D Is For Declined (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A spanking hot new sequel by very special guest author JOELSTRAP.  This story is exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are 18 or over. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

D Is For Declined by Joelstrap

(This story is a sequel, as requested, to ‘C Is For Cane’. It’s not essential to have read that first, but it probably helps.)

“Well, guys,” said Ben expectantly. “Am I going to get the pleasure of using my cane on the bottom of either or both of you this time?”

Gregor and I glanced at each other and then pulled out our latest essays and showed them to Ben, so that he could see the ‘B+’ in the corner of each. Ben’s face fell and he looked so mournful that I almost felt sorry for him.

“Shit!” he exclaimed. “I’m too good at using the cane; that’s the trouble. I’ve got you pair so scared of its sting that you’re really buckling down and producing the work. A fortnight since I got to cane Joshua’s beautifully-rounded bottom after he got an ‘A’, a ‘B+’ and a ‘B’ in his end-of-term exam; just a little short of the minimum of three ‘B-pluses’ which I’d demanded. And I didn’t get to cane you at all, worse luck,” he said to Gregor.

“Yeh, well, I don’t want to be caned again, thank you,” retorted Greg, “so you best get used to being disappointed, Ben.”

“Ah, careful now,” cautioned Ben. “The term is young and there are four more essays to be written, plus the end-of-term exam. Are you sure you’ve got the self-discipline to maintain that standard of work for another eight weeks, Greg?”

“When the alternative’s eight sizzlers with that fucking cane of yours,” replied Greg firmly, “my self-discipline’s rock-hard.”

“Mine too,” I agreed. “It’s only a couple of weeks since you gave me six on the bare for that ‘B’ in the exam., and I can still remember vividly how much they stung. You’re not gonna do that to my arse again if I can help it.”

“You two are just a pair of bloody spoilsports,” grumbled Ben good-naturedly. “Come on! I’ll treat you to a pint down the pub.”

********************************

In the second essay of the term, I managed an ‘A’ while Greg again got the necessary ‘B+’. We felt so sorry for Ben that on that occasion we each stood him a pint.

“Maybe we should deliberately do a poor essay next time, so he gets a chance to cane us,” I suggested playfully to Greg.

“Yeh?” said Ben, looking hopeful.

“No!” said Greg, looking determined.

There was a fourth resident in our flat, a second-year student called Callum whom we got on with okay, but didn’t see a lot of because he was doing different subjects. It was a day or two after the second essay that he announced that he was moving out.

“I’ve got this girl,” he confided to us one evening when we were all at home, “and we’ve managed to get a couple of rooms in a big house. The owner needs a bit of income and so we get a bedroom and living-room and use of the kitchen and bathroom. With what we get from our weekend jobs, it’s affordable: just. I’ll be moving out of here on Saturday morning. I’ve told the Accommodation Office and they’ve got a guy lined up to take my room here. Seems he’s in digs where the food’s like pig-swill and he’s gotta go and ask for the bath-plug once a week so that he can have a bath. Any more often and he has to pay.”

“Cor! This is gonna seem like heaven to the poor guy after that,” exclaimed Greg.

“He’s first year, like you pair,” said Callum, “but he’s studying geology, so you probably won’t have come across him. He’s called Terry; and……er……I think you might like him, because he’s gay.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“He told me. I tracked him down so that I could tell him about things here and I thought I should warn him to keep his back to the wall, what with you pair of randy bucks around, and that’s when he said he was gay and…………….”

“You told him WHAT?” demanded Greg, standing up angrily.

“We don’t go around pouncing on straight guys,” I objected. “No way!”

“They don’t,” put in Ben. “I’m straight; spend every weekend with my girlfriend fucking her inside out; but they’ve never shown any interest in me.”

“You’re pretty spunky for an old guy though,” I said, eyeing him appreciatively.

“Old guy? I’m twenty-three,” protested Ben.

“I hope you didn’t tell him he’d need to lock his bedroom door every night,” said Greg, still on his feet and looking down menacingly at Callum.

“Oh well, I can tell him that was just a joke,” replied Callum quickly. “Anyway, I’m off. Got a lot to do before the weekend.”

He jumped to his feet and bounded swiftly from the room, giving Greg a nervous glance as he did so.

“Maybe you could give that cheeky bastard a good hard dose of your cane, Ben,” muttered Greg wrathfully. “He’s got no business besmirching our characters like that.”

“Yeh; I agree,” said Ben, “but I can only cane guys who consent to being beaten; and I somehow don’t think Callum would want a caning.”

***********************

Terry was stunning in a kind of cute way. He was slender as a birch-tree; his hair was sunburst-blond and hung in a boyish fringe across his forehead, almost in his eyes; and those eyes were blue as the deep ocean. He got on well with all of us, including Ben, on the day he moved in; and we chatted easily over pizzas which Ben had ordered in to celebrate Terry’s arrival.

“I could fall for you myself,” admitted Ben, “if I wasn’t straight.”

“And I could definitely fall for you,” Terry told him, gazing admiringly at Ben’s powerful body. “But if you don’t wanna do anything with boys, then I’ll just have to forget it.”

“There is one thing Ben likes to do with boys,” said Greg.

We’d already agreed that we’d tell Terry about the arrangement Greg and I had with Ben about our work and the possibility of us being caned; because it would mean that we didn’t have to take care to make sure he was out if a caning was due. Greg duly explained to a wide-eyed Terry.

“So, young Terry, if you think your work isn’t up to standard and feel that you need a bit of incentive to work hard and get your study/social-life balance right, just let me know,” said Ben. “I like to cane a pair of attractive boy-buttocks; and yours definitely fit the bill.”

“Cane me? No way!” declared Terry emphatically.

“Okay. We just thought you should know what goes on so you don’t get any nasty surprises; but we’ll try to make sure neither of us gets caned when you’re around anyway,” I assured him.

“And we try bloody hard not to get caned at all,” added Greg, “because the cane stings like a thousand bees in a rage, and neither of us wants to feel it again.”

“They spoil all my fun,” declared Ben sadly.

“Boo-hoo!” retorted Greg callously; and Ben grinned broadly.

*******************************

Greg and I were very much an item and usually spent the nights in each other’s room. We were deeply into each other and it was our inability to control ourselves and find a sensible balance between our sex-lives and our studies that had led to a sharp drop in the standard of our English-essays in the middle of our first term; and to Ben’s novel but highly effective solution, organised in collusion with my tutor.

It was about ten days after Terry had moved in that I came home and was surprised to find Greg absent. On asking Ben if he knew where he was, I was told that he and Terry had gone out together. I expected Greg back by seven o’clock, because we worked dutifully at our studies from then until ten; but he didn’t appear. I was just putting away my books for the evening when the pair came bounding in, eyes shining.

“Terry took me to this disco,” said Greg. “It was brilliant. Great music and quite a lot of sexy talent on show too.”

“Yeh? But what about your studying?” I asked, slightly miffed.

“It’s okay. I’ll catch up tomorrow,” said Greg airily.

“You sure, Greg?” put in Ben.

“Of course. No sweat.”

We all had some tea and biscuits and then Greg and I retired to his room. The sex was good; and yet I couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. Was Terry making a move on Greg? And was Greg succumbing to his attractions? I told myself not to be silly; it was one evening. But it wasn’t. The next two nights, Greg was working with me as usual and my fears were allayed, only to be reignited the evening after when again he and Terry went off together and didn’t return until after eleven. I couldn’t help being a little cold towards Greg; and was relieved when he said he was tired and would sleep alone that night. At the weekend, Greg and I enjoyed ourselves together as we’d always done; but the following week he and Terry were out again on a couple of evenings. Another essay was due and I spoke anxiously to Ben.

“He’s not doing his studying, Ben,” I said. “He keeps saying he’ll catch up, but he doesn’t; and he can’t. I know he’s not done all the reading he should have done for the next essay.”

“I’ve noticed,” said Ben. “Maybe I’m going to get my wish to cane that gorgeous bum of his again soon.”

“Yeh, probably,” I said vaguely.

“Josh?” said Ben softly.

“Ben; do you think I’m losing Greg? Is he falling for Terry? Things just don’t feel quite….well, not just quite the same. I don’t know how to say it, but we’re not….we’re not as close as we were,” I confided uneasily.

Ben nodded gently and admitted that he’d noticed.

“I think, though,” he said to me with a smile, “that young Greg has just been led astray by Terry’s undoubted charms. I think he’ll take a tumble to himself before too long and realise that what you and he have got is a lot more valuable. If you want my advice,” continued Ben, “don’t make a scene, because if you do you’ll probably just push him further away. Be patient, Josh.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

“Make the effort,” advised Ben.

I respected Ben and decided to accept his advice.

A few days later I got my latest essay back from my tutor and was relieved to see a ‘B+’ in the corner. I’d been concerned that my worries about Greg might have interfered with my work, but it seemed that my fears were groundless. I met Greg for lunch and asked how he’d done in his essay. He looked decidedly downcast as he pulled the script from his bag and plonked it down in front of me. I looked at the ‘C’ in the corner and then looked at Greg’s face.

“Go on then! Say it!” he snapped irately.

“I don’t need to say it. You know yourself what that means,” I said.

“You know he’s gonna give me eight?” asked Greg.

“Yeh. That’s the deal,” I agreed.

“And you’re pleased that I’m gonna get my hide tanned, aren’t you, Josh?”

“No. I wish you weren’t,” I assured him.

Greg rolled his eyes.

“What’s that for?” I asked, annoyed.

“You think I’ve been spending too much time having fun with Terry,” he accused.

“Well, haven’t you?” I enquired, nodding at his mark.

“Oh yeh. It’s all Terry’s fault because he’s a sexy guy,” he snapped at me.

“I never said that.”

“You think I need a fucking good beating, don’t you?”

“Okay; yes, I do,” I retorted angrily. “It might make you a bit nicer to me. You’d think I was the one who’d done something wrong the way you go on.”

“You think I’ve done something wrong?” demanded Greg.

“Well, haven’t you? You’ve neglected your work; and you did that, not me,” I told him, nettled at his attitude.

“I can make up on the work for the next essay,” said Greg.

“I guess eight with Ben’s cane across your bare arse will help persuade you,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Yeh? Well, I don’t have to let that sadistic brute cane me; and I’m not going to,” declared Greg.

I was about to reply when I heard Ben’s voice in my head advising me not to make a scene. I swallowed hard and said carefully, “Come on. Let’s go back to the flat after the afternoon lectures, and have sex.”

Greg looked slightly embarrassed.

“Er, I’ve actually arranged to go ice-skating with Terry,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

“Okay,” I said with an effort. “See you this evening then.”

I got up and walked away.

***********************************

Ben was delighted with my essay-result, but when I told him about Greg he looked sombre.

“Hmm. I’ll have to think about this,” he said.

“And I’ll have to think about getting a new boyfriend,” I said sadly.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” retorted Ben, rising to his feet.

“But if Greg’s with Terry,” I began, “then I need to………”

“Greg with Terry? Balderdash!”

“But, Ben, he’s…….”

“No, he’s not. Now, just toughen up a bit, Josh, and stand firm. In fact, just wait there a moment.”

Ben vanished into his room and returned with the cane.

“You maybe don’t need it for your essay,” he said, “but I think maybe you need it to stiffen up your resolve. Jeans and pants down and bend over, Josh.”

“But I….”

“No, you don’t.”

“This isn’t necessary………”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m not bending……..”

“Yes, you are.”

I did. He delivered four sizzling strokes to my bare bottom and made me gasp as the fierce sting lashed my buttocks. I stood up, rubbing at flaming buns, and eyed him warily.

“Now I don’t want to hear any more talk of giving up on Greg and finding a new boyfriend,” said Ben quietly. “Because if I do hear any more about it, I’ll take this cane to you again, even harder. Understand, Josh?”

I nodded, still scrubbing at the burning welts on my behind. Ben retreated to his room and I just stood there, pants and jeans around my ankles, rump blazing like a furnace, wondering. After a few minutes, I pulled up my clothes and asked Ben if he’d like to come down to the pub for half an hour.

“You’re still speaking to me?”

“Of course I am! You’d probably cane me again if I didn’t,” I added mischievously. “I’m not neglecting my work, by the way; well not much anyway. I need a break after the day I’ve had. Come on, Ben, I’ll stand you a pint.”

Half an hour later, I returned to the flat alone, because Ben had met a friend and wanted to stay longer. As I entered the narrow hallway and closed the outside door, I was aware of raised voices in the living-room. I paused and listened, recognising Greg and Terry.

“Stop getting on at me!” Terry was shouting angrily.

“I’m not getting on at you! I want to know why you stormed off the skating-rink like that and left me.”

“I told you! I couldn’t fucking do it! I kept falling on my arse!”

“So? You said you’d never been skating before; what did you expect? That you’d have one practice-run round the rink and then skate like an Olympic-gold-medallist?” Greg snapped.

“You were laughing at me!”

“I was not!” declared Greg. “I was doing all I could to help you. I knew you’d need time to learn; but you didn’t even give it a proper try. Went off in a huff like a spoiled brat.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re calling a spoiled brat?” demanded an outraged-sounding Terry.

“Look, let’s go back down to the rink and try again,” said Greg in what appeared to be a carefully-controlled, calm voice.

“No way! I’m not gonna make a fool of myself just to entertain you, mate,” snarled Terry.

I heard Greg sigh before he said quietly, “Please, Terry?”

“I’m not going back,” declared Terry vehemently. “Fucking stupid thing skating. Who wants to go whizzing around on a plate of ice, getting his balls frozen off anyway!”

“It’s fun,” replied Greg. “Me and Josh used to have……..”

“Oh, yeh! Bring him up!”

“I’m just saying that if you’d stick with it for a little while, then you might get to enjoy it.”

“And I’m just saying it’s a stupid thing, for brainless dumbos!” yelled Terry, apparently losing it.

“If you can’t stick with skating for a bit when it’s tough, how are you gonna stick with a relationship when things get tough?” Greg said loudly.

“What relationship?”

“Us,” said Greg.

“I’m just having fun,” declared Terry. “There’s no fucking relationship.”

There was a silence. I slipped softly out of the front-door and ran down the stairs. I waited a couple of minutes and then went back up, entered the flat’s hallway and slammed the outside-door loudly behind me. There were still raised voices in the living-room, but they stopped abruptly when I banged the door. I marched into the living-room.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Am I interrupting? I’ll go to my room and….”

“It’s okay,” said Greg. “We decided not to go skating after all.”

Terry gave him a venomous look and then turned on his heel and stormed out of the flat.

“Greg?” I said carefully.

“Shut up, Josh!”

I fell silent and sat down at the table. Greg suddenly dashed into his room. Mindful of Ben’s advice about patience, I just waited. A few minutes later, Greg re-emerged and came and sat down opposite me. His eyes were red and he looked thoroughly despondent.

I laid my hand cautiously on his and asked, “You wanna tell me what happened to you, Greg?”

He raised his eyes and looked at me and then gulped and remained silent; but he didn’t withdraw his hand.

“Okay, I’ll start,” I said, “by telling you what happened to me.”

I stood up, dropped my jeans and pants and turned my back to him.

“What the….?”

“I got caned,” I said superfluously as I pulled up my clothing again and sat down.

“I can see that.”

“It wasn’t for my essay.”

“I know that. You got a B+.”

“It was for you.”

“Ben caned you for MY essay-mark?” asked Greg.

“No, you chump. It was nothing to do with………”

“Ah, Greg,” said Ben, coming into the room, “how did your last essay go?”

“Okay,” said Greg non-committally.

Ben raised his eyebrows at him.

“You’re not caning me,” said Greg, avoiding Ben’s gaze.

“Should I have been caning you, Greg?”

“Ben!” I interrupted, “I think I need to talk to Greg for a few minutes. Would that be okay?”

Ben gave me a flash of a smile and without another word returned to his room.

“Okay, sunshine, spill!” I said. “You look like a wet Sunday in Shetland. You told me you were going skating with Terry, but you’re back here far sooner than you should have been. You’re gonna explain.”

“I’m sorry, Josh,” he said softly.

“That Ben caned me?”

“No, you ass! Well, I mean, yeh, I’m sorry you got a caning; but I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you. Look, Josh, I’ve been a fool. Don’t say anything,” he went on swiftly as I opened my mouth. “Just listen. Terry kind of fascinated me. He’s fucking gorgeous; well, you know that. I got kind of carried away with all his attention to me; and it was great fun. You know I like skating; we’ve been on the rink quite a lot together. I was looking forward to going with Terry tonight; and then he told me he’d never tried skating before. Well, that was okay. I said I’d help him; and I did. But, Josh, he just lost his rag when he kept falling over. I told him that was normal for a beginner and just to keep going; and……and he had a big fall and cracked his elbow and suddenly told me I was as useless as a paper umbrella in a downpour; and he stormed off in a huff and just left me. I followed him back here and we….we had a huge row.”

I gave him a hug.

“I said to him that if he gives in that easily when it comes to skating, what’s he gonna be like if a relationship gets tough? And the bugger said he wasn’t having a relationship; he was just having fun. And I thought about you, still here for me even though I’ve treated you like shit; and so…..I’m sorry, Josh. More sorry than I can say.”

I hugged him again.

“I got the cane,” I said.

“Yeh; you told me. Why?”

“Because I told Ben I’d need to try to find a new boyfriend.”

Greg stared.

“Ben….Ben thought that was a bad idea?” asked Greg tentatively.

I scrubbed at my bottom.

“Yeh,” I concurred, “he did; and he made sure I got the message.”

“I’m glad,” said Greg.

“That I got the cane?”

“That you got the message not to look for a new boyfriend.”.

“So, you saying that you’re dropping Terry and coming back to me?” I asked.

“If you’ll have me,” he whispered and his eyes were swimming with tears.

I kissed him hard for a long time. When we came up for air, he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I nodded and kissed him again. It took a long time. We were interrupted by Ben who had come in again, unnoticed by either of us until he grabbed a handful of our hair and pulled us apart.

“Okay, guys, you’ve had your time to talk. Now it’s time to tell me what’s going on.”

Between us we explained.

“So it’s all sorted out? Great!” declared Ben.

“I know I’ve been an idiot,” admitted Greg.

“And I was almost an idiot too – until you persuaded me not to rush at finding a new boyfriend,” I confessed.

“So, it will be back to the normal work/social-life balance again then, Greg?”

“Yeh. I know I’ve got a bit to catch up; but I’ll do it.”

“Fine; so, just as a matter of interest, what mark did you get for your essay, Greg?”

Greg went scarlet to the roots of his hair.

“That bad?” asked Ben. “Oh well, you said you weren’t gonna let me cane you, so I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

He stood up and retired to his room.

“Yeh, well, right,” said Greg uncertainly.

“Let’s go into my room and just relax together,” I said.

“We should be studying,” muttered Greg.

“Just this once, we’ll have an evening off. Come on.”

We stripped and lay entwined on my bed and kissed and caressed and chatted softly.

“Josh?”

“Huh?”

“I should go and get caned by Ben.”

“Wouldn’t you rather get fucked by me?”

“Yeh; but after.”

“You sure, Greg?”

“It’s like Ben said; we’re back to normal. I fucked up with my essay, so I should take the cane.”

“He’s not gonna insist on it, Greg.”

“I know. But I won’t feel right if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll feel hell of a sore if you do take it.”

Greg gave me a hurt look and I apologised for being frivolous.

“I think I’ll go and ask him if he’ll do it now,” said Greg. “Will you come and stay with me?”

“You want me to watch you getting the cane?”

Greg nodded.

“And then bring me back here and…..er…comfort me, Josh?”

“Of course. I’ll be here for you.”

We dressed and went through into the living-room. Ben was sitting reading. Greg went over and stood in front of him, hands behind his back like he was a naughty schoolboy.

“I want to say sorry,” he began, “for being rude to you. I shouldn’t have told you that I wouldn’t take the cane for my essay-mark. I only got a ‘C’ and so I deserve eight strokes; and I want…….I want you to give them to me, please.”

“You sure, Greg?”

“Absolutely certain.”

“Okay. You know what to do. I’ll get my cane.”

Ben went to his room and Greg swiftly bared his bottom and bent over the chair. I admired the delectable curves of his behind and my penis rose sharply. Ben returned, arching the lithe cane.

“You want Josh to stay?” enquired Ben.

“Yes, please.”

Ben touched the cane to Greg’s bottom and slid it across the taut flesh a few times before raising it and bringing it down hard and accurately across the centre of his buttocks. Greg drew in breath sharply and I saw a quiver in his lower body, while from his smooth skin there rose a red welt. I slid a hand into my pants and eased my straining penis into the upright position. The cane cracked across Greg’s behind again, raising a welt parallel to and slightly below the first. A half-stifled yelp escaped Greg and I watched as he clenched his buttocks hard while he rode the sting. The third and fourth strokes each landed a little lower still and elicited a muffled squeal and a desperate shuddering of Greg’s nether regions. My penis throbbed with urgent need and I forced myself to keep my hand still, lest I came.

Ben’s cane was approaching the more sensitive areas of Greg’s bottom now and I could see by the tension in his body that Greg knew the pain-level was about to rise steeply. Just where his lower buttock merged into his upper leg, Greg took the fifth lash of the cane. The agonised yelp driven from him, along with the violent bucking of his body, told eloquently that the stroke had got through to him. I felt pre-cum on the end of my cock and pressed urgently on my perineum to impede any orgasm. Greg was quivering, his hands grasping the edge of the chair so tightly that the knuckles showed white. Five pain-loaded welts pulsed on his rump; and Ben’s rod was exploring the still more sensitive flesh a little further down. He did a sudden practice-stroke and made Greg wince; and then barely a second later drove the cane in hard on the boy’s crease. Greg uttered a howl of pain and his right hand flew round to scrub desperately at his fire-blasted skin.

“Hand on the chair,” said Ben softly; and reluctantly Greg complied.

“What does that mean, Greg?”

There was a pause and then I heard Greg swallow before replying carefully, his voice unsteady, “I get that stroke again.”

“Ben,” I said urgently. “Surely he doesn’t……..”

Ben turned to look at me and said firmly, “He knows what he deserves. Just keep quiet, Josh.”

Barely had I swallowed my resentment when Ben whipped his cane across Greg’s crease a second time, forcing out a cry of pain and making him writhe from the waist as he fought the vicious sting. Greg was breathing loudly, his whole body shuddering until he made an effort and steadied himself, ready for the final two. Ben hit him at a slight angle, so that the cane-stroke crossed the three highest welts and drove the pain-level to a new high. Again Greg squealed and his body twisted in a paroxysm of heightened agony. Ben let him calm down for almost a minute and I stood, hand on rock-hard cock, watching as Greg’s body settled. I could see a look of resolve on his profile. Ben plied the cane for the eighth and final stroke, yet again on that sensitive band of flesh where bottom merges into upper legs. Greg bucked violently with a desperate yelp and for a moment his right hand left the chair and made for his tortured rear; and then he regained control and forced it back to position. Slowly the tension ebbed from his body and he stood, head down, panting, quivering gently as he absorbed his pain.

“Well-taken,” said Ben softly as he ruffled Greg’s hair and drew him firmly into a standing-position.

I saw tears trickling down Greg’s face as he reached back and pressed hands with splayed fingers to his blazing rump. Ben watched him for a little while and then said to him quietly, “Come here, Greg.”

Greg went forward and was enveloped in a huge hug, which he reciprocated eagerly. When they drew apart, Greg looked Ben in the eyes and said, “I’m afraid I’ve got to tell you something you’re not gonna like.”

Ben raised his eyebrows questioningly.

With a ghost of a smile on his pain-contorted features, Greg said solemnly, “I’m never, ever gonna produce work that means you’ve got to do that to me again.”

Ben laughed and replied, “Good on you! I’ll agree that in a way I don’t like that; but I’m an honourable guy. If you get the marks on your essays and exam, my cane won’t put any marks on your bottom.”

“Come on, Greg,” I interrupted. “I need to rub some cold-cream on your arse. And once we’re done,” I added to Ben, “I’ll order in pizza for all of us.”

In Greg’s room, I caressed his welted bottom and soothed its burning skin with cooling cream before we got ourselves entangled naked together. Any sense of uneasiness or restraint between us had melted away like morning mist in the sun, and we were relaxed and content together. I didn’t ask Greg’s permission to fuck him. I just did it; and he showed no sign of resistance, nor did he complain about any pain he felt on his injured behind. After a lengthy session of kissing and caressing, Greg said softly in my ear, “I love you,”; and I knew that all was well.

We returned to the communal room where Ben was sitting reading, and I called out for a pizza which duly arrived a few minutes later. I resisted Ben’s efforts to pay for it.

“So, why am I getting treated to pizza, Josh?” asked Ben as he slid large slices on to three plates.

“Just to say thank you,” I replied.

“For caning your boyfriend bloody hard?”

“Yeh; for that of course. He’s very grateful.”

“I am?” asked Greg.

“Yeh, you are,” I told him firmly. “You’re back on track with your study/social-life balance and that’s thanks to Ben.”

“Thanks, Ben,” said Greg with a rueful grin, “and I do mean that sincerely. I hated every second of that caning, but I know I needed it.”

“But also to say thank you for caning me,” I continued, looking at Ben. “Those four sizzlers you gave me to warn me not to abandon Greg were a total surprise, but I know now that I needed them; and you stopped me making a big mistake.”

“Hmm,” said Ben meditatively. “Maybe you pair need the threat of the cane for a lot more things. How about four on the bare ever time you put an empty milk-carton back in the fridge; leave unwashed dishes in the sink for hours on end; use my shower-gel; take the……….”

“Hey! Come on, we’re not bloody angels, Ben. You can’t expect us to be perfect,” Greg protested.

“Yeh; that idea gets a ‘D’,” I asserted firmly.

“A ‘D’?” enquired Ben.

“Yeh. ‘D’ for Declined!” I declared.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” observed Ben. “You two are just a pair of spoilsports. There is one thing that gives me a bit of hope of getting my cane around your delectable bottoms again though. You just admitted that you’re not perfect; and so there’s still a chance that one or both of you will slip up on the essay-marks before the term’s out.”

“Poor guy,” I remarked confidentially to Greg, “he’s getting delusional. Must be old age. Wonder what it feels like to be twenty-three? I could take your cane down to the wheelie-bin if you like,” I added to Ben. “Since you won’t be needing it again.”

Ben picked up his cane and smiled.

“Ah, the confidence of youth,” he said. “But one of the advantages of being an older guy is that you grow more realistic about life; and so I’ll be hanging on to my cane.”

Greg and I exchanged uneasy glances. Ben looked smug.

************************************

______________

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 ©MMXXII by Joelstrap, used here by very kind permission.

Authors appreciate feedback. Please leave a comment on this excellent 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