day. Yes, things had changed, and changed for good.

This enabling legislation brought a whole lot of new relationships into being. We’re not talking about the obvious ones here: men marrying men and women marrying women. No, we have in addition new sets of in-law relationships.

Among the first to get married were Tom and Jack, two handsome young guys both in their late 20s. The wedding was in Perth, Western Australia, and was a most convivial affair. Both families got on well with each other, there was no awkwardness and absolutely no drama, although wine flowed liberally and there were sore heads the following day.

After a wet honeymoon in Amsterdam exploring all the gay dens and vices that the city had to offer, the lads returned home to the Great Southern Land and arranged to spend some time which each family just to get everyone settled into the new arrangements.

First they went to Tom’s family in Perth and had a very agreeable two week holiday. Nothing was too much trouble for Tom’s parents, Barry and June, and their extended family of children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews.

Soon it was time to visit Gold Coast, Queensland to stay with Jack’s dad, also for a couple of weeks. Everything seemed hunky dory, although Tom soon picked up on an undercurrent of sadness in Jack’s dad, perhaps coming from his widower status. He could be fun, but he could also be fierce. Jack had never mentioned to Tom that when he was back home his dad had always insisted on the old house rules being enforced just as they were when he lived at home, right up until he had finished university. Failure to comply had always resulted in a session with the rattan cane which his dad had kept handy.

Not long after their arrival Jack’s dad asked his son, “I assume you’ve told Tom about about my rules?”

Jack didn’t think too much about it, or that the cane part would still apply now that he’s a married man. Jack just shrugged, saying, “Yes, sure, whatever.”

“Good, because I don’t want any disruption. I’m a creature of habit, as you know. Curfew is still strictly 11.30.”

Jack didn’t give it much thought. The following night the two lads headed to a bar, where some of Jack’s erstwhile mates were waiting to continue the wedding celebrations. The happy couple left in good time at around 11. They had no key to the house, but the drunken allure of the beach led to a change of plan. In the heat of the summer, and despite the light of the moon and the crashing of the waves, the two lovers were soon asleep on the sand. Jack awoke with a startle and looked at his watch, saying, “Shit, Tom! It’s almost 1 am. Dad’s gonna be furious.”

Tom didn’t realise there was a problem until Jack explained that his Dad never, ever gave him a key. “Oh well,” Tom said, “We’ll just have to wake him.”

Jack was annoyed. Annoyed with himself, and even more annoyed with his new husband’s ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude. Tom didn’t know what Jack’s dad was capable of!

And so it was that Jack’s dad was indeed distinctly unimpressed to be woken in the early hours. He was a man of few words, but he did warn his son, “Drinking! Heavily! Strewth, go to bed now. I will see you both in my office at 8. I think you know what to expect, Jack.”

Jack’s worst fears were indeed coming true. He knew exactly what to expect, otherwise why would they have been summoned to the office? It had been the scene of so many salutary canings over the years. He didn’t tell Tom about the cane. He felt sure that he would be on the receiving end of a severe cane burning in the morning. What he couldn’t be sure of was his dad’s attitude to Tom, the new son-in-law. Surely, he would escape the rattan retribution?

The boys were up and showering soon after seven. In fact, they were up and showering together in the surprisingly generous en suite. The soap and the shower gel slipped enthusiastically around their hunky masculine bodies. The urge for buggery in the shower was resisted however, as both had throbbing heads from their excessive drinking only a few hours before.

By 7:45 Jack’s nerves were playing up. By 7:50 he was heading for the loo. By 8:00 both he and Tom were stood in the office. Dad was sat behind the desk, looking slightly amused. Tom was aghast when he noticed the curved handled cane lying on the desk. He’d never seen one in real life before. He felt sure no-one had one these days, but the evidence before him indicated otherwise. Surely it wasn’t going to be used?

Father smiled at the boys, saying, “Good morning lads. I hope your heads aren’t too sore? Now, Tom, I don’t like being woken up once I have turned in. Do you understand?”

“Errr, yes, we’re really sorry about that. Aren’t we Jack?”

Jack didn’t answer. There was no point. He knew what was coming, and there was no point in begging for clemency.

Father continued, “Jack will tell you what happens when he screws up big time at my place, won’t you Jack?”

“Oh Dad! Must I?”

“Yes, you must.”

“Well, Tom. Dad canes me. That’s all there is to it. He canes me hard on my bare bottom.”

Tom gasped. He had thought as much, of course. Why else would the cane be displayed on the desk? Still, it looked fearful and he hoped that it wouldn’t get used on Jack, or on himself, for that matter! Crikey!

Father resumed, “Let’s get it over with then. Jack, over the caning stool. And drop your trousers. I reckon a good twelve strokes to make amends. Tom, you will stay and watch and learn!”

Tom didn’t want to watch. He couldn’t bear to see his new husband being hurt in this way. He watched Jack lower his trousers, and then his underwear. Obviously, that was part of the routine, although the old man hadn’t actually asked for it. Despite his best intentions, for a moment Tom was transfixed. He perved at the nuddy hairy buttocks of his better half, which were now displayed most obscenely. He then looked over at his father-in-law, who was busy rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt. Strong muscled arms were revealed. Yes, that man sure was built like a brick shithouse.

The cane was raised in anger and then smacked down terrifyingly. “Boy!” his father spoke and then cracked the cane down again, “Listen boy!”

The cane cracked down a third time, “Take your medicine like a man.”

A fourth stroke, “Have some consideration for others.”

A resounding fifth, “Never disturb your father after bedtime.”

Sixth, half way there, “Keep to your curfew.”

Crack! “Learn some manners!”

Crack! “Respect!”

Crack! “Self-discipline!”

Crack! “DISCIPLINE!”

Crack! “Consideration!”

Crack! “Is that clear?”

It couldn’t have been any clearer! Jack’s pert arse was now covered in the angry red marks that the rattan rod had donated, free at the point of use. Tom had been horrified as the beating had progressed. The impact sounds were alarming, and the gentle whimpering of his husband had been chilling. Despite this, Tom was experiencing a stiffy. Something about the whole caning had been very stimulating and bizarrely sexual. His unexpected arousal made him feel quite ashamed and guilty.

As Jack rose, and pulled his clothes back up, Father turned towards Tom and said, “Well, Tom. What did you make of that then? As my new son, I think you’re due some of the stick too!”

Tom was frightened. This was exactly what he’d feared. A hard caning on his bare arse! He wouldn’t be as stoic as his husband had just been, he felt sure. He couldn’t see a way out of it though. He was trapped! He’d have to take the cane. It might help with the guilt he was now feeling, though. Guilt for his part in the post-midnight disturbance, and guilt at his arousal.

“I’m not a cruel man,” the cruel man said, “I’m your father too now, y’know. I need to take you under my wing, Tom, just like I have looked after Jack for these past twenty-eight years. I’m going to cane you, but as it’s your first time we’ll limit it to just eight strokes. You ever had the cane before, son?”

“Err, no. No. Never had the cane before. Never. I suppose it’s only fair that I get some too. Give me twelve please, the same as Jack. It’s only fair.”

“What? Twelve? Is my new son a complete fool? Or maybe you’re just a brave lad? Alright, twelve it is! Same strength as I gave Jack then. They will hurt, my boy. Get over the stool, drop them and brace yourself.”

Tom was wearing board shorts. He tugged them down. They snagged momentarily on his still semi-hard cock. Jack watched with amazement and disbelief. Surely his foolhardy husband hadn’t volunteered for twelve strokes, four more than sentenced? But yes, he had. Tom pulled his briefs down too, mounted the stool and raised his arse submissively, willing the cane to do its worst.

Crack! The cane lashed down. “Argh!” cried Tom as the pain built.

“DISCIPLINE!” Father shouted.

Crack! A second burning lash made Tom gasp.

“RESPECT!” Father shouted.

Crack! Tom howled with pain as a third stroke cut into his peachy arse.

“MANNERS!”

Crack! The rattan swished down, adding a fourth sore red cut to the lad’s arse. “No!” cried Tom, to no avail.

“I am your father now!”

Crack! “ARRGH!” cried Tom.

“I am in charge!”

Crack! Tom was sobbing quietly, yet mysteriously his bottom kept raising to meet the cane, like a true submissive.

“I AM THE BOSS!” Father shouted again, with a note of glee in his commanding voice. Jack had heard it all before, but the strict words were a revelation to Tom. He’d never met a man with so much authority before.

Crack! Crack! Two fast strokes winded Tom. He hadn’t expected them. The pain was intolerable. His cock had shrunk as the beating progressed. This was no turn-on. This was hell. But this time there were no harsh, sadistic words from father, who just paused to admire his handiwork.

Jack too was admiring the eight red marks adorning his lover’s flesh. How many times had he fucked those welcoming cheeks, he wondered? Yet never had the arse looked quite like this – so pert, so inviting, so raw and so disciplined. He could just make out his husband’s arsehole, partly hidden by a mass of dark hairy fur. Yes, it would be good and novel to shag a freshly-caned arse he thought to himself. Yet only eight strokes had been delivered. The original sentence had been completed. Now there were just the extra strokes to come, the ones requested in folly or bravado.

Father flexed the cane and swished it through the air a couple of times. He approached his son-in-law and whispered in his ear, “Enjoying it?”

“No, Sir! No way.”

“Good! That’s the way it should be. Let’s carry on then. Time waits for no man. I’m tired and I might have a kip once we’ve finished.”

Crack! A ninth stroke was delivered, the first of a fresh salvo. “OWWW!” cried Tom as waves of incandescent pain consumed him.

“Now you know what to expect if you upset your new father, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question, of course, and if the old man was tired, his caning arm wasn’t showing it.

Crack! “ARRRGH!”

“You can expect the cane any time you upset me, is that clear?”

“Yes Dad, oh yes Dad!” replied Tom, with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. He wanted it over. He wanted it over and he wanted it over now, and yet for a little masochistic moment he kind of wished that the caning would last forever. Yes. It was true. There was some satisfaction in among the pain.

Jack stared over at the scene. His own cock was now fully erect, and he was enjoying the spectacle before him. It sure was mighty fine entertainment, despite the residual intense flashes of pain from his own caning. He would have to thank his father at some point, probably when Tom was out of earshot!

Dad delivered a brace of strokes, and with no admonishments. He liked that unpredictability when punishing a boy. And so it was over. Twelve hard strokes delivered. Tom remained over the caning stool, his thrashed and trashed buttocks on display to husband and to father-in-law.

As he laid the cane down on his desk, father reflected on the morning’s events. He’d never delivered twenty four strokes before. How immensely satisfying that had been. And he had to admit there was pleasure in dealing with a fresh bottom for a change.

“Tom! Get up and get out of here, my boy. Unless you want some more?” Father cackled.

Tom turned his head round to look through misty eyes at his father-in-law. He was quite a hunk as older guys go, he thought to himself. He was beaten and conquered. How masterful his new father had turned out to be. And then with some annoyance he could see Jack in the background smirking and smiling. Tom raised himself slowly from the caning stool, and pulled up his shorts. His arse was on fire, but despite this he thanked his punisher and shook the hand that was duly offered, with “no hard feelings.”

Up in their guest bedroom, Tom thumped Jack on the arm. “Hey! What’s that for?”

“That’s for getting me into trouble, tosser! Shit, that cane sure fucking hurts! I still can’t understand why your dad thought he could just go ahead and cane me though,” said Tom nursing his very sore bottom.

“Don’t be so dim. You are his son now, just like I am. He’s your dad.”

“I’ve got a dad already thanks. One without a fucking cane.”

“He’s your new dad. The kind of dad you never had. Anyway, you could have got away with eight strokes. Are you a masochist? What madness made you take a dozen?”

“Oh, I dunno. Solidarity, I suppose. I wanted to support you.” Tom was thoroughly confused after his beating. Yes he had hated it. But yes he had loved it too. And yes he was glad he’d taken the full dozen. Just then a small tear rolled down his cheek.

“Come here, stupid!” said Jack giving his husband a big hug. Then the two guys stripped off, got on all fours on the bed and with some difficulty compared their caned arses in the dressing table mirror.

“They’re quite well matched,” observed Tom, “He certainly knows what he’s doing with a cane.”

Jack smiled inwardly. Yes, his father was a devil with the cane. Just then he felt some twinges in his arse, and then he rubbed his sore arm. Tom shouldn’t have hit him there. He’d be bruised, no doubt. For a bit of revenge, Jack determined there and then to ask his father to cane Tom again. He felt sure that between him and his father they could come up with a reason, however flimsy. He would also ask his dad where he could buy a cane. After all, it would be handy to have one at home.

As forecast, Dad had decided to hit the sack again. He wasn’t as tired as earlier but he did have a stonking big erection to deal with.

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D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story © MMXVIII by Rod Cayenne.  All rights reserved.

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