Two For The Cane (M/M) NEW!

♥ 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.

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Both stories ©MMXVII by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

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