Mutton Dressed As Leopard (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A newly revised version of this hot femdom story by Rod Cayenne.  All the characters are 18 or over.  This story is suitable for adult entertainment only.

 

It was 1975.  The two nineteen-year-olds were sat on the bed listening to records.  They were chatting noisily as the diamond stylus hit the run-out groove.

“I reckon your Aunt Belle is really hot, Tim,” volunteered Simon.

“Yeah, she is, if you like mutton dressed as leopard!” his friend replied.  The pair of them burst out laughing.  “How about some Dylan next?”

Unfortunately, at that moment, Belle had been passing the open bedroom door and had heard the insult.  She was mortified, especially as she had her favourite leopard print top on.  She headed off to the kitchen, by which time the cruel words had really hit home.  Tears formed in her eyes, and she sat and slumped at the table, head in hands.

An hour or so later, Tim let his friend out of the front door and they wished each other goodbye.  Tim went to look for his aunt, and found her still at the table, looking worse for wear, and tearful.

“Hello Auntie, what’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?  What’s the matter?  I heard what you called me!  Mutton dressed as leopard, indeed!  You certainly know how to hurt someone.”

“Oh, sorry, Auntie.  It was just a joke!”

“A hurtful joke at my expense!  Really, you can be a real beast at times, Timothy.”

If there’s one thing in the world Tim hated, then it was being called Timothy.  Of course, his aunt knew that and this was just the first assault of what was to be a prolonged verbal attack.

“You are rude and disrespectful.  I really regret letting you stay here while your parents are in Australia.  I’d throw you out if you had somewhere to go.  Bettina said I was mad having you here, and she was right!  Disrespectful and thoroughly disobedient.  If you were one of my pupils, I’d have sent you to the headmaster for the cane!”

“Oh auntie!  I’m sorry.  Really I am.  What can I do to make things right?”

Unfortunately for Tim, the tears started flowing again.  He felt terrible.  He fetched a box of tissues from the sideboard.

“I’ll tell you what.  You can cane me if you like!  Anything to wipe the slate clean!  Please?”

“Pah!  If only!  If only!  Anyway, I don’t have a cane here.”

“I suppose you could get one from the school though, couldn’t you?”

“Don’t be silly.  Have you ever had the cane, Timothy?”

“No, no.  I was always too good.”

“Now that I find hard to believe!”

“No, honestly.  I was so scared of the cane that I always behaved myself at school.”

“I see.  It seems to me, Timothy, that if you had been caned then perhaps your general attitude and behaviour would be more adult and respectful.”

“Maybe you’re right, Auntie.  I feel so awful.  Really.  It sounds crazy, but maybe I’m overdue for a caning.”

“You certainly are.  But I couldn’t possibly cane you.  Or maybe I could!  Are you really willing to take a caning, if I can get my hands on a cane?”

“Yes, I suppose so, I just want to make things right.”

She got up and walked to the phone in the hall.

“It’ll hurt, you know!  I’m going to ring the caretaker, to see if he has a key to the head’s study.”

But she drew a blank.  Mr Martin was not answering.  Maybe he had the TV on too loud, for he was as deaf as a post.  She decided to cut out the middleman and ring the head.

“Ah, Mr Rodbourne!  Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday evening.  I’m ringing to ask a favour.   I’m having trouble with my nephew.  Yes, yes.  Exactly!  You’re right.  Bettina did warn me he’d be trouble.  Yes, I’d like to borrow a cane from the school if possible, please.  You have a couple at home?  Ideal!  No, no.  I want to cane him myself, but thank you for offering.   I know!  He’ll be sorry, alright!  Can we come over now?  Mrs Rodbourne won’t mind?  We’ll set off soon.  Thank you so much.”

Less than half an hour later Belle and Tim pulled up at the head’s house.  They got out of the Rover.

“Tim, you go ahead and ring the bell, and ask Mr Rodbourne for the cane.”

The ambiguous nature of her request was not lost on Tim.  She was tidying the boot of the old car, when Tim returned.

“He wouldn’t give me it.  He wants us both to come in for a cup of tea,” said a rather red-faced Tim.

“Oh right, that’s very nice of him.  He’s quite a sweet man.”

That’s not what Tim had heard.  Mr Rodbourne’s reputation as a strict disciplinarian had spread way beyond the grammar school.  Soon Belle and Tim were sat in the spacious lounge listening to Mr Rodbourne pontificating about rudeness and the virtues of the school cane.  Tim was really embarrassed; even more so when Mrs Rodbourne joined them.  What was worse was that she was wearing a leopard print scarf!  Tim could only hope that Belle didn’t tell all.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to cane him now?  You and Doris could watch.  It would be better entertainment than The Generation Game!” he laughed.

“No, really.  That’s very thoughtful of you to offer, but it’s a matter between him and me,” Aunt Belle sighed.

“Righty-oh then!  I’ll go and get the sticks now.”

Soon Mr Rodbourne returned with two crook-handled canes.

“Take them both.  One is thinner and will sting more, the other will bruise more.  I would use both, if I were you.  Use them on the bottom, not the hands.  Bare bottom, if you can stand the sight.  No hurry to return them.  We won’t be needing them this weekend will we, Doris?  And I have a new delivery due from the school suppliers.  In fact, why not keep them?  You might need to use them more than once,” he smiled.

“Why, thank you!  You’re so kind.  They’re just what’s needed, aren’t they Timothy?”

Tim blushed.  Soon he was in the Rover again, heading back with Aunt Belle.  He was shifting uncomfortably on the seat, dreading what was in store.

Back at Belle’s she made him go up to her bedroom.  She stayed in the living room, swishing the canes, whacking cushions and testing her technique.  She had used the cane before, but that was a long time ago.  Ten minutes or so later, she climbed the stairs quietly.  Tim was sat on the bed, looking worried.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be doing this tonight, I must say,” she laughed at him.  “Mr Rodbourne recommended a bare bottom, didn’t he?”

Tim’s face reddened yet again.  “Yes he did, Auntie.  But that’s up to you.  I’ll do whatever you decide.”

“Trousers and pants down then, Timothy.”  His luck had run out.  His boyish bottom and mannish penis were soon displayed to her.

“How many, Auntie?”

“A lot, I think!  The traditional six won’t be enough.  That’s for kids.  You’re a man.  You can take a lot more.”

Tim wasn’t so sure.  He was alarmed by his aunt’s enthusiasm for dishing out a generous beating.  He couldn’t understand how she, and earlier Mr Rodbourne, treated the matter so light-heartedly.

“Bend over!”

With a vicious swish and crack the whippy cane made first contact with the nineteen year-old’s bottom.  It stung but it wasn’t too bad.

Tim was soon gasping and squirming as Aunt Belle laid into him some more.  The cane hurt alright and gradually he began to yelp and cry as she beat him.  He was feeling sorry for himself as the wicked cane whipped down again and again.

“That will do for now.  I’ll give you some more in the morning, I think.  With the thicker cane!”

“Yes, Auntie.  Thank you.  I’m sorry.  I deserved that.”

“Good.  Glad to hear it.  Now off to bed with you!”

“But Auntie, it’s only half-past eight!”

“Just do as you’re told, unless you want some more caning now?”

Tim apologised and went off to his room.  Belle put the cane down.  She had enjoyed beating him.  She felt a little guilty about that.  But only a little.  She was deciding what to wear tomorrow.  Perhaps that newish leopard print trouser suit?  Yes!  that would be wonderfully appropriate.  She would give him the thrashing of his life while wearing it!  She felt moist and strangely turned on.  She would have to masturbate.

In his room, Tim felt his very sore bottom.  The individual cane strokes had not been too bad, but the cumulative effect had been close to overwhelming.  He was pleased that he hadn’t broken down.  He had taken his punishment like a man.  He felt strangely turned on though, and of course he had to masturbate.

Simon Freshbrook knocked at the door.  Tim’s Aunt Belle answered, dressed only in a slinky black satin bathrobe.

“Oh hello Belle, I didn’t think you would be here.  I was looking for Tim!”

“Yes, of course.  But Timothy isn’t here.  He’s gone to London for the day.  It was my idea.  I couldn’t stand having him around!  He’s not in my good books.”

“Yes, I heard!” said Simon knowingly.

“Oh you heard did you, Simon?  I wonder just how much you’ve heard?  What a pity Timothy can’t be a good boy like you.  Why don’t you come in for a minute?”

He wasn’t sure he should.   After all, this was the fearsome leopard woman who had caned his friend!  However, curiosity and that shiny robe got the better of him, so he followed her inside.  They sat down in the living room.  Belle had some coffee percolating, so she offered him a mug.  Despite the coffee, the room smelt of incense and patchouli.

Soon the conversation worked around to the mutton comment.

“I thought you’d be mad at me for laughing at his joke.”

“Well, I was for a few minutes.  But then I remembered you had described me as hot.  So I was quite flattered,  really.  Especially when I thought about it in bed.”

He blushed with embarrassment, “Oh yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“There’s no need to blush, Simon.  You really are a sweet, sweet man.”

Simon was still rather embarrassed, especially as Belle patted his knee affectionately.  He decided to change the subject, but there was only one on his mind.  The cane!

“Err, I heard about the canings…”

“Yes, I thought Timothy might tell you about them.  What did he say exactly?”

“Well, he said you borrowed a couple of canes from old Mr Rodbourne.  He said that the evening caning wasn’t too bad.  In fact, he said it turned him on a bit.  But the morning one with the thicker cane was absolute hell.”

“I see!  Turned on?  Well, we can’t have that, can we?  Anyway, I did get rather carried away the second time.  I beat him like crazy.”

“Yes, but you were probably right to.  Tim’s awfully immature.  I sometimes wonder why I hang around with him.  He is just like a naughty schoolboy, so a caning is just what he needed.”

“What a sensible man you are, Simon!”  She stroked his knee this time. 

It wasn’t long before Belle and Simon were kissing passionately.  She led him upstairs to her bedroom.  The very bedroom where his friend had received two canings, only a matter of hours apart.  They spent the whole morning together.  The sex was fantastic.

“I really should be moving on, Belle,” Simon said as he glanced at the bedside clock, “if only because Tim might come back early.”

“Screw him!” laughed Belle, as she lit a Gitanes cigarette.  She didn’t believe her nephew would dare come back so soon.

“No, stick to screwing me!” laughed Simon.  They cuddled.

“Belle, I wonder if I may see the canes, please?  You do still have them, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr Rodbourne said that I could keep them.  He’s so kind and thoughtful.  As is his wife.  The canes are hanging on the rail in that wardrobe over there.  You can have a look if you really want to, but I can’t see the fascination.”

Belle was one of those people who didn’t understand how the British male’s psyche is forever scarred by the shadow of the cane.

Simon made his way over to the wardrobe.  He was still naked, and Belle couldn’t help thinking about how it would be fun to cane him, too.  He returned to the bed, holding the two canes.

“Gosh!  I’ve never had the cane.  I bet it hurts!  Shouldn’t I receive some punishment for laughing at Tim’s joke?”

“Yes, indeed you should Simon!  Six hard strokes on your naked bottom with the thinner cane, for starters, I should think!”

“Yes please, Belle.  Shall I touch my toes?”

“No, I don’t hold with that nonsense.  Get on all fours on the bed, and I’ll thrash you like that.”

And she did!

The first stroke landed hard, to be accompanied by a token “Owwww!”  A harder second stroke was met by a more sincere “Arrgh!”  And so it went on with each swish and crack of the whippy cane until six painful strokes had been delivered.  Simon had taken the strokes comparatively well, and he had now become aroused again.  Inevitably, he entered her again, and she clasped on to his ridged arse, as it bobbed up and down as he thrust into her.  It felt great.

“We should make this a regular thing once Tim has gone back to his parents.  Don’t you agree?” she asked him.

“Of course!  Thank you, Belle.  I’ll need the cane as well though, please.”

“Really?”

“Yes really, Belle.  I’m a very naughty boy!”

“You certainly are, you certainly are.”

Tim’s Aunt Belle was sorting out his washing. She was still very annoyed with him for his hurtful remarks. She had caned him twice for his sins. Even a wild morning of sex and caning with Tim’s friend Simon had only lifted her mood for a short time, although there was the promise of repeat performances. She became exasperated as she sorted Tim’s underwear. It all had tell-tale cum leakage in. And then she saw them. A pair of leopard print briefs! Was he having another joke at her expense? She examined them closely. Slightly cum stained, of course. Yes, they appeared to be new. So he was poking fun at her again, was he? She became agitated, and a little tearful again.

Gradually, she calmed down. A plan was forming in her mind. She went into her bedroom, and headed for the wardrobe. There, hanging on the rail were the two canes Mr Rodbourne had given her. Yes, it was high time they saw some more action! She removed them both and cradled them. Then she swished them around. How she loved the sound they made. Even better, was the sound they made when they made contact with bare male flesh!  Today, they would be doing just that once again!

Tim returned to his Aunt’s at about 6.15. His bus had been delayed. He headed to his bedroom. On the unmade bed, his Aunt’s two canes were laid neatly. Right next to them were his new leopard print underpants. He gulped. He’d been looking forward to a quick wank before eating, but it looked like events would be taking a rather different direction. Indeed, he was sure of it as he felt the frosty presence of Aunt Belle immediately behind him.

“Well, I’m waiting for an explanation, Timothy!” she exclaimed.

Rather foolishly, Tim decided to play it cocky.

“An explanation of what Auntie?”

“Those leopard print briefs, of course. Are you poking fun at me and my taste in clothes again?”

“Oh no, Auntie.  I meant them as a tribute to you. I happened to see them, and I thought of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes really, Auntie. You won’t be needing those canes today, really.”

“Just one problem, Timothy.”

“And what’s that Auntie?”

“I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. I’m going to cane you again. I was going to refuse to do your washing for you instead, but I’m not sure I can trust you not to break my washing machine.”

“Oh Auntie!  No, please.  My bottom’s only just recovered from the two canings. Please!”

“I don’t care.  Now, get your jeans and pants off. Come on.  Hurry!”

Once again his teenage bottom was presented to her for chastisement. Was it fair? Was it righteous? Was it deserved? Was it hell!

She lined the thicker cane up against his bottom and tapped it gently. She was anticipating his discomfort and her pleasure. Suddenly, a vision of Mr Rodbourne, the headmaster, popped into her head. He seemed to be egging her on. She sliced the cane down on Tim’s backside. He wailed!

Again she raised the cane and slashed it down again. Ah yes! It was making that sound she loved. The sound of rattan on bare male flesh! Tim too was making a sound she’d come to love as well. The sound of agony! How gratifying it all was. At the same time, it struck Belle how immature Tim was. His looks, his deportment, his attitude. In identifying this to Belle, his friend Simon Freshbrook had been completely correct. She slashed the cane down again.

“I think we’ll stop there, Timothy.”

Tim breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, we’ll stop there just for a minute while you put your leopard print underpants on for me. Then you can bend over for six strokes on them.”

Tim was furious that his aunt was playing games with him. He couldn’t help but feel that he did deserve this treatment, however. Despite what he’d said to her, he had bought that underwear to tease and goad her. Stupidly, he’d forgotten about the rattan consequences that could easily follow such an upset. Meanwhile, his aunt was lining the cane up again.  Six more times the wicked cane slashed and burned his teenage rump.

“Let me pull them down for you Timothy. Another six, I think!”

“Oh no, Auntie, please, please!”

She pulled the leopard briefs down and then took them off him completely. She examined inside the briefs. A little damp patch of pre-cum was visible.

“I do hope you’re not finding this caning arousing, Timothy. That would never do. It would make me very angry indeed. You wouldn’t want to make me angry again, would you?”

“No definitely not, Auntie. Anything to keep you happy.”

“Well six hard strokes on your bare bottom will make me happy.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“But just to drive home the lesson, I want you to put those lovely leopard underpants on your head while I thrash you!”

“Oh Auntie, that’s a bit kinky!”

“Shut up Timothy. I don’t do kinky. I do do a mean caning though.  Put those pants on your thick head, and bend over again!”

So it was that Tim put the pants on his head, and bent over the bed, once again offering his backside submissively as the cane sliced into his already sore buttocks.  How stupid and submissive Tim looked with the pants on his head and his arse reddening rapidly.

Two more strokes cracked down. Belle laughed. What fun this was.  She too had a damp patch forming.

An extra hard stroke whipped down.  Tim gasped. This was no fun at all.  A final beastly stoke followed and then it was over. Belle pulled the underpants off her nephew’s head.

“Very good Timothy. Your caning is over.”

Tim was happy to hear this news. “Thank you,” he replied.

“Yes, your caning is over. Now fetch me that hairbrush from my dressing table!”

She was going to spank his bare bottom with the brush. If he made too much noise, she’d use the leopard print pants as a gag!

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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.

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

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