A brand new caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17. This story is exclusive to The Canery! All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
I slammed my bedroom door hard in anger at what I perceived to be an injustice. How could she? What right did Lorraine have anyway? Cane me! For fucks sake! She wasn’t my mum, just some piece of stuff that my dad had married.
Lorraine had originally been my dad’s secretary and had worked for him for about ten years. Eighteen months ago, my mother had died of lung cancer, leaving me aged almost seventeen, an only child alone with dad. My father was a businessman, and his work required him to travel around the world for days, sometimes weeks at a time. He didn’t feel confident leaving me at home alone for long periods, and so he decided to enrol me into a boarding school. Naturally arriving at such an establishment at that late stage in my education, I felt very much like an outsider, and I struggled to make friends. And so, I decided to cause as much trouble as possible. Within six months my father was asked to remove me, and I ended up returning to the local sixth form college that I had previously attended.
In my absence, though things had changed, and I found on my return that Lorraine had moved into the family home and she and my dad were planning to marry. Needless to say, I was angry with the situation, and I had suspicions they may have been having an affair, even before my mother passed away. However, having just caused immense problems with the boarding school, my dad had put me on a final warning, threatening to turn me out if I didn’t behave. I was angry and felt betrayed, this young woman who was only about twelve years older than me had stepped into my dead mother’s shoes, even before her grave had gone cold. But I had to bite the bullet and be civil to her, which I did through gritted teeth.
With Dad still frequently away, as the wedding neared I took every opportunity to belittle her in his absence. Deep down though I found Lorraine attractive, who wouldn’t? She was tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with a pert pair of tits, a slim waist, and a beautiful round arse. I had stolen some of her black lacy knickers from the laundry basket so I could wank myself off while sniffing her musky scent. I imagined myself bending her over the end of the bed, whipping her knickers down and slapping her arse, while wildly riding her, doggie style and thrusting my knob deep inside her moist snatch. I would be rock hard as I neared ejaculation, then suddenly my meatus would ooze out streams of seminal fluid, giving me much needed relief.
Almost nightly I was wanking off, thinking of my future stepmother in one sexual position or another, while she slept, completely unaware of my perversions just a few feet away. And then Dad was back in time to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, and a couple of weeks later they were married. I was warned to behave myself, but I still got terribly drunk at the reception, and I became lewd and obnoxious, ending in yet another row and dad ordered me to bed. The following morning, I awoke with a hangover from hell, with an irate parent, reading me the riot act.
“I am fast running out of patience with you Ryan, you are eighteen now, an adult, old enough to stand on your own two feet. If you don’t start treating me and your stepmother with the respect we are due, I will set you adrift my lad. And don’t think I don’t know how you have been treating Lorraine in my absence. Well, here is something for you to think about. From now on when I am away she is in charge of you, her word is law and you will bloody well do as she tells you, or else. Do you understand?”
“Yes, dad,” I replied, not taking any notice. Fuck that! I thought I wasn’t going to take orders from Lorraine. I saw her as a charlatan, who had bewitched my dad into bed, and into our lives, but she was still fit, and I wanted to be the one fucking her brains out every night. I turned over as soon as he had left and satisfied myself with a long, slow wank, imagining tit fucking my new stepmother.
A few weeks later Dad went off on one of his sales drives, leaving me at home once again with Lorraine. Almost immediately I noticed a change in her attitude towards me. She made it clear she would no longer tolerate my surly attitude and from now on I would have to treat her with respect, or in her words “There will be sanctions.”
I sniggered as I walked off, and no sooner was I halfway back up the stairs than I was giving her the one-fingered salute. “Fucking Sanctions!” I said to myself as I entered my room, “Who the fuck does she think she is?”
Later that night I decided to go out, it was a Friday and with college out for the weekend and the exam season looming I decided to join my mates in the pub. Lorraine never said a word as I darted out, dressed in my dapper gear for a night of fun. One pint led to another, then another, and eventually we moved onto a nightclub. I was quite drunk by the end of the night and ended up behind the venue, fucking some bird up against the wall. Before we parted company we exchanged numbers, with me promising to call her the following night, but realistically I had no intention of doing so.
Eventually, I got home about four am, turned the key in the door and to my surprise found I couldn’t get in. I tried several times before ringing the bell and becoming extremely angry that Lorraine had locked me out. Having rung it a few times and banged on the door she opened it and gave me an angry stare.
“Where have you been young man?” I was so astounded at her tone I couldn’t find any words.
“Get inside and get yourself to bed, I will deal with you in the morning.”
I was too tired to argue, but as I mounted the stairs I turned and once again flipped her the bird. “And don’t think I didn’t see that disgusting gesture. It’s time you were taken in hand.”
Taken in hand? I thought. What the fuck is she on about? Has she lost the plot? I could not help but smirk as I closed my bedroom door, stripped off my clothes and got into bed, naked and almost immediately I drifted off to sleep, thinking of the bird I had just fucked, but her face was now that of my sexy stepmother.
The following morning Lorraine burst into my room unannounced just after nine am. She pulled back the covers, uncovering my naked state, then without batting an eyelid yanked open the bedroom curtains.
“Get out of your bed, get dressed and be downstairs in half an hour Ryan, Or I will be back in here to help you pack your belongings, the choice is yours.”
I was still in a dreamy slumber, with a massive hangover and a massive boner. No sooner had she departed than I pulled back the covers, took hold of my swollen member and enjoyed my usual morning wank, while imagining my stepmother bent over the sofa, her skirt up, knickers down, and me shagging her brains out. What the fuck was she up to, and was she serious? Dad had warned me before he went away that she was in charge. What was I going to do?
I decided on reflection I had better at least comply with her orders, and so having satisfied my lustful urges I climbed out of bed, pulled on a scruffy old tee-shirt, my undies and a pair of football shorts and trotted downstairs to face her wrath. I found her sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee as I entered, and she glared at me in a way I found terrifying.
“Stand there young man, just look at the state of you. Unkempt, unshaved, lewd, and leery. Your eyes resemble two piss holes in the snow. How much did you have to drink last night? You are a disgrace, and it is time you bucked your ideas up. I know you are eighteen and old enough to go out for a drink, but while you are living under this roof you will come home at a reasonable time, not four-o-clock in the morning. We will go into the sitting room to discuss what is going to happen, and what your punishment will be?”
Punishment? My eyes widened as I heard that! What the fuck was she going on about? I was a grown man, what was she going to do, spank me? Still, I thought I would play along with the game, for now, just to humour her. She made her way from the kitchen, across the hall and into a large room she and my dad used most evenings. I followed her at a steady pace, but when I entered the room I went pale. On the coffee table before me sat a cum soaked pair of lacy black knickers, the same ones I had been using as a wank rag for months.
Lorraine looked incensed with rage as she held the offending garment by the tips of her fingers. “Would you care to enlighten me as to why a pair of my underwear was in your bedside cabinet? And please don’t you dare try to turn this around and accuse me of spying on you. What do you think your father will do when I tell him about this, not to mention coming home drunk at four in the morning, and waking half the street up, as well as your continued surly attitude towards me.”
I was at a loss for words. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks as I struggled to find an answer.
“This is the last straw Ryan, you are supposed to be a young man, but you are behaving like a spoilt child. What you need is a thoroughly well-walloped bottom. My brothers were punished that way by my father until they were no longer teenagers, I can’t see why it should be any different for you.”
I could hardly believe what she was saying. “But.. Dad has never hit me, you… can’t.”
“I have already spoken to your father; you have three choices. One, you wait until he returns, and you take a good old-fashioned hiding from him. Two, you can take it from me right now this morning and get it over with, or three, you can pack your belongings and leave this house for good. You may have a few minutes to decide.”
I thought of the options open to me. Spanked! Put over a knee and smacked like a little boy. My dad had never hit me before, mum had been against hitting kids. Dad was a strong, athletic, and powerful man, with hands like spades. Thoughts of him walloping me scared me. Or should I let Lorraine spank me? The third option was ruled out, no way could I leave home. I had no money; my life would be in ruins. I toyed between the two remaining possibilities, neither of which was going to be easy. But I decided I would rather get it over with quickly, and besides, I felt quite turned on at the thought of my sexy stepmother spanking my bottom.
“Ok, I will take a spanking.”
“Do you want to wait until your father gets home, or do you want to get it over with now?”
I gulped in a breath of air before asking Lorraine to deal with me immediately. “Very well Ryan, if that is what you want. I will be back in a moment.”
I stood and waited in the sitting room while a woman barely twelve years older than me prepared to smack my arse. Just the thought of it set my cock tingling with delight, perhaps I would actually enjoy this. All thoughts of pleasure were quickly diminished when moments later she returned, carrying a three-foot whippy cane in her hands.
“Hold on a minute, that’s a fucking cane, you ain’t hitting me with that bloody thing.”
“Ryan, you didn’t think I was going to put you over my knee and give you a paddywhack on the seat of your pants, did you? You are far too old for that. Your dad bought this a few months ago, in case we might need to use it. And now it looks as though it is going to get an airing, while I give you the hiding which is long overdue.”
“No bloody way,” I yelled, before I charged out of the sitting room and upstairs to my bedroom, slamming the door shut in anger at what I perceived to be an injustice. How could she? What right did she have?
“Ryan, the choice is yours. Either come down and take it from me, wait until your father gets home next week and take a caning from him, or start packing your belongings. You have an hour to decide.” Lorraine had called upstairs to me, reiterating my choices. I lay on my bed for a few minutes, toying with my choices. My head was spinning, the cane! Christ, it had been outlawed a few years back, I remembered my dad telling me he had the cane at school before it was banned. Still claimed it had done him no harm. I knew there was no choice. And so, after letting my temper cool I padded back downstairs to face the music.
Entering the sitting room Lorraine was sitting on the sofa, the horrible cane was no longer in sight. “Can you just do it now,” I said?
My stepmother gave me a wicked smile, her face beaming with victory. “Very well young man, time to take your medicine. For stealing my panties and using them for your filthy habits, for coming home drunk in the middle of the night, for swearing at me and for your general surly attitude I am going to cane your bottom so hard you won’t sit in comfort for a week. Go behind that armchair over there and bend over.”
I walked humbly behind the chair and bent myself over, awaiting my fate. She was soon beside, brandishing the cane which she had secreted down the side of the sofa. She was so close I could smell her perfume. “Bend further over, I want your head in the seat and your bottom high.”
I shuffled over a little further until I was almost on tiptoe, my footy shorts stretched tight across the edge of the chair back, and then I waited. What happened next shocked me to my core, I felt her hands reaching inside the waistband of my shorts. Oh, dear god no, was she going to? Then it happened, they were pulled clear of my buttocks and gently manoeuvred down my thighs, resting around my knees. I felt vulnerable bent over, in just a thin pair of pants, but to my horror, she hadn’t finished.
“Please no!” I yelled and frantically reached back to grip my undies.
“Naughty little boys get their bare bottoms caned, now back over or shall add more strokes.” My underpants were unceremoniously slipped down and left inside out on top of my shorts, leaving my arse completely bare to my stepmother’s steely gaze.
I was mortified, bent over, bare-arsed, everything on full show. My humiliation and submission were complete, all that remained was the pain. The rod was tapping gently across the meat of my cheeks, heightening the sensory nerve endings, and once again causing my cock to spring to life, from nowhere I heard a thin swish and suddenly my backside was stinging like the fires of hell. Having never been caned before I had no idea what to expect, let alone feeling it bite into my naked flesh. Lorraine played tennis and had a powerful forehand drive, and it seemed as though she was using her entire strength to flay the skin off my arse.
The strokes rained down, two, three, four, each one seemed to be harder than the previous. The fifth cut powered into me and lashed down very low, almost along the crease of my sit spot, and despite my resolve not to, I involuntarily yelled aloud, tears dripping down my face and leaving a stain on the chair seat.
I was hoping she would stop at six, I recalled watching a programme on the TV called `That’ll Teach Em’. And some old schoolteacher talked about giving boys six of the best, but it seemed she had no intention of letting me off that lightly, despite my pleas. “You just hold your big, hairy bottom still young man, and take this like the man you think you are.”
As she finished her sentence she sliced the seventh stroke down, lancing it in at an angle, cutting and intersecting the previous cuts. I was convinced she had broken skin; the pain was so excruciating. By the time the tenth stroke bit across my raw flesh I was too hoarse to yell anymore and simply resolved to sob bitterly like a boy half my age. Twelve strokes she gave me in total, leaving my backside striped, and blazing like live coals.
“Stand up Ryan and pull your pants and shorts up.” I slowly got up and reached back to gingerly feel the searing welts etched across the surface of my buttocks for a moment, before carefully retrieving my fallen clothing and replacing them gingerly over my smouldering cheeks.
Lorraine seized the back of my hair and yelled at me. “Step out of line in future and you know what to expect next time. Now go and get a shower and a shave and make yourself look presentable or I will have you back over this chair for a few more strokes.”
I limped out of the sitting room, my hands heavily engaged kneading my blazing arse and shuffled up the stairs and into the bathroom where I peeled down my shorts and pants and gently felt the scorching welts. I was shocked when I saw the damage in the mirror, my backside was blistered bad, she had done a thoroughly good job on it. Stepping into the shower I turned the jet to cool and allowed the water to cascade down over me, in a vain attempt to dissipate some of the worst effects, while the tears flowed freely down my face
Despite the intense stinging coursing through my buttocks, I emerged from the water to find my cock once again erect, demanding urgent attention. But as I stood in front of the toilet pan, slowly pumping myself to ejaculation I knew that sometime soon I would be bending over again for my stepmother, and strangely, I was looking forward to it. Long after the fire in my buttocks had died out and the bruises faded away, I would give Lorraine another excuse to cane my bottom and one way or another I would be getting her attention. You never know, she might one day want to try a toyboy, rather than a sugar daddy.
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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.
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Warning: Contains adult material. Forbidden to those under the age of 18.
This blog is intended for adults only. All listed sites, pictures displayed or referred to in this blog feature consenting adult models and players over the age of 18. All stories and artwork featured are fiction only and refer to adults in role play. This blog is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.
The owner of this blog does NOT condone, promote OR encourage the corporal punishment of minors or non-consenting adults.
Many people use the rattan cane in their adult relationships. Sometimes this is for domestic discipline. Others use it to spice up their sex lives. Some just like recreating experiences from long ago. You will find fictional stories here which explore these themes. All the characters are aged 18 or over.
All characters appearing in this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.