Mr Black (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

New to The Canery is this exciting spanking story by very special guest author Baddlad17.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

Mr Black by Baddlad17

Roger Black loved his job. The longest serving member of staff at Farmley FC, he was in charge of the club’s laundry. It was his job to ensure all kits were washed, dried and pressed for the next training session or match for the first, second and youth teams, a job he did extremely well. Despite these tiresome and repetitive duties he took pride in his work, ensuring the lads were turned out well. As a lifelong fan of the club he loved every minute of it.

In addition to this, he also took in two or three of the younger trainees as lodgers, earning extra money from the club for looking after them. The young lads under his care soon discovered that the laundry man was a very different character at home than the jovial, lovable character well–known at the club.

The comedian was a real tartar with the lads under his roof.  Eighteen-year-old Jack Wilkinson rode his bike the last few yards down the street on the pavement as he made his way home to his digs after a long day at the club. He had spent the afternoon in the boot room, cleaning and polishing the first teams’ boots in readiness for tomorrow’s match. He was in the company of housemate and fellow trainee Colin Jenks who also boarded with Roger. Colin had been busy sweeping up, and taking care of other menial tasks that are necessary requirements of all club trainees.

Today was Friday and both lads knew that meant discipline night, the night their arses paid for any misdemeanours they had committed or deemed to have. As Jack dismounted his stomach began to do somersaults as he knew he was up for a whacking this week for sure. Roger had caught him smoking at the bottom of the garden on Wednesday. Club rules strictly forbade any player to smoke. Roger had given him the option and knowing that the likely outcome of the manager finding out would result in him being let go from the team, he had meekly agreed for his landlord to deal with it at the end of the week. In addition he had also overslept earlier in the week. He knew he would get little sleep tonight, face down on his stomach with blazing stripes burning across his pert, muscular mounds.

Colin was also up for a sore arse, leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, general slovenliness around the house and failing to get home before curfew which was ten-thirty on weekdays. Roger was a stickler for the rules, and both lads knew they would be getting a whacking.

Jack closed his bedroom door and began to strip down. He stood as always admiring himself in the mirror. He was a good looking lad, short dark hair, hazel eyes and a cheeky smile which could win anyone’s heart, except Roger Black’s. His broad muscular chest had a slight fuzz of hair, leading down to his washboard stomach and then a treasure trail of hair from his belly button down to his pubic bush. His ample cock sat astride his tight firm balls. His arse was smooth, muscular and firm to touch. Thighs thick and firm were covered in fine downy hair all the way to his ankles. Girls loved his looks and athletic physique. His first passion though was his football, his dream being to gain a permanent place at Farmley and play for the first team. He often dreamed he was leading the club out in a cup final at Wembley to thousands of cheering fans.

Colin was very similar. He was a very good-looking lad who would make it as a model if his football career did not materialise. Blonde and blue eyes with a smile to melt a thousand hearts he was already over six feet tall. He was, if anything more determined than Jack to make it. His grandad had been an icon for the club and when he had shown promise of following in his footsteps, he had been given an apprenticeship more because he was Arthur Jenks’ grandson than on merit. This made him focus on proving the other lads wrong, hence his determination to make it.

When the clock struck six o’ clock, two eighteen-year-old lads stood facing the wall, hands on head waiting for the summons into the dreaded study. Roger walked along from the lounge and admired the lads dressed in full kit, awaiting his pleasure. His eyes paid particular attention to their backsides, currently encased inside the club’s soccer shorts, and the firm thighs already bare. Roger’s cock began to swell as he looked lustfully at them. Yes, Roger was secretly gay and would want nothing more than to bend them over and take them from behind. Denied that pleasure, he contented himself with using the excuse of discipline in order to get his hands on the lads in his care. Later on he would enjoy his evening wank as he remembered the sight of their red, striped bottoms.

No one at the club was aware of this, or that he often brought home some of the soiled shorts and socks of his favourite players in order to sniff and masturbate over them. Being the laundry man no one ever knew any uniforms were missing.

He went into the little office and left the door ajar while he made the preparations for this Friday night ritual. He took out his little notebook and examined the reasons why he was about to thrash his charges tonight. It was a futile exercise, he had already read the notepad several times, sentence already decreed, the lads would be going to bed with very sore backsides. The cane was sat as always in a wicker basket behind his desk, and an old gymshoe lay in the desk drawer.

Jack was called in; he stood with his arms at his sides in front of the desk. Roger looked lustfully at the hunk in front of him. He would sorely love to slip his shorts down and take his cock between his lips and suck him till the creamy fluid erupted, but unable to perform that task and give the lad immeasurable pleasure, he would have to content himself with applying a very painful punishment, leaving his backside red and sore.

Where do we start this week Jack? You overslept on Wednesday, and why did you oversleep?

I was tired, Roger.

Come on now Jack, up half the night playing on your X-Box is the reason, don’t deny it, I heard the thing when I popped to the toilet. I have told you before about this, you can have no complaint as to the punishment. Six whacks of the gymshoe should serve as a reminder to get you out of bed on time in future. We now turn to the smoking incident, far more serious. You are well aware that Mr Coleman would dismiss you from the club if he discovered you had been partaking in such a filthy habit. If we keep this between ourselves I will award you eight strokes of the cane. Any repeat and I will have no option than to report this to club management.

Roger had no intention of reporting the incident to the club. He enjoyed tanning Jack’s arse immensely. He would never do or say anything to jeopardise that pleasure.

You know what to do, get them down and get over.

Jack stood in front of the desk, inserted his hands into the waistband of his soccer shorts, and then peeled them down, ensuring his briefs were lowered with them. Roger sat at his desk for a moment, salivating at the juicy cock now just inches from his face. He opened the desk drawer and extracted the large grubby old plimsoll. It had slapped many backsides over the years, once it had belonged to a goalkeeper who had size fourteen feet. When the old pumps were of no further use Roger retrieved them from the bin and brought them home in order to make use of them for a different purpose. They had seen far more use in this secondary role than their original. He stood up and walked behind Jack who had now positioned himself over the desk. Once again Roger looked lustfully at the two bulbous mounds presented for his pleasure. He could just see the tuft of hair poking out from between the twin globes. He tapped the slipper gently across the bared backside before taking his arm back to shoulder height. He held it for a second or two, then let it let fall rapidly onto the exposed surface. Jack hissed and twisted as the first bite stung his bottom.

The slipper cracked down a second time, rapidly inflaming the skin. A clear oval patch could be made out on each cheek. Roger’s knob was already starting to thicken and swell as he observed the results of his ministrations. Four more large loud cracks of the plimsoll rang round the room in the little office. Jack could not hold back and began to grunt and yelp as the fiery torment reached its conclusion.

Roger stepped back and took in the sight now presented, two quivering mounds of reddened bum cheeks awaiting the next part of their torturous punishment. He placed the slipper on the desk, sole side up, in front of the tearful lad who could gaze on the instrument that had inflicted white hot pain across his buttocks. Picking up the cane from its resting place he swished it through the air a few times before coming behind the waiting youth and gently resting it low down, close to where buttock meets thigh. He eyed the reddened target then raised the cane before bringing it cracking down. Jack yelled lustfully as the first bite of the rod sliced through the already tenderised cheeks, causing searing pain on the line it had struck. Tears rolled down the youth’s face as the pain reached his brain. Stroke after searing stroke of the rod sliced across his bottom causing untold agony to the young player. He vowed never to touch another cigarette.

The eighth and final stroke of the cane slashed across his buttocks leaving the lad sobbing gently.

Stand up Jack, and go across to the wall, leave your shorts dropped and your hands on your head.

The lad slowly rose and reached down to take hold of his shorts and pants. Roger looked on lustfully as he waddled to the wall, and then let his shorts drop again before placing his hands on his head. The old man gently stroked his cock as he looked at the red striped cheeks. How he would love to kneel down and let his tongue slip beneath those burning mounds. If only these lads would appreciate a bit of cock, it would save them a lot of arse pain.

Colin, let’s have you in lad.

The second good-looking youth stumbled into the little office, as always he was greeted with the sight of his housemate facing the wall, his red striped arse on full display. Colin hated this and often wished that Roger would deal with him first, but for some reason Jack was always called in before him. He stood before the desk, his eyes glued to the outsized gymshoe that lay sole side up. He winced remembering the many times it had slapped his arse cheeks. Roger was sat behind the desk looking lustfully at his second lodger. He loved Colin’s boyish good looks. If anything he found him more attractive than Jack.

Colin, you are a lazy little sod. How many times have I told you about clearing up after yourself? In addition you seem to think that you can ignore curfew and come in when you want. You need to understand that if you are to do well in training and earn that longed-for position as a centre half at the club, you need to be committed and sacrifice some of the things other teenage lads get up to.

He picked up the slipper and looked at the smooth surface, then opened the drawer and put it away, its work done for today.

Last time I gave you a walloping with the slipper, it did not seem to have the desired effect. Perhaps a taste of the rod might be more memorable? Shorts down and assume the position.

Colin knew it would be the cane this time; he had been warned last time that any further lateness would result in a caning. He slipped down his shorts and pants then went over the desk, gripping onto the far side. Roger stood up and picked up the cane once again. Once more he stood ogling a pair of fine muscular mounds, totally at his mercy. His cock was already stiff and he could feel pre-cum already dripping from the tip.

The bare arse cheeks quivered as he laid the rod in the crease ready to strike the first of six strokes. The cane lashed across Colin’s buttocks right on the crease, just as Roger had planned. Immediately the lad’s head shot up, his face contorted in agony. He shut his eyes tight and gripped firmly onto the desk. The next stroke doubled the agony and once again he bit down, desperate not to yell out. The third loosened the tear ducts, bringing water to the corner of his eyes and the fourth saw them drip down his face. The final two strokes had the lad grunting as the caning reached its ending.

Up, and go and join Jack by the wall.

Roger quickly turned his back on Colin for a moment in order to hide his raging erection. He watched as he hobbled across to the wall before dropping his shorts and placing his hands on his head.

Roger sat at his desk and looked at the two red, striped arses on display. Shorts and pants at their ankles, their socks pulled up to just below the knee. Footy kit always turned on the laundry man and the sight of the trainees with their shorts around their ankles, red arses on show was more than he could take. He slipped out a tissue from his desk drawer and whipped out his cock.

While the lads faced the wall, their own knobs now at ninety degrees, their landlord took just a couple of pulls before he exploded into the tissue. He somehow managed to control himself from grunting out. Clearing up the mess he looked on for a few moments longer at the sight before him. He knew he would be having another wank before bedtime as he recalled the events of the last few minutes.

Pull them up and off you go. I hope I don’t have to repeat this next Friday.

Of course that was a lie; he would make sure he found some reason to give them sore arses next week.

They pulled their underpants over their erect cocks before getting their shorts back in place. The lads left the office rubbing furiously at their stinging cheeks, then made their way upstairs and into Colin’s room where they could examine the damage, commiserate with each other, and then enjoy their own little wank sesh as they both tossed off to see who could cum first. If only Roger Black knew what was going on one floor above. But alas he would never know. He would have to content himself with a solo performance. He would have to wait another week before he got the chance to thrash the boys again. But one thing was for sure he would find a reason and next Friday the lads would be before him once again.

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Story ©MMXV by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

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Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.