Some Like It Hot (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A spanking hot 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!

Some Like It Hot by Joelstrap

“Who’s the guy with the divine arse?” asked Jack.

Chris looked across the crowded room, heaving with happy party-goers, and asked, “You mean the boy with the mop of blond hair?”

“Yeh, him. How the hell did he get himself into those shorts?” marvelled Jack.

“That’s Ollie. You want me to introduce you?”

“Oh yeh. He’s one sexy bugger. Those shorts are fucking obscene! I can see the outline of all his junk; and would you look at how they’re drawn into his cleft. Shit! He’s just amazing!”

Chris rolled his eyes and led Jack across the room and introduced him to Ollie. Ollie eyed the tall, curly-haired young man with the tight black-leather jeans and skin-hugging t-shirt, and liked what he saw. The two chatted and then sat down in a corner and talked some more. Next day they met at the gym and then went for a pizza together.

“You, eh, with anybody, Ollie?” enquired Jack carefully.

Ollie shook his head. “I broke up with my boyfriend a couple of weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry; well, no I’m not,” admitted Jack. “At least I’ve got a chance.”

“Yeh, maybe,” replied Ollie, “but just give me a bit of space. I’m not sure why things cooled off with Dane and I need time to think things through and sort myself out. I’ll put you on the ‘waiting-list’ though.”

“Gee, thanks! You sure know how to make a boy feel good about himself!”

“There’s nobody else on the list,” Ollie assured him quietly. “Just be patient.”

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

“Ollie’s the guy for that,” declared Jack confidently. “Hair like a sunburst, lean, smooth, boyish body; looks like an athlete.”

Jack was a member of a college-group which made short films, and he and his fellow members were discussing people to play roles in their latest project. One of the roles was a small part for a young guy to be a kind of Tarzan-like figure who races through a jungle and rescues someone. It was when this was mentioned that Jack suggested Ollie.

“Who the hell’s Ollie?” demanded Stan.

“He’s a guy I met at a party a few weeks ago,” replied Jack.

“Oh, yeh? Got into his pants yet, Jack?” said Stan.

“Shut up, or I’ll let you feel this in your pants,” threatened Jack, raising his fist.

“Okay, keep your hair on. Can we meet him?”

“I’ll get him along on Friday evening,” promised Jack

He duly did as promised and presented Ollie to his mates.

“See what I mean?” said Jack. “Stunning!”

Ollie felt his face turning scarlet and looked down at the floor.

“He’s embarrassed,” observed Jack superfluously, “but I’ve seen him, sweat-streaked after a hard workout, and he looks fantastic. Ollie’s the boy for our film.”

“Don’t I get a say?” Ollie demanded sarcastically.

“Sure,” replied Jack, “as long as you say yes.”

“Yeh, okay, I’ll do it,” Ollie replied, “but I’m not going naked.”

“Course not,” said Brett. “We’d not be allowed that; but you can just wear a thong to hold your junk, and the rest of you can be bare.”

“I don’t want people ogling my bare arse,” Ollie protested.

“Why the hell not?” said Jack. “It’s a fucking brilliant arse.”

“Oh, yeh? You been checking me out in the showers?” Ollie asked.

“You bet I have. Best-looking, sexiest arse I’ve seen this year.”

“Right,” said Brett, “now we’ve established that Ollie’s got a divine bum, can we get on? The script’s finished, so we’re gonna meet again on Saturday morning to read it and work out how we’re gonna act it out; okay, guys?”

They all nodded agreement and the meeting broke up.

They worked at their parts, rehearsed and reached a pretty good standard and felt they were ready to begin filming. They didn’t have a jungle of course, but decided to make use of the wilder areas of a local park. All the same, Brett who was producing the film became increasingly unhappy that it just didn’t look realistic.

“It’s bloody obvious it’s not a jungle and they’re just rhododendrons,” he moaned.

They all agreed, but couldn’t see what else they could do.

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

Ollie and Jack were out running after a workout at the gym. They made their way round the perimeter of the local park and then along the river to the botanic-gardens. It was early June and the sun was hot. Sweat-lathered and panting, Jack flopped down on a bench for a rest and Ollie joined him.

“Would you look at him!” said Jack, giving Ollie a nudge and indicating a young guy sitting gazing at his mobile on a bench a short distance away on the opposite side of the path.

Ollie’s penis rose swiftly in his shorts and he surreptitiously made adjustments. The guy was gorgeous, close to six feet, broad of shoulder and slim of waist, his dark-red hair close-cropped, skin sun-bronzed, a trace of growth along his chin and upper lip. Ollie was enchanted. Jack was watching him closely.

“You trying to make me jealous?” he enquired.

“No; but you’re the one who pointed him out,” said Ollie.

“Well, he is pretty sexy,” admitted Jack.

The young man got to his feet and headed off up a path leading towards a group of of interconnected hothouses, of whose existence Ollie had been aware, but he’d never had any reason to go into.

“Come on,” said Jack, “let’s follow him and get a closer look at that brilliant arse of his.”

They followed the young man and he entered the hothouses.

“Shit! No money. We can’t go in,” exclaimed Jack.

“It’s free,” said Ollie, nodding towards a sign.

They plunged in and then paused for a few seconds as the heat hit them. Outside it had been hot in the sun, but here the air was humid as well. Ollie caught sight of the young guy heading along a wet stone path through a jungle of tropical-plants which towered above his head. They kept far enough back not to be seen to be following and were just in time to see the guy disappearing through a door marked ‘Staff Only’.

Ollie stopped and wiped sweat from his face.

“Shit!” he swore softly. “He must work here.”

“Ah, well,” said Jack philosophically. “Let’s have a look round while we’re here.”

They padded through what felt like a tropical jungle, dripping with water. Around and high above their heads huge plants with massive leaves seemed to enfold them and the warm, humid air made beads of sweat break out on their faces.

“Hey! I got a brilliant idea,” said Ollie. “This would be the perfect place to do the bit of the film with me running through the jungle.”

“We’d never get permission,” said Jack.

They walked on and then they espied an iron spiral-stair. Half hidden behind foliage, it rose to where Ollie could see the underside of a small platform high up near the apex of the roof. Ollie stared at it and concluded that it was so that people could see the plants and trees from above. Eager to climb up, he made for the foot of the stair, but an iron gate closed it off, and on the bars was a notice which proclaimed: “Stair Closed”.

“That could be the answer,” said Ollie. “Keep watch while I have a quick look.”

He climbed over the low gate and ran swiftly up to the landing at the top. He lay flat on the iron floor and peered down through the greenery. He could catch tiny glimpses of the path far below, but that was all. To anyone beneath, he’d be invisible. It would be easy enough to come up here and hide shortly before the glass-house was closed for the day; and then when all the staff had gone, he could go down and open the door to admit the two or three guys needed to do the filming.

“Well?” demanded Jack when he came down.

Ollie explained his plan and Jack conceded that it could work.

Later they contacted the others and agreed to try it, deciding to choose a wet evening when there were less likely to be people wandering around the gardens outside and who might see the group being admitted by Ollie.

On the following Tuesday, with rain forecast to start in mid-afternoon and to continue well into the night, they agreed to put the plan into operation. They kept numbers to the essential minimum – Ollie and Stan who were to be acting in this brief part of the film, Brett as director and Mike as the cameraman. Mike’s flat was nearest to the gardens and so they met there in late afternoon and Ollie made his way to the glass-house about an hour before closing-time. He concealed himself without difficulty, waited for some minutes after the hothouses were closed and until all was silent and still, and then called Mike on his mobile, telling him to come now, with the other two.

Ollie trotted down the stair and headed along a wet stone path through towering plants, towards a rear-door. He knew it would take the others at least fifteen minutes to get here so he was in no hurry. He rounded a corner and almost bumped into the gorgeous young red-haired guy whom he’d been following a few days before. He was standing with arms folded, barring the way.

“Oh!” said Ollie.

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” he enquired.

“I….er…that is, I was……oh, shit!”

“Well, you’re right about the shit, mate, because you’re in it right up to your neck,” he said. “But first, I’m Steve. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Ollie. I saw you a few days ago when I was out for a run in the park; and you’re so fucking sexy that I followed you in here so maybe I could get to talk to you; but you went into the staff-area and I couldn’t go any further,” blurted out Ollie.

Steve looked momentarily stunned and then enquired carefully, “You got yourself locked in so you could meet me? Bullshit!”

“Yeh, okay, that was bullshit. The reason I got locked in I mean; not the bit about following you the other day,” confessed Ollie.

“Right,” said Steve, looking slightly crestfallen. “You got a hell of a nice arse,” he added.

“Bullshit?” asked Ollie, raising his eyebrows.

“Straight up,” insisted Steve. “So, you gonna explain what you’re doing here if it’s not to get into my pants?”

Ollie shifted nervously from foot to foot and then made a decision. He told Steve exactly why he was there.

“You’re in bloody hot water, mate. You’ve no right to be in here and no business letting your pals in to do illicit filming. So, for starters, if you want to keep them out of this, call your mates right now and send them home.”

Ollie hesitated for a few seconds and then pulled out his phone and told Mike to abort operations and return to the flat and he’d join them later and explain.

“So, you gonna call the police?” asked Ollie.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well of course I don’t fucking want you to!”

“Okay; don’t get you pants in a knot. But you’re not getting away with behaviour like this,” Steve informed him grimly.

“Fair enough,” replied Ollie. “I shouldn’t be here and I deserve to be punished. Suppose I come and work here for free every weekend for a month?”

“And me have all the work of supervising you, finding you stuff to do, squaring it with my boss, who probably wouldn’t agree anyway? No way, chum.”

“Well, what do you suggest then,” demanded Ollie.

“I’m going to cane you.”

“Cane me? With a cane?”

“That’s the usual way to cane a boy,” retorted Steve sarcastically.

“I mean….well yeh, okay, I know what a cane is; but no way can you beat me,” declared Ollie.

“Oh, I can beat you all right; and I’m going to; hard!”

“Please, no!” pleaded Ollie.

“You’re getting caned,” declared Steve. “Now shut up and do as you’re told.”

Ollie considered. He was under no illusions that a caning from Steve would be easy to take. This would be punishment and Steve wouldn’t be holding back; but on the other hand, he didn’t want to get involved with the authorities. He was also aware that his penis was interested and was wrestling with his mind for the mastery.

“Where are you gonna do it?” he asked submissively.

“On your bare arse.”

“Yeh; I mean where about?”

“Right here; and right now. You wanted some action in a jungle-setting, didn’t you? Well, I’m gonna go wild with a cane, raise your arse to tropical heat, make you writhe like a snake, and cure you of any monkey-business in future,” declared Steve.

Ollie rolled his eyes.

“Strip!” ordered Steve.

Ollie took a deep breath and removed all his clothing except his briefs. He put his hands to the waistband and then hesitated.

“Them too,” ordered Steve. “That’s the bit of you I need to get my cane to work on; and I don’t want anything in the way to reduce the sting.”

Ollie slid down his briefs and stepped out of them. Steve noticed that he was more than semi-erect.

“You think you’ll be able to keep that once I start beating you?” he enquired with a grin.

“How should I know? Nobody ever beat me before.”

“If I’d had any say in it,” observed Steve, “I’d have been giving you a good hard thrashing once a week starting on your sixteenth birthday.”

“What? But I’m eighteen! That would be over a hundred beatings already,” objected Ollie.

“So? You’re the kind of boy who needs it.”

“Says you.”

“Stop wasting time. Just wait here a minute.”

Steve disappeared into the staff-area and returned with a stool and a cane.

“Come on; we’ll go into the centre of the hot-house where you’ll really feel you’re in the middle of the jungle. I’m looking forward to going really wild with my cane.”

Ollie scowled but followed Steve along the hot, wet path through the vegetation to a place where it did indeed feel as if they were in the heart of a jungle. Sweat trickled down Ollie’s face in the hot, humid air.

“What are you doing with a fucking cane anyway?” enquired Ollie.

“It’s for beating bad boys with,” said Steve with a grin. “You’re not the only boy around who wants his arse thrashed.”

“But I don’t want my arse thrashed!” protested Ollie.

“That’ll be right,” retorted Steve, rolling his eyes. “You’ve just asked me to cane you.”

“I didn’t! You just told me you were gonna cane me anyway!”

“Shut up, Ollie!”

Ollie looked slightly mutinous, but said no more.

“I keep the cane in the hothouse,” explained Steve conversationally, “because the damp atmosphere gives it a bit of extra weight and makes it nice and pliant. That’s so it moulds itself better to your bare arse, plenty of cane-to-skin contact. That way it hurts more,” he added.

“Very sadistic,” said Ollie. “Why do I have to be naked? You’re gonna cane my arse, right?”

“Yes.”

“So I could have kept my shirt on.”

“No you couldn’t. I need to be able to see your tits so I can tell if you’re excited.”

“That’s perverted!” objected Ollie.

Steve shrugged.

“Do I look like I care?” he asked.

“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you, you bastard?” said Ollie angrily.

“With an arse like yours to cane, what’s not to enjoy?” retorted Steve. “Now get yourself bent over with your hands on that stool.”

Ollie gave him a sullen stare for a few seconds and then obeyed. Steve kicked his feet further apart. Ollie looked along his side and glared at him.

“You got a very expressive face,” remarked Steve. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like once I start caning you. I wonder if I can make you cry.”

“No,” said Ollie loudly.

“I’m going to try,” Steve warned him.

“Try all you like,” retorted Ollie.

Steve smiled and laid the cane along the centre of Ollie’s bottom, observing the sudden tension which sprang into the boy’s lithe body as he registered the fact that the start of his beating was imminent. Steve rapped the taut skin several times, allowing the pressure of anxious anticipation to build in the waiting youngster; and then he hit hard and accurately. Ollie felt a fiery streak of pain ripping across his bottom and he clenched his muscles as he processed the vicious sting. It had hurt more than he expected, but to his surprise there seemed to be a direct link between his throbbing behind and his penis, because it stiffened further. He tightened his grip on the edges of the stool, forced himself to breathe steadily, and waited.

The second stroke landed just below the first; and he had barely begun to deal with the pain when the third lashed him a bare couple of millimetres lower down. Ollie bucked and yelped. Steve rubbed his groin, feeling his own rampant organ inside his shorts, and watched Ollie coping with the sting.

“Feeling it?” he enquired.

Ollie ignored him. Steve suddenly reached through between Ollie’s legs from behind and grasped his balls hard with strong fingers. Ollie gasped aloud and rose on to his toes.

“Feeling it?” Steve repeated quietly; and his fingers tightened a little round Ollie’s testicles.

“Yes,” panted Ollie.

“Good,” replied Steve. “I always like to feel that I’m getting through to a boy when I cane him.”

“Well, you are,” said Ollie.

Steve relaxed his fingers and as he drew his hand back between Ollie’s legs, he allowed his forefinger to slide slowly along the lips of Ollie’s anus, making the boy’s penis jump. Steve settled his own demanding organ and then laid the cane warningly on Ollie’s rump, just below the welt raised by the third stroke. Ollie steadied himself and waited. Steve lashed him with the slender rod, whipping it at the moment of impact to intensify the sting, and was gratified to see Ollie writhe violently with a squeal of protest. His right hand flew round and scrubbed desperately at the tormented flesh.

Steve went to Ollie’s head, grabbed an ear and twisted it brutally hard, forcing Ollie to look up into his face.

“You don’t rub your bottom in the middle of a caning,” Steve told him. “Don’t you know anything?”

“How the hell should I know?” retorted Ollie with spirit. “Nobody ever caned me before.”

“That’s insolence, boy,” said Steve.

Ollie looked defiantly into his eyes.

“I’m going to repeat the stroke to punish you for rubbing your arse; and you’re getting an extra penalty stroke as well to teach you not to be insolent,” declared Steve.

Ollie absorbed this information in silence. Steve watched his pain-contorted features for a few seconds and then released his ear and returned to his position behind the boy. Ollie tensed himself in readiness. Steve drove in his cane ferociously hard. Ollie squirmed and squealed; but his hands remained firmly clamped to the stool. He was breathing hard as fiery pain lanced savagely across his bottom, and, even as he strove to ready himself, the penalty-stroke was thrashed into him forcing from him a desperate howl as he twisted and writhed and clenched.

Steve watched him closely, stroking the throbbing erection in his own shorts; and then he went forward and ran his hand over Ollie’s welt-scored buttocks, eliciting a gasp of pain. Steve’s hand slid once more between Ollie’s legs from behind and, passing over the heavy balls in their nest of hair, grasped the boy’s semi-erect penis, bringing it almost at once to full length.

“Not managed to get rid of that for you yet, I see,” he remarked conversationally. “But you are feeling it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Ollie in a tight voice.

“That’s six you’ve had,” continued Steve. “Four, plus a repeat and a penalty. Which means there’s two more to go to complete the traditional six of the best. Think you can take it, Ollie?”

Ollie was silent.

“Too much for you?” suggested Steve.

“I’ve told you,” retorted Ollie venomously. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a fucking caning before.”

Steve looked respectfully at the boy. He was in a lot of pain, but his cock was bounding and he certainly hadn’t been defeated. He went to Ollie’s head and showed him the cane, which Ollie eyed balefully but without saying anything. Steve smiled to himself, took up his position once more behind the lad and meted out a ferocious stroke low on his crease. Ollie yelped, bucked violently, and kicked out automatically, catching Steve’s wrist with his foot.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, kicking me?” demanded Steve angrily.

“Well, keep out of the fucking way!” snapped Ollie. “You should know how a boy might react when he’s being caned!”

“Still insolent,” observed Steve; and he suddenly lashed his cane hard into the centre of Ollie’s bottom, firing a couple of the earliest welts and forcing a snarling yowl from the squirming youngster.

“What did you get that for?” he asked.

“Being insolent,” replied Ollie.

“And have I cured you?”

“You wish!”

“You realise that was another penalty-stroke, and that you’re getting number 5 again because you kicked me, don’t you?” said Steve.

“Yes,” replied Ollie sullenly. “Get on with it.”

Steve grinned broadly and rearranged his massive arousal before lining up his cane to deliver the next stroke at an angle across the three lowest welts on Ollie’s behind. He watched the boy tense in readiness and he made him wait, enjoying his instinctive flinches when he did a couple of practice-swings which made the air wince. Ollie was quivering and panting and a sheen of sweat glistened on his bare back. He waited;

and when Steve wielded the cane and detonated an explosion of searing pain in his flesh, he partly stifled his cry by biting down hard on the edge of the stool while his lower body leapt and shuddered. Steve stroked his erection and then, as he felt an impending orgasm, pressed firmly on his perineum to halt it in its tracks. He allowed several seconds to slip past while he got himself in hand and also because he enjoyed making Ollie wait.

Finally he raised the cane, took careful aim, and lashed it ferociously hard into the underside of Ollie’s buttocks, so that it landed partly on an earlier weal. Ollie yelped and bucked and then stood, every muscle in high tension, glues quivering, panting with pain as sweat trickled in rivulets over his skin.

The fierce tension slowly ebbed from Ollie’s body and his breathing steadied. Steve stepped forward and ruffled his hair. Ollie’s penis, which had gone into retreat, came roaring back. Steve ran his hand over Ollie’s buttocks and remarked, “You’re kinda hot down there.”

“It’s a hothouse,” riposted Ollie. “Of course I’m fucking hot!”

“Not beaten yet, I see,” said Steve.

“It feels like I’ve been beaten,” replied Ollie.

“Stand up.”

Ollie stood slowly and felt his way cautiously over his buttocks with splayed fingers, wincing as he touched sensitive flesh.

“That fucking hurt,” he accused, looking into Steve’s eyes.

“But you’re still hard as a concrete pillar,” observed Steve.

“It still hurt!”

“Next time I cane you,” said Steve, “you’ll maybe have learnt not to touch your bottom; and not to be insolent; and six of the best might actually be just six.”

“Next time?”

“Same time on Saturday evening,” replied Steve.

“You really think you’re gonna beat me with that cane again in just four days’ time?”

“Sure I am! I can’t wait. Don’t you be late or you’ll get extra,” he warned.

Ollie shook his head and then, on Steve’s orders, returned to where he’d left his clothes and dressed himself. Steve unlocked the rear-door and Ollie made to go out.

“Well, where’s your bloody manners?” demanded Steve.

“Huh?”

“I’ve very generously given you my time and skill to let you have your first caning. Haven’t you anything to say to me?”

“Er…thank you,” stammered Ollie.

“That’s better,” replied Steve. “I’m sure that your mum brought you up to express gratitude when someone does something for you.”

“She never told me to say thank you when a vicious brute beat the living fuck out of me,” riposted Ollie hotly.

“You’re showing signs of insolence again, Ollie.”

“And you’re showing signs of sadism,” replied Ollie.

“Next time,” promised Steve with a broad grin, “I’ll show you some more signs.”

Ollie rolled his eyes and strode out of the hothouse and through the gardens towards Mike’s flat to explain what had happened.

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

Naked in his bed that night, Ollie lay on his face. He had just wanked off copiously, but already his penis was rock-hard beneath him again. He reached back behind him and felt his way with both hands over the ridges on his bottom, flinching from time to time as his probing fingers touched a sensitive spot. In his head he was re-living on an endless loop the caning Steve had given him. He remembered the ferocious sting, the searing blaze of fire when the rod lashed his crease, the writhe-inducing, squeal-extracting burn of the cross-hatching strokes, and the punishments he’d had to endure. He rolled on to his side and relieved pent-up feelings once again.

Wriggling into a comfortable position on his front once more, he thought about Steve. Just visualising his dark skin, close-cropped red hair and lean, hard body brought the blood surging into Ollie’s irrepressible young organ yet again. Ollie wondered that he felt no anger or resentment towards Steve although he’d beaten him so hard; indeed, he felt only an unexpected respect for the guy who hadn’t been afraid to use his cane to such powerful effect on Ollie’s bare buttocks. And he’d asked Ollie to return for a repeat performance in a few days’ time. No! He’d told him to return. Not that he had to go, of course.

Ollie considered as he caressed his behind gently. Steve seemed so sure that he’d go back; but why would he subject himself to a thrashing like that again? What he’d received earlier had been punishment and had saved him from a lot worse trouble if his illicit presence in the hothouse had been reported. To return wouldn’t be to receive punishment for anything he’d done wrong; it would simply be because he wanted to be caned again.

And why the hell, thought Ollie, would I want to be beaten with that vicious cane again? That beating was blazing hot.

Over the next day or two he thought repeatedly about going back to be caned again by Steve. There was something exciting about the idea and yet he was nervous about the pain involved. On an impulse he went to the Botanical Gardens one afternoon shortly before they closed and tracked down Steve.

“Hi! Couldn’t keep away, huh?” Steve greeted him.

“If I come back on Saturday,” said Ollie, “it’s not gonna be a punishment like last week, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” agreed Steve.

“So you won’t be hitting me so hard?”

“Eh? Where did you get that idea? I’ll be hitting you harder,” Steve assured him.

“Harder? But why?”

“Because I want to. You’ve got a great arse, Ollie-boy, and I enjoyed beating it; and so if I beat it harder, I’ll enjoy it more,” explained Steve.

“And if you beat it harder, I’ll enjoy it less,” objected Ollie.

“So?”

“Well, don’t my feelings count for anything?”

“No,” said Steve.

“But it’s my arse!” Ollie protested.

“Not when I’m beating it, it’s not,” asserted Steve. “Then it’s mine; and I decide how long and how hard I’m gonna cane it.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re a savage bastard?” enquired Ollie.

“Yeh; or words to that effect,” said Steve. “You never met a brute like me before, Ollie?”

“I never met a guy who beat the shit outta me like you did. Dane, my last boyfriend wanted to spank me,” he added.

“What do you mean, he wanted to spank you?”

“Well, he asked if he could spank me?”

“Why the hell would he do that? And why didn’t he spank you?” demanded Steve.

“I said no,” replied Ollie.

“So?”

“So he didn’t spank me.”

“You said no when I told you I was gonna cane you, but I still gave you a fucking hard caning,” said Steve.

Ollie rubbed his bottom.

“Mmmm,” he said thoughtfully.

“And you’re getting another one on Saturday.”

“I’m still thinking about it,” said Ollie.

“When I tell you that I’m gonna beat you,” said Steve firmly, “you don’t think about it. You turn up when you’re told and you bloody well take a beating. Now fuck off; I’ve got work to do.”

He turned away and left Ollie staring after him in angry confusion.

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

Ollie hadn’t told the others about the caning. He’d simply explained that he’d been caught and was lucky to get away without the police being called; and that they’d have to film Ollie’s part using the rhododendrons after all. He pondered telling Jack the truth, because he was getting increasingly friendly with Jack and was starting to feel that he was almost ready to let Dane go completely and begin a new relationship. He decided not to mention it yet. Maybe after he’d gone back to be caned again.

Now when, thought Ollie to himself, did I decide I was going back to let that sadistic brute beat the fuck out of my arse again?

He gave himself a shake. He was on his way very early on that Saturday morning so that they could film his brief part as he raced, near-nude through the rhododendrons. It didn’t take long and, once the filming was completed, they retired to Mike’s flat.

“Now,” said Jack, looking at Ollie with a broad grin, “are you gonna tell us how you come to have the clear marks of a caning on your arse?”

“What!” gasped Ollie; and then the truth dawned.

He’d completely forgotten that there were still fading marks from the cane on his bottom from Tuesday evening, and the others had seen them as he pranced about, wearing nothing but a leather thong, for the filming.

“I…er…..oh, shit! Look, I wasn’t being quite truthful when I told you about getting caught in the hothouse. The guy who caught me, Steve, agreed not to report me; but I got caned instead.”

“Cool,” said Jack.

“It was bloody hot!” declared Ollie.

“This…Steve, did you say his name was….can’t do that to you!” said Brett.

“Looks like he did,” observed Jack.

“Okay. Just forget it,” said Ollie. “It’s done. I didn’t get reported. I’m not complaining. End of story.”

“But it’s on our film,” said Stan.

There was a silence as this awkward truth sank into the lads’ minds.

“Okay; we’ll just have to do it again next Saturday,” said Mike. “The marks will have gone by then.”

Ollie just nodded; but his brain was racing. How long would cane-marks take to fade completely? If he had to have a pristine arse for the following Saturday, did he dare get another thrashing from Steve this evening? As he and Jack walked together back to Jack’s flat, Ollie was quiet.

“You’re not a very cheerful bunny,” observed Jack as they sat in the kitchen of his flat.

Ollie shrugged.

“So what did it feel like to be caned, Ollie?” he asked.

“What do you think it felt like? Fucking agonising!”

“Yeh. Steve can wield a mean cane,” said Jack.

“Tell me about it,” agreed Ollie. “The way he whips it into that sensitive bit where…….hey, back up a bit! How do you know about Steve’s cane?” demanded Ollie.

“I’ve had it a few times,” said Jack placidly. “Stings like the blazes; but I still go back for more when he tells me to. You going back, Ollie?”

“I haven’t definitely decided yet if I ………..how come Steve canes you?”

“I found him on a web-site a few months ago. I always wanted to find out what a caning felt like; and he obliged. It’s exciting. Hurts like hell, but I still want it,” admitted Jack.

Ollie stared at him.

“You really like it?” he asked.

“It’s tough, but, yeh, I want it and I need it. I dunno why; but I do,” admitted Jack. “So, Ollie lad, you are going back tonight aren’t you?”

“How do you know Steve told me to go back tonight?” asked Ollie curiously.

“You said so.”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even say I was told to go back. What’s going on, Jack?”

“Look, you got an absolutely divine arse, Ollie, and that’s what drove me to get Chris to introduce me to you at that party,” said Jack.

“What’s that got to do with it?” demanded Ollie.

“Oh! Sorry! I thought that was obvious. An arse like yours is just begging to be thrashed and so I wanted to give you a chance to find out if you wanted to be beaten,” elucidated Jack.

“What the bloody hell are you blethering about?!” snapped Ollie.

“So I got you to run with me into the Botanical Gardens and pointed out Steve to you when we sat on the bench for a breather; and persuaded you that we should follow him and see where he went – not that you needed much encouragement – and relied on your natural intelligence to see the potential of the hothouses for our film; and then…….”

“Are you saying,” interrupted Ollie, “that you and Steve set me up? You made sure he’d be in the garden at that time that day? He deliberately led us into the hothouse? And then you told him when I’d be there to let you lot in, and so he caught me?”

“Er, yeh,” said Jack.

“And you knew he’d beat the living fuck out of me?”

“Er, yeh,” said Jack.

Ollie stood up and gazed down at Jack, his fists balled, his body tense.

“Now, calm down, Ollie.”

“I am calm!”

Ollie suddenly leaned forward and grabbed Jack’s ears, twisting them hard so that the boy yelped in pain.

“Come on, Ollie! That hurts! Let go…….please!”

“Treating me like that,” declared Ollie, “has consequences.”

He brought his right foot up swiftly to land on Jack’s balls, pressing them hard as Jack was trapped against the back of the chair. Jack gasped.

“Ollie!”

Ollie brought his face close to Jack’s; and kissed him firmly on the mouth. He didn’t stop and gradually he felt Jack respond. Soon the pair were fathoms deep in a passionate embrace. Ollie released Jack’s ears, drew him to his feet, slid his arms around him and kissed him with growing intensity. It was some considerable time before they surfaced.

“Wow!” panted Jack. “What the fuck was that?”

“I warned you,” said Ollie. “The way you treated me has consequences.”

“I like the consequences. I take it you’re ready to get a bit more intimate, huh Ollie?”

“Er, yeh! You turn me on big-style. But there’s another problem,” said Ollie. “If I go back to meet Steve tonight, I might still have marks by next Saturday when we’re supposed to be doing the filming again.”

“Nah,” said Jack, “they should have faded completely by then; and if they haven’t then we’ll just have to tell the guys the truth and get you in something that covers your arse too.”

“Okay.”

“So, you’re going back for another dose of the cane later, eh Ollie?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, you’re used to getting caned by Steve, so I want you to come with me and I’ll ask Steve to thrash you for manipulating me so shamelessly,” said Ollie. “I think I’ll enjoy watching him put some nice hot welts on your bare arse.”

“You’re a bloody sadist, you know that?” demanded Jack.

“And then after Steve’s caned me too, maybe we can come back here and explore some more consequences.”

“You mean, you’re ready to let me get my hands on your junk, Ollie?”

“Yeh. I’m ready. In fact I’m flaming hot for you.”

“Of course, Steve was involved in manipulating you too, you know,” said Jack.

“Yeh, but he’s a Dom. He can do that with impunity.”

“And because he’s a Dom, I don’t think you can just tell him to cane me,” said Jack.

“I said I was going to ask him. I’ll do it quietly, politely, respectfully,” replied Ollie.

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

Ollie explained concisely why he had brought Jack along with him and asked very politely if Steve would please cane him hard.

“Okay,” agreed Steve. “I’ll cane him for you. I don’t usually just do what guys tell me or ask me though.”

“I understand,” said Ollie. “I know that you do the telling; and that’s why I’m back to get my own caning from you; because you told me to come.”

“You learn fast, young Ollie,” observed Steve with a grin.

He ordered Jack to strip and bend over with his hands on the stool. Ollie admired Jack’s neatly-formed, taut buttocks, and slid a hand into the front of his shorts. He watched the sexy and powerful Steve wielding the cane, and he watched Jack bucking and squirming and clenching as he absorbed his pain. As the cane-strokes fell, Ollie struggled harder and harder to keep his boy-cream penned in his balls, but the sight of Jack’s sweat-streaked body reacting to the lash of the rod, the sound of his yelps and squeals as the fierce sting got through to him, coupled with the thrilling sight of Steve driving in his lithe cane with full intent, all became too much for his self-control. He tried desperately to press on his perineum and hold back the flood, but it was too late. He put his head back and moaned as spurt after spurt of his spunk soaked into his shorts.

Steve completed Jack’s six of the best and told him to stand up. Jack did so and pressed his hands to his thrashed buttocks, eyes closed, a look of mingled pain and ecstasy on his face. Steve looked at Ollie.

“Did I say that you could cum?” he enquired.

“No,” replied Ollie. “I tried not to,” he added.

“You didn’t try hard enough, did you, Ollie?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll need to learn. I’m going to let you feel what I do to boys who can’t control themselves,” said Steve. “Strip for the cane, Ollie.”

Ollie stripped and adopted the position, bent over with his hands on the stool, his feet wide apart. Steve rapped his cane several times on Ollie’s bottom and then hit hard and accurately just where his bottom merged into tops of his legs. Ollie squealed and squirmed, but kept his hands determinedly on the stool. Another stroke landed barely a cane-width lower and forced a similar reaction. Ollie gritted his teeth, steadied himself and breathed deeply. The third stroke came at a slight angle, crossing the welts raised on his skin by each of the previous two cuts. Ollie uttered a snarling yelp and writhed; and then settled again. Steve reached through between the boy’s legs from behind and Ollie’s semi-erect penis rose swiftly to full length.

“Randy young buck, aren’t you, Ollie?”

Ollie was silent.

“It takes more than a hard caning to tame your junk, doesn’t it?”

Ollie gave a slight shrug.

“Why did you get that, Ollie?”

“To punish me for cumming without permission,” Ollie replied submissively.

“And have you learnt?”

“I’ve learnt,” said Ollie. “I don’t want you to do that to me again.”

“Right. Now it’s time for the caning you came here for tonight. Not punishment-force like the last three. Just eight firm strokes to work you and hopefully to excite you as well,” said Steve.

“Eight?” queried Ollie. “You only gave Jack six.”

“Eight,” confirmed Steve, showing Ollie the cane. “I decide who gets what; and if I choose to give Jack six and you sixty, that’s up to me. You want to complain?”

“No,” replied Ollie.

As promised, the strokes were firmly delivered, each subjecting Ollie to a fierce sting which he rode with gasps, sharp intakes of breath and an occasional half-stifled yelp. Steve concentrated them fully on Ollie’s buttocks, sparing the sensitive band where the punishment had been given. After the seventh, Steve reached through again between Ollie’s legs and found the boy fully aroused.

“Impressive,” he remarked, making Ollie flush with pleasure. “But I’m gonna make you feel the last one a lot more, because I want you to remember it.”

“I’m not gonna forget this,” Ollie assured him.

The cane probed the area where the punishment had landed and Ollie tensed himself in readiness. Steve drove in the rod hard just below that tender, welt-scored band of flesh and Ollie felt a searing blast of pain which made him yowl and give a violent kick before he clenched his glutes desperately. As the blazing burn eased down, the savage tension in his body relaxed a little. Steve ruffled his hair. It was a sign of approval and Ollie knew it. From deep within him there welled up a powerful wave of euphoria.

“You can stand up and rub your arse,” said Steve.

Ollie rose slowly and pressed careful palms to his throbbing bottom, exploring gently with his finger-pads.

“You’ve not half made a mess of me,” he said, glancing at Steve from beneath his sunburst of fair hair.

Steve took a step towards him and looked straight into his eyes, arching the cane in front of Ollie’s face.

“You wouldn’t be complaining, would you, Ollie?” asked Steve quietly.

“No,” replied Ollie.

“The flesh of a healthy young buck like you recovers very fast,” observed Steve. “A few days and all you’ll be able to see will be some faint marks. Your arse will be fine when you come back next Saturday so I can beat you again.”

Ollie continued to caress his fire-blasted globes in silence.

“Right, you pair, let me see what you can do together,” said Steve, summoning Jack over.

“You mean we can get each other off…here..?” asked Jack.

“Right now?” panted Ollie, eagerly seeking clarification.

“Here and now,” confirmed Steve, “and if you don’t put on a good show for me, I’ll beat the living fuck out of both of you again.”

Jack at once knelt behind Ollie and began to lick his cane-welts while Ollie gasped and then dropped to his knees and swung round to take Jack into his arms. For a long time they kissed and then stroked and licked each other’s welts and fondled each other’s genitals until each was quivering on the verge of release.

“Get on with it!” urged Steve, his own hand working at his throbbing organ which he’d released from the confines of his shorts.

Within seconds eager hands and tongues were working frenziedly and copious quantities of boy-cream were spurting freely. Eventually the pair lay side by side on their backs on the warm, wet floor of the hothouse, sated and content.

“So you two are definitely together then,” said Steve as he massaged his own spunk into his chest.

Two pairs of shining eyes glanced shyly at each other and then at Steve.

“Yes,” the boys replied in unison.

“I’ll look forward to beating the pair of you together next Saturday then,” said Steve. “I think I’ll really enjoy it.”

Ollie and Jack rolled their eyes, but neither made any objection.

“And you won’t think about going back to that lukewarm boyfriend who wouldn’t give you a spanking whether you agreed or not, will you, Ollie?”

“Definitely not,” Ollie assured him.

“Yeh. He’s like me; needs a good tanning to get him really excited,” said Jack, “and then he’s a fucking firecracker!”

Steve flexed his slim cane slowly as the boys watched and a couple of eager young penises rose sharply.

Ollie glanced down at his towering organ and then up at Steve.

“I know what I need now,” he admitted. “Some like it hot.”

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

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 Joelstrap, used here by very kind permission.

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Joelstrap’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link