Student Discount (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

To kick off New Year, here’s a brand spanking new corporal punishment story by Rod Cayenne.  This story is currently exclusive to The Canery.  All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!

Student Discount by Rod Cayenne

I loved being a student.  Really, really loved it.  I had some great times, and some not so good.  I was pretty young and naive.  I hadn’t had many experiences sexually and so what happened to me was completely unexpected.  Let me tell you all about it.

In my first year, I was fortunate enough to get a room in the Halls of Residence.  It was almost a taste of luxury and really helped me with my studies.  But after that year, my entitlement to such modern accommodation ended.  As a second year student of nineteen, I had to find my own digs in the big, bad city.  With my friend Paul, we were lucky enough to find a couple of rooms in a suitable place.  That old house was a bit of a wreck, to be honest.  But boy, was it ever cheap!  Rent was just four pounds per week.  Not much, in the scheme of things.

We soon discovered that four pounds was the maximum we could pay as our landlord, Mr Patel,  offered a reduction for “naughty boys”.  When I first heard about it, I assumed he wanted to bum us, which would have been illegal as the age of consent for homosexual sex was then 21.  However, a less than discreet chat with Nick, a long-term lodger at the student house, soon put me right.  “No, it’s not that.  He waives or reduces the rent if you agree to him spanking you, generally once or twice a month.  That’s his little kink.  I was used to a bit of corporal punishment after my grammar school days, and found it was no big deal.  Sometimes I’m over his lap for a long hand smacking.  Other times the slipper, strap or plimsoll.  Less often it’s the cane, which is still hard to take quietly to be frank, even though I’ve had it often enough in the past.  But I took him up on the offer, as four quid is four quid.  That buys a lot of beer or smokes.”

“Yes, I see.  But what about your pride and dignity?” I asked.

“I can live without those for four quid a week extra in my pocket.  The pain’s not too bad, except for the cane.  Everyone has their price.  And there’s no hanky panky, just spanky.”

“So, no sex.   That’s good.  Does he get an erection, though?”

“Well, I should have said, it’s usually a bare arse job for us lads.  Even if it starts off on trousers or pants, they always come down in the end.  But an erection?  No I’ve never seen him stiff, or felt him have one when I’ve been over his lap.  He seems pretty sexless, and maybe impotent.”

“What does Mrs. Patel think of all this then?”

“He’s a widower.  Didn’t you know?”

“No, I didn’t.  Poor fella.  That explains it all.  Suppose he has to get his jollies somehow.”

“Save your sympathy.  He doesn’t deserve it really.  He’s a pervert.  No other word for it.  He’s a common or garden perv.  Lives with his uncle, who is even worse.  That uncle’s one to avoid as he really is a bum bandit, and is built like a brick shithouse too.  There might be something going on between those two.  That uncle propositioned me once.  He was after more than some spanking fun and quite shameless about it too.  He didn’t offer me anything for it, either.”

“Mmm.  A bit mean, that.”

“Too right!  Who does he think he is?  Or rather, what does he think I am?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that point, “Maybe he thinks you’re a common prostitute?”

“Hey now, that’s not fair.  As I said there’s no sex between me and Patel.”

“No, but he is paying for your company.”

“Oh, maybe he is in a roundabout sort of way.”

“So, I’m right!”

“Hey, leave it out will you?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.  I’m just shocked by all of this.”

“Well, don’t be.  He offers everyone a discount in exchange.  I’m on the 100% discount scheme!”

“So when did you last get whacked by him?”

“Yesterday, actually.  Got the cane as he was in a mean mood.  Fuckin’ hurt for a few minutes, I can tell you.”

“But can you show me?   I mean, show me the marks?  I’d like to see how bad it gets.  I’ll know whether to accept or not then.”

“You want to see my arse?  Fuck that!  Fuck that!  Not likely!  Well, alright, I suppose I’ve got nothing to hide.  After all, Patel sees it quite often.  And sees to it quite often.”

Slowly, Nick undid his faded black denim jeans and slipped down his string underpants.  There, right across his arse were at least ten cane weals.  Bright red, they were.  I gasped and said, “They look really sore, mate.”

“They’re not too bad as marks go, actually.  Unfortunately, I mark easily.  Some do, some don’t.  It was just a dozen this time but the cane he used was really whippy.  It was a new one on me, I’m sure.  He’s got a friend who is a rattan importer, so he’s always got a fresh supply.  That new cane stung like the blazes.  Burnt like a Californian wildfire.  Still, I guess that’s me done for another two or three weeks.  Until he summons me again.”

I wondered whether there was a rota or something and how many lads were caught up in this bizarre scheme.  There was one big problem – I so wanted to touch Nick’s marks, but it didn’t seem right or proper.  I could feel my cock growing stiff, so I quickly wanted to distract him and said, “Must make it difficult to have a girlfriend.  You can’t hide marks like that, can you?”

“No, that’s true.  My last girl used to like the marks the cane left, mind.  Turned her on.  She was a dirty girl, alright.  But I dumped her as she was too fond of pills.  Anyway, you’ve got a chubby arse, I see.  Patel will like that.”

“He will?”

“Yes, definitely.  He doesn’t much go for the scrawny, slim look.  He prefers well-built, rugby types.  I reckon he’ll approach you about a discount within the week.  In fact, I’d put money on it.  He usually offers 50% discount if you’ll take the spankings, strappings  and slipperings.  If you’ll take the cane, make sure you ask for the maximum 100%!  Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Thanks for the tip, Nick, you’re a pal.   And thanks for checking out my chubby arse.”  He thumped me on the arm, but it was friendly, I think.  Anyway, I told him, “All the same, I don’t intend to join the discount scheme.”

“Well, don’t completely dismiss it,” he continued, “I quite enjoy the pain sometimes.  It’s like a test.  A challenge.”

“Ugh!  That’s mental, mate.  You must be some kind of masochist.”

“Do you want another thump?” he laughed.

“No thanks, I’m no masochist!”

“Time will tell, time will tell,” he said.

Time did indeed tell.  Patel soon summoned me to visit him in a flat above one of his retail properties.  Evidently this dingy place was one he shared with the uncle that Nick had warned me about.

I’d forgotten quite how handsome Patel was, but he had a way of leering lecherously that was not at all attractive.  He didn’t waste time getting to the point.  He asked me, “Any of the lads mention my unofficial discount scheme to you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  It was kind of clumsy the way he’d raised the subject.  Despite what I’d told Nick, I was by then tempted by the discount as I’d had an expensive week with a new pair of shoes and more textbooks to buy.  A little bit of pain would be a small price to pay, I reckoned.  I also realised that I had rather suddenly developed an interest in being spanked, if not thrashed.  Curiosity had definitely got the better of me, so I stared back at Patel and simply said, “Yes.”

“Eh?  Come again?”  Indeed I’d thrown him a little, as was my intention, “Yes they’ve told you about it, or yes, you want to join my scheme?”

“It’s a yes to both, Mr. Patel,” I said, trying hard to suppress a cheeky smirk.  I didn’t want to disarm him or to lose the discount offer.

“I can offer a 50% discount if you let me spank you now and then.  Once a fortnight or so.  How does that sound?”

“I was hoping you’d waive the rent completely, Mr. Patel.”

“Aha.  You drive a hard bargain, sonny!  I think I can stretch to that, though.  It will mean an occasional hard caning too, though.  I’m sure you can take it in your stride.  Yes?  I’m glad that’s agreed.  OK now, we should start as we mean to go on.”

“You want to spank me now?”

“Yes, I do,” said Patel as he sat himself down on a dining chair, “Over my lap right now, sonny!”

His hand was soon smacking down on my pale blue Farah slacks.  I was surprised at how much his hand could hurt me.  The pain was building and building and I was wriggling on his lap, trying to escape his punishing palm.  Only later did I find out from my fellow tenants that Patel loved it when a lad struggled to cope while being spanked.  I cried out as he landed a last smack.  It was too much.

“Now take your trousers down.”

“What?  You’re joking aren’t you?”

“No I’m not, young Tony!  I’ll be punishing you on your underpants, so get ready.”

Well, I didn’t have much choice.  I unbuckled my skimpy belt and my trousers fell down onto my new shoes.  He then started a fresh attack, slapping my arse cheeks really hard again and again and again.  I gasped as he picked up a rubber-soled slipper and let fly with that.  The sting was amazing but so painful.  I could feel teenage tears forming in my eyes.  But then it got even worse as he got hold of the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down too.  Again and again the slipper crashed down on my naked buttocks.  It was all too much.  The tears were welling again and I thought I was going to piss myself with pain.   He stopped and let me rest for a minute.  His hands started to caress my arse, which was a welcome relief despite me thinking he was taking a bit of a liberty.  Finally, he announced, “Just twelve strokes with the leather strap, then we’re done here.”

I could hardly believe it!  That leather thing was sheer hell as he laid into my arse once again.  The sting was so intense, as was my shame.  The bastard!  When he’d finished, he pushed me roughly off his lap and I stood, unsteadily for a minute, before my hands flew back to massage my cheeks.  Shit, that had been bad.  Worse than I’d anticipated.  I hated to think what a caning would be like.  Amazingly though, I thanked him and we shook hands as I left.

I returned to the student house, reflecting on my punishing afternoon with my landlord.  Unfortunately, when I walked into the kitchen I found four pairs of eyes staring at me.

It was Nick, my mate Paul, and two of the other residents, Vince and Robert.  They were all smiling and I’m sure they were waiting for a full report from me, as they had twigged exactly where I’d been.  At first, I was inclined to tell them to fuck off, but a second, better thought came into my head: to tell it like it was.  So I went with that and just said to them, “My arse is so fuckin’s sore, you wouldn’t believe!”

“I’m sure we would believe, Tony.  We’ve all been there.  And back,” said Vince shaking his head.

“And round the block.  You can’t say that I didn’t warn you,” added Nick.  “He follows a pattern.  You do realise that the second time is when he’ll introduce the cane, don’t you?”

“Errr, yes.  Got any tips on how I can reduce the pain?” I asked as I absent-mindedly rubbed my sore arse.

“None at all,” laughed Nick, “Can’t be done.”

“Actually, there is a way,” said Robert, “But you won’t like it.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Well the only way to reduce the pain is to get used to having your arse thrashed.  Get it frequently and you will eventually get a tough as leather behind.”

“Gee, thanks.  That’s no help at all!”

They all disolved into laughter at that point and I stormed out of the kitchen and stomped up the creaking stairs to my room.  Only a wank seemed to reduce my discomfort.  At least I slept soundly that night.

A fortnight later I was back at Patel’s for my first caning.  He was beaming away happily.  There was no role play, he just let fly with the cane.  It was a crook-handled one, just like schools had back in those days.  It probably was a newish cane, as Nick had suggested.  He went straight into caning me.  Oh my god, how it hurt!  Three batches of six strokes.  Six on my slacks, six on my Y-fronts and six bare.  It was pure hell for a while, but I was quids in and content with the deal.

As luck would have it, Patel and I grew close.  He even let me call him Pranjit, which none of the others in the student house would have dared to do.  After a session, he and I would often have a naked cuddle together between the nylon sheets of his double divan.  Again, something the others didn’t get to indulge in.  There was still no sign of sexual excitement with him though.  I, on the other hand, was frequently erect as I’d begun to find the discipline of the cane was a huge turn-on for me.  A few times,  I’d noticed cane weals on his arse.  Eventually I asked him about it.  He was embarrassed, although surely he didn’t imagine that I wouldn’t see those marks?

“Oh, that’s my uncle.  He beats me.  Hard.  The difference is, when I spank and cane my boys it’s because they’ve asked for it in return for a low or zero rent.  Some of them like it too, and get off on it.  I think you’re one of my lads who finds a caning to be exciting.  However, when my uncle beats me, it’s harsher and I’ve never agreed to it.  I hate it and want to scream.  But when he fucks me afterwards, I forgive him, as I do like that.  He can be quite tender then.  And I think he loves me, in a strange kind of way.”

“You have sex with your uncle?” I asked in disbelief.

“Err, yes.”

“And you like it?”

“Err, yes.”

With that, I just sighed and thought, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave…”

I later found out that his uncle was the rattan importer that Nick had mentioned. From what I could gather, it was quite a lucrative trade as he supplied punishment canes to a lot of independent schools and even some sex shops.

So, that was the story of my early adventures.  By the time I left University, I’d developed a taste for spanking and caning, and for the sexual opportunities men enjoyed with each other.  I was more than happy with the new life I’d discovered, and I met some lovely Indian guys along the way too.

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: D I S C L A I M E R :

All characters and businesses appearing in the text or illustrations of this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story © MMXXIV by Rod Cayenne

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There’s more Indian fun in the story “Top Shelf Showdown“

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