My Aunt Canes Really Hard (F/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Brand spanking new fiction in a rare excursion into femdom by your host, Rod Cayenne. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery.  All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!

My Aunt Canes Really Hard by Rod Cayenne

At eighteen, I was quite used to being bundled off to relatives by my parents when they went for their long and indulgent skiing holidays.  It wasn’t my scene at all, but they didn’t trust me not to wreck the house while they were away.  I could hardly blame them, after all a teenage rampage was not unheard of in the metropolis.

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I sighed heavily as I pulled off my shiny black wellies.  I’d had the foresight to bring them with me for my winter stay with Aunty in wet and windswept Yorkshire.  I stood them next to the umbrella stand there in the vestibule.  It was then that I noticed a crook-handled school cane in among the brollies and walking sticks.  It’s strange that I hadn’t noticed it before.  Yes, really strange indeed.  Unless it was a new addition?  Anyway, I drew it out from the shiny and dimpled brass container.  I sliced it through the air.  Boy, was it ever whippy!

“I see you’ve found my cane, Julian,” my aunt said.  “Be careful now, I’m not afraid to use it.  Maybe even bare bottom!” she cackled.  I didn’t know where to look, laughed nervously and blushed redder than I’d ever done before.  There was no denying her attractiveness.  She was in her late 30s, but incredibly sexy.

Eventually, I found my voice, “Oh Aunty, you wouldn’t!  I’m eighteen now!”

“Really now, eighteen?  Just the right age to benefit from some discipline then.”  She cackled some more and winked at me.  “Be a dear and put it back where you found it, unless you want me to demonstrate.”

I was somewhat unnerved, replaced the cane and replied sheepishly, “I’ll be good.”

“Mmm, yes, I’m sure you will.  The cane does seem to encourage that sort of response.  Now, how about showing me just how good you can be by doing some drying up for me?”

I was so grateful that she had changed the subject and saved me from any further embarrassment.  All the same, that cane and that threat were all I could think about as I dried the floral crockery with the off-white tea towel.  I was still strangely excited by my discovery and by my aunt’s reaction.  I felt a tingle down below and blushed some more.  In a funny way, I really wanted to feel that cane used in anger.  I wondered what it would be like.  But why?  It was all too much for me.  I gazed at my aunt and said, “If we’re finished here, I’ll go up to my room.”

She nodded sagely.  It was funny how she could sometimes read me like a book, but  I told myself that teachers seemed to have a knack for being able to do that sort of thing.  Maybe part-time teachers like Aunty even more so.

Just a day later, on the Tuesday, I returned and found a cane hanging on a hook on the back of my bedroom door.  I was alarmed and yet excited.  Maybe even a bit amused.  It was only later as I laid on the bed and stared at it that I realised it wasn’t the same cane I’d seen downstairs.  It was similar, but the natural patina was slightly different.  So, she must have a veritable arsenal of them, I told myself.  An arsenal for arses!  I decided to play it cool and ignore what I saw as a deliberate provocation.  Nevertheless, when I turned in at bedtime I got to think some more about the possibility of Aunty caning me.  I found the idea strangely appealing and wanked off a couple of times before finally falling asleep.  In the morning, I had to do the same.  I knew Aunty and I knew her game.  I was going to get caned by her, of that I was sure.  The sudden appearance of that second cane was just confirmation.

I didn’t have to wait long, as it happened.  That evening she was admonishing me as I’d left my boots on and trampled copious quantities of finest Yorkshire Dales mud into her hall carpet.  “I’m going to have to shampoo that carpet, Julian!” she informed me, “I’m really annoyed with you.”

“Sorry Aunty, I wasn’t thinking,” I said with genuine regret.

“Hmm.  Well, I’ve been thinking that your thoughtlessness deserves a caning!”

“Oh Aunty, no.  Please no. Not that!”

“I bet you’ve never had a caning have you?”

“Err, no.  No.”

“High time you did then.  Fetch me a cane, Julian.  There’s one in the hall, as you know.  And one hanging on the back of your bedroom door.  Either will do.  They’re much the same as each other.  And hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

I was lost for words, so I sloped off to my guest bedroom to retrieve the cane that I’d been admiring up there.  I picked it up and came slowly down the stairs with it.

“Very well,” she said.  “I think six of the best as you’ve caused me all this extra work.  You can keep your underpants on this time, but if we have to do this again be assured you will have to take them down.”

“Six!” I exclaimed and shook my head.  That seemed a lot for a first offence.  I considered plea bargaining, but I was so embarrassed.  I knew I was blushing as I handed her the stick.  That strange excitement had returned and I felt my cock thickening in anticipation.

“Yes Julian, six should be enough!  Now, drop your trousers and bend over the back of this sofa.  Hurry up!”

I quickly did as I was told, hurriedly bending over as instructed while trying to hide the erection in my briefs.

“I must warn you that this is going to hurt you, Julian.  I’m well known as a hard caner and I expect you to take it like a man.  No fussing, no rubbing or standing up, or putting your hands in the way.  I should tell you that you will get extra penalty strokes if you do anything of the sort.”

Shit, she was really dominant and bossy and any thoughts of pleasure disappeared as she sliced the first stroke down on my underpants.  Thank God I’d put a clean pair on that morning, I told myself.  But the burn from that first stroke was now taking over all my thoughts.  God, it hurt.  And then the second stroke followed.  It landed lower than the first, but if anything was even harder.   I gasped for air.  God, this was awful.  It might have been a nice fleeting fantasy to have, but the reality was excruciating.  Her teaching experience was really evident!

Just then she was distracted by the sound of letters coming through the door.  She told me to stay as I was while she went to get the post.  I was grateful for the break.  The red hot pain was remorseless, however, so the respite was minimal.

She returned and placed the letters on the table, and picked up her cane again.  She scythed it through the air a couple of times, teasing me.

“Now, where were we?” she asked.

“I’ve had two strokes Aunty,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked, adding, “We could always start again.”

“Err, no thank you Aunty, please just carry on from where we were.”

Her sadism was evident.  She was playing games with me.  I just wanted it over as my arse was throbbing so painfully.

“Three!” she cried as she whipped the cane down once again.  The bitch could really hurt, I thought to myself as new waves of pain swept over me.

“Four!” accompanied the next stroke which had to be the hardest yet.  I groaned and gasped and ached.

“Oh Aunty!” I cried out.

“Don’t you Oh Aunty me!” she said as she whipped the fifth stroke down, this time neglecting her counting.

“Arrrgh!”

“Very well, Julian.  Last stroke coming now.  Let’s make this one really count!”

And it did.  Shit, shit, shit, it was unbearable.  But then I realised it was over, at last.

“I hope you’ve learnt to treat my property with respect, Julian.  Going forward, I shall expect the highest standards from you.  You know now what will happen if you don’t.  If there’s a next time, it will be bare bottom, my boy.  Don’t forget now.”

As if I could!  A bare arse caning was something I was really dreading.  Male intuition  told me it was something I would definitely experience before I headed back to London, though.  It seemed to be my destiny.  It was what Aunty was planning for me.  I’d have been stupid and naive to think otherwise.  I was trapped and miles from home.

“Pull up your trousers, Julian!”  I did so gingerly as my arse was throbbing, aching and scorching hot.  I rubbed it gently.  I made my apologies and left.  Upstairs in the large mirror in my room, I studied the bright red lines and wheals that decorated my arse.  Soon I found something else that needed rubbing!  Doing that seemed to ease the pain in my bum cheeks.  I was on the verge of orgasm when Aunty called me down for supper.  It was too late to stop it, and I spunked into some tissue I’d liberated from the bathroom.  Hurriedly, I cleaned myself up and flushed the evidence away.  Nonetheless, as I entered the kitchen Aunty gave me a funny look as if she knew or could guess what I’d been doing.

“I hope you’re going to behave now, Julian.  Your bottom must be quite sore?”

I wished she’d give it a rest.  I considered snapping back at her, but my feelings were mixed.  I just said, “Yes, pretty sore.  You’ll have no more problems with me, I promise.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if in some disbelief.  We sat at the table and she dished up some hearty food.

“I’ll shampoo the carpet, if you like,” I offered.

“Thank you Julian.  Actually, the damage is not as bad as I first thought.  I think most of it will brush or hoover up once it’s dried.  Eat up now.”  I did see a bit red at that point.  So, I had been caned for next to nothing!  I wasn’t best pleased but kept my thoughts to myself.  After the meal she told me to take the cane back upstairs.  I took it, amazed again at how light it was and yet what heavy pain it had caused.

That night I masturbated furiously, my thoughts centred only on my aunt and her canes.  I was becoming fixated.  I also decided that I had to see her naked.  Just two days later, I was hanging around on the landing, pretending to be looking at the epic Yorkshire Dales landscape through the large panorama window.  I hit the jackpot as she suddenly appeared from the bathroom wearing  some very sexy black underwear.  Once again, she was perceptive, “Are you spying on me, Julian?”

“I, I errr, no, no, of course not.”

“I rather think you were, you dirty boy.  Time for that bare bottom caning, I’d say.  Let’s go into your room.”  She wasted no time, pushing me towards the bed, and taking the cane off the door hook.  “Right, let’s have you on all fours.  Take your trousers down.”  Once I’d complied, she then startled me by whipping down my underpants in double quick time.  She studied my bottom, observing, “The marks from your first caning have almost gone.  Either you have a tough bottom, or I didn’t cane you hard enough.  Or maybe, just maybe, both.”

There I was, bare bottom sticking out, waiting to be thrashed.  And thrashed I was.  Fast and hard.  The cumulative pain was overwhelming and after it was over, I slumped on the bed whimpering.  My cock was on manouevres again and the rest of me soon perked up too.  My aunt was hanging the cane back on the hook.  I had to tell her, “Ooh Aunty!  That was terrific.  The sting is really intense without pants on.”

She looked at my erect cock and said, “You’re not meant to enjoy it, you know!”

“Oh Aunty, I didn’t. I really didn’t!  But that sting is really invigorating.”

“Mmmm.  I understand, I think.  Now, make yourself decent.  Although I must say you have a most attractive bottom, just made for caning.”  She cackled again.

She was right though.  I had enjoyed it in a masochistic way.  I wanted the cane again.  As soon as possible.  I needed its vicious enlivening bitter caress.  I resolved to be be much naughtier going forward.

Some three days later, after our evening meal, I surprised her by turning up in the lounge holding the cane.

“I see,” she said, “Have you something to confess, Julian?”

“Yes, I do and I deserve the cane for it, Aunty.”

We never did establish what it was though!  She ordered me upstairs, saying, “Let’s do it in my bedroom, there’s more room to swing a cat.”

Once again, I found myself on all fours with my arse bared for her ministrations.

“Ten, I think this time, Julian.”

She went absolutely crazy with that cane. She slashed it with wild abandon, slicing both cheeks with punishing stripes.  As she finished I gasped with relief, only to have it dashed as she announced, “Another two, I think, to make the round dozen.”

After that, she really had finished.  She gazed at my erection which had returned with a vengeance.  “Get the rest of your clothes off and get in my bed Julian.  It’s alright, my boy.  We both have needs, I think.”

I fucked her half the night, losing my virginity in style.  She had brought me extreme pain and extreme pleasure.  All too soon, the holiday came to an end.

“Well, I guess my caning days are over, Aunty.”

“Yes, what a pity.  Unless your parents decide to follow my lead, of course.”

“Mother wouldn’t cane me, Aunty.”

“You’re probably right there, Julian.  I know my sister only too well.  She’s much too squeamish.  But your father might.  Especially if I provide him with a suitable cane.  And tell him to use it on your bared bottom.  It’s really a father’s job to discipline his son, after all.  I’m sure I can spare him one of my canes.  I’ll give him it when he comes to pick you up.”

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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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Story © MMXXIII by Rod Cayenne

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