♥ Site recommended story ♥
New to The Canery is this fine old story by much-missed friend Skinpang, R.I.P. All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
The Young Salesman by Skinpang
Mr Derek Stone was a retired headmaster in his mid-sixties. He was a widower, financially comfortable thanks to a legacy from his late uncle, and lived in an idyllic detached cottage in a quiet village. He had long toyed with the idea of having a conservatory built onto the rear of his home so that he could enjoy sunny days under glass and admire his lawn and garden.
One day the doorbell rang and when he opened the front door he saw a young man who looked as if he was aged about sixteen or seventeen standing on the doorstep with a folder full of leaflets in his hand. The caller certainly looked impressive in an immaculate navy-blue suit with razor sharp creases in his trousers, his well-fitting jacket buttoned up with one button as it should be, a white collar and green tie. His well tailored appearance was enhanced by his handsome smiling face, blue eyes and a delightful fringe of red wavy hair jutting out over his forehead. Derek first thought was that such smart teenagers were very rare creatures indeed these days! He would normally send doorstep salesman packing straight away but before he could speak his young visitor pulled a leaflet from his folder.
“Good morning sir! I represent Grandeur Constructions. Conservatories, Gazebos and greenhouses are our speciality. Could I interest you in any of our products?”
Derek knew of Grandeur Constructions. It was a firm in the nearby town and had a good reputation.
“You might young man, you might! Come along inside and let’s see what you have to offer.”
“Thank you sir. My name’s Gordon Grey.”
“I’m Derek Stone. Come along to the kitchen table. I’m a bit surprised that that a firm like Grandeur Constructions should have a boy to represent them – no offence intended!”
“And none taken sir!” the young man assured him, “But you are mistaken! I am not a boy! I’m eighteen! I’m an adult!”
“Oh! My apologies Mr Grey!”
“Lots of people make that mistake. I’m told that I look younger than my age! And by the way, please call me Gordon! Anyway enough about me!” said Gordon as they reached the kitchen.
“Right. let us stick to first names shall we? Call me Derek! Sit down and let’s see what you’ve got there!”
Gordon sat down and sorted out several leaflets. There were some very attractive designs and the prices seemed competitive. Derek was getting interested.
“May I see the layout outside?” asked Gordon.
“Certainly! Come along.”
Derek led his visitor through the kitchen back door into the garden.
“Oh yes!” said Gordon, surveying the back of the cottage, “Our Octagon model would be ideal here, don’t you think?”
“Yes indeed, but that one is a bit pricey!”
“I could perhaps shave a little off. Say ten per cent?”
“You give me the impression that you are very anxious to do a deal!” said Derek.
“Well to tell you the truth, I’m sort of on probation you might say! You see, Grandeur Constructions is owned by my father! I’ve just finished in the sixth form at school. He says before I can become a partner in the firm and join him in the office I have to know all aspects of the business. I’ll be honest with you, I’m desperate to get a good order!”
Derek had taken a liking to the fresh-faced boy – for ’boy’ he still was to Derek – and was inclined to try and help him by doing business with him. They returned to the kitchen table.
“I might be interested Gordon! But let’s get down to the nitty-gritty and find out what’s in the small print.”
Gordon went through the details one by one. Derek was satisfied with what he had heard.He had even agreed to the price.
“I wouldn’t want a couple of men to come and dig a big hole in my garden and then disappear for a month before I see them again! There’s all too many firms about who carry on like that!” said Derek.
“Our firm is not like that! I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll include a penalty clause in the agreement.” replied Gordon, anxious to complete the deal, “The work completed by the last day of next month or we will repay you twenty pounds for every day that we are late with the completion. How does that strike you?”
Derek put on a grin.
“I’m a retired headmaster! In my teaching days the penalty for being late was six of the best!” he quipped.
“That was before my time!” laughed Gordon, “there was none of that sort of thing at my schools!”
“Anyway, back to the conservatory! I’ll accept your offer!” said Derek.
“I’m so pleased! I am sure you are going to like it. I’ll get the office to put it in black and white then I’ll bring it back and sign it in front of you!”
Gordon was so keen to get the deal signed and sealed that he was back within two hours. They both signed the documents which they needed to, shook hands and parted. Derek was to see quite a lot of the young salesman over the next few weeks. Concerned that the work should be perfect Gordon would frequently visit the site to keep an eye on progress. However progress was not always as swift as he would have liked. Some snags would arise necessitating that some tasks had to be done again. Several outbreaks of heavy rain also slowed down the outside work. At the end of the month there was still a fair amount of work to be done. When the project was at last completed it had overrun by six days!
“Well you’re six days late, Gordon. That’s a hundred and twenty pounds off according to my reckoning!” said Derek.
“That’s what I wanted to see you about, Derek!” replied Gordon, “Are you really going to hold me to that?”
Gordon was sounding almost as if he was pleading. Derek could not understand why he was trying to wriggle out of the penalty clause. After all, business is business.
“You see it’s like this. I was so pleased when I got this order. I thought I had done something that would impress my father, but what with the ten per cent discount I gave you and now the penalty money all the profit has been swallowed up! My old man’s not going to be very pleased with me I’m afraid!”
“It just shows that you’ve got a lot to learn my lad.” said Derek.
“I suppose so. I should never have asked you to give up the penalty money. I apologise!”
Derek was thinking, so for a moment there was silence in the room. Gordon was such a nice young lad and Derek was feeling rather sorry for him. He was just about to say that he would waive his right to demand the penalty money when Gordon spoke up with a sign of desperation in his voice.
“You remember what you said to me on the first day I was here? The penalty for being late was six of the best?”
“Yes! So what?”
“Will you give me six of the best like you used to in school instead of taking the money?”
Gordon was banking on the theory that Derek perhaps used to enjoy caning boys’ bottoms and would be tempted to accept his offer. He was not far wrong! Derek’s first reaction was one of disbelief! Then suddenly he felt twenty years younger. Suddenly here was a boy standing before him just as many had stood before him before. In those days the boy would have apprehension written all over his face in fearing he was going to be awarded the cane! Gordon too had apprehension written all over his face but in his case it was lest he was not going to get the cane! The money was more important to him!
Derek was almost in a daze as he stared at the boy’s small but perfectly proportioned figure. He could just imagine him bending taut over a chair, that ginger fringe flopping into his eyes and his bottom protruding skyward! Derek found all the exciting feelings he used to get as he ordered a boy to bend over were coming back to him, and all of his body parts seemed to be in good working order! Gordon took the silence to mean that Derek was going to refuse.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it!” said Gordon, “I’m sorry. Ha! – I don’t suppose you’ve got a cane anyway!”
“Not at all, Gordon! I am still considering it. And I have got a cane!” – Derek had kept his cane for sentimental reasons! – “I haven’t used it for about thirty years! Are you really serious about this?”
“Yes! In any case I’d like to know what it’s like! I’ve seen it on the television and read about it in books and I’ve often wondered it felt like to get it!”
In Derek’s teaching days boys were not anxious to find out what it felt like! He wondered if Gordon realised what he was letting himself in for!
“Okay! If you’re sure you know what you’re doing, you’re on! Six of the cane and I’ll waive the penalty money! I’ll fetch the cane! Oh yes, just while we’re doing this I would like to make it seem authentic, so I will address you by your surname and you will call me sir! Right?”
Derek left the room and returned with the cane. Gordon was feeling a prickling sensation in his bottom as if it was anticipating what was coming to it! Suddenly an innocent piece of wood was looking frightening and menacing!
“All right Grey! Bend over the arm of that chair!”
It was just like the old days! To all intents and purposes Derek was back in the headmaster’s study! Gordon looked exactly as Derek had imagined he would. The hair flopping forward and his bottom, with the trousers stretched to bursting point, facing heaven. Derek flexed the cane, then he swished it through the air and then he gently tapped it on Gordon’s bottom! Every movement he made he was telling himself that it was the first time he had done this for thirty years! He was wondering whether a modern youth could take a beating as the boys of yesteryear used to! They had been brought up with spanking at home from an early age and progressed to school slippering and caning gradually. Feeling a little nervous about striking a boy’s bottom after all those years he raised the cane and brought it down hard!
Derek need not have worried! Gordon reacted just as most senior boys used to in those far off days. He went stiff and taut all over and his fist folded tightly but he made no noise. The second stroke landed and Gordon’s bottom was squirming in the most delightful fashion! Derek knew from years of caning experience exactly how the boy would be feeling. He would be in intense agony and would love to scream out but his ego would not permit him to do so! No boy, however, could avoid the telltale squirming and Gordon was no exception. There came a third swish and a crack and a forth and a fifth. The writhing had developed into a full scale bottom waggle from side to side! Derek raised the cane for the last time and as it fell he said:
“You may get up now!”
Gordon needed no such invitation. He sprang up, grabbed hold of his buttocks, arced his back and flung his head back with his face a picture of agony! That too was the normal post-caning reaction which Derek expected.
“You took that well, Gordon!” said Derek, returning to the use of the first name, “You can be proud of yourself!”
Gordon was in no condition to answer! His face was twisted and his mouth tightly shut while he held his breath until another peak of the ebbing and flowing pain was reached, then he breathed out with a sigh of relief and just had time to gasp out “Thanks!” before repeating the whole process.
“Well you’ve kept your side of the bargain, Gordon!” said Derek, “Now I’ll keep mine! While you’re getting over it I’ll be writing your cheque out!”
Perhaps Derek too needed time to get over it! He found his hands shaking as he opened his cheque book. He stretched out his arm and open and closed his fists a time or two, it helped to steady his hand. He wrote out the cheque and then looked up at Gordon. The boy was still convulsed in the throes of pain!
“I’m afraid there’s going to be a far amount of stinging for maybe an hour or two, Gordon!”
Gordon managed to let go of his backside and go over to Derek.
“I’ll be all right soon!” Gordon replied, “My word, that was quite an experience!”
“One that most boys were familiar with once! But you took it as well as any of them did! Here’s your cheque by the way!”
Gordon glanced at the document and a look of surprise came over him.
“I’ve put the ten per cent discount back on as well!” explained Derek, “You deserve it Gordon, and I can see how much it means to you to show your father that you’ve done a good deal!”
“Well err gosh! I don’t know what to say! That’s very nice of you Derek!”
“I wish you the best of luck in your career!”
“Thanks! I shall see you again though! After a while I’ll come back to see that all is well with the conservatory. Probably in about a week’s time!”
They shook hands and Gordon left the cottage happy but dreadfully sore! He planned to potter about in the garden that evening doing something which did not involve sitting down! Gordon was as good as his word. He came back a week later. He was, in truth, keen to talk to Derek again. He had become fascinated by all aspects of school corporal punishment! He would not want to go through another hard caning again. That had hurt and was sore for days, but he would love to know what a slippering and a spanking felt like. He wondered whether he would pluck up the courage to broach the subject or whether he would be too bashful.
“I’ve just come along to see how you are getting along with the conservatory Derek.” said Gordon, “Any problems?”
“None whatsoever!” exclaimed Derek, “Even during that storm the other night not a drop of water came in!”
“Oh good! I pleased to hear it!”
“Have you got over the caning yet?” asked Derek with a twinkle in his eye.
Gordon was pleased that Derek had brought the subject up so soon.
“Ha! Sure! I have now. God, didn’t that hurt that night though!”
“I expect that just like a schoolboy the first thing you did when you got home was to go straight to a mirror!”
“Err, yes I did!” admitted Gordon as he coloured up slightly, “But I’m glad you’ve brought the subject up. There’s something I want to ask you!”
“Fire away! I’m all ears!”
“I’ve become interested in these old school punishments. Did you use any other corporal punishment other than the cane!”
“Oh yes! It depended on the severity of the offence. I used a slipper sometimes and occasionally spanked with my hand!”
“The slipper didn’t hurt anything like the cane I suppose?” asked Gordon hopefully.
“Not quite, but it did nonetheless carry a good sting. The main difference is that while the effects of the cane lasts for days the worst of the effects of the slipper can wear off after several minutes. I’m talking about a normal four to six strokes. If a slipper is applied relentlessly it can cause bruising just as the cane does!”
“I wouldn’t want to try your cane again but I’d love to find out what the slipper was like! Would you give me the slipper?”
Now Derek really was surprised. The boy had suggested and endured the caning for a good reason but now he was asking for another stinging bottom presumably for the fun of it!
“Are you serious?” asked Derek in amazement.
“Yes I am! I have got an urge to know just what boys had to put up with in those days!”
“My word! You weren’t put off by that caning then?”
“Not now that I’ve got over it!” said Gordon, “It was hell at the time but for the next two or three days when it was just sore and there was no stinging it was rather a nice feeling. I sort of felt proud to have gone through with it!”
Derek had long thought that the many boys he had caned might have left his study in agony but had come to regard their stripes as badges of honour! He would be only too pleased to oblige if Gordon was keen for more. he would love to see that youthful bottom bent across the seat of a chair once more!
“I haven’t got a real gym-shoe here,” said Derek, “but I’ve got a pair of those blue canvas ones with rubber soles. They are much the same thing! I’ll fetch one!”
Derek went out of the room and returned with a size eleven canvas top shoe.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“Very well! Bend over the arm of that chair Grey!”
“Yes sir!” responded Gordon as he got across the arm.
The mere sight of that anatomically perfect rear end thrusting upwards and just crying out for attention was enough to arouse Derek’s physical as well as emotional feelings! How he would have loved to see that bottom bare, but perhaps that would be expecting too much! Trembling with excitement he raised the shoe and slammed it down upon the waiting buttocks.
Gordon was surprised as how mild the blow felt! What he did not know was that unlike the cane which produced an almost unbearable sting with the very first swipe, the pain from the slipper was to become more intense with each new wallop! The second whack produced a very noticeable sting! The third was beginning to convince him that the slipper was no toy! The sting was quite uncomfortable by this time. He wanted to shift the position of his bottom but managed to refrain from doing so in order not to reveal to Derek that it was hurting after only three! On the fourth stroke however he could not prevent himself giving a little waggle!
Derek smiled to himself, it was following a familiar pattern. Most boys would take the six and get up apparently unaffected, while in reality they were hoping to be released from the room immediately so that they could rub the affected area in private outside! Derek would deliberately keep talking to them until, in the case of nine out of ten of them, they could wait no longer to put a hand behind them! Gordon seemed to be behaving in the customary fashion!
Derek delivered the fifth stroke and the movement of the bottom became more pronounced! Then the final one crashed down.
“That’s it! That wasn’t too bad was it?” said Derek as his visitor rose rapidly to his feet.
“No, not really!” lied Gordon, trying to pretend that it did not hurt!
His right hand kept straying halfway round to his bottom before he realised what he was doing and he would withdrew it. Derek knew that it was now only a matter of thirty seconds or so before Gordon would be unable to resist giving a rub. He was right! With a sigh of relief his hand began to buff his stinging buttocks as if he was trying to polish them!
“That hurt more than you care to admit! didn’t it?” grinned Derek.
Gordon put on an expression which was half a smile and half a look of pain!
“Well yes! I didn’t think a slipper would sting that much!”
“At least you won’t have hours of pain and days of soreness!” Derek assured him, “It’ll probably sting like blazes for five minutes or so, but then, so some of my ex-pupils have told me, it developes into a nice warm glow like standing with your back to a roaring fire!”
“It’s beginning to feel like that already!” said Gordon with a note of enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s a great feeling!”
“It’s supposed to be a punishment!” laughed Derek, “You’re making it sound like a pleasure!”
“It is now!” replied Gordon, “It wasn’t while I was actually getting it though!”
Derek refrained from telling him that it had been a great pleasure giving it to him!
“May I come and see you again, Derek? I would love to complete the trio and sample a spanking some time!”
Derek’s heart was racing. He would certainly love to spank this boy and he was wondering if he dare mention giving it to him on his bare bottom! The truth was that at his school he never spanked boys over twelve. Once they had reached their teens it was always either the cane or the slipper! Up to age twelve he would put boys across his knee and spank them but he had never made a boy remove his trousers for punishment! But fortunately for him Gordon did not know that!
“Yes of course you may if you really want to try it. I must say you’re a glutton for punishment my boy! Actually when I spanked boys I used to make them remove their trousers and pants and then put them across my knee, but you would not want to do that of course!” said Derek hoping that in fact Gordon would want to do just that!
Gordon seemed somewhat astounded at first. He hesitated while he let the pronouncement sink in.
“I want to find out what it was like for real! If that’s the way you did it then that’s the way I want to try it!” said Gordon while wondering if he would regret committing himself to such undignified treatment!
Derek felt like rubbing his hands with glee, but did not do so of course! He feared that he might wake up in a minute or two to find that it was all a dream.
“If you’re sure then I shall be happy to accommodate you!” said Derek – in fact he would be over the moon! – “When are you thinking of coming again?”
“Hopefully early next week, but it’ll have to be in the evening, not during the working day. I can’t keep coming round to see how you are getting on with the conservatory!”
“No, I suppose not. How about Monday?”
“Suits me fine! About seven?”
“That’s fine with me!”
Gordon said his goodbyes and left. Derek wondered whether he could bear to wait for four days! He was actually going to put that handsome boy across his knee and smack his bare bottom! The mere thought would keep him supplied with erections until Monday he thought, as he headed for the bathroom to deal with one there and then!
On Monday Gordon arrived exactly on time. His visit was no longer during working hours so he had swapped his suit and shirt with tie for a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans and a T-shirt. Derek took him into he living room.
“Would you like a drink before we start?” asked Derek.
“That would be nice. It’ll steady my nerves!” replied Gordon.
“You’re nervous then?”
“A little!” grinned Gordon.
“Gin or whisky?”
“Oh! Whisky please with a little water.”
As he poured out the drink Derek looked towards Gordon who was standing sideways-on to him. What a fine figure he cut. The front of his body was dead straight from his shoulders to his feet and his back was equally straight except for that lovely curvy bulge half way down, enhanced by his tight jeans! Derek handed his guest the glass.
“Cheers!” said Derek, stopping himself just in time from saying “Bottoms up!”
The pair of them finished their drinks.
“I’m ready! I’m all yours!” said Gordon.
“Right! Get those jeans down Grey!” said Derek adopting his headmaster voice.
Gordon slowly dropped his jeans to his ankles. He was not wearing anything underneath them and his T-shirt only came down as far as the top of the crack of his bottom. It was all on display and it did not disappoint Derek. Two absolutely perfectly shaped buttocks greeted him!
“Come here, across my knee!”
Derek got hold of the boy and aided him over his lap. Did Gordon feel embarrassed and humiliated? Yes he did! Very much so! And he was enjoying it! He liked being embarrassed and humiliated! He even pushed his bottom up as high and taut as he could to make it even more attractive to Derek! Derek could hardly believe the sight before him! Never before had he had a boy across his lap with a bare bottom only inches below his eyes, and he could sense that Gordon was deliberately poking his bottom up. Derek too had something poking up but it was not his bottom! Now for the first time he was going to experience the feel of flesh slapping flesh!
Gordon’s bottom turned pink as it wobbled uneasily. Derek’s hand seemed to sting as much as the slipper did.
Derek was going to stop at six. He could see that the red squirming buttocks must be getting painful. Despite the intense sting Gordon was enjoying it! He wanted more!
“Don’t stop!” he called out, “Keep going!”
Derek was not unfamiliar with boys crying out in vain for him to stop but this was the first one had ask him to continue! It was a request he was not going to refuse! He landed another six hard spanks!
“Yes I think so!” responded Gordon.
The boy stood up and this time unashamedly rubbed his stinging cheeks!
“My goodness you can hit hard!” he said with a wry smile.
“It’s like riding a bike!” grinned Derek, “Once you can do it you never forget the technique!”
Gordon pulled up his jeans then continued the rubbing for a few moments.
“Sit down!” invited Derek, “I’m sure you could use another drink now!”
Selecting a soft comfortable armchair Gordon sat down. He was still feeling somewhat embarrassed after the undignified way he had presented his bare bottom to Derek.
“Thanks I’d love another drink.” said Gordon.
They chatted away as they sipped their drinks, talking almost exclusively about corporal punishment. Derek got the impression that Gordon was longing to either say something or ask something. After a while he came out with it.
“I want to ask you something Derek! May I keep coming to see you?”
That question was the icing on the cake for Derek! It was better than winning the lottery!
“Sure you may, Gordon! You want more?”
“More spanking like this evening! Once is enough for the cane and slipper. But I would love to come and see you regularly for a spanking over your knee with my trousers down! It hurts but it’s great fun! And afterwards,” – here Gordon glanced down at his crotch – “it err, sort of turns me on! I don’t suppose it affects you like that! It’s routine stuff for you isn’t it?”
Derek was thinking just how naive this lad must be if he thought that stinging his bottom was having no physical effect on his spanker! He smiled.
“I have noticed the bulge between your legs my boy! You obviously haven’t noticed that I am in a similar condition! You don’t think I would go to the trouble of giving you all these whackings if I wasn’t getting something out of it myself, do you?”
“Oh yes, of course!” replied Gordon turning a little red in the face.
“Now I’ll tell you something. You are a born bottom, meaning you enjoy getting it! I am a born top, I enjoy giving it! We’re like a nut and bolt! We fit each other! Let’s drink to that! Empty your glass Gordon and I’ll refill it. And let us seal our new partnership with a toast!”
Derek had by this time convinced himself that this was no dream. It was really happening! And he had also got the conservatory he had always wanted!
Story ©MMIX by Skinpang.
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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Skinpang’s earlier story on The Canery can be found here. Further great stories by Skinpang may be found at this external link.
♥ Site recommended story ♥
A brand spanking new caning story by very special guest author JOELSTRAP. This story is exclusive to The Canery! All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
Leon’s Christmas Present by Joelstrap
“No way! I am not dressing up as a bloody elf!”
“Aw, come on, Leon, it’s for the kids!”
“The kids get plenty at Christmas already. Far too many presents. Little buggers are spoiled rotten.”
“Not all of them. This is for the ones who won’t get much at Christmas. It’s only a couple of weekends,” pleaded Nick.
“Only? You’re wanting me to dress up like fairy and ponce around in public in a supermarket, packing shopping-bags for bastards who could easily do it themselves, just to try to earn a few pounds to give stupid presents to fat kids? Do I look like an idiot?”
“No; but you sound like one. Stop being so ruddy selfish, Leon.”
At that moment, a lithe young lad in an elf’s costume sprang into the room, grinning broadly.
“Hey! This is brilliant! I bet I’m the best-looking elf in the store. They’ll be queuing up to be at the checkout where I’m working.”
“Big-head,” said Leon caustically.
“Oh yeh? Go and get a costume on yourself, Leon, and then Nick can decide who’s the sexier.”
“I’ve told Nick already, Dane. I’m not doing it.”
“Eh? Course you are! It’s for the kids.”
“Yeh, yeh, I’ve heard that already. Badly-behaved brats, most of them. I think they should get a good, hard spanking. Do them a lot more good than presents.”
“You what?! Come on, students always do this to raise money in the college here. It’ll be fun. Get that elf-outfit on and let’s see how you look,” urged Dane.
“He’s scared that it’ll be obvious that you’re sexier than he is,” observed Nick in an audible aside.
“Like hell he is!” snapped Leon, glaring at Nick. “Okay! I’ll put it on, but just to show how irresistible I am. I’m not doing the bag-filling thing.”
Leon strode out of the room and Dane glanced at Nick.
“It’s well seen you’re a psychology student,” he said with a grin.
A few minutes later, Leon entered, clad in an elf’s costume.
“Oh, wow!” gasped Nick. “I’m sorry, Dane, but when it comes to sexy, I think Leon’s just got something extra.”
“Yeh,” admitted Dane. “Would you look at the way his arse fills those shorts; and that bulge at the front? I think I might go for him myself if I wasn’t straight.”
“Shut up, the pair of you!” retorted Leon. “This thing’s fucking obscene. The shorts are so short you can see the bottom of my bum…….”
“….and it’s a bum to die for,” observed Nick.
“And I don’t want every dirty old guy or randy old woman ogling my package,” went on Leon, ignoring Nick’s interruption.
“Why not? Give them a thrill for Christmas,” said Nick. “And maybe some young stud will notice you and ask if he can get his hands on your celery and giant onions.”
“Ha, bloody, ha! Well, we’ve established that I’m the sexier one, so I’m getting out of this right now.”
As he made for the door, Sean came in and stopped dead in his tracks. He gave a low whistle.
“Shit! That’s some weapon you got there, Leon. I think I’ll have to report you to Elf And safety.”
Leon rolled his eyes, pushed past Sean, and went to remove the costume.
“I don’t think he’s gonna do it,” he said. “Pity. With his looks, he’d be a hit with the shoppers, female and male, and he’d probably get huge donations for the kids.”
“Selfish brute!” muttered Dane.
Sean retained a very clear impression in his memory of the sight of Leon’s generous package threatening to burst out of the tight confines of the elf-shorts. For the first time he began to see Leon in a slightly different light; not just as a friend, but as potentially a much more intimate partner. He spied Leon finishing off his lunch in the refectory the next day and slid on to the bench beside him.
“Hi, sexy-elf,” he said with a grin. “I like your jeans, ‘cos they’re tight and snug, but I liked those elf-shorts even better. I never realised just what a big boy you are.”
Leon flushed and muttered, “Er, yeh; thanks,” before glancing down at Sean’s groin and remarking, “And you look pretty big yourself in the weaponry-department.”
“Oh, yeh! I think we could have a lotta fun firing each other’s cannon,” he suggested.
Leon wriggled as a strong movement strained the fabric of his denims.
“You’re on! How about this evening?”
“’Fraid not,” replied Sean. “I’m part of a little group which is going round to the old-folks’ home to entertain them tonight; but, hey! You could come along too! I’ve heard you sing and you got a great voice. The geriatrics will love to hear you; and I bet the ladies won’t be able to take their eyes off you either!”
“Why the hell would I want to go and sing for a bunch of oldies who should be quietly put to sleep? To hell with that, Sean! Forget the old buggers and come up to my house tonight and we’ll sort each other out.”
“Aw, come on, Leon, you can’t mean that. You still got grandparents?”
“And you think they should be put to sleep?”
“No! But they’re in their own home; they go around; they do things. These folk in the Old People’s Homes, they’re blind and deaf and smelly, and can’t walk, and pee their pants, and tell you they’re Napoleon.”
“You ever been in a home for the elderly, Leon?”
Leon shook his head.
“Yeh; well, maybe you need to come with me tonight; or one of the other nights. We’re doing several Homes over three weeks. You might get a surprise. Sure, some of them have problems, but most of them are great fun. Come on; come with me and help to entertain them for Christmas.”
“And be bored outta my skull all evening? No way. Where’s the fun in that?”
“Well I’m going,” he said firmly, “and I think it’s gonna be more fun than an evening with a selfish pig like you.”
“Suit yourself,” retorted Leon with a shrug as Sean rose and stalked off.
“Got your Christmas-shopping done, Leon?” enquired Dane as the pair walked through the shopping-centre on a Saturday morning a couple of weeks or so before Christmas.
Leon shook his head.
“Nah! I don’t believe in all that stuff. It’s just shops trying to blackmail people into spending a whole lot of money on things nobody needs. If I buy you a present of something you don’t really want and you do the same for me, what’s the point?”
“It’s a way of showing we care about each other as a friend,” said Dane.
“I can ruddy well tell you that I care about you as a friend,” retorted Leon. “I don’t need to buy you a T-shirt with an elephant on the front to prove it!”
“Okay, suit yourself; but I’m getting you something anyway.”
“You dare! That’s how they get you! You buy something for me and then I feel bad and have to rush out and get something for you. It’s emotional blackmail. Can’t you see? We’re all being manipulated!”
“But it’s fun! Feeling your way round a parcel, wondering what it is? Ripping into it and then getting a surprise? Okay, it’s not always a very good surprise, but it’s the thought that counts, Leon. You must be getting stuff for your mum and dad, huh?”
“Oh, yeh. I know they’ll get me presents, so I’ve got to get them things. Like I said, I get forced into the game; but that’s as far as I go. Only family get a present from me,” declared Leon.
“Must be fun in your house on Christmas morning,” observed Dane.
“Where’s the fun in knowing you’ve been taken in by the great commercial rip-off?” demanded Leon.
“Ever heard of Scrooge?” asked Dane.
“Of course. A Christmas Carol. Everybody’s heard of Scrooge. Great chap. Bah! Humbug! and all that. He had the right idea; at least at first, before the bloody ghosts got to him. What about him?”
“Compared with you,” said Dane, “he was a real ray of sunshine.”
“It was when I was talking to him about Christmas presents that I suddenly thought he was even worse than Scrooge,” said Dane to Sean and Nick as they sat in a corner of the bar with pints in their hands.
“Wouldn’t be an elf to help the kids,” agreed Nick.
“Wouldn’t come and help me entertain the old folk,” added Sean.
“And thinks presents are just a commercial rip-off,” said Dane. “But listen! Thinking about Scrooge gave me an idea. I think maybe we need to try to change Leon, just like the ghosts changed Scrooge.”
“You mean we dress as spectres and scare the shit outta him?” asked Nick.
“Well that’s not quite what I was thinking; although you might be on the right lines with the idea of scaring the crap out of him.”
“Okay, then. Tell us, Dane,” urged Sean.
The three leaned forward, heads almost touching, and listened as Dane explained his plan. When he’d finished there was a brief silence.
“You think it’ll work?” enquired Nick.
“Dunno,” said Dane, “but Leon’s actually a great guy and I think we need to give it a go.”
“And he’s got one hell of big cannon in the front of his pants,” added Sean.
“What’s that got to do with it?” asked Dane and Nick together.
“I was just saying,” replied Sean, looking slightly embarrassed.
“You hoping to fire it?” asked Nick with a grin.
“Maybe,” replied Sean.
“Or maybe you’re hoping he might fire yours?”
“Shut up!” snapped Sean. “Can’t you let a guy dream in peace?”
“That’s lucky,” said Nick when Dane explained a few days later that Leon’s parents were in an amateur drama-production and would be out of the house in the evenings for most of the week. “We can catch him there alone.”
“Yeh; and I’m gonna go to the gym with him Monday late afternoon and then we’ll go for a pizza and I’ll go home with him; just to make sure he’s there,” said Dane. “You two need to arrive about seven o’clock, okay; and don’t forget his present.”
“No way!” said Sean. “It’s all wrapped up nicely and ready to go.”
“Okay. I think we’re good. I wonder if it’ll work?”
“Even if it doesn’t, I’m really gonna enjoy it,” said Nick, while the others grinned enthusiastically.
Dane duly went back to Leon’s house with him and was sitting in the lounge chatting when Sean and Nick arrived. Leon’s eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw them, but he ushered them into the lounge where Dane was waiting.
“Why aren’t the lights on your Christmas-tree switched on?” demanded Nick.
“My olds are out; and why would I want the lights on? There’s nothing wrong with the standard-lamp.”
“But it would look Christmassy,” protested Dane.
“Humbug!” said Leon. “What are you lot doing here anyway? What’s going on?”
“We got together and got you a Christmas present,” said Sean, producing an oblong box from behind his back, brightly-wrapped in coloured-paper.
“Aw, shit, guys! You know I don’t do Christmas presents,” Leon protested.
“Yeh; but you said you objected to presents which nobody needed; just bought because it was the thing to do; blackmail by the shops to make you spend money,” explained Nick. “But what we got you is something that you definitely need.”
“Okay,” he said, “let me have it.”
Sean, Nick and Dane exchanged amused glances, but Leon didn’t notice. He took the proffered gift and ripped off the paper to reveal a long, slim cardboard box. He lifted the lid and: “What the fuck?!” he stammered.
In his hand he held a lithe school-cane, such as had been used more than thirty years ago to keep order and discipline among recalcitrant and badly-behaved youth. He arched it and released one end so that it sprung back, quivering, to the horizontal again.
“Boy!” he said. “I bet that would sting like hell. I’ve never seen one for real; but why would you think I need a cane? I’m not gonna cane anybody.”
“No,” agreed Nick, “but we’re gonna cane you.”
“You what?! No way! What for, anyway?” demanded Leon.
“For being a selfish, carmudgeonly bugger who won’t do anything to help anyone else at Christmas and who out-Scrooges Scrooge in being miserable and cynical about Christmas in general,” said Dane.
“Okay, Leon, strip for it!” commanded Nick, leaning forward and taking the cane from him.
“If you think I’m gonna…….”
“As I thought,” said Nick. “We’ll have to do it for him. Come on, guys!”
The three launched themselves at Leon and in spite of furious protests and powerful resistance on his part, they swiftly managed to subdue him and pull off his clothes, leaving him naked, face-down on the floor with Nick and Sean kneeling on his back and legs.
“If you so much as touch me with that cane, I’ll have you all charged with assault,” threatened Leon furiously.
“Yeh, yeh,” said Sean, unbuckling his belt and giving it to Dane, who proceeded to tie Leon’s hands with it.
“Get off me, you bastards!” snarled Leon.
“That’s not very festive language,” said Dane. “Come on, lads, let’s get him over the arm of the sofa.”
Leon proceeded to regale them with a torrent of extremely un-festive language as they hauled him into position. Nick knelt on the sofa and held his ankles tightly, while Sean held his tied hands. Leon was going nowhere.
“We need to stop all those expletives,” remarked Dane; and he picked up Leon’s briefs and then pulled his head back before giving a vicious tug on Leon’s hair.
When he yelled, Dane stuffed the briefs into Leon’s mouth and buckled Leon’s own belt round to hold them in place. Muffled sounds of fury still escaped the outraged Leon.
“That’s better,” said Dane. “Okay, Leon. This is it. You’re a selfish bastard; a real modern-day Scrooge. And now we’re gonna give you what you need for Christmas,” he continued, showing Leon the cane. “Scrooge got visits from three ghosts to sort him out; and your arse is gonna get three visits from this cane, one visit from each of us guys, to sort you out. Scrooge didn’t like it much and I don’t suppose you will either; but we’re all hoping it’ll be worth it.”
Leon’s eyes blazed with frustrated anger. Dane took up his position, rapped the slim rod several times on Leon’s fully-rounded bottom, and then swung the cane, bringing it down hard and accurately across the centre of the youth’s behind. A muffled snarl of pain escaped Leon and as a red welt rose slowly from his skin, his buttocks tensed, quivering, and then relaxed. Dane continued to wield the cane with considerable power and deadly precision, etching six neat, parallel red lines across Leon’s rump. The boy struggled in vain to escape from the hold Nick and Sean had on him and in his eyes shone a fierce rage, rivalling the ferocity of the fires burning in his rear.
“Very nice,” observed Sean approvingly as he admired Dane’s handiwork and took the cane, while Dane took over holding Leon’s hands steady.
Sean delivered his strokes at a slight angle so that every one cross-hatched the six inflicted by Dane. Searing fires blazed deep into Leon’s buttocks and he clenched and writhed desperately as he fought to process the savage pain. Sean took his time, allowing Leon to savour the full sting of each stroke before he inflicted the next one; and he hit ferociously hard. Tears glistened in Leon’s eyes and the fury was replaced by a look of growing apprehension. Sean completed his quota and passed the cane over to Nick, who hit on a downward diagonal, every cut firing the underlying welts to a savagely-powerful intensity. Sean and Dane worked hard to keep the bucking, writhing Leon in position. By the time Nick had administered his six, Leon’s bottom was fiery-red, bordering on crimson, throbbing agonisingly with raised, pulsating, criss-crossing welts.
Nick showed the cane to Leon.
“Now,” he said, “are you gonna come with me, dressed as an elf, and help with the bag-packing at the supermarket, to raise money for the kids who won’t have much at Christmas? Just nod if you agree.”
Leon’s eyes showed bitter rage, and from his throat came a muffled roar of refusal.
“Okay,” said Nick; and he proceeded to deliver a full-power stroke with the cane to that sensitive area of a boy’s behind, where his bottom merges into the top of his legs.
Leon’s shriek of agony was clear even through his mouthful of briefs. Nick waited and then inflicted a second stroke, just below the first, eliciting an even more desperate cry of torment. He glanced at Leon’s face and thought there might be a chance that he had changed his mind about helping; but he decided just to make sure and so lashed a third stroke on a diagonal, cross-cutting the first pair and sending the pain-level felt by Leon into the stratosphere.
Nick showed Leon the cane again.
“I can give you three more if you want,” he said. “All just as hard and all down there where you feel it. Unless you’re ready to come with me to help at the supermarket?”
For several seconds Leon seemed to be fighting a battle with himself; and then he suddenly gave in and nodded his agreement. Sean took the cane and held it before Leon’s eyes.
“You’ll be coming with me to entertain the old folk, won’t you, Leon?” he enquired.
He flexed the cane slowly and Leon got the message clearly. He nodded his consent. Finally Dane showed the cane to Leon.
“We’ll all be getting you other Christmas-presents,” he said, “and you’ll be getting presents for us too, won’t you, Leon? And you’ll be switching on the lights on the Christmas-tree and getting mince-pies from the kitchen for us all, when we let you free, yeh? And there’s not gonna be any Bah! Humbug! nonsense; or any un-festive language,” he warned. “Because if there is, your briefs go straight back in your mouth and you get some more of the cane. Got it?”
Leon nodded dumbly.
“Brilliant,” said Dane; and the three guys proceeded to release Leon and remove the gag.
Leon stood rubbing disbelievingly at the tender welts on his bottom; and then gazed equally disbelievingly at his three mates. With a nonchalance which was decidedly studied, Dane picked up the cane again and arched it carefully. Leon swallowed, looked as if he was about to speak and then seemed to change his mind. Slowly he crossed the room, bent down and switched on the lights on the Christmas-tree. Seconds later he was in the middle of a fierce group-hug which took his breath away.
“Great present, eh, Leon, and exactly what you needed,” said Nick. “See, presents show you care about someone; and we all really, really care about you. That’s why we went to all this trouble to get you what you needed.”
Leon stood very still, gazing at his pals, and all three of them tensed themselves, ready for him to launch an attack; but suddenly he broke into a sunburst of smiles.
“Okay, guys,” he said, “that was one hell of a lesson; but I’ve learnt it. If that’s the way you beat a guy you care about, I’d hate to be a guy you didn’t care about.”
“Oh, but if you were a guy we didn’t care about, we wouldn’t have bothered to beat you so hard,” said Dane. “We so desperately wanted to get you to waken up and to share the happiness of Christmas with us, that we decided we really had to beat the living fuck out of you, to make sure you did.”
“Yeh, okay. You changed me; like the ghosts changed Scrooge,” admitted Leon.
“Nah, we didn’t change you. And I don’t think the ghosts changed Scrooge either,” replied Sean. “See, I think that deep down Scrooge had a good heart and all the ghosts did was to uncover his Christmas spirit. Same with you. We all think you’re really a great guy with a good heart; but you just needed us to reveal it. The ghosts gave Scrooge a hell of a fright and he found his Christmas spirit; and we scared the shit outta you with a cane and found yours. Simple.”
Leon dressed himself in silence and then went out of the room, returning a few minutes later with hot mince-pies and cans of lager.
“Come and sit beside me,” invited Sean. “I loved getting a look at your fantastic tackle and I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”
Leon flushed and, “Thanks,” he muttered bashfully, “but I think I’ll stand for a bit.”
A gale of laughter swept around the room.
Leon was every bit as popular in his tight elf-costume as Nick had predicted, and his sexy looks, combined with his cheerful and joking manner, ensured a steady flow of generous donations for the kids.
He sang with gusto to entertain the old folk and when he walked around the room singing a love-song and planted a swift kiss on the cheek of every lady in the place, he earned himself a swelling chorus of demands for more songs.
On the afternoon of Christmas Day, the four guys met at Nick’s house to exchange gifts; silly, pointless gifts which were just plain fun. The last present given to Leon was from Sean. It was a T-shirt with a picture of Scrooge on the back with a red line through it; and on the front were the words: Spank Me Hard If I’m Not showing The Spirit Of Christmas! Leon tore off his own shirt and hauled the new T-shirt over his head.
Sean came forward and placed his hands on his shoulders and then kissed him softly on the mouth. Leon gasped as things surged in his jeans.
“You and me have got another present for each other,” said Sean, looking straight into Leon’s eyes; “but it can wait until tomorrow.”
“I think I’m really gonna like it,” said Leon.
“You’d better,” retorted Sean, “because I’ve still got that cane; and that message on your chest is serious!”
“Happy Christmas, guys!” said Leon, “and God bless us every one!” he added with a mischievous twinkle.
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.
Story ©MMXXI by Joelstrap, used here by very kind permission.
Please leave a comment on this fine story. Comments are here.
Joelstrap’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here. Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link
♥ Site recommended stories♥
New to The Canery are these two short caning stories by very special guest author Baddlad17. All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
A Footballers Caning by Baddlad17
Josh Henderson sat in the changing room at the football club, slowly allowing the red mist to settle. Minutes before he had been sent off the field of play, following a spat with a player from the opposing team. Josh knew he had been the guilty party, and in letting his temper flare he had managed to let the entire team down, as well as himself. Josh had spent the entire match winding up the other player who had done nothing to him really, he had just taken an instant dislike to him, and he had been lucky not to see red before the 81st minute. The guy came out after half-time determined to get his revenge, he had deliberately slid into Josh as he went to get the ball near the halfway line. The ref had waved play on which angered Josh so intently he decided to take the law into his own hands. Still seething with this guy he disliked, he had got up and floored the poor bloke with one punch. Inevitably he had been shown a red card so off he went, much to the annoyance of his team mates, and even more the coach.
As Josh started to calm down he began to think about the likely outcome following this senseless red card. The new Coach Graham Morgan had told the lads, time and time again that he would not tolerate violence on the pitch. A player sent off had two choices under the new gaffer, out the door, or take a bloody hard caning. Josh turned pale as he thought of the canings he had witnessed just a couple of weeks back. Mark Sutton and Steve Vickers had been caned in front of the team for receiving red cards. It had been given in the changing room, with everyone watching before they showered. The lads on the receiving end received ten strokes each, shorts at half mast, and their jocks, given forcefully across their naked arses.
The raw, livid stripes were on full display in the showers for the rest of the team to see and think about their future behaviour, and what might happen if they received a red card. It did not go un-noticed that there were a number of hard cocks, some even dripping pre-cum in the showers following the highly charged events that had taken place. Well it looked as though today he was going to be afternoon’s entertainment, and he had only himself to blame.
He was not to be disappointed, the lads trudged into the changing room just over ten minutes later, hot, sweaty and muddy from their exertions on the pitch. The clatter of studded boots on the hard floor brought Josh out of his slumber, nervously swallowing hard in anticipation of what lay ahead for him. The team captain Neil Venables shook his head at the twenty year old midfielder, before asking him what he thought he was doing. Before he could answer Morgan was in the vicinity, a straight length of whippy cane in his beefy hands. He glares at Henderson for a moment before asking him if he wants out of the team, or is he willing to take it like a man? The good looking lad can already feel his throat swelling, his blue eyes feeling a little watery, but he somehow manages to say he is willing to stand tall, well bend over and take a severe dose of the cane.
Josh knows the score, he saw his teammates thrashed before. He stands and turns his back to his team mates, swallows hard, then inserts his fingers into the elasticated waistband of his muddy football shorts. In one swift movement they are hanging round his knees, exposing his chubby bum cheeks for an ordeal they will remember for a long time. His athletic jock pouch must also come down, humiliation complete before he bends over the low bench, offering his manly arse up for the fires of hell. Coach Morgan is not a man to cross, he is almost forty years old and takes discipline very seriously. At home his own sons often feel the sting of one of his grubby old, hefty gymshoes. Like the lads at the club a Morgan punishment is only given one way, bare bottom. As he prepares to take aim with the first of ten cuts, a few of the lads start to get excited, with a number of shorts soon showing signs of tenting while they await the start of another hot caning.
Morgan brings the cane sweeping down, lashing it hard across the footballers hairy arse, Josh’s eyes open wide as the first line of fire sears a stripe across his bottom. He can feel the intense sting and smart starting to develop, just as he thinks he has managed to cope with the agony another heavy stroke lashes down across his exposed rump. By the fourth cut tears have sprung into his eyes, and by the time the sixth stroke sizzles down he begins to yell. Steve Vickers who had been on the receiving end of a thrashing a couple of weeks before gently patted his own arse in sympathy, remembering how much that fuckin cane stung. The tenth and final stroke is delivered at an angle, crossing and intersecting the other cuts, leaving the young footballer bitterly crying and humilated before his team mates. Quite a number of them are trying to hide their excitement, as for the second time in a few weeks another player has been caned. Most of them are also aware that it is only a matter of time before they will find themselves centre of attention, over the bench, poking their arse up for their teammates inspection while coach whips it raw with that nasty, whippy rod he seems overly fond of.
With punishment complete the lads strip and head into the showers, to soap up, clean down, with some of them unable to wait for some privacy before having a wank. It’s all lads together though, and no one seems to bat an eyelid, after all the rest will be pulling one off the wrist before the afternoon is out. As for our young hero, he is forgiven now. He has paid a high price and his red, striped bottom will be on show for at least a week to remind his mates that if you get a red card, you will get a red bottom to match.
A Caning for the Apprentice by Baddlad17
Tom stood nervously in front of his boss, he was nervous as hell and fairly confident he was going to get sacked, all because he had allowed himself to be stupid like the others. Three of them had been on the building site that morning, Neil and Gary, a couple of likely lads if there ever was any were in their mid-twenties, they were supervising Tom, well they were supposed to have been, but they had illicitly brought in a couple of packs of cider. The weather was hot and sticky, and so after doing a couple of hours work they decided to crack open a couple of cans and have a doss around, after all it was Friday and the weekend loomed. Tom had been doing some wiring when he realised that the banging from the next room had ceased. Out of curiosity he decided to investigate what was going on. He got down and popped his head round, only to see his work mates sat on the floor, knocking back a can of cider each. Neil grinned at the youngster before offering him a can which he readily accepted, and before he knew it he was on the floor with them, having a laugh and enjoying a can of cider, even if it was only eleven o clock in the morning.
None of them counted on Bill coming by to see how things were shaping up. The gaffer walked in to find his three employees sat on their arses, drinking cider. To say he gave them a telling off would be an understatement. He tore a real strip off them, before ordering them to get on with their work, promising that he would see them in his office at the end of the day, by which time he would have decided what he was going to do with them. Neil first, then Gary had been in to see the gaffer, emerging having been sacked, so swallowing hard Tom tapped on the door and entered the office, expecting the same treatment. Bill had thought long and hard during the day what he was going to do about this. Neil and Gary were a pair of idle loafers that he had been trying to get rid of for some time. Today they had presented him with a perfect opportunity, and he had no qualms in dismissing them, but young Tom was coming on well, and showing a lot of promise.
Then he remembered how his boss had dealt with him as an eighteen year old trainee, just like Tom. His arse may have been raw, but he had never let his boss down again. It just so happened that Bill had the same cane that old man Harry had beaten him with all those years ago. He found it at the back of the cupboard in the office and placed it under his desk, close at hand should the young un agree to it. He quickly got rid of the other two, without any compunction they were fired for gross misconduct and then he summoned the lad into his office. Tom listened intently to his boss as he lectured him on his offence, he was just wishing he would give him his cards and send him on his way, when it suddenly dawned on him he was not talking about getting rid of him.
Tom had been spanked as a child by his dad, and his grandad had once used a wooden brush on his backside, but he had never been caned. He swallowed hard upon seeing the instrument of correction. Take the sack or the cane? He loved his job and had no wish to lose it. He knew the cane would hurt, but the worst would soon be over, then he could get on with his life. He was a little apprehensive when told him to take his jeans and pants down, he was so nervous as he uncovered, exposing his firm, manly buttocks, but also his long cock and pubic bush. Bill ordered him the get over the desk and moments later he felt the cane tapping none too gently on his tender cheeks.
Bill did not let him off easily, a lesson had to be learned, and by god this lad was going to learn it. From the first biting stroke he was up on his toes, desparately fighting the fierce sting of the rattan rod. These were no love taps, but solid firm strokes, laid on with a will by a strong armed builder. Eight times he sliced the cane across the lads backside, striping and smarting the previously pale flesh. Tom began to cry out after the third stroke and just hollered until it was over, but he stayed down and took his punishment. Once it was over he limped from the office, his hands glued to his blazing arse cheeks, vowing to never let his boss down again. Did he succeed? Only time will tell.
Both stories ©MMXVII by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.
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.
Authors love your feedback! Please leave a comment. Comments are here.
Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here. Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.
♥ Site recommended story ♥
New to The Canery is this fine old story by much-missed friend Skinpang, R.I.P. All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
A Moving Experience by Skinpang
Barry and Robin had been close friends for most of their lives. They had been through junior and secondary school together and now the two eighteen year olds worked together. They were employed by a removal firm; Barry, who had passed his HGV driving test, drove a removal van and Robin acted as his mate. One morning they reported to the boss as usual to find out what jobs they had got for that day.
“What have we got today, Mr Speed? asked Barry.
“Ah! Yes!” replied Mr Speed, “This should keep you busy for a day or two! You have to move the furniture out of the old Drayshaw Secondary School. The desks are to be taken to their new premises in Cromwell Road. I don’t know how many trips it will take; – I understand there are just over a thousand of them! The rest of the furniture, such as cupboards and filing cabinets etcetera, they don’t need. They’ve got all new stuff. You are to take all that down to the auction room to be sold off. I should see to that first if I was you, there’s no hurry for the desks as the school is on holiday anyway. They tell me that anything left in drawers or cupboards is all useless and can be thrown out. Take anything like that down to the tip and dump it.”
“I’m sorry in a way to see the old place close!” said Barry.
“You were there?” asked Mr Speed.
“We both were!” answered Barry, “Robin and I sat side by side throughout our school years.”
“Well, the school’s not closing. Just moving to a modern building. Here’s the key, by the way.”
“Thanks!” said Barry, taking hold of the key, “Come on Robin, let’s get cracking!”
They drove to their old school and entered the building.
“Don’t it seem ghostly!” remarked Robin, “I mean all quiet and empty like this. It used to be so full of life when we were here!”
“Does seem strange, don’t it?” replied Barry, “Let’s go round every room first and see what there is to chuck out.”
They found lots of files and papers dating years back, rulers, chalk and other brick-a-brac. Eventually they came to the headmaster’s office. Again they found bits and pieces to throw out; half used pencils, erasers and more old files. Robin opened a tall cupboard which stood against a wall.
“Well-well-well! Look what I’ve found!” he exclaimed as he pulled an old gymshoe and a cane from the cupboard, “However long have these been here!”
“Good God!” ejaculated Barry, “Since before we were born! They haven’t used canes for about thirty years!”
Robin flipped it through the air and it produced a loud “swish!”
“Cor! I bet that used to hurt! imagine getting that across your arse!” said Robin.
He looked at the shoe. “I always thought they used slippers.” he remarked.
“That’s what they called them, but they were nearly always gymshoes,” explained Barry, “I’ve heard my grandfather talk about it.”
Barry picked up the slipper. “I should think this carried quite a wallop too!” suggested Barry.
He handed the slipper to Robin and bent over the table!
“Come on! Give me a wallop across my arse with it! I want to know what it was like!”
Robin laughed and obliged! He brought the slipper down hard on Barry’s backside with a resounding “CRACK!”
Barry stood up. “It stings a bit!” was his verdict, “But it’s not that bad!”
“That was only one!” said Robin, “Don’t forget they used to get six! Six of the best they called it! And you’re an adult; the little’uns used to get that! Bend over again and try another five!”
“I will if you will too!” challenged Barry.
“Yes! Okay! I want to find out what it was like too!” responded Robin.
Barry bent flat across the table, his trousers stretching tight around his well formed buttocks. Robin got got the feeling that he was going to enjoy doing this!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Barry got up and could not resist giving his bottom a quick rub!
“That hurt!” was his first comment, “But it’s rather a nice feeling! Let’s have the slipper. Now it’s your turn!”
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Robin squirmed a little after the forth stroke. It was obviously beginning to bite!
Robin got up smiling and rubbing his stinging buns!
“It hurts, don’t it!” stating the obvious! “I’ll bet that stopped them messing about better than detention did!”
Barry was looking down at Robin’s crutch! “You’ve got one too!” he remarked.
“One what?” asked Robin.
“A hard on!”
“Er! Yes” admitted Robin, “It seems to turn you on, doesn’t it!?”
Now Robin was carefully examining the cane. “I bet you couldn’t keep over the table for six with this!”
“You’re on!” said Barry taking up the challenge, “I bet you a fiver I can!”
“Right!” Robin said, “Let’s see the colour of your money!”
They both put a fiver on the table. Barry again took up the classic position over the table.
“Yeeeeoooowl” yelled out Barry, completely unprepared for such an intense sting!
“Had enough already!” was Robin’s half question half statement.
“No way!” exclaimed Barry, “It just took me by surprise, that’s all! Carry on!”
Swish CRACK! Swish CRACK! Swish CRACK!
Barry did not call out any more, but he was squirming like billy-ho!
Swish CRACK! Swish CRACK!
Barry leapt up, his hands too busy grabbing his rear end to pick up the money!
“Cor! F..king hell!” he gasped out, “That thing’s a killer!”
After a minute or two he released his hands and picked up the cane.
“I’ll give you the chance to get your money back!” he told Robin.
“Okay! If you can take it, so can I!” replied Robin.
Robin bent over the table. He had seen how Barry had been caught out by the first stroke so he braced himself for it!
Robin managed to remain quiet, but he could now see (or rather feel!) what Barry had meant! He could not remember ever before experiencing such searing pain!
Swish CRACK! Swish CRACK! Swish CRACK!
When the fifth stroke came he could not prevent himself from calling out!
Just as Barry had done, he was squirming, his bottom doing a merry dance from side to side!
And just as Barry had he jumped up and grabbed the affected parts! Barry pushed one of the fivers across the table towards Robin and put the other one in his pocket.
“We’ll call that a draw!” said Barry with a grin.
“Hell’s bells!” ejaculated Robin, “And to think they used to do that to lads half our age!”
“Yes! But my grandfather told me that most of them had enough sense not to get in trouble in those days. I can see why now!”
“I don’t feel like loading this stuff up for a while till I get over it a bit!” said Robin, “Let’s have our morning break now, shall we?”
They fetched their vacuum flasks and sandwiches and brought them back into the headmaster’s office. There were chairs in there but they concluded that it would be more comfortable standing up! Robin looked at the cane and slipper on the table.
“It would be a pity to throw them away!” he mused, “I mean, there’s some history there, isn’t there? I wonder how many arses they’ve been across!”
“Several hundreds I bet!” speculated Barry, “I’ll tell you what! I could take them home with me and keep them in my car! My folks go out every Friday night. Perhaps you would fancy coming round to my place some Friday nights and then we could go up to my bedroom and…..You get my meaning?”
Robin grinned! “I’m game!” he replied.
Story ©MMIV by Skinpang.
D I S C L A I M E R
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A repeat from 2018 of this hot caning tale by your host, Rod Cayenne. All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
Sideboard Of Memories by Rod Cayenne
Sometimes I couldn’t work the old sod out. Dad said he was downsizing, for no particular reason. Consequently he offered me some surplus furniture. Four oak dining chairs. A drop-leaf table which didn’t quite match them but was too good to refuse. A serviceable coffee table. The sideboard where he used to keep his cane along with all sorts of bric-a-brac. Being fairly broke at the time, I took the lot.
Of course, I could only fit the chairs and coffee table in my Mini. Even then I had to make two trips. For the big table and sideboard I had to call a local man with a van. His name was Sean and I’d used him before. He often brought a hired hand with him to move particularly bulky items, like the second-hand leather sofas he delivered for me a while back. He offered a discount if the customer was able to help move the items himself. So that was the option I went for this time.
Sean was hunky. A big muscled young man, always in fashionable long board shorts, today with just the merest hint of a Hawaiian pattern on them. His face always beamed a friendliness, though I did wonder about a scar on his forehead. I’d always got on well with him, and always gave him a big tip despite my precarious financial situation. I think he could sense my lustful feelings. He invariably crushed my hand when he shook it. That was actually quite often as we both frequented the local German discounter. He was always there with his leggy wife, but he always had time to stop for a chat, and to slap me on the back while crushing my hand!
Dad was out when Sean arrived in his grubby white unmarked van.
I helped Sean load the table and sideboard. It wasn’t particularly easy task, as once again Sean had crushed my hand. I resolved to mention it when we set off, and indeed I did.
“Ha! Don’t be such a wimp, Jonathan!” he laughed at me. “You managed to move the stuff just fine, didn’t you? And those were bloody heavy items.”
“Yes, but my hand’s still throbbing!” I stated in my defence, “You know it’s a wonder your customers can assist with the removals after you’ve crushed their hands.”
“Nonsense, they all love it! They all love me.”
I sighed and reflected to myself that I was one of his customers who really did love him, for all his faults. Yes, I loved him and I loved his sexy Irish accent. Anyway, he was off talking at a tangent, about music, James Brown and the power of the riff. He soon lost my attention as I dreamt about his muscles.
A near miss on the road woke me from my daydreaming, “You fuckin’ English git!” screamed Sean at the hapless female driver ahead of him. He was so annoyed that he tossed his mobile phone aside and actually started driving with both hands on the wheel. He soon calmed down, and was talking to me again. “So Jonathan! I can tell a lot about my customers from their handshakes,” he said cheerfully, “Characters and secrets are revealed. You I think are a little submissive, am I wrong?”
He was right, though I wasn’t going to admit it to him. I blushed and resolved to slash the value of the tip I was going to give him. Yes, I had to change the topic of conversation urgently. Fortunately another incident of road rage spared my modesty, and then we were at our destination, my grassy drive.
“Shit, this is muddy!” he complained as he backed the van up. “All this mud and shit is going to spoil my pristine paintwork. Needs a bit of TLC, your drive, I’d say.” With that he handed me the business card of a friend of his who specialised in tarmac work. He grabbed the handbrake roughly and the van skidded to a stop.
“Do you mind if I have a quick vape?” he asked, “The Mrs won’t let me smoke in the van and I’m gagging for one.”
Maybe she was the one who wore the trousers after all, I chuckled to myself while he puffed away. I looked at him as nebulous clouds of white aromatic smoke washed around his beefy physique.
Soon we were unloading the table. By this time, my hand was beginning to recover from the handshake from hell. The table was a big and bulky item but we managed to steer it into the front parlour. I opened the drop leaves out and placed my chairs around it. It looked good. I felt sure that Dad would be pleased with the set-up when he called round.
“Stop fannying around and give me a hand!” Sean shouted from the rear of the van. I ran out to help him, almost slipping on the mud as I did so. Maybe he did have a point about my drive! Gradually we eased the sideboard out of the van and then into the same room as the table. We pushed the sideboard up close to the rear wall.
“You know, there’s something rattling around in here,” said Sean, “I do hope I haven’t broken anything.”
“Yes I heard it too,” I said, “Maybe it is broken, because I’m pretty sure Dad and I emptied all the junk out of it.”
Sean opened the doors of the sideboard and then the drawers. In the big bottom drawer he found something, “Oh, it’s a cane! Wow! How long has it been since I’ve seen one of those? Looks like a good one too. Wow! Just wow!”
“Oh gosh! That was my father’s. He used to use it too. Right up to my twenties,” I said as I rubbed my bottom to emphasise my point.
“I see. Well it looks like he decided you should have it again, you naughty boy! Fancy six of the best then?”
“No! Definitely not. Especially not from a brute like you!” I laughed.
“Mmmm. Maybe from a boyfriend then?” he teased.
“Leave it out!” I replied playfully.
“How about six of the best from me instead of me charging you for cleaning all the mud off me van?” Sean teased as he flexed the cane purposefully.
“No!” I asserted, but then I thought, it had been a long time, and a caning from Sean, well it might be madness, but it could be kind of exciting. I heard myself saying, “Well, OK, OK. Just six and no charge for the mud now, promise?”
“Scout’s honour!” he laughed, which was a strange reply, but one I took to be a yes. “Looks like I was right about you. Can we do it upstairs? This room’s a bit exposed.”
“Oh, I suppose, yes.” He was calling the shots and I was a bit confused. Perhaps my lust for him was clouding my judgement.
We made our way up the steep bare stairs and I led him to my bedroom. “My God! What an unholy shit tip!” he exclaimed. Well, my room was a bit untidy but I was unused to having guests up there. “I haven’t finished yet. I think that the state of this room deserves some extra punishment, don’t you? Now, tell me, did Daddy bare your arse for you?”
“Yes, he insisted on it. Even in my twenties.”
“Hmmm. I bet he did! Now then, let’s have your arse in the air. Jeans and pants down!”
“Bare?” I queried.
“Yes, of course. It’s your family tradition, isn’t it?”
I wasn’t going to argue with Sean, at least not while he had the cane handy. I dropped my jeans reluctantly, and tugged my briefs down, placing myself over a pillow on the bed to raise my bottom for the attention of the cane.
The first stroke wasn’t too bad. Sean evidently hadn’t quite got to grips with the rod. But he soon got the hang of it as he lashed strokes two and three down quite forcefully. My poor bottom was on fire! “Arrgh!” I cried as stroke number four cut across the earlier ones. A fifth cracked down noisily, causing me untold agony. He tapped the cane on my sore rump a few times, before raising the stick high and slashing it down in the sadistic climax of the sixth stroke.
“Owww! No!” I cried.
He just laughed and swished the cane some more.
“Now there’s just the matter of this messy room. I’ve seen tidier teenage dens!”
“Oh do leave it out, Sean!” I said, feeling angry, bruised and humiliated.
“That’s enough!” Sean reprimanded me. “Six more for your cheek and slovenliness!”
I’d reckoned on just a couple more strokes, but it wasn’t to be. His muscled arm whipped the cane down rapid-fire style, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve! Waves of agony consumed me, I was so sore and defeated. I fought back tears, only just successfully but I couldn’t help grunting and gasping as the fiery pain monopolised my attention.
Sean moved nearer, saying, “Right. All done. Let me have a look, now. Phewee! Needs a bit of TLC, your arse, I’d say.”
I was half-expecting him to hand me a business card of a friend who specialised in sore arses, but he didn’t. “Yes, you’re right there, it is a bit raw. A bit sore.” I confessed.
“Of course, but never mind, I’ve got some hand cream in the van. It should be good enough for your arse as well! You stay there while I go and get it.”
He was soon back and massaging the white cream into the sore weals and ridges the harsh caning had left me with. It was heaven and hell at the same time, soothing yet also stimulating fresh jabs of pain. He was controlling me, alternating pleasure and pain as his beefy hands massaged the cream softly and then harshly. Suddenly I felt the cream being worked into my crack and then into my arsehole. That was an alltogether nicer feeling but I was surprised at the attention he was giving that area, as it had avoided the cane and so wasn’t sore at all. But I was being young, foolish and naive. Of course my hole wasn’t sore, it was being prepared for his thick meaty cock to enter me! And he did. He mounted me forcefully, pushing my legs high in the air like for the missionary position, and he was soon thrusting in and out rapidly. This was going to be a quickie, of that I was sure, but I hadn’t reckoned on him forcing his tongue into my mouth as he began kissing me frantically.
“Play with me nipples, play with me nipples!” he urged. I tweaked and teased them, then pinched them not too gently. Evidently it did the trick as he gasped and came heavily. He was laid on top of me, puffing for breath, sort of vaped-out I guess you could say.
“Shit that was good! Wow! Nice,” Sean said. I had to agree, silently. A quiet minute later he whispered, “Anyway, I can see you again a fortnight Friday, say 8 in the evening.”
“But I don’t have any more items to move,” I protested.
“No, no, not for removals, silly! It’s so I can cane and shag you again, Jonathan!”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yes, as well you might, my submissive friend,” he said as he picked up and flexed the wicked cane again. He was still naked, and a final bead of cum dropped from his wilting penis. “Now be a good lad and take care of this cane until next time.” He tossed the rattan rod down on the bed.
That old cane. That bloody old cane. That glorious old cane. Dad had obviously wanted me to have it. But why? And had he arranged my thrashing with Sean? Maybe he had, just maybe. Of one thing I was certain. Sometimes I couldn’t work the old sod out.
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 or businesses, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Story © MMXVIII by Rod Cayenne. All rights reserved.
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