♥ Site recommended story ♥
A brand spanking new story by very special guest author JOELSTRAP. This story is exclusive to The Canery! All the characters are 18 or over. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
Key To A Caning by Joelstrap
“Simon and Phil got themselves spanked!” said Jordan.
We all had stories to tell of our experiences and occasional escapades during our first couple of terms away from home, and the alcohol we’d consumed, plus some cans which Kev managed to produce, ensured that we were talking animatedly and freely. There were eight of us lads, meeting up back in Kev’s house while were home for the Easter holidays from the various places where we were at College. It was in a brief lull in the conversation that Jordan made his announcement.
His statement was greeted with a stunned silence before Martin asked carefully, “You mean they got cheated? Some bastard scammed them?”
“No, no!” insisted Jordan. “They got spanked; as in over the knee, arse in the air and spanked.”
Every eye seemed to slide to my face and I felt myself flushing scarlet; and I observed that Phil too was looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“Were you a naughty boy?” enquired Liam of me with a mischievous grin.
“No; of course not,” I replied, giving Jordan a furious glare.
“So, you gonna tell us?” asked Martin.
“It was just…..look, it was nothing,” Phil said. “Just forget it.”
“You mean Jordan’s telling porkies?” enquired Joey. “Maybe I should spank him for that.”
Joey’s hands went to the broad leather belt he wore round the waist of his jeans.
“I’m not lying,” insisted Jordan, eyeing Joey’s belt anxiously. “Simon and Phil got a real spanking; and they said it hurt.”
“Will you shut up!” I hissed angrily at him.
“But it’s true,” persisted Jordan.
Phil, who was sitting on the floor between my legs, leaned his head back so that it was resting on my tackle. My penis leapt and as I looked down at his close-fitting jeans, I could see from the straining fabric that he was massively aroused.
“Looks like you pair have been getting pretty close while you’ve been away,” remarked Joey. “You gonna tell us about this spanking?”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Jordan and Phil and me were in this gay bar just having a quiet drink and eyeing up the talent, when I noticed a real spunky boy come in. Whip-thin, black haired, neat, tight arse that really filled his black jeans. I was watching him because I really liked the look of him and wondered if I should go and try to get to know him. He went to the bar but didn’t buy a drink. He just said something to the barman and then headed off to a door in the far corner and went through. I nudged Phil and he looked just in time to see the guy disappear. Oh, yeh, Phil said. He’s fucking hot!
“So, where’s he gone? I asked. That’s not the bogs. Phil just shrugged; but I wanted to know. Over the next twenty minutes, I watched closely and saw four other young guys come in and then vanish through the door. Phil was taking an interest by now too, and when I suggested going to the barman to ask, he came with me.
Yeh, well, you’d best talk to Jamie if you’re interested, the barman said to us and nodded to a good-looking guy, perhaps in his early thirties, who was sitting with a companion at a table nearby. For a moment we hesitated and then decided that outright honesty was probably the best policy; so we went up to the guy called Jamie, told him our names, said what we’d noticed, admitted the appeal of the first guy we’d seen going through the door, and said we knew it was a bit of a cheek, but we wanted to know what was going on.
“In response, Jamie invited us to sit down. Then he told us. Every Tuesday evening a small spanking-club met in an upstairs room. Phil and I exchanged startled looks and I think we couldn’t quite take it in at first; but he made it clear that some lads met who liked to spank or be spanked. My cock was getting so hard that I squirmed in my seat and Phil was the same. Jamie noticed and grinned. Think you might be interested in being spanked, guys? I felt hellish embarrassed, but there was a bit of me that seemed to find the idea sort of exciting. I asked Phil what he thought and he nodded and then said to Jamie, I’ve never been spanked. It might hurt. Well, that was a daft thing to say. Jamie gave him a kind of pitying look and said that it was meant to hurt. He asked again if we’d like to try a spanking; and he assured us that it would hurt.
“I told myself that agreeing to be spanked would presumably get me through that door and into the place where the sexy guy had gone; but my body was kind of yelling at me that maybe I needed to get spanked anyway. There was just something that was almost calling me, even though I knew it’d hurt.”
“Hey! Back up,” interrupted Joey. “If you and Phil were together, why were you chasing after another sexy guy?”
“We weren’t more than friends at that point,” explained Phil. “Anyway, me and Simon had a confab and we agreed we liked the idea of a spanking, so we told Jamie we’d like to try it and then we went over to tell Jordan where we were going.”
“So they come over to me,” Jordan interrupted, “and tell me that they’re gonna get a spanking. I told them they were outta their tree, but the silly buggers were determined, so I said I’d wait for them. And off they went, back to the Jamie guy who took them off through that door.”
“And you got spanked?” asked Martin.
“What do you mean, yeh?” he demanded. “Who spanked you? Were you over his knee? Did he take your jeans down? Did he use his hand? Did he use a hairbrush? Did you cry? What was it like?”
“It stung,” I said.
“A lot,” added Phil.
Martin got up and looked down at us.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“Look,” I said, “I got introduced to a few sexy guys and then one of them, red-hot boy with a muscles tee-shirt, asked me if I want to go over his knee for a spanking. So I did. He spanked me on my jeans and I was hard as a rock; and then he told me to take off my jeans and he spanked me on my briefs. That stung a lot more. He had a hell of a hard hand. Then he had me take off my briefs and he spanked me bare. I felt that, but it was still kinda exciting. Okay?”
“So, you liked it?” Martin persisted.
“Yeh!” I snapped irately. “I fucking liked it!”
“And you, Phil?” he enquired.
“Oh, yeh. I liked it,” admitted Phil. “I was hard as a rock the whole time.”
“Did you get the cane?” asked Martin, eyes shining.
Phil and I glanced at each other.
“Well, yeh, we did,” Phil answered, “but we didn’t like it much.”
“Too bloody sore, huh?” grinned Martin.
“Not sore enough,” I replied. “It stung a bit, but I’m sure it felt nothing like a real caning would’ve felt like back in the day when boys got the cane at school.”
“You’re telling us that you pair actually want to get a real punishment-style caning?” enquired Martin, wide-eyed. “That’s weird.”
“Like I told them,” interjected Jordan. “They’re outta their tree. They go out for a quiet pint and end up with a pair of roasted arses.”
“That’s not all we ended up with though,” said Phil, flushing slightly. “Me and Simon went back to his flat afterwards and talked about how exciting the spanking had been; and then we decided to examine each other’s behind; and then………”
“…….and then we put our hands on each other’s bum and somehow we ended up with our hands on each other’s cock,” I continued.
“And you’ve been fucking like rabbits ever since!” ended Jordan triumphantly.
“We’ve been enjoying an intimate and mutually fulfilling relationship,” said Phil firmly.
Later, Phil, Martin and I walked towards our respective homes.
“Shit! I really need to get my balls emptied,” I said. “But we can’t go to my place. My parents would hear us. I don’t think they’re ready for knowing I’m gay, never mind that I like to get my rocks off with you. And my kid brother’s always sticking his nose in where he’s not wanted. I can’t wait to get back to College.”
“Same at my place,” admitted Philip.
“Er, I’m here too,” said Martin.
I turned to him.
“Sorry, Martin. I guess we just got carried away. It’s frustrating having to sneak around and do it in odd minutes when there’s nobody at home; or behind the rhododendrons in the park.”
“I don’t suppose your house is empty?” suggested Phil; but Martin shook his head.
“Sorry guys,” he told us, “I’d like to help you, but my parents are at home. I’ll think about it. Meet you at the cafe tomorrow morning?”
“Okay,” we agreed and parted towards our respective homes.
“Your problems are solved, guys,” declared Martin as he bounced into the cafe to join us at our table next day. “Old Chalmers’ house.”
“What? The old chap diagonally across from us?” I queried. “You think I’m gonna go and ring his bell and ask if we can fuck on his lounge carpet?”
“No, you chump! But he goes away to his daughter most weekends. I know, because he knows my parents. So his house is often empty,” said Martin.
“Fine; I know that,” I admitted. “If his car’s not in the drive on Friday night, then he’s away. But how are we supposed to get into his house? Slide under the back-door? Jump down the chimney?”
“I said I’d solved it and I’ve solved it,” said Martin, looking hurt. “He keeps a key under the third planter to the left of his front-door.”
“How the hell do you know that?” asked Phil.
“I saw him once, when I was walking past. He was pawing around in his pockets and obviously couldn’t find his key; and then he went to this big planter, lifted the edge of it, and pulled out a key from there and let himself in. I guess it’s a spare for when he loses or forgets his normal key. I snuck along early this morning, when his curtains were still shut and had a look. The key’s still there, guys. And today’s Friday. You just need to see if his car’s away by early evening and it’s all yours.”
Phil and I glanced at each other.
“We wouldn’t do any harm,” he said. “He’d never know we’d been there; and it’d be fantastic to get a few hours just to ourselves.”
“Right! Thanks, Martin. Now we just need to see if he goes away this weekend.”
“I can’t arrange everything for you,” said Martin. “Keep your fingers crossed.”
It seemed that the gods were favouring us. When I came home, bringing Phil for his meal at my house about six o’clock, there was no car in Chalmers’ driveway.
By half past seven, we were comfortably ensconced in the front-room of his bungalow and there on a thick rug we slowly stripped each other, revelling in the renewed thrill of nakedness before exploring each other’s body thoroughly as if we’d never done so before. When we could hold ourselves in no longer, we sat with our backs against the sofa, bodies touching, my right leg over Philip’s left one, and began work on each other’s penis. Orgasm came disappointingly quickly, but the intensity of it made me gasp and I heard Philip give a low moan of pleasure. We spent some time kissing and then resumed operations on our genitals, taking it more slowly now. I came with a bass cry of ecstasy and Philip echoed it with a sibilant “yes-s-s-s-s-”, followed by a much louder, “Fucking YES!”
We got ourselves entwined and were deep in a passionate kiss when the sound of the door opening penetrated my consciousness and even as we began to move apart the room was flooded with electric-light.
“What is the meaning of THIS?” demanded an irate male voice.
Instinctively, we both tried to reach for our briefs, but were halted in our tracks by a bellow from the irate male who commanded us to keep still. We did.
“So,” said the man as he approached us. “It’s young Simon, isn’t it? And who are you?” he demanded.
“Phil,” he replied submissively.
“And how did you get in here?”
There seemed nothing for it but the truth, although to keep Martin out of it I said that I was the one who’d once spotted him taking the hidden key from beneath the planter.
“We’ve not done any harm,” interjected Phil. “Me and Simon wanted a quiet place to…….well you can see what we wanted to do…. and because we realised we could get in and the house was empty…….”
“….you decided just to make yourselves at home,” ended Chalmers. “I had to come back because I’d forgotten my thyroid-tablets.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Phil said. “I know that doesn’t make up for it, because we should never have been here; but if it helps, my dad’s gonna ground me for months when he hears about this.”
“And you?” enquired Chalmers.
“Yeh. He’d take the skin off my arse if this was twenty years ago. He’s always telling me how he got his hide tanned when he was a boy. I’ll get grounded too; and probably no mobile or internet either.”
Phil nodded gloomily.
“You, eh, wouldn’t maybe let us work for you for the next couple of weeks?” I asked tentatively, desperate to try to avoid a lengthy period when I’d probably not be able to meet Phil. “Free,” I added. “As a punishment.”
Chalmers looked at us steadily for several seconds and then told us to get ourselves dressed; which we did gratefully. He took us into the kitchen, sat us at the table and poured mugs of coffee while we eyed him warily, glancing at each other from time to time as we tried to assess whether or not he might be taking my suggestion seriously.
He put down his mug, leaned forward and said softly, “I realise that you both expect to be punished, because you can’t get away with behaviour of this kind.”
“But we should have known better than to come in,” I jumped in swiftly. “We knew it wasn’t right, but……well……I’m afraid we let our feelings silence our sense of what’s right and wrong.”
For several long seconds he looked into my eyes so that I cast my gaze down to the table-top; and then he rose and left the room. I glanced at Phil.
“Do you think he’s gone to ring your dad?” Phil asked.
“Oh, hell! I hope not.”
We fell silent as the sound of Chalmers returning reached our ears. He entered the kitchen; and in his right hand he held a slender cane which he placed on the table in front of us before he sat down. I eyed it warily, only having seen such a thing on TV.
“I get the impression,” he began, “that you two might not be very keen on having your fathers, or even the police, informed of this escapade; and so perhaps you might like to consider an alternative. It’s a way which has gone out of use, of course, since the cane was abolished in schools; but which I have to admit that in my younger teaching days, I found highly effective when it came to taming young lads and keeping them in line. Sitting on a throbbing, burning bottom concentrated a boy’s mind on his work to a remarkable degree.”
I shifted uneasily on my chair as my penis swelled rapidly; and I observed Phil too looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“You’re offering to cane us instead of telling our dads?” asked Phil, trying to get things absolutely clear.
“You’re what? Nineteen?” asked Chalmers.
“So, you can make your own choices. To be honest, I’d struggle to find enough work to keep the pair of you occupied for a fortnight, although I appreciate the offer of that as a way of punishing you. It seems, though, that you’d prefer an alternative to your fathers being informed and to perhaps being unable to meet each other for a while, eh, boys?”
We both went red and inclined our heads.
“Six of the best is the traditional severe punishment; and as neither of you is a schoolboy, it will be given on the bare bottom. You’ll need time to talk about it and decide, so I’ll say nothing to your parents tonight. Come back here at ten tomorrow morning and tell me if you want me to inform them; or if you’d rather be caned. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” we said in unison.
We hurried back to my house, let my parents know we were in, and dashed up to my room where we lay on the bed and had a discussion.
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
“Gut reaction’s that a caning is gonna hurt like hell; but getting grounded for weeks will hurt even more; just in a different way,” he said.
“Yeh. I don’t want to be stopped from seeing you for weeks on end. That’s gonna really, really hurt; and a caning? Shit! Schoolboys got caned and survived; surely we can. Okay, I know it’s going to be pretty horrendous, especially on the bare, but we’re nineteen; we can take it.”
“And we did want to find out what a real punishment-caning felt like,” Phil reminded me. “None of those poofy little strokes we got at the spanking-meeting.”
“Yeh! Funny how I don’t feel quite so curious about how it feels when I realise it could actually be happening for real. But, like you said, we can take it; and we might even like it,” I said.
“Right; is that it then? We’ll take the cane?”
I nodded and confirmed, “We’ll take the cane.”
We celebrated our decision with high-fives.
Somewhat nervous, but resolute, we went across to Chalmers the following morning at the appointed time. He admitted us and took us into the kitchen where we were told to sit at the table. He took the cane from a cupboard and laid it in front of us and we eyed it uneasily. Suddenly, a decision taken in the security of my room last night felt very different when faced with a nasty-looking cane in the cold light of morning. We glanced at each other and then at Chalmers.
“Well, boys? There’s the cane. Do you refuse it? Or do I use it?”
I swallowed and said as steadily as I could, “You can use it, sir.”
“Right,” he replied briskly, picking up the rod, “follow me.”
He took us into a small room, furnished as a study and told Phil to drop his jeans and pants. I watched as Phil’s fully-rounded bottom was revealed and admired it as he bent over the desk in response to Chalmers’ command. The cane was rapped several times across Phil’s buttocks, as if Chalmers was trying to decide where to hit him first. I was staring longingly at Phil’s cleft when suddenly the cane was raised high and brought down with a sharp crack across my mate’s behind. I heard him gasp and saw after a few seconds a red streak emerge on his skin. Chalmers eyed it for a little time and then hit again, hard and true, landing the cane just a short distance below the first mark. Once more I heard Phil gasp and saw his buttocks quiver as he held them taut and then slowly relaxed.
Chalmers lined up the next stroke just below the first two; and managed to hit his target accurately. From Phil a hiss of pain and a shudder of his lower body; from Chalmers a silent nod of his head as he approved his own skill. He landed the fourth a bit lower than I suspect that he intended, leaving a quite a gap between it and the previous one; but if he was disappointed in his aim, he had ample recompense in the half-stifled yelp which he forced from the beaten boy as he clenched his glutes fiercely. I watched closely, horrified and yet fascinated, as he touched his cane to that narrow band of flesh between welts three and four, paused and then hit hard. This time his aim was true and he etched a neat red mark in the gap, eliciting a squeal and a squirm from Phil as he fought his pain.
I expected the sixth stroke to cross-hatch at least some of the earlier ones, but instead Chalmers drove his cane in viciously hard to the tender flesh where Phil’s bottom merged into his upper legs. A snarling squeal was driven from him and he writhed from the waist, his knuckles white as he gripped the far edge of the desk.
“Yes,” remarked Chalmers with a self-satisfied nod, “you felt that, didn’t you, Philip?”
“Yes, sir,” Phil replied in a strangled whisper.
“Right. Go and stand at the wall, hands on your head. You, Simon, jeans and pants down and over the desk.”
I complied, telling myself to keep calm and to try to relax, because it might hurt a little less that way. As I lay in position awaiting the commencement of my punishment, I felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The cane felt cool on my skin as he rapped my behind a few times, and then I held my breath as he lifted it away. There was a moment of expectancy before the lithe rod lashed across the centre of my globes and a vicious tongue of fiery pain forced me to take in breath sharply and to clench my buttocks hard for a several seconds until the burn eased down. As with Phil, he worked his way down, laying parallel welts on my skin and forcing little gasps and yelps from me. He appeared to have managed to keep the space between the strokes neat and even and had no need to return to fill in any gap; and I was aware that he was inexorably moving towards the sensitive flesh of my crease. The fifth was very low on my bottom and drove me to squirm violently as I panted with pain. Aware that there was just one to go, I desperately struggled to get myself under control, calm, steady, ready; but he maintained the pressure mercilessly by driving in the final cut before I was prepared. As the searing blast of torrid fire scored a blazing furrow across the most tender part of my behind, I couldn’t stop my right hand leaping back and scrubbing desperately at the tortured skin. Furious with myself for letting him see that he’d got through to me, I forced my hand back to the desk’s edge and stood breathing hard as I tried to steady my quivering body.
“Over to the wall, hands on your head,” ordered Chalmers.
I obeyed, half blinded by scalding tears, and stood beside Phil.
Chalmers showed us his cane.
“Next time, I’ll make it a dozen each,” he informed us grimly. “Understand, boys?”
“Yes, sir,” we murmured together; and I for one was silently resolving that there would never be a next time.
Dismissed, we returned to my house and to our delight found that both my parents were out. We lay, bare from the waist, face-down on my bed, allowing the fierce heat to gradually ebb away from our well-thrashed bottoms. At first we compared notes about the intensity of the sting, the reactions it had forced from us, and the way we’d come through the ordeal. Once things had cooled a little we fell to licking each other’s cane-welts tenderly and repeatedly until we drove ourselves into a frenzy of need and brought each other to cataclysmic release.
It was about three weeks later and the little group of us had gathered again at Kev’s house before we returned to our various places of further education for the summer term. Cans were necked and chat was ebbing and flowing across the room when Jordan glanced at Phil and me, a mischievous grin on his face. Phil was on a chair and I was sitting on the floor between his feet.
“So,” enquired Jordan. “You pair get yourselves another spanking?”
“Ha, ha!” retorted Phil sarcastically.
“You sure?” persisted Jordan.
“Of course we’re bloody sure,” I riposted. “We wouldn’t forget a spanking.”
“It’s okay,” interjected Martin. “They’re telling the truth. They didn’t get spanked. They got caned.”
A stunned silence greeted this comment.
“How the……..” I began; and then stopped abruptly.
“Yes?” said Kev. “You weren’t going to deny it, Simon, were you? You were going to ask how he knew?”
“Look, it’s none of your bloody business,” replied Phil angrily.
“So you did get the cane?” insisted Kev.
“Yeh, okay, we got the cane, right? Satisfied? Not that it’s any of your business,” I snapped.
“Sure. Keep your hair on,” replied Kev. “But you can’t blame us for being interested. Did you like it?”
“It hurt like hell,” said Phil.
“And then some,” I added.
“That’s not what I asked you,” said Kev.
Phil and I glanced at each other and then he spoke.
“At the time it was horrendous; but the sex afterwards was outta this world; and we’ve been talking about it ever since and in a way we did like it.”
“It was exciting and challenging and fucking agony,” I added, “but all the same…….there was just something…..I dunno exactly what….but…….”
“You’ll be going to try to get another caning once you’re back at college, huh?” asked Martin. “A proper one I mean.”
“Probably,” agreed Phil as I nodded.
“Who caned you?” asked Joey.
“That’s not important,” I said, hoping to shut down the conversation.
“It was a retired teacher who’s still got his cane and likes to use it across the bare backsides of young guys who misbehave,” said Martin.
“How the hell do you……..?” I began furiously, glaring at Martin; but I was interrupted by Joey enquiring eagerly, “Bare? You got it bare-arse? Shit! I bet that stung.”
“Stung?” interjected Phil. “It didn’t bloody sting! It blazed across our behinds like forked-lightnings; vicious, searing fires!”
“Never mind that,” I said, coming back to my original point and looking squarely at Martin. “How do you know?”
Martin spread his hands. “Okay,” he said, “I set it up for you. I told Chalmers that you pair wanted to feel the cane used properly and that if his car was away on Friday evening, you’d be using his hidden key to get in. So he went out for a few hours and then came back and caught you red-handed, wanking on his rug; and then he offered you a choice of parental involvement, or a dose of his cane. He was thrilled you chose to take the cane. Said you both had fantastic arses and he really enjoyed caning them hard.”
“You deliberately arranged for us to get caught?” I gasped. “But why?”
“You said you wanted to feel what a real caning was like.”
“Well, yeh, but we weren’t really thinking about a brutal, bare-arse punishment caning like that,” I protested.
“And how come you know so much about Chalmers and can get him to do things for you?” demanded Phil.
“Ah,” replied Martin. “Didn’t I say? He’s my great-uncle.”
“I think,” said Phil, glancing at me, “that we should scrag the manipulative bastard.”
“If you hold him down,” I said, “I could leather him with my belt. I think I could get through to him.”
“Hey, hey, steady on, guys,” objected Martin. “I was trying to help you; and you did admit you kinda liked it and you’re gonna be looking for more real caning back at college; so what are you complaining about?”
“I guess,” said Phil, looking somewhat mollified.
The conversation revolved around caning for a little longer and then slid on to other things. Eventually Martin stood up and said he had to go.
“See you all in June,” he said cheerfully. “Oh, by the way, I’ve got a little treat for you and Simon, Phil. My great-uncle’s agreed to give the pair of you another caning before you go back to college. Six of his best each, bare of course.”
“What! You’ve no business……..” I began furiously.
“Ten tomorrow morning at his house,” said Martin. “He asked me to tell you that if you’re late he’ll give you eight each.”
Phil and I leapt to our feet.
“No need to thank me, guys,” said Martin as he slid out and closed the door. “Have fun,” he called as he went down the stairs.
“He can’t do this!” exploded Phil.
“We don’t need to go,” I pointed out.
There was a pause while we both stood silent, pondering, and the other guys just sat and watched us.
“Of course we’re well-brought-up boys,” I said, “and it’d be rude not to turn up when the old guy’s expecting us.”
“Yeh,” concurred Phil, “and if he’d give us eight just for being late, how many would he give us for not turning up at all?”
“But he couldn’t give you any if you didn’t turn up,” objected Joey logically.
“Shut up, Joey,” I said.
“So we’re going to get another hard caning?” asked Phil; and I nodded.
“Looks like it. That sadistic brute Martin’s really landed us in it,” I said.
“Yeh,” agreed Phil slowly. “What we gonna do about him?”
“I’ll send him an Amazon gift-token,” I said.
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.
Something rather special here. A fantastic new story from Joel. Although I can’t help wondering whether Martin has felt his great uncle’s cane too? Perhaps the author can enlighten us all?
Martin is a little reticent about his own experience with the cane, but I think I may be able to persuade him!
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Another excellent story from Joel and like Rod I am sure Martin’s great uncle would have caned him too and maybe relieved him of his inevitable excitement?
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Now, did Martin like it; or was it simply as punishment that he experienced the cane? I’ve got some idea, but will have to see what he says!
Thanks for the approval, Spockings.
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Thank you once again for a very hot and well written tale.
I was hoping that Martin would continue to tan Simon and Phil’s hides for them when they are away at college although I do suspect that they might be at different colleges.
Let’s just say that Phil and Simon weren’t the only one’s that were hard 😉
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Thanks, Khalil. I’m delighted that the story made you hard!
I think that there will be further revelations about Martin, just as soon as I can get him to tell me! Has he felt that cane? Has he used that cane? Watch this space!
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I think there is far more yet unsaid about Martin and the whole college group. Loved the twists and reveal for Simon and Phil. Great words as ever.
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Many thanks, Sukemnsee. I’m delighted that you enjoyed the twists of the story.
Martin has told me his story, but hasn’t given me permission to make it known. I’ll write it down, but will have to decide if I should risk my own behind by sending it in here anyway. My bottom versus readers’ curiosity. Which will win?
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Well Joel, I suppose if you end up with a sore bottom it might give some inspiration for another hot story! Every cloud has a silver lining.
Oh Joel, you are sticking your bottom out! Our fellow readers are undeniably curious so at great risk we wait in anticipation. One silver lining if you endure punishment is that a future story will be even more authentic based on refreshed experience. If others decide you should escape remedy, I would swallow my own pride and arrange to be spanked as atonement.
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The risks I take for my art!
If Martin does decide to take revenge if I submit his story without permission, I might well be grateful for your offer to take vicarious punishment; although Martin might not accept that.
Of course, there is a part of me that gets a buzz from being spanked/caned – so maybe letting you take a spanking would actually be a punishment for me too! Isn’t life complicated?
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Hey everyone! Martin’s story about him and his uncle and the cane has come into my hands! Joel is still trying to persuade Martin to let him make it public. Joel is understandably rather nervous, after all his arse is on the line! Watch this space…