The Bullwhip On The Wall (M/M)

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A repeat of this hot story by Rod Cayenne, from 2014. Strictly for adults only!

Terry was staying at Uncle Billy’s house for a fortnight.  He looked around the large lounge.  It was full of souvenirs from his uncle’s seafaring days.  Uncle Billy had eased back from that whistle-stop lifestyle a long time ago and his home now paid homage to those distant days.  The room was dominated by a large black wooden elephant and a coiled bullwhip hanging on the wall of an alcove.  Terry looked at the whip and shook his head.

“Fearsome, isn’t it?  Mexican, if I recall correctly.  It’s savage!” paunchy Uncle Billy stated in his gruff Liverpool accent.

“Looks kind of exciting.  In a fierce way, of course,” Terry added.

“Yes, although I’m not sure exciting is the right word there, young Terry.  I can see it would get the adrenaline flowing.  It cuts and tears flesh.  Not suitable for use on humans, only animals with tough, leathery hides.”

“That’s a relief!” exclaimed the young nephew.

“Well, you’re here for a holiday, aren’t you?  I’m sure you won’t do anything to upset me and wish I could whip you!” laughed Uncle Billy, “It’s only for show, I could never use it.  However, be warned that I do have a riding crop and cane.  I could use both of them on you if you do play me up!”

“Oh really?” Terry asked, excitement returning to his voice, “Are they from Mexico too?”

“Don’t be stupid, lad!  The riding crop is from the saddlery down the road.  It’s a lovely item.  The cane was my father’s, of course.  I remember its sting all too well!  Yeowch!”  Uncle Billy grimaced and rubbed his bottom with earnest nostalgia and perhaps a hint of fun.

“Hold on, your father used to cane you?”

“Oh yes!  Hard beatings they were, too.  And always trousers and underwear down.  I even got it at your age.”

“What?  21?”

“Oh yes!  21, 22, 23, I think.”

“Gosh!”

“Well 21 was the age of majority back then, and I lived with Daddy and his cane for another couple of years after that.”

“How awful!  And on your, err, naked, er, backside?”

“Oh yes indeed!”

Terry gulped as he took it all in.  Perhaps it was no wonder that Uncle Billy had eventually run away to sea?  Suddenly he found himself rubbing his own bottom through his thin summer-weight shorts.  He caught his uncle’s intense and beery gaze.

“Wow!  That must have been painful.  Was it a bit exciting, too?”

“No!  Not at all.  What a strange question!  Really, you youngsters have no idea.  How can you think being caned, let alone whipped, was exciting?  You’re not, you know, a bit strange are you?”

“Oh no, Uncle.  It’s just that it seems like another world.  So very different from today.  So hard to comprehend.”

“I understand, I think, young Terry.  Would you like to see that cane?”

“No thanks.  No need, Uncle.  I’m not that interested, really.”

It was a lie.  Both men knew it.  Uncle raised his bushy right eyebrow quizzically and instructed Terry, “It’s in the umbrella stand in the hall, right by the front door.  I think the riding crop is there too.  Be a good lad and bring me both.  Go on then!  See to it!”

Terry made his way to the hall.  He was annoyed that his uncle had wondered whether he was a bit strange.  After all, Uncle Billy was the one with the bullwhip, cane and riding crop in his house, and all for ornamentation rather than use!  He found the cane straight away, its lithe crook handle sticking out prominently above the umbrellas and walking sticks.  It didn’t look that old, Terry thought to himself.  He then busied himself looking for the riding crop.  Being a tad shorter, it was not visible immediately.  Only after removing a few sticks and brollies did he find it.  It was a beautiful item, with the shaft’s leather plaited neatly in black and blue.  Somehow that seemed appropriate to young Terry.

“Ah, thank you, Terry.  What do you think to these then?”

“Well, they’re less intimidating than that bloody bullwhip thing.  That’s really creepy.”

“Aha, but I thought you said it was exciting?”

“I meant exciting in a sort of creepy way!”

“You mean something like a horror film, then?”

“Exactly, Uncle.  I suppose you’d say it was a kind of morbid fascination.”

“Yes.  You’re making sense now.  So which do you want to try first?  The cane or the crop?”

Terry blushed a brighter red than he had ever done before, “I never said anything about trying them, Uncle!”

“I know that, lad.  But I can read you like a book.  You want to, don’t you?  Yes, you’re a bit of a masochist on the quiet, unless I’m much mistaken.”

“Oh Uncle!  What a horrible word!”

“I believe in calling a spade a spade, Terry.  You want to give it a go, don’t you?  Eh?”

“No, I really don’t.  And if we’re calling a spade a spade then you’re not even a proper uncle!”

“Well, that’s a bit rude Terry, but I suppose you’re technically right there.  But I am a family friend.  A friend of yours, and I’m offering you a favour, aren’t I?  You’re a masochist, and maybe there’s a little sadist in me, I  think.  Well now, this is getting awkward.  Are we going to do it or not?”

“Alright, alright!  But not too hard!”

“Terry, it has to be a bit hard, you know.  To see what it’s like.  To see whether you like it or not.  We’re not playing a school playground game here, after all.  Now, drop those shorts for me please.”

Terry dropped his summer shorts, revealing some surprisingly conservative grey briefs.  Sensing some residual reluctance, Uncle Billy bent Terry over the back of the sofa and yanked down the underwear in one seamless movement.  All was revealed!

“Oh!  I wasn’t expecting that!” exclaimed the youngster.

“Oh yes you were!  I think six strokes of the cane for persistent lying and disrespect.”

“Hey!  That’s a lot!”

“No, trust me.  It’s not.  Not at 21.  You can take it.  But do try to be quiet as the windows really do have to be open at this time of year.  Ready?”

“No!” Terry suddenly exclaimed.  But he was too late to alter his date with destiny, for the cane cracked down viciously just at that moment.

“Ye Gods!” Terry exclaimed as the red-hot burn kicked in, “Oh hell!”

Uncle Billy laughed at his nephew’s discomfort.  The cane was raised high again, and again Billy let rip with a severe stroke which lashed Terry’s naked bottom.  This time Terry just yelped.  He was prepared for the pain the second time.  But he really didn’t like it.  Not one bit.  This was definitely no fun at all.  He was telling himself this just as Billy guided the cane in for a third stroke.  This was the worst stroke so far, whipping the pale young flesh with gay abandon.   Terry squealed this time.

“You can have a break for a minute, if you want to,” Uncle Billy informed his guest.

“Thanks, but I’d rather get it over with.  I can’t believe I agreed to this!” said Terry ruefully.

“You didn’t!  Actually, perhaps you did.  Anyway, I do believe it’s just what you need.”

Just then uncle lashed the fourth stroke down, slightly off-cue and rather low down.  Judging by Terry’s reaction, it was by far the worst stroke yet.  The youngster leapt to his feet, clutching his thrashed behind.

“Yes, very entertaining, Terry.  But you’ve got five seconds to get back down, otherwise you’ll be getting extras!  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.”

Terry held out until the last count before bending back over the sofa.  Four distinctive scarlet tramlines decorated his otherwise pale buttocks.  Uncle sighed with pleasure as he surveyed them.  He had done all that, and it felt great!  He really liked being on the right end of the stick after all these years.  Yes, it was terrific.  Already he was forming plans for further beatings for Terry during his two-week stay.  He flexed the cane and then sliced it down again.

This time Terry gasped, and his hands flew back to his buttocks, in a vain attempt to soothe away the burning pain.  Uncle Billy was not amused.  “Terry, get those hands off there immediately!  They’re right in the firing line, and you are this far from those extras I promised you.”

“Sorry, Uncle. “

“Right.  Apology accepted.  Last stroke coming up.  Keep still and keep those hands out of the way!”

Crack!  The cane lashed down for the last time.  Terry cried out; he really couldn’t help himself.

“Good!  That’s better.  Not bad for a beginner.  Of course, Daddy used to give me more than that.  But I was used to it.  Now, time for the extras!”

“Whaaat?”

“Yes, Terry!  Just a couple with the crop, I think.  Stay just where you are.”

Terry had forgotten about the crop.  Uncle picked it up and sliced it through the air.  It made a different sound, when compared to the cane.  Perhaps a deeper sound, still chilling and exciting, however.  Uncle moved closer and whacked the crop into the waiting target.

“Owww!” cried Terry, somewhat startled at the pain this new assault delivered.  It was different, but really just as bad!

Uncle Billy laughed and sliced the crop down again.  Terry gasped, and almost choked as pain engulfed his wiry frame.  Eight red lines were causing new waves of agony on the punished buttocks.

“Pull your shorts back up then, that’s a pretty disgusting sight!” Uncle Billy lied.

Terry rubbed and rubbed at his arse, but nothing would help ameliorate the throbbing hot pain.  He looked embarrassed, as Uncle Billy patted the cushion next to him on the sofa, saying, “Come and sit down, Terry.  You look like you’ve had enough excitement for one day!”

“You’re not wrong there, uncle.  But thank you.  I hope we’ll fit in some more excitement before I go home.”

“Yes, Terry.  I’m not surprised.  Plenty of time for that.  We’ve got fourteen days.  Fourteen nights, as well.”

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

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Story © MMXIV by Rod Cayenne

All rights reserved.

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