♥ Site recommended story ♥
A hot new caning story 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 Trouble With Short Shorts by Joelstrap
It was the nose which caught his attention. Seen in profile, as Greg was seeing it, the boy’s nose formed a straight line which, unexpectedly and exquisitely, turned up at the tip. Enchanted, Greg stopped, his trolley forgotten, and gazed in admiration. The boy was in the passenger-seat of the car, his bare arm resting on the ledge of the open window while he scrolled through something on his smart-phone. As Greg stared, a woman approached, pushing her laden trolley and shouted to the boy.
“Lee! Get off your lazy behind and help me put this stuff in the boot!”
The boy looked up, rolled his eyes, opened the car door and slid out in a swift, lithe movement. Greg drew in breath sharply. He forgot about the delightful, tip-tilted nose and focussed all his attention on the boy’s shorts. Never, in Greg’s opinion, had shorts been more deserving of their name. Not only were they so incredibly short that they revealed a substantial portion of the lad’s lower buttocks, but they fitted him so closely that they showed off every contour of his stunning bottom and revealed rather than concealed a generous endowment at the front. Greg gazed, spell-bound as the boy began to unload the shopping into the car-boot, showing off his perfectly-formed posterior from every angle as he turned, bent and straightened up.
There came a screech of brakes and an angry male voice shouting at Greg, “Get yer fuckin’ trolley off the road!”
Greg jumped in alarm and swiftly hauled his trolley back into the parking-space.
“Bloody young gomeril!” muttered the irate man as he drove on, giving Greg a vicious two-fingered sign as he passed.
The boy paused in his task of loading the shopping and looked up. He grinned at Greg and then, nodding at the departing motorist, made a ‘he’s mad’ sign with a finger pointing to his head. Greg grinned back. The boy returned to his task. For several seconds Greg gazed again at those amazing shorts and then gave himself a shake. He wasn’t one to let an opportunity slip by through shyness. The boy had emptied the trolley and the woman took it and set off to deposit it in a shelter a few metres away. Greg strode swiftly across.
“That your mum?” he asked and when the boy nodded, he continued. “Gotta be quick then. I like boys and you are absolutely stunning. Interested?”
The boy’s eyes swept appraisingly over Greg’s lean, hard body and then, “I like boys too,” he admitted. “Phones?”
The boy moved swiftly round to the side of the car, reached in the open window, and brought out his cell-phone and the pair exchanged numbers even as the lad’s mother opened the driver’s door to get in. With a sinuous leap, the lad was in his seat and a few seconds later the car drove off, leaving Greg staring after it, his mouth slightly open in delighted astonishment.
That evening he called the number and introduced himself. “And I’m Lee,” the boy replied. “I’m…eh…kinda amazed you seem to like me so much. You’re pretty hot yourself, by the way,” he added.
“Wearing shorts like that, what red-blooded gay-boy could help liking you,” Greg informed him. “That’s one hell of a cute arse you got on you, Lee; and you weren’t leaving much to the imagination.”
“Er, yeh, thanks.”
“So, how’d you like to come out for dinner with me tomorrow night?” asked Greg. “Then I can find out if you’re as good as you look.”
“How do you mean?” enquired Lee.
“I mean that a boy can look as sexy as warren of rabbits, but be as boring as a wet Wednesday in January,” replied Greg. “I wanna get to know you.”
“Right. I’d like to get to know you too. I mean, you’re right. I love your short hair and the shadow round your jaw and the bulge in the front of your jeans; but I need to talk to you as well.”
“You noticed quite a lot, considering how short a time we were together,” observed Greg.
“If a guy’s worth looking at,” retorted Lee, “I’ll look and I’ll take in what matters.”
Greg laughed. “Okay,” he said, “we’re agreed that we’re both as hot as hell. Now, do you know The Diner’s Delight in Round Square?”
“Meet me outside there at eight tomorrow evening, huh? I’ll treat you.”
“Oh, but I can pay for mys……..”
“My treat!” reiterated Greg firmly. “Don’t argue. But you can do something for me. Wear those shorts.”
“But would that be okay in there?”
“Of course. There’s nothing stuffy about the Delight. They just like to see bums on seats and satisfied diners.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Greg leaned forward across the table and looked into Lee’s eyes. Lee gazed back admiringly, appreciating the shining black of his dining-companion’s own eyes, the thick arches of his brows, the tanned skin, and the frame of short, dark hair which lay straight along his brow. Greg placed his right hand on Lee’s wrist and moved his thumb seductively over the boy’s skin.
“I like you,” said Greg quietly.
“I like you too,” Lee replied, feeling the heat rising in his face.
Greg shifted slightly in his seat as his rampant penis tried to force its way out of his tight leather jeans. Lee grinned at him and observed coyly, “Seems like your body likes me too.”
Lee suddenly felt one of Greg’s feet rising swiftly between his legs and landing firmly on the throbbing bulge in the front of his denims. He gasped and an expression of delighted discomfort spread rapidly across his face.
“And your body likes mine,” said Greg.
“Yeh,” panted Lee.
“Nice t-shirt too,” continued Greg, his eyes sliding over Lee’s torso, enjoying the sight of the boy’s nipples erect as little soldiers beneath the tightly-fitting cotton, and the narrowing of the boy’s body from the chest to the slim waist. “Why didn’t you wear your shorts?”
“I, er, well I thought that in a restaurant they might not be…..you know…..they’re quite snug,” he ended, flushing.
“You certainly fill them,” agreed Greg, “and they don’t leave much to the imagination. I like you in them. They show off your arse brilliantly; and you look like you’re pretty well-hung too. When you got assets like that, you need to wear clothes that don’t hide them. I really wanted to see you in those shorts again.”
“I’m sorry, Greg; but there’s another thing. They are kind of provocative; and maybe some other guy might get ideas.”
“I’d soon change his ideas for him,” said Greg seriously. “Any guy tries to mess with you and he’ll have me to deal with.”
Lee winced as this display of dominance made his penis strain painfully against the fabric of his jeans.
“You aren’t half sexy when you’re masterful like that,” he admitted. “And you look hell of a desirable in black leather.”
“You like a bit of masterful behaviour, Lee?”
“Yeh; it’s kind of exciting. I dunno why; it just is.”
“Right; well listen carefully. Next time we go out, you’ll wear your shorts if I tell you to wear them; or I’ll spank you hard.”
Lee’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline and, as his penis tried to force its way out of his pants, he gasped aloud and plunged a desperate hand into his jeans to rearrange things.
“You’ll spank me?” he panted wide-eyed.
“Hard,” said Greg.
“Right. I’ll remember.”
Lee let his eyes roam over Greg’s soft leather shirt, open at the neck to reveal a generous patch of hair between his pectorals. The young man wore a twisted leather thong round his neck from which hung a small, plain silver disc.
A waiter approached with plates of starters and Greg sat back, smiling warmly at Lee who gazed at him in open admiration.
“So, tell me a bit more about yourself,” invited Greg. “What do you like doing, Lee?”
“Dining out with a red-hot hunk,” replied Lee.
“Naturally,” agreed Greg, “but what do you do? What kind of interests have you got?”
“I’m a student at agricultural college. I’m eighteen; and I like hill-walking; and astronomy; and alpacas.”
Greg’s eyes opened very wide. “Alpacas?” he enquired.
“Yeh. You know what they are?” he asked and then, when Greg nodded, he went on, “I think they’re just fantastic. My uncle’s got some on his farm and what I really want to do one day is get a place of my own and have a few alpacas. I go out there most weekends to help out, and earn a bit of cash as well.”
“So what do you like about them, Lee?”
“They’re just so cute to look at, and sort of cuddly; and the way they look at you, sort of curious, as if they’re asking themselves, now what’s this odd-looking creature?; it’s all fascinating.”
Lee continued to chatter about alpacas and his uncle’s farm and Greg listened intently, until Lee suddenly fell silent and said, “Shit! Stop me. I must be boring the pants off you.”
“I could listen to you for hours,” said Greg.
Lee eyed him solemnly for a few seconds and then said quietly, “But it wouldn’t make any difference if I was talking about alpacas or giant sloths?”
Greg grinned broadly.
“You’re no fool,” he conceded, “but although I love just being with you and hearing you talk, I was listening to what you were saying too. I wouldn’t mind going out to your uncle’s farm and meeting these furry beauties for myself.”
“Great! Maybe in two or three weeks’ time? I’ve kind of committed myself to a lot of work on the farm for the next couple of weekends, and I don’t like to go back on what I said I’d do. Uncle Gordon relies on me. But after that I won’t be so busy and I’d have time to show you round.”
“You’re on! And in the meantime, maybe you’d show me round you?”
Lee flushed scarlet.
“Er, yeh,” he muttered.
“So when we go to Hot Haunches on Friday night, you’ll be wearing those shorts, so that I can get a really good look round your arse.”
“We can get into Hot Haunches?”
“Sure. I’m a member and I can take a guest. I’m twenty, by the way, and doing estate-management at college. I’m old enough to look after you and make sure you don’t get led astray by all the hot boys in the club.”
“They’re gonna want to see me?”
“Lee, boy; they’re gonna want to do a lot more than see you!”
Once again, Lee’s face turned bright red up to the roots of his hair.
“Fuck, but you’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” grinned Greg. “And don’t worry. Like I said earlier, nobody’s gonna get his hands on you as long as I’m around.”
Greg approached the residence where Lee had a room and saw the lad watching for him from the window. He waved and Lee disappeared and emerged a minute or so later from the door. Greg looked at him.
“No!” he said firmly. “I said shorts, Lee.”
“Yeh, but when you said all that stuff about hot boys wanting to get their hands on me at the club, I thought that maybe jeans would be…….”
“You know what thought did, Lee?”
“It thought wrong. Shorts, Lee. Now!”
For a moment Lee looked as if he might argue, but then he suddenly turned and ran back into the building, emerging a few minutes later wearing the required shorts.
“Oh, boy! Even better than I remember,” gasped Greg. “How the hell do you get into them?”
“Nothing underneath,” Lee admitted, “and then a good bit of wriggling. Best not to ask me to do any climbing over fences or up trees either,” he warned, “or they might split.”
“How about when you get hard?”
“Yeh, well, that gets a bit uncomfortable,” Lee admitted, “and it does sometimes feel like they might burst. Shit! Think how embarrassing that’d be!”
Greg took his hand and they walked off towards Hot Haunches.
Inside the club, it was clear that Greg was well-known, as he was greeted warmly by a large number of acquaintances; and Lee had to get used to being looked at with great admiration and even greater lust by a string of randy young guys. He kept close to Greg.
“I’m sure most of these guys are mentally stripping off my shorts,” whispered Lee in Greg’s ear.
“Too right they are,” replied Greg. “Come on. Let’s see you dance. That should drive them crazy!”
Greg led him by the hand to an area under swirling, coloured lights, washed by loud music with an insistent beat, and Lee, who loved to dance, let himself go. He shut out all the staring eyes and danced only for Greg, who proved himself to be equally adept on his feet, and the pair began to move instinctively more provocatively, their movements becoming increasingly intimate stages in a courtship, until Lee suddenly stopped and placed a hand on Greg’s chest. Sweat glistened on his face, his eyes were dark, his lips were parted; and he waited. Greg knew an invitation when he saw one, drew Lee close and kissed him with a passion which left Lee panting when at last Greg withdrew his lips.
Lee made a sound like a hive of angry bees and gazed adoringly into Greg’s eyes. Greg led him to a table and sat him down.
“I’ll get a couple of pints,” he said. “Won’t be long.”
As soon as Greg turned towards the bar, several young guys approached with admiring comments about Lee’s performance and about his shorts. They asked about his relationship with Greg and several assured him that if he and Greg broke up, they’d be ready and waiting. Lee smiled, embarrassed, and wished Greg would hurry back. A blond youth on whom sexuality seemed to sit like a cloak, leaned close to Lee so that the boy could smell his animal attraction, and remarked softly, “You let me into those shorts, kid, and I guarantee I’ll send you into orbit.”
“And you say anything like that to him again, Jonas, and I’ll send you into orbit, with my fist to see you on your way,” said Greg loudly behind him.
Jonas straightened up and gave Greg a sulky stare before muttering, “Okay. Keep your hair on,” and sauntering off with an air of pretended nonchalance.
Greg plumped a full glass in front of Lee and sat down with his own beer. He raised the glass and winked at Lee. “To the hottest arse in the place!” he said.
“Looks like it’s one naughty arse though,” observed a cheerful-looking boy with a broad grin and dark-brown eyes.
“Hi, Ronan!” said Greg. “What do you mean?”
Ronan nodded at Lee’s bottom. “Oh don’t think I didn’t notice. You’ve been tanning his hide for him, eh, Greg?” he said as he passed on towards the bar.
Greg’s eyebrows rose and he looked at Lee who turned bright red and muttered something inaudible into his beer.
“Ronan obviously noticed something, so it can’t be nothing. Stand up, Lee, and turn round.”
Reluctantly Lee complied and Greg observed, extending a short distance beyond the lower edge of the boy’s shorts, a pair of pale red marks, clear evidence of a cane having been used on his bottom.
“Well now, whatever Ronan may have assumed, you and I both know that I haven’t been caning you; but you’ve clearly been caned. So the question is, Lee, who caned you and why?”
“I told you; it doesn’t matter,” said Lee.
“Is that why you didn’t wear your shorts to dinner the other day? And why you tried to get out of wearing them tonight? Because you knew they were too short to hide the marks?”
Lee was silent for a time and then looked into Greg’s face.
“Okay. My uncle takes a cane to me sometimes if I fuck up when I’m working at the farm. It’s no big deal. I don’t mind. Probably does me good. I wouldn’t take it if I didn’t think I deserved it.”
“That’s okay. Not many guys get their hides tanned these days, but as long as you’re agreeing to it, that’s fine.”
“You’re not angry with me?” asked Lee anxiously.
“No way. Like I said to you the other day, I’d spank you if you didn’t wear your shorts when I told you to. Some guys respond well to a good spanking.”
“Would you really have spanked me if I hadn’t gone and changed before we came out tonight?”
“I certainly would; and you’d have felt it.”
“Shit!” murmured Lee, and looked with open admiration into Greg’s eyes.
Over the subsequent three weeks, Greg and Lee became increasingly close and Greg was thrilled to discover when he got into Lee’s pants, that the boy was as exciting as he looked; while Lee revelled happily in Greg’s masterful yet considerate love-making. The pair had bonded not only physically but in other shared interests in the countryside; and had even talked vaguely about what they might do together when both had finished studying. Greg had noticed evidence of the cane on Lee’s behind on one or two other occasions and had asked why Lee had been beaten; but the youth just shrugged and said that it didn’t matter.
The day came for Greg’s visit to the farm. Lee had gone down to work on the Saturday and met Greg off the bus at lunchtime on Sunday. Lee’s uncle and Greg got on well together at once, and all three spent an enjoyable couple of hours seeing over the farm, introducing Greg to the alpacas, and chatting about the agricultural prospects; which were no worse than usual.
“Wow! Cuddling one of them is almost as good as cuddling you,” Greg informed Lee in a whisper after their visit to the alpacas.
“You better not think about doing what you do to me to one of them,” warned Lee with a grin. “I don’t think they’d like it.”
“Naw! Now that I’ve got into your shorts, I’ve got all I want,” replied Greg. “I notice you’re not wearing them.”
“I can’t wear them when I’m working,” protested Lee. “They’re far too tight. I’d split them. Anyway, Uncle Gordon would probably think they were obscene.”
“They are obscene,” asserted Greg. “That’s what makes them so attractive. But I guess your uncle might cane you if you turned up wearing them.”
Lee shrugged non-committally. They returned to the farmhouse for tea. The phone rang and Lee’s uncle answered before turning to Lee. “That’s old Mrs. Curtis up at the cottage. She says there’s three sheep out on the road just beyond her house. She wonders if you would go up and get them in? Seems she’s got some baking for you.”
“Oh, yeh! She makes brilliant treacle-scones and said she’d make me a batch. I’ll take Bess and get them back easy enough. It’s a dead-end beyond her cottage. Be back in about half an hour, I hope.”
Lee gulped down the last of his tea, whistled to Bess, and shot off.
“He’s a good worker?” asked Greg.
“He is that. Loves coming down here at the weekends and he’s daft about these alpacas. But he does a lot of other work for me too. He’s a good lad and he’s not afraid to sweat a bit. I pay him what I can, and I suppose it helps a bit with his expenses when he’s at college; but I can’t give him as much as he should get for the hours he puts in. Not that he’s complaining mind. He loves it.”
“So how do you keep him at it?” enquired Greg, probing gently.
“Keep him at it? More like how do I keep him away from working!”
“Ah! You don’t have to take him out to the stables and give him a good thrashing with a riding-crop to make sure he works hard then?”
The farmer laughed. “That’d be the day! My old dad used to tan my hide sometimes in the old days, but kids today get it easy. I bet Lee’s never had a hand laid on him in his life. Or you either, Greg?”
“No; never. I suppose maybe a few guys do get beaten these days, but not many.”
He took a deep swallow at his tea, accepted another slice of date-cake, and asked about alpacas. Lee’s uncle was as enthusiastic about them as was Lee, and was soon holding forth at length. When Lee returned, Greg was sitting, slightly glassy-eyed, as Uncle Gordon elaborated on methods of insemination.
“All safe and sound,” announced Lee. “Bess got them back in the field in a trice and I think I found where they got out. There’s a bit of wall tumbled slightly and I suspect they were able to leap over there. I built it back up as best I could, but it’ll need you to do it properly. Uncle Gordon’s skilled at dry-stone walling,” he added to Greg.
“I’ll get on to it tomorrow first thing. Now, you have yourself some more tea and date-cake and then it’ll be time for you to go for your bus.”
Lying in his bed that night, Greg did some thinking. It seemed clear that Lee’s uncle never so much as slapped his hand, far less took a cane to his bottom. So, who did? And why did Lee lie about it? The lying disturbed Greg. As a boyfriend, Lee seemed to be all he could have wanted. Apart from his physical and sexual attractions, which were outstanding in Greg’s eyes, he and Lee just got on easily and naturally together. In the few weeks of their relationship, he’d already begun to feel that this was special. However, a boy who lied about something that was clearly going on in his life, might prove to be an unreliable boy in other matters, and Greg felt that he needed to find out. He was prepared to suspend judgement until he knew more; but he had to uncover the mystery of the cane-welts on Lee’s bottom.
As far as possible, he kept an eye on Lee and tried to see where he went when he wasn’t at classes or with Greg himself. He had a stroke of luck a few days later when he arrived at the gym to meet Lee and found the boy on his mobile, standing talking with his back to him.
“Okay. 7 tomorrow night. I’ll be there. Bye.”
It was all that Greg overheard, but it seemed suggestive. As Lee put his phone in his pocket, Greg dodged behind a tree and then approached as if freshly arrived, a few seconds later. After their workout, when they were in the cafe enjoying cold drinks, Greg asked if Lee’d like to go to Hot Haunches the next evening.
“Aw, shit! Yeh; I’d love to, but I’ve got something else on,” said Lee, looking disappointed.
“A date with a red-hot boy?” asked Greg.
“Of course not, you chump! Besides, you’re the hottest boy in town, and I’m staying with you. Hey! Would you look at that pair?”
Greg turned to look through the wall of glass that separated the cafe from the pool and saw two guys swimming back-stroke across the pool from opposite sides and clearly unaware that they were on a collision course. There was nothing Lee or Greg could do to stop it and a few seconds later the crash occurred, both swimmers splashing wildly as they rubbed sore heads and got themselves on top of the water again. Lee at once embarked on a tale of how he’d once seen a guy jump into the pool only to land right on top of another just as he surfaced from swimming under-water. Greg had the distinct impression that he’d been neatly diverted.
The next evening, Greg was on the lookout, and when Lee emerged from his hall of residence and set off walking swiftly along the road, he was on his trail. He watched as Lee entered the driveway of a trim bungalow, set back from the road behind a neat lawn, and rang the door-bell. He couldn’t see who answered the door, but Lee was swiftly ushered inside. Greg made his way round the perimeter of the garden to the side of the house where there was only an opaque bathroom-window, and then dashed across to the building. Screened from the road by a high hedge, he was able to work his way along the front of the bungalow and to rise up and peep carefully in each window. Finding no-one in either of the rooms to the front, he made his way round towards the back and came to a high fence with a gate in it, closing off the rear-garden. The gate appeared to be locked. Greg, however, was determined. He took a leap, grasped the top of the fence and scrambled athletically up before dropping to the ground on the other side. A short way in front of him was a patio with table and chairs and tubs of flowering-plants; and behind it an open French-window gave access to a room in the house.
Greg crept along and peered carefully in, his eyes widening at what they saw. Lee was standing in only his very short and tight shorts and an extremely close-fitting t-shirt, while facing him stood a guy of perhaps thirty or so, flexing a slim cane in both hands.
“Get in position, boy!” ordered the young man.
“But, sir, I……” began Lee; but he got no further because the guy with the cane suddenly grabbed him by the hair, twisted hard and pushed him down into a bent-over stance, his hands on a low stool.
Greg was outraged. Caution and secrecy vanished in a flash. He leapt upright and surged through the open French-window like an avenging Fury to grab Lee and push him roughly behind him while he faced the young man with the cane.
“Good evening,” said the guy with the cane. “I don’t think we’ve met?”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” demanded Greg furiously.
“Greg!” pleaded Lee, trying to push forward, “it’s okay. I’m…..”
“Shut up, Lee!”
Lee raised his eyebrows but fell obediently silent.
“Perhaps,” said the guy with the cane, “you’d like to explain who you are?”
“I’m Greg; Lee’s boyfriend; and I don’t know what your game is, mate, but…….”
“Ah; that explains it. Could it be that Lee didn’t tell you about me?”
“No, he fucking didn’t,” snapped Greg.
“In that case,” said the young man laying down his cane, “I think you and I need to have a little talk in private. Corner, Lee!”
Lee looked as if he was about to protest, but then seemed to think the better of it and simply turned, walked to the corner of the room and stood, hands clasped behind his back, facing the wall.
“What the……?” began Greg.
“Cold beer?” the young man asked him.
“What? Er….well, yeh, but….”
“Great. Come through to the kitchen. I’m Martin.”
He led the way out and Greg found himself following. He was ushered into a seat and a can from the fridge was opened, poured into a glass, and placed before him. The young man took a drink of his own beer and then explained that he advertised his services on the internet to young males who felt they needed or wanted to be spanked, paddled, caned, leathered, even whipped. Lee had apparently contacted him a couple of months back and had been visiting once a week or so ever since, progressing from over-the-knee spankings to being caned.
“I understand what it may have looked like,” he said to Greg, “but it’s what he wants.”
“But he doesn’t! When you told him to get in position, he started to protest and you forced him down!” objected Greg.
“Yes; it’s part of the game. Lee likes a bit of rough-handling. He likes to know who’s boss. That’s why he tries to object; because he knows what will happen. Have you noticed anything like that in your time as his boyfriend?”
“Well, yeh, now you mention it, he seems to like it when I’m kind of dominant. It gets him hard.”
“So you don’t need to worry. He’s not being mistreated or assaulted or anything like that. But if Lee hasn’t told you about his visits to me, how did you find out?” asked Martin.
“I saw cane marks on his arse a few days after we first met, and when I asked him about them he reluctantly said that he got them from the uncle at whose farm he works at weekends; but he took me down to visit the farm recently, and I had a chat with his uncle, and no way has he ever touched the kid with a cane, or anything else. I’d got very close to Lee and trusted him; and to be honest this worried me. Something was going on that he’d lied about to me and I wasn’t happy. I needed to know. I kept my ears and eyes open, overheard him arranging this meeting tonight, and followed him here. Look, I’m sorry I over-reacted, but I honestly thought that……”
“It’s fine, Greg. I understand and there’s no harm done. But this business of your boyfriend lying to you; now that’s a bit more of a problem. So, what do you want to do about it?”
Greg sat silent for some time.
“I think he needs to be punished,” said Greg at length, “to teach him to be truthful. You were going to cane him, obviously; but would you make it a punishment-caning. I presume that would be a bit more severe than what you normally do?”
“A good bit more severe; but I agree that he deserves it. I think that I should give him his first six as usual across his shorts; and then you should give him the next six on the bare as his punishment.”
“Me? But I’ve never caned anyone in my life!”
“So? Just keep your eye firmly on the target until you’ve actually hit him, and you’ll be fine. You look like you work out, and you’ve got a great set of biceps there, so I think you should be able to get through to him easily enough.”
“Okay; I’ll give it a go. You know, I might kind of enjoy it.”
“It’s a brilliant feeling, controlling a boy, making him submit to you, watching and hearing him react to the cane, seeing the marks you’re raising on his arse.”
Martin wriggled in his seat and Greg plunged his hand into his jeans. The two grinned at each other.
“Yeh,” observed Martin, “you’ll enjoy caning him. Now come through to the lounge and I’ll let you have a little practice on a cushion.”
“Okay; but what about Lee?”
“What about him?”
“He might wonder where we’ve gone.”
“Oh, I see,” said Greg.
“Waiting is a very important part of the whole experience for a boy,” vouchsafed Martin. “Don’t worry. He won’t be going anywhere. He knows better than that. He won’t like waiting; but that’s his problem. Come through here.”
Martin showed Greg into the lounge and took a cane from a cupboard and then showed him the position in which to stand, instructed him in how to aim and in the vital importance of keeping his eye firmly on the target-area until the cane had made contact with boy-flesh. He did a few demonstration strokes on a cushion and then handed the cane to Greg who hit lightly at first as he got his range and got his eye in; and then hit hard.
“Great,” said Martin approvingly. “Good, hard strokes and every one dead on target. You’ve actually got all of them in a surprisingly narrow band, which suggests you’ve got an excellent eye. Of course the advantage of getting them in a narrow band is that the boy feels it more,” said Martin with a grin.
Greg plunged a hand into the front of his jeans.
“Okay, let’s go and deal with that young liar. Leave that cane here. The one in the other room is actually an even better one; and for Lee I think that only the best will do.”
“Like six of the best?” suggested Greg.
“From each of us,” agreed Martin.
“Shit! Are you sure he could take that?”
“He’ll take what he’s given,” said Martin.
Lee was still standing facing the wall when they returned. Martin ordered him to come and stand in front of them and then gave him a lecture on openness with his boyfriend and on the unacceptability of telling lies. Lee listened in slightly sulky silence.
“Now,” Martin went on, “Greg here needs an explanation of why you lied to him.”
“I….see, I thought you might be angry with me if I told you,” began Lee, looking appealingly at Greg. “It was…..it was another guy, and….there’s no sex,” he burst out vehemently. “Tell him, please sir, it’s just the caning!”
“There’s no sex,” Martin affirmed. “My girlfriend wouldn’t approve anyway.”
“So why didn’t you tell me the truth, Lee, instead of saying it was your uncle? I had a talk with him when you were out getting these strayed sheep back and it was clear as day he never laid a hand on you. No, don’t worry,” he continued when he saw a look of horror on Lee’s face, “I didn’t mention caning to him; just used a bit of light-hearted conversation about you to find out what I wanted to know.”
“Like I said,” responded Lee unhappily, “I guess I felt kind of guilty. I….I didn’t want to lose you,” he ended.
“And you’re not going to; but you’re not going to lie to me in future either. You got that, Lee?”
“Oh, yes. I promise. I know I’ve been stupid, but it’s over and I won’t lie again.”
“That’s good; but it’s not quite over yet. Martin?”
Martin picked up the cane and addressed Lee.
“I’m going to give you six across your shorts to punish you for not telling Greg what was going on; and then Greg is going to give you six on the bare to punish you for lying to him.”
“What? No!” Lee burst out. “I don’t want Greg to beat me!”
“What you want is irrelevant, young man,” said Martin grimly, “and if there’s so much as one more syllable of objection out of you, there’ll be an extra six from Greg to teach you submission. Do you understand me?”
Lee swallowed hard and murmured a soft, “Yes, sir.” He looked decidedly uneasy.
“Get in position, boy!”
Lee turned and bent over, his hands clasping the sides of the low stool, in the same place as he’d been when Greg had burst into the room earlier. The shorts were pulled even more tightly across the youth’s bottom and accentuated the stunning curves of his rump. Greg plunged his hand once again into his jeans. Martin took his stance to Lee’s left and did a few practice-strokes with the cane. Greg noticed that Lee flinched each time. The cane was then laid across Lee’s behind and rapped several times before being raised and brought down sharply with a snap which echoed across the room. Lee winced and clenched his buttocks. Martin took his time, sliding the cane across the boy’s globes and then holding it there for several seconds before administering a swift stroke. Again Lee winced and clenched. Two more strokes elicited a similar reaction and then the fifth landed low on the boy’s crease, the end of the cane catching bare skin. Lee yelped and bucked, his hands tightening their grip on the edges of the stool. Martin let him wait before sliding the rod across his bottom again and then holding it for a while before lashing it hard at an angle across Lee’s rear. Again the youth yelped as the pain got to him, his taut young body squirming as he fought his pain. Martin stroked the front of his jeans and watched with undisguised enjoyment as Lee processed the sting and settled down. Greg pressed a finger on his perineum to stop himself from cumming.
“You’re one lucky guy,” Martin informed Greg. “He’s got one hell of an arse on him. You….eh..you fucked him yet?”
“Oh, yeh! And he’s good. I mean really white-hot, send you into orbit, good,” said Greg.
“And he’s great when it comes to being caned as well. You’ve hit the jackpot, mate.”
“So now you gotta hit the boy! Stand up, Lee!”
Lee straightened up, rubbing his comely buttocks.
The youngster obeyed in silence, baring his sexy globes and revealing six clear red marks on the skin.
“Wow! You marked him even through his shorts,” breathed Greg.
“Back in position!”
Lee gave Greg a look of mute appeal and then bent over the stool once more, his body tense, ready. Martin handed the cane to Greg.
“Take your time,” he said very softly. “Concentrate on getting your aim right. And, Greg, if he moves out of position or tries to rub his bottom, tell him off right away. Do it harshly. You have to show him you’re in charge and you won’t let him off with anything.”
Greg nodded and positioned himself carefully before lining up the cane on Lee’s taut globes. He slid the rod across the flesh several times and then had to pause to adjust his own arousal before rapping the waiting boy with the cane. He focussed determinedly on the area he intended to hit and, keeping his eye firmly on the target, raised the cane and swept it down hard and accurately on Lee’s behind. The reaction was immediate. Lee let out a squeal and bucked violently, clenching his glutes desperately hard. From the lithe buttocks with their pale red marks from Martin’s caning there rose a darker, angrier mark which stood proud of the skin. Martin’s eyebrows rose and as Greg glanced towards him, he gave a nod of approval.
Greg had to attend once more to his own arousal before doing a few practice-strokes behind Lee, eliciting an instinctive flinch from the boy each time. He lined up the cane, waited several seconds and then hit again slightly lower down. Knowing now the level of pain to expect, Lee was ready and managed to keep the sound to a half-stifled yelp and his physical response to a fierce tightening of his buttock-muscles. Greg watched as he calmed himself and relaxed a little; and then he brought the cane into play again, etching a third fiery welt on Lee’s rump. He aimed number four just at the top of Lee’s crease and hit the target full-on. Vicious pain ripped through Lee’s body and his right hand flew round to scrub desperately at the tortured flesh.
“Get your hand away, boy!” snapped Greg, giving the boy a sharp rap on the wrist with the cane.
Lee gasped and returned his hand to the chair, giving Greg a resentful glance along his side as he did so. Martin gave Greg a thumbs-up sign and Greg slid the cane even lower along Lee’s crease. The boy knew what he was going to get and his hands grasped the stool with greater determination, the high tension in his body revealed by a slight tremor as he held himself in readiness to take the fifth stroke. Greg landed it exactly where Lee feared it was headed and in spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t hold in a snarling squeal of pain as he gave a violent kick and then clenched ferociously hard. For the final stroke, Greg aimed to cross-cut three of the central welts and as the cane landed accurately and hard, Lee writhed powerfully before steadying himself. Greg could hear him panting.
Martin came forward and took the cane from him.
“Superb, Greg. Now, you’ve punished him, but it’s important that he knows that you still love him. Show him.”
“Come here, Lee,” ordered Greg, struggling to keep a tremor out of his voice.
Lee stood up slowly and approached Greg, rubbing cautiously at his welted bottom. His face was tear-stained and beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He looked to Greg utterly delectable. Greg didn’t say a word; simply opened his arms, and Lee accepted the invitation without a moment’s hesitation. He clung tightly to Greg who could feel the boy’s hot tears on his neck. Greg let him have a minute or two to himself within the circle of his arms and blinked back a few tears of his own. He then slid a hand into Lee’s hair and pulled his head firmly up so that he could look into Lee’s eyes. Then he kissed him; and Lee responded. When eventually they drew apart, Lee whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ll never lie to you again.”
“Good. Now we’re going back to my room in the residences and you know what I’m gonna do to you there, don’t you?”
Lee smiled shyly: “Yes, please, Greg,” he said.
After thanking Martin, Greg and Lee made for the front-door where Greg paused and said to Martin, “I’m sorry that Lee won’t be coming back to you, but I promise that he won’t miss out on his discipline.”
“What?” demanded Lee, turning round abruptly. “You’re gonna cane me?”
“I certainly am. Now I know what you want and that I rather like dishing it out, I’ll have to buy myself a cane to use on you.”
“But I don’t want another thrashing like you just gave me,” protested Lee. “That was brutal!”
“You’d better behave yourself then,” Greg informed him, “and then I’ll only need to give you milder, maintenance canings, like Martin gave you. And, for your information, what I gave you wasn’t brutal. It was hard, just as you deserved; but if you really fuck up, I’ll show you what brutal feels like.”
“You could cane me even harder than that?” gasped Lee.
“Sure I could; so just watch your step, eh Lee?”
“Yes,” replied Lee softly, gazing into Greg’s face, his eyes wide with admiration.
Martin gave Greg a huge wink as the pair set off to walk back to the residences.
Two or three days later Greg and Lee were eating at The Diner’s Delight once again.
“I’m glad you’re wearing your shorts,” observed Greg.
“You told me to!”
“I see you’ve still got some faint marks showing on your bum.”
“Yeh. That waiter over there noticed them when he pulled out my chair for me to sit down. He’s been ogling me ever since. I think he’s wishing I was on the takeaway menu.”
“Well you’re not. Your fantastic arse is all mine. The cane I ordered online came this morning, so I’ll be trying it out on you tomorrow; on the bare.”
“But I thought you liked me in my shorts!”
“I do; but sometimes I like you even better out of them.”
Lee flushed and looked down at his food.
“Brute,” he murmured happily under his breath.
Story ©MMXXI by Joelstrap, used here by very kind permission. Please leave a comment by using the link at the top of the story.
Joelstrap’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here. Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link