♥ Site recommended story ♥
A festive 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!
Santa Doesn’t Make Mistakes by Joelstrap
“Come with me,” said the blond hunk softly.
“But where are we……..?”
“Just come,” he reiterated; and he took my hand firmly and led me forward.
The passage was almost dark, and so narrow that I had to walk behind him. The only illumination was from small lights set into the wall near the floor and at waist height. The blond guy, who appeared to be wearing only skin-tight shorts, was mostly in shadow, but I could appreciate his stature, a little under six feet, as well as the long, slim legs, narrow waist, broad shoulders and fully-rounded buttocks. We turned a corner into a blaze of light.
I came home from University with my boyfriend Jordan about the tenth of December and we met up with some former school-chums, who were studying in other places, and had also come home for the Christmas-holiday. It had been a riotous evening as we visited several pubs before buying take-away curries which we had planned to eat on a bench by the river. Heavy rain, however, put paid to this plan and instead we made our way to Kev’s house, because he had a couple of rooms over the large garage which his well-off parents had made into a bedroom and sitting-room for his own use. A small toilet on the landing and a tiny kitchen in a corner meant that Kev could be independent when he chose; and have friends in without disturbing his parents or younger brothers in the main house. Six of us duly gathered there, shaking rain from our hair and casting coats in a pile in a corner. Kev did some re-heating of curries in a microwave and we sprawled contentedly on chairs or cushions on the floor, talking and arguing happily.
At one point, quite late in the evening, when we had all drunk quite a bit, Phil came over and sat on the floor between my feet. He was slim and lithe with jet-black, shortish hair and large eyes which seemed to pierce me to the soul. He tilted his head back so that it was resting on my genitals; which reacted instantaneously and powerfully.
“Wow! I didn’t know you liked me so much,” said Phil softly.
“I don’t! I mean, of course I like you, but not like that.”
“So why you sporting a boner to tie up a cruise-liner to?”
“I dunno! You putting your head in my crotch. Things just happen,” I retorted.
“I like you a lot,” said Phil, rubbing the back of his head against my throbbing organ and making me gasp as spasms of intense delight surged through me.
“Well, I’m with Jordan,” I insisted, “so stop doing that, Phil.”
“Don’t you like it, Simon?”
“Of course I like it! But you shouldn’t be doing it. Jordan will pulverise you.”
“Jordan’s too busy arguing with Kev about footie.”
I glanced across the room to see that Phil was right.
“All the same, whether he notices or not, it’s wrong. Now go away.”
“Don’t want to,” declared Phil petulantly; and he rubbed his head hard against my balls and inner thighs.
Terrified that I was going to cum in my pants, I pushed him away. He slid forward on his bottom, turned round and sat looking up into my face.
“I’d love to kiss you, Simon,” he declared, suddenly thrusting his tongue out from between parted lips and then withdrawing it.
My cock strained for more length and I had to shove a hand into my jeans to ease the pressure.
“And you want me to kiss you, don’t you? Will you kiss me back? Tongues entwining like mating snakes?”
“Shut the fuck up, Phil!” I snapped.
I got up, gasping as my erection tried to burst free of my jeans, and crossed to the other side of the room to join Jordan and Kev. About half an hour later, Jordan told me he’d have to go as he needed to be up early next morning to go to work. The local authority had set up a spectacular Christmas-exhibition in part of the museum, to mark three hundred years since the establishment of the town, and Jordan had got a temporary job there, thanks to his dad knowing the young engineer who maintained the “Christmas Ride”. This was a part of the exhibition where you sat in a chair and it moved forward slowly through a twisting route, while scenes and holograms brought the history of the winter-solstice, Yule and Christmas celebrations to vivid life. I said I’d come with him, but he insisted I stay until the others went home, as I had no need to be up early next day. We kissed goodnight at the door and I returned to join a political argument with Ron and Jack.
As we were leaving Kev’s place to head home, Phil joined me. His house wasn’t far from mine, so it was natural that we should walk home together. Once we were out of sight of the others, he took my hand. I tried to pull it away, but he held on tightly.
“Come on, Simon; I’m white hot for you,” he pleaded. “I’m not asking to get into your pants – although I’d love to – just a few kisses. Yeh?”
“But I’m with Jordan and I can’t……..”
Phil stopped and stood right in front of me, his dark eyes looking straight into mine, his lips parted, the tip of his tongue just visible between his even teeth. He moved a step forward so that our bodies touched and I could feel his massive arousal pressed against mine. I tried to pull away, but something seemed to hold me back. I was aware of his mouth moving steadily towards mine and, in spite of my decision not to do so, I found myself moving my head forward to meet him. The touching of lips was like an electric-shock which felt as though it streaked through me to the soles of my feet. When his mouth moved on mine, I made a half-hearted effort to resist; and then gave in. The kiss lasted a long time and when eventually we drew reluctantly apart, I gazed at him, speechless.
“Oh, fuck! I shouldn’t have…….”
“Didn’t you like it, Simon?”
“Of course I fucking liked it!” I panted. “But you mustn’t do…….”
His mouth closed again on mine; and once more my resistance crumbled.
We eventually parted at my gate as he continued along the road to his own house; but by then we’d shared several more passionate kisses and his last words to me were, “I’d love to kiss that cute arse of yours, Simon; bare of course.”
Before I could respond to this, he’d dropped my hand and sped off along the road.
I retired to my room, stripped naked and wanked myself off energetically, reliving Phil’s kisses. Next morning I awoke to a hangover, vivid memories and a guilty conscience. I was furious with myself over what I’d allowed Phil to do; and I resolved to keep well clear of him and to be especially attentive to Jordan.
I tried to adhere to my resolve, but with Jordan working all day, six days a week, I found that spending time with Phil was pleasant. I didn’t seek him out, but he knew the kind of places I went during the day and often turned up. We had a few intense snogging sessions, but I resisted any attempts by him to get into my pants; and I used this to calm my conscience over the kissing.
As Christmas drew nearer, Kev came up to me one morning in the cafe and told me he had a present for me.
“But we don’t usually give each other presents,” I objected. “Presents cost money; and students don’t have a lot of it.”
“Yeh, well, this isn’t actually costing me anything,” Kev admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ve got a mate who’s involved with the Council’s Christmas displays and exhibition, and he’s given me a couple of tickets to get in to see it all immediately after it closes for the evening tonight.”
“Wow! I hear it’s really good; and that ride-thing, where you’re taken through the history of Yule from ancient times to the present, is supposed to be spectacular. But why are you wanting to take me?”
“I was given two tickets. I want to go myself and so I needed one other guy. I know Jordan knows the exhibition and the ride inside out, because he’s working there; so it wouldn’t be much of a treat for him to go. I….er….I asked him earlier if it’d be okay to take you, and he was fine with it,” said Kev.
“Great! You’re on!”
I spoke briefly to Jordan as he emerged from the building at the end of the day and he confirmed he was okay with me going to see it all with Kev.
“It’s ace,” he affirmed. “You’ll love it! But no snogging Kev in the dark, when you’re going through the Yule-Christmas ride!”
“As if I would!” I replied, ignoring the small stab of conscience over my kissing sessions with Phil.
“Don’t worry,” Kev reassured him. “I won’t be trying to kiss him; not that I wouldn’t like to,” he added thoughtfully. “He’s one spunky boy, Jordan.”
“I know. Meet you at the BoyBunsBar after you’ve been through the exhibition, Simon? Maybe about seven-thirty?” said Jordan.
“Great! I was gonna say that I’ll tell you all about it; but I guess I won’t need to, since you know already,” I said.
“There’s always the possibility of a surprise,” observed Kev; and he took my arm and piloted me to the entrance, handing over his two tickets and leading me inside.
The place was almost deserted and I remarked to Kev that I’d assumed other people would also have been given special tickets to get in this evening. He shrugged.
“Probably coming along later,” he said. “Come on, let’s go and explore.”
The exhibition was well-done, Kev was entertaining company, and we had an enjoyable forty minutes or so before we came to the climax of the experience: the ride on the chairs through the darkness from earliest celebrations of Yule and the winter-solstice up to present-day Christmas. I recognised Mike, the young engineer whose friendship with Jordan’s dad had landed Jordan the Christmas job here.
He was dressed in dark overalls and grinned at us as we approached the gateway to the ride. I liked the look of him. His hair was cropped short and a dark stubble showed round his chin. Chocolate-brown eyes danced in a sun-browned face.
He lifted the bar on the chair by the entrance and told us that the ride lasted just over ten minutes and he’d see us shortly. We sat in the two-seat chair, the bar was lowered across our laps, and the chair began to move slowly forward into the darkness.
We turned a corner and were in a pastoral setting from long ago, while a young male hologram described early practices in connection with the winter-solstice. The chair twisted and turned as it slid slowly forward in time and we passed through scene after scene until we came to the Victorian Christmas. Trees and cards and Santa Clauses appeared and perfect families clustered round roaring log-fires, opening gaily-coloured presents. The chair eased forward round another turn – and all the lights went out.
“Shit! I think the thing’s broken down,” muttered Kev; but even as he spoke a faint light began to grow, and out of the darkness ahead there emerged a stunning blond guy, clad in nothing but skin-tight shorts. He stepped forward, raised the bar and summoned us out of the chair.
“Follow me,” he said and he took my hand while Kev trotted along behind.
We turned a sharp corner and on a sudden found ourselves in a space flooded with light. I blinked as my eyes adjusted after the darkness of the last minute or so; and then I stopped and gasped aloud. There was a bench on the floor near the centre of the room, and standing beside it was Mike, the engineer, clad now in leather jeans and black boots with a studded belt about his waist. His muscular torso was bare, brown skin gleaming in the light; and in his hands he was arching a lithe cane.
I glanced round towards Kev, but he had mysteriously vanished; and the blond hunk was drawing me inexorably forward.
“What the………” I began.
“This is one of the old traditions of Christmas,” interrupted Mike. “When boys behave badly, instead of presents, they get a beating. They say that Santa’s got a Naughty List and, if he has, you, young Simon, are very definitely on it. I’ve altered the ride this evening to bring you here, so that you can get what you richly deserve for cheating on Jordan.”
I gasped aloud. How did he know?
“I don’t….I mean, what are you….? You’re gonna cane me?” I ended disbelievingly.
“Do you deny that you’ve been cheating on your boyfriend, Simon?”
“It wasn’t really……..I mean, Phil kind of………I never let him into my pants; honest. It was just a bit of snogging. It never meant anything. It didn’t!” I insisted desperately.
“So your conscience is clear?” asked Mike.
“I thought so,” observed Mike.
“What?” I demanded irately.
“Guilty,” declared Mike. “Sentence: twelve strokes of the cane across your bare bottom; hard.”
“Twelve? Bare? Fuck you!” I snarled.
Next moment Blond Hunk and Kev, who had suddenly reappeared, hauled me forward to the bench and began to undo my jeans.
“Get off, you buggers!” I snapped, trying to stop them; but I was no match for them both and despite my vigorous resistance they soon had me bare from the waist down.
“Boy! You do know a lot of bad words,” observed Mike as I let Blond Hunk and Kev know exactly what I thought of them. “This caning is very definitely deserved; and I might add a couple of strokes for the bad language.”
“You’re not giving me any strokes with that fucking cane!” I yelled as I struggled in vain to get away.
“Hold him in position, guys,” instructed Mike; and Blond Hunk and Kev took an arm each, yanked it back hard so that I yelped, and forced me to stand astride the bench and then pushed my head down, hands held forward and above my head. Any movement delivered a sharp pain between my shoulders.
“Nice target, guys,” observed Mike as he came to one side of me and ran a hand over my raised, vulnerable buttocks. “Okay. Hold him tightly. He’s gonna feel this.”
I heard the cane being slashed viciously through the air just behind me and I winced instinctively. A few seconds later I felt the lithe rod being rapped repeatedly on my behind before it was lifted away.
“You fucking dare!” I panted.
The cane lashed hard across the centre of my globes and a searing pain ripped through my bottom forcing a yelp from me. I made a determined effort to break free from Kev and Blond Hunk, but they just forced my arms still further forward behind my head, driving it down until it almost touched the bench, and sending a ferocious blast of pain into my arm-sockets. Scarcely had I managed to process this than the cane whipped across my bottom once more and the fiery streak of agony it imparted made me squeal and squirm. I began again to protest, but my words were cut off by a third cane-stroke on the underside of my buttocks, which elicited a violent writhe and a half-stifled yell.
“You’re getting through to him,” remarked Blond Hunk.
I was too busy trying to cope with the blazing fires in my rear to make any comment; and a second or two later, Mike wielded the slim cane yet again, this time right on my crease. I shrieked as an explosion of incandescent flame seemed to rip my bottom apart. I tried to get my right leg over the bench to the side where my left was so that I could clench my glutes harder, but Blond Hunk hooked it back with his powerful leg and I just had to stand there helpless, shuddering with pain, and endure.
So it continued, stroke after powerfully-delivered stroke, each one lacerating my flesh with excoriating fires. Some landed right on top of earlier ones and raised the pain-level dramatically, while others cross-cut the welts raised by one or two previous cuts, and also pushed the agony to new heights. By the time Mike announced that I’d had twelve, I was lathered in sweat, quivering uncontrollably and panting as if I’d just run a marathon.
“And two more for the bad language,” said Mike.
“Please! No!” I yelped.
He hit me hard across the tops of my legs and as fresh pain blossomed, I howled and kicked. A final stroke landed on an oblique diagonal across the welts on my crease and I twisted and writhed as the torment achieved new levels of intensity.
I gradually panted and shuddered myself to near silence and stillness. In my behind, searing fires yet blazed, but I was mastering them.
“Yeh. I think he got the message,” said Kev.
“Stand him up,” ordered Mike, and Blond Hunk and Kev pulled me upright, but kept hold of my wrists, so that I couldn’t caress my throbbing bottom.
“You won’t be cheating on Jordan again,” said Mike grimly, flexing his cane before my eyes. “Understand?”
I nodded dumbly.
“I didn’t hear you, Simon.”
“No,” I said in an unsteady voice, “I won’t. I promise.”
“Let him go,” said Mike to the two guys, who at once released my wrists.
I rubbed tears from my face and then felt my way slowly and wonderingly over the welts and ridges on my burning bottom. To my surprise, my penis hardened a little. Once I’d got myself under control, I turned to Mike.
“Thanks,” I said quietly. “That was sheer hell, but I know I needed it. You won’t have to do it again. Does….does Jordan know?” I asked nervously.
“No,” replied Kev; “and none of us is gonna be telling him.”
“Thanks. It’s probably best he hears it from me,” I said.
“But you’re surely not gonna…….” began Kev before Mike interrupted.
“Very wise, Simon,” he said quietly.
For another minute or two I rubbed at my behind and then Mike told me to get my pants and jeans up again. I flinched as the fabric touched my beaten skin.
“Right. You and Kev need to get back in the chair and finish the ride,” advised Mike; and Blond Hunk led us out into the dark passage.
I winced and gasped aloud as I sat carefully on the hard metal seat beside Kev. The bar was lowered across our laps, the chair began to move and we slid smoothly into an Edwardian Christmas. A minute or two later we emerged into the entrance of the ride and got out. I followed Kev into an area with seats and tables; but I opted to stand.
“How did you find out?” I asked.
“I actually saw you on a couple of occasions with Phil,” Kev admitted. “I know Phil. He’s a flirt and he goes for what he wants; but I know you and Jordan have got a strong red-hot relationship, and I thought you just got kind of carried away by Phil’s charm; and his persistence. Besides, he’s a fucking sexy kisser.”
“He’s kissed you?”
“Oh yeh. I had a fling with him for a few weeks, but I soon realised he was getting bored and was taking an interest in other guys. That kind of boy isn’t for me; nor for you,” declared Kev. “So I told Mike, because he knows Jordan and doesn’t want him hurt; and he decided that you needed to be taught a lesson. For your own good,” he added.
I rubbed slowly at my still-burning rear. Kev stood right in front of me and put his hands behind his back.
“Okay. If you want to hit me, now’s your chance,” he said. “I won’t try to stop you, and I won’t retaliate.”
I raised my hands and I saw him wince, and a tension streaked through his body. I put a hand on each of his shoulders and kissed him firmly on the mouth.
“Thanks, Kev,” I said. “You’re the kind of friend every boy needs; and if you ever see me cheating on Jordan again, you’ve got my full permission to haul me off to Mike and get him to beat the living fuck out of me.”
Kev grinned and, taking my arm, led me to the exit. He walked with me to the BoyBunsBar and told me to join Jordan where he was sitting at a table alone.
“Hi, sexy arse,” Jordan greeted me. “How was it then?”
“Incredible,” I told him. “It was completely out of this world. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. It’s really marked me and I’ll never forget it.”
“Yeh? I didn’t think it was that good. I mean, I know it’s spectacular, but I wouldn’t have said it was out-of-this-world good.”
“I…..eh, well…..I experienced a part of the ride that you’ve never seen,” I said.
At that moment Kev came across and put a pint in front of each of us.
“Cheers, guys. Have a good night,” he said; and before either of us could protest, he was gone.
Jordan looked at me for several seconds and then said, “Okay; what’s going on?”
“Let’s drink our pints,” I said “and then go back to your place and I’ll reveal all.”
In his room an hour or so later, I dropped my jeans and pants and turned my back to Jordan. He let out an audible gasp.
“What the fucking hell happened to you?”
“Have you got any cold-cream?”
Jordan nodded and took some from a drawer. I lay face-down on his bed and invited him to anoint my cane-welts. While he did so, tenderly and thoroughly, I told him everything, beginning from Phil’s initial approach in Kev’s house, right through to my appearance on Santa’s Naughty List and the subsequent caning.
“I had to tell you,” I ended, “otherwise I don’t think my conscience would have been completely clear; even after that brutal caning. So, it’s not quite over yet, Jordan, is it?”
For several seconds he continued to caress my behind and then he lay on my shoulders and licked my ear.
“Yes, it is over,” he said softly. “I forgive you. That Phil’s a bit of a menace. He could do with a good hard dose of Mike’s cane as well.”
“But he wasn’t really doing anything wrong,” I said. “He made a play for me and I was too weak to resist completely and tell him where to get off. I won’t be making that mistake again. I was the one who did the wrong thing and I was the one who got beaten. Santa doesn’t make mistakes.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Jordan got up and pulled open a drawer in a chest. He took out a wooden-headed bath-brush.
“My dad used to spank me with this when I was younger,” he said. “Five minutes with it on my bare arse and he had me bawling my eyes out and promising him eternal obedience,” he said reminiscently. “It won’t sting as fiercely as a cane; but I reckon I could get through to you with it, Simon.”
“You’re gonna spank me?”
“Only if I don’t think you’re paying me enough attention; and maybe a couple of minutes every Sunday evening to remind you to be a good boy all week.”
“They say a puppy isn’t just for Christmas; and I think Santa’s discipline isn’t just for Christmas either. You’re one red-hot boy, Simon, and you’re mine; and I’m gonna make darned sure you stay that way.”
I raised myself up on to my knees and kissed him passionately; and we were soon entwined naked in an energetic session of love-making, which was so intensely thrilling that we did it all again; and then a third time. Jordan lay with his head resting on my chest.
“Wow!” he murmured. “That caning didn’t half improve your performance, Simon. It was pretty awesome before, but now it’s stellar.”
“See? I told you my experience tonight was out of this world,” I said happily.
Jordan picked up his bath-brush.
“And I’ve a feeling we might be using this quite a lot,” he said, “just to make sure you stay faithful and our sex always gets us into orbit.”
“I’m sure I can get you into orbit without needing to be spanked first,” I objected. “And I swear I’m not gonna be cheating on you again.”
“Mmm. But Santa, in the form of that fantastic guy, Mike, has demonstrated what a difference getting your arse beaten makes,” declared Jordan. “And so……..”
“Mike’s a vicious brute,” I interpolated feelingly, rubbing at my bottom.
“……..I’ve learned a lesson too: that you need to be tanned regularly. Santa’s set me a great example and I’ll be following it. Like you said yourself, Santa doesn’t make mistakes.”
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.
Other hot Christmas stories by Joelstrap here at The Canery are:
The Cane In The Chimney
Leon’s Christmas Present
Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link
Thank you Joel for providing another hot festive story and saving Christmas once again! Readers, please comment if you enjoyed this story! Happy Christmas!
What a way to close this year of stunning stories from Joel. The New Year will be one of beatings given with love but surely felt. I believe in Santa once again.
Many thanks for the support, guys. Have a happy Christmas and well-tanned New Year!
Thanks Joel for your festive offering. You parcelled up so many of my favourite titbits, but Jordan really needs to acquire his own cane. A big lad like Simon deserves better than a hairbrush. Wishing you a creative New Year.