A Tight Rein (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A brand spanking new story by special guest author JOELSTRAP.  This story is exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are 18 or over. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

A Tight Rein by Joelstrap

“But I’m not really interested in girls,” I said.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Ronan,” replied Aunt Myrtle severely. “Of course you are. It’s all you think about. I know! I’ve read about teenage boys. Their hormones just take over and make them go mad about girls.”

“Yes, but with me it’s………”

“So you need to spruce yourself up, Ronan. What decent girl is going to look twice at you with your hair looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards and your face not seeing a razor for at least three days! It’s a disgrace!”

“But boys like to see………”

“And for goodness’ sake, do up your shirt-buttons! Showing the hair on your chest isn’t the done thing, Ronan!”

“Aunt Myrtle, if you’d just listen……”

“I can’t understand why your father lets you out in those shorts. Really! They’re obscene. They don’t hide anything. You’ve obviously grown since you got them and they’re too small for you; much too small. You could get arrested looking like that, Ronan,” said Aunt Myrtle firmly. “Get them off!”

“Okay,” I said; and began to undo my zip.

“Don’t you dare!” yelled Aunt Myrtle.

“But you told me to…..”

“You know perfectly well that I meant that you should go and change into something less…..revealing. What’s wrong with a neat pair of flannels?”

“That’s what’s wrong with them,” I said in exasperation. “They’re neat.”

“So? Don’t you want to look neat?”

“No! I’m trying to tell you! I want to look a bit wild and dangerous,” I replied.

“Dangerous? You haven’t got a knife, have you, Ronan? I’m warning you, you’ll end up in jail, my lad. No respectable boy carries a knife.”

“I haven’t got a knife!” I yelled furiously.

“And don’t you dare shout at me, young man,” retorted Aunt Myrtle; and she slapped me hard on the face.

I instinctively put my hand to my stinging cheek.

“No respectable aunt slaps her nephew,” I said angrily and cheekily; but I couldn’t help it, because she really was infuriating.

“Don’t you impugn my respectability, Ronan! Any more insolence out of you and I’ll report to your father and he’ll spank you,” declared Aunt Myrtle.

“Spank me? Spanking went out with the ark! Dad’s never spanked me, ever; and he’s hardly gonna start now when I’m eighteen,” I protested.

“Well, somebody needs to spank you hard!” insisted Aunt Myrtle.

“Are you offering?” I couldn’t resist saying with a grin.

“If you weren’t so big, I would,” she declared, her eyes flashing.

“Shit! You would too!”

“Ronan!”

“Sorry!”

“You will not swear in my house!”

“I said I was sorry; and it’s hardly the kind of language that’s gonna strip the paint off your kitchen-wall,” I added.

“Do you know the kind of language that would strip paint?” she asked quietly.

“Well, yeh; of course I do. I hear plenty of it.”

“Not here, you don’t, my lad.”

“I know that. But my mates swear a bit; it’s normal.”

“Maybe if you and your mates had been spanked hard when you were younger you wouldn’t swear now,” said Aunt Myrtle severely.

“Look, I’m sorry. I won’t even say damn when you’re around. Now, what is it you want me to do in your garden?” I asked, trying to get off the subject of my perceived shortcomings.

“Come and I’ll show you.”

She led me out to the back-garden and indicated a large hole in the middle of a bed of shrubs.

“Cor! Did a meteor land there?” I asked.

“Please try to be sensible for one minute, Ronan.”

I rolled my eyes and listened.

“The shrub that was there died and I removed it and realised there was a huge stone in the ground under where it had been growing. That’s probably why the shrub died; nowhere for the roots to get down deep and so no water in summer weather,” she explained. “So I need you to remove the stone.”

I jumped into the hole and felt around the edges with my toes; but the stone seemed to extend well beyond the excavated area.

“It’s a hell of a big stone,” I muttered.

“Ronan!”

“What now?”

“You see? You’ve become so inured to swearing that you don’t even realise when you’re uttering obscenities!” she shouted triumphantly.

“Obscenities?” I repeated, baffled.

“Quod erat demonstrandum,” she said with a self-satisfied smile.

“You what?” I enquired, even more baffled.

“You see? You’ve been so busy learning obscenities that you’ve neglected your Latin,” she observed shrilly.

“Latin? I don’t do Latin. Nobody learns Latin these days. Mind you,” I went on as a memory came to me, “I saw that someone had carved into an old school-desk I had once the words, Latin killed the Romans; and now it’s killing me!”

“You’re impossible!” declared Aunt Myrtle. “Just get rid of the stone for me, Ronan. I might need a microscope to see your brain, but at least you’ve got good, strong muscles.”

“Hey!” I objected. “There’s nothing wrong with my brain.”

“Well, use your brain to work out how to remove the stone; and then use your brawn to remove it,” she ordered. “And don’t take all day about it.”

“Yes, mistress,” I muttered softly.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” I replied swiftly. “I’ll get a spade and see how far it extends.”

“I don’t care if it extends to the next street; get rid of it!”

She stalked off into the house.

“I suppose you’ll have me flogged if I don’t,” I muttered resentfully to myself as I headed for the shed to find a spade.

Exploratory excavations revealed that the stone was of substantial size and went down some way as well as almost a metre to one side of the hole. I dug the hole larger to expose the full surface of the rock and then dug down the sides. By that time I was sweating in the hot afternoon sun and paused to yank off my shirt before resuming work. A minute or two later I glanced up, startled, at the sound of a wolf-whistle. The only person I could see over the garden-wall was a young lad of about my own age walking an enormous hairy dog along the road. I was about to call to him when Aunt Myrtle reappeared.

“Did you make that disgusting sound, Ronan?” she demanded.

“What disgusting sound?” I asked, wondering if I’d accidentally farted in the course of my efforts with the spade.

“That wolf-whistle,” she elucidated. “I won’t have you trying to attract girls by such crude methods!”

“But it wasn’t me,” I objected, “and besides, I don’t want to attract……”

“And what do you think you’re doing in my garden half-naked,” she shouted.

“Half-naked? I took my fu….flaming shirt off because I was hot,” I snapped back irately. “Digging’s hard work you know.”

“Is that the whole stone you’ve excavated now?” she asked. “So why aren’t you moving it?”

“I’m going to move it; or at least I’m gonna try to,” I said, “if you’ll stop niggling at me and let me get on with it.”

“Gonna? What kind of a word is that? It’s bad enough that you don’t know Latin, but when you can’t even speak good English, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

I swallowed hard and bit back a rude retort before bending down to slide my hands under one edge of the stone to see if I could move it. Nothing happened. I strained harder and felt it give slightly. I straightened up.

“I’ll need to dig round it a bit more, but it might be too heavy for me to move without help,” I said as I picked up the spade.

“Put your shirt back on, Ronan. I won’t have you looking obscene in my garden,” snapped Aunt Myrtle.

“So where can I go and look obscene?” I asked angrily. “In your bedroom?”

“How dare you!” she roared, her face reddening in fury. “I’ll be having a word with your father about this, Ronan. You need to be put on a very tight rein.”

I shrugged.

“Oh, you don’t care, do you? Time was when an attitude like yours would have got you a sound leathering. Now I suppose you get patted on the head and told to be a good boy.”

I was proud of my self-restraint as I turned without a word and proceeded to dig deeper round the edges of the stone. Aunt Myrtle watched me in silence for a minute or two and then stalked back towards the house. I grinned to myself, enjoying a small sense of victory. I hadn’t put my shirt back on. Panting and sweat-streaked, I tried again to shift the stone and as I did so I heard another wolf-whistle. I turned sharply and saw the same guy I’d noticed in the road earlier, but this time looking at me over the wall.

“Was that you?” I asked.

“Yeh! You got one red-hot body there; and I love the bare, sweaty torso.”

I felt myself colour slightly as I absorbed the compliment.

“Well don’t let my aunt hear you say things like that,” I advised. “She thinks I should be looking for a girlfriend; so I don’t think she’d approve of you.”

“Who’s caring what your fossil of an aunt thinks?” he replied. “Do you approve of me?”

I took in the lean body, the smiling face, framed by a profusion of untidy dark-brown hair, the nipples showing through the close-fitting t-shirt and the prominent bulge in the front of a pair of denim shorts which even I felt were barely a centimetre short of obscene.

“Oh, yeh! I approve,” I informed him eagerly.

His huge dog suddenly put its front paws up on the wall and stared at me. I fondled its ears and it licked the sweat on my hand.

“He’s a big boy,” I said admiringly, glancing underneath the animal.

“Yeh. He’s a Newfoundland.”

“Ronan! I thought you were moving that stone, not chatting to the passers-by; and will you put a shirt on! My neighbours will talk if they see you like that!” shouted my aunt.

“And a lot of them will wish you were in their bed,” muttered the boy with the dog. “See you.”

He trotted off, the massive dog at his heels. I gazed longingly at his receding buttocks.

“Well, at least your shorts are decent compared with what that young tearaway was wearing,” remarked Aunt Myrtle.

“How do you know he’s a tearaway?” I enquired.

“Only a tearaway would wear shorts as tight as that,” she said.

“So you noticed?” I remarked rashly.

That earned me another slap on the face; and a promise to tell dad that I was dangerously out of control. She then left me to work on the stone. I still hadn’t put my shirt back on.

Eventually I succeeded in getting the stone partly out of the hole, but realised I’d need help to move it out of the bed altogether; and I duly informed my aunt so.

“I’ll see if dad can come along tomorrow and maybe between us we can shift it.”

She gave me a look which implied that she thought I could shift it fine if I just made an effort. I picked up my shirt, deliberately not putting it back on, and went home.

Dad was gently hoeing the rose-bed and he paused when he saw me.

“Myrtle’s been on the ‘phone about you, Ronan. Says you’ve been insolent and rude and obscene.”

“Yeh. It was bloody hot digging out that huge stone, so I took my shirt off. You’d think I’d done a strip-tease in her garden for the benefit of the neighbours!”

“That’s what she meant by obscene?” asked dad.

“Well, I didn’t grab a sexy boy off the street and screw him rigid on her front lawn,” I retorted, “so I guess it must have been my bare chest.”

“Careful, Ronan!”

“Sorry; but, honestly, dad, she’s impossible! She was getting on at me about girls; and she wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to tell her I preferred boys; and even if I had managed to tell her, she’d just have dismissed it as rubbish. And she accused me of carrying a knife! She slapped my face, dad – twice! Complained I couldn’t speak Latin; or English!”

“English?”

“I said gonna instead of going to, that’s all! The bitch wanted to spank me!”

“Ronan!”

“Sorry! But, honest, dad, she’s unbelievable.”

“She wanted to spank you for saying gonna?”

“Er, no. That was when I accused her of not being respectable after she slapped me. Said you should spank me; and if I wasn’t so big, she’d spank me herself,” I told him.

“Hmmm!” said dad.

“What? If she could have done it, the old harridan would’ve had me tied to a tree and flogged raw! She says you need to put me on a tight rein.”

“Yes,” said dad.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I enquired, somewhat nettled.

“Look, I know she’s difficult, Ronan, but she’s from a different age.”

“She’s the same age as you,” I objected, “and you’re not unreasonable – most of the time.”

“Thank you! I’ve had to cope with you and your brother, especially since your mum died, and that’s taught me to move with the times. But Myrtle’s stuck in the past and doesn’t really understand youngsters these days, seeing she never married.”

“Yeh! I’ve noticed that it’s the ones who never had a guy in their pants who think they know best about children,” I remarked bitterly.

“Remarks as crude as that will get you three evenings confined to your room, even from me,” said dad warningly.

“Okay; that was out of order. I’m sorry. Anyway, can you come tomorrow and help move the stone for her? It’s too heavy for me to manage myself; but I’ve got it loosened and partly out of the hole.”

Dad agreed.

I wanked off twice to fantasies about the boy with the dog before I went to sleep that night; and after dad and I had moved Aunt Myrtle’s stone next morning, I left him to listen to her moans about how I needed discipline, and set off to prowl around the area to see if I could track dog-boy. Luck was with me and I found him throwing a ball for his dog in the park. He greeted me enthusiastically and we walked along the river and chatted while the dog ambled by our side. He told me he was called Danny and the dog was Chico.

“Chico?” I enquired.

“We were on holiday in Spain a few weeks before we got him,” explained Danny. “It just means ‘boy’ but it sounds different.”

“Yeh. I like it.”

We were getting on so well that we decided to buy some provisions and set off on a long walk down the river-path. Chico was delighted and spent his time investigating fascinating smells and then galloping furiously to catch up with us. At one point, panting with the heat and the effort of running, he suddenly plunged into the river and splashed around enthusiastically before emerging dripping wet; and drying himself by shaking vigorously and drenching us both in spray.

“He’s got the right idea,” I said. “You wanna strip off and have a splash around in the water too?”

Danny approved this suggestion and within seconds we’d both stripped to our briefs and were horsing about in the water and splashing each other enthusiastically. Chico joined in with brio and managed to upend Danny, who landed on his back in the water. I helped haul him to his feet and it was as I did so that I did a double-take. Protruding coyly from the lower edge of Danny’s briefs was a slim, red welt.

“Er, who caned your arse then?” I enquired.

“Why do you……….oh, fuck!”

Danny had glanced behind him and seen what I’d seen.

“I never realised that was visible,” he said. “My step-dad’s a bastard with a cane.”

“Your step-dad beats you?”

“Yeh; bloody hard too. Before mum and dad separated, dad used to spank me sometimes; and then for a couple of years there was just mum and she just grounded me. Then, when I was fifteen, Alan came into her life. He’s a good guy and he takes an interest in me; but he doesn’t stand any nonsense. He introduced me to the cane.”

“It looks sore,” I remarked, “but I guess that’s the idea.”

“Oh, yeh. It’s sore all right. Bugger really knows how to use it and he can make me writhe. I don’t like it and I try not to get it any more than necessary.”

“So what did you do to get that?” I enquired.

“I had to cut the grass; and I was nearly done when a mate arrived and we sat down for a chat. Then I forgot I hadn’t finished the grass and we went into town. When I got back it was time for dinner and then I was slobbing out in front of the telly and still didn’t remember the grass. I also didn’t remember I’d left the mower sitting outside. Alan woke me next morning with a bellow that would’ve done credit to a bull in a bad temper and demanded to know why the grass was only partly cut and the mower had been left out in the rain all night.”

“Ah! I guess he wasn’t best pleased with you, huh?”

“To put it mildly. He sent me to get his cane and then got me bending over the end of my bed, starkers, and gave me eight corkers. Boy, did he make me squirm! Caning before breakfast shouldn’t be allowed,” he declared vehemently.

“Most people seem to think caning shouldn’t be allowed any time,” I pointed out. “It’s ten years since it was abolished in school. Mind you, my Aunt Myrtle thinks I should be spanked and thinks my dad should be spanking me regularly to keep me in line. Says I need to be on a tight rein; like I’m a fucking horse!”

“But your dad doesn’t tan your hide?”

“Nah. Dad just grounds me.”

I told him about my recent run-in with Aunt Myrtle.

“Shit! She thought you should be spanked for saying she wasn’t respectable because she slapped your face? She sounds a right bitch,” opined Danny.

“She is,” I agreed.

I saw a lot of Danny over the next few weeks and we became increasingly intimate. Dad seemed to like him and so life felt good and I was decidedly happy. That was when it happened. Dad summoned me to the sitting-room as I was about to go up to my room after our evening-meal. He looked solemn.

“My boss had a talk with me this morning,” he began, “and he wants me to go up north for six months to cover for a guy who’s been taken seriously ill. I’d get back here for every second weekend, but that would be it. I explained you were about to start your college-course here and so I could hardly take you north with me; but he asked me to see if I could arrange something because he really felt I was the guy he wanted to do this job. I went in to see Myrtle on the way home from work today and she’s agreed to………”

“Dad! No! No way! You Can’t!”

“………….to take you to live with her while I’m away,” said dad firmly.

“But she’ll drive me crazy! She criticises everything about me! There’s no pleasing her; whatever I do, it’s never enough. Please, dad; surely there’s another solution.”

“You’ll just need to keep calm and do your best, Ronan. I know it won’t be easy, but that’s how life is sometimes. I know Myrtle’s a bit old-fashioned in her ideas, but she’d never have agreed to take you in if she didn’t like you.”

“Yes she would! She just wants me as her slave! You won’t be half way up the north road before she’s got me sleeping on a couple of sacks on the garage-floor, licking her boots and hand-washing her panties!”

“Ronan! That will do! It’s very kind of Myrtle to help like this and you will behave yourself, be co-operative and display an amenable attitude,” declared dad angrily.

“She’s probably bought a whip already,” I said bitterly, “and I’ll get the lash every time I say gonna!”

“Any more of that kind of talk, Ronan, and I’ll be buying a whip and trying to lash some discipline into you,” snarled dad. “Now, are you going to be helpful and move in with Myrtle for the next six months; or would you like a fortnight confined to your room in the evenings to think about it?”

I glared at him furiously, but knew that I had to give in.

“Fine. I’ll go,” I said sullenly. “But if Aunt Myrtle ends up strangled with my belt, it’ll be justifiable homicide,” I added.

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

Life with Aunt Myrtle turned out to be as bad as I’d feared but I just tried to keep my head down, do as I was told and not let the relentless carping get to me. Danny was a massive comfort and let me pour out my troubles to him regularly before he made passionate love to me and banished Aunt Myrtle and other irrelevancies to the furthest fringes of the universe.

Aunt Myrtle did not approve of Danny and although she was coldly polite to him when he came to the house, she tore him to bits constantly in savage verbal assaults after he’d left. I simply reiterated that dad approved of him and he was my friend and I wasn’t giving him up. I dared not imagine what she’d say if I told her the exact nature of my relationship with Danny. We were scrupulously careful not to do or say anything even remotely intimate when Danny was with me at Aunt Myrtle’s house. Things were different at Danny’s house, because his mum and step-dad accepted his sexuality.

One Saturday morning, I’d gone over to Danny’s house and we’d taken Chico for a long walk before going back to Aunt Myrtle’s place so that I could show Danny an article in a pop-music magazine. We made sure the back-gate was closed and then left Chico in the rear-garden while we went up to my room. After perusing the article, we listened to some music; and then some more; and unfortunately forgot about Chico.

On a sudden there was an eldritch screech from downstairs and I bounded on to the landing to look down. Aunt Myrtle was standing there, quivering with rage.

“Get down here, you appalling boys!” she yelled.

I glanced at Danny, who’d followed me out of my room, and we descended warily.

“What’s wrong?” I enquired carefully.

She grabbed me by the ear and twisted so hard that I yelped. She wouldn’t let go but made for the kitchen and out into the back-garden. To avoid having my ear ripped off, I had perforce to follow.

“Look what that infernal creature has done!” she shouted; and my heart sank as I gazed at her bed of colourful summer bedding-plants.

In the very midst of them, Chico had excavated a large hole, scattering plants and soil in all directions.

“I’m so sorry,” said Danny quickly, grabbing Chico’s collar. “It’s my dog and it’s entirely my fault. I’ll take him home and then come back and tidy up the mess and buy some new plants for you.”

“And what will your father say when he hears that you and Ronan have made my garden look as if it’s been plundered by Attila The Hun!” demanded Aunt Myrtle.

“Er, well, it’s my step-dad actually,” explained Danny, “but he doesn’t need to know. Like I said, I’ll put it all right.”

“And I’ll help him,” I added. “It’s my fault too. We got carried away listening to music and forgot about Chico.”

Aunt Myrtle glared at me and then turned to Danny. “Go and ‘phone your step-father and ask him to come here so that he can see what you’ve been responsible for, boy!” she ordered.

Danny took a deep breath and went into the house, returning a couple of minutes later.

“He’ll be over in about ten minutes,” he said flatly. “We’ll start clearing up meanwhile,” he added.

“No you won’t!” said Aunt Myrtle. “You’ll leave it exactly as it is. Go and sit on the bench, both of you; and keep that hell-hound under control.”

“Hell-hound?” repeated Danny; and I could hear in his voice that he was beginning to lose control.

“Steady, sunshine,” I muttered, laying a restraining hand on his arm.

“The only creature from hell around here is you,” declared Danny angrily.

I dragged Danny to the bench and forced him to sit down, keeping a tight hold of him.

“You dare to come into my home and insult me,” screeched Aunt Myrtle. “If I had my way you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a month, you obnoxious boy!”

“You insulted Chico!” shouted Danny.

“Danny! No!” I hissed desperately. “Please, just keep calm.”

“I am fucking calm!” he said dangerously softly, his body quivering like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Fortunately, at that moment we heard a car draw up outside and Danny’s step-father strode into the garden. He stared at the devastation and then took Aunt Myrtle by the arm and led her into the house.

“He’s gonna take all the skin off my arse for this,” moaned Danny miserably.

I glanced towards the house and then gave him a big hug.

“Thanks, mate,” he whispered. “You’ll lick my cane-welts for me later, won’t you?”

“Of course I will; if that sadistic bitch lets me out. She’ll probably shut me in my room for a week on bread and water; and I’ll be lucky if I get the bread.”

Chico licked my hand.

“I suppose that’s you saying you’re sorry?” I asked him.

“It was our fault. We shouldn’t have left him so long,” said Danny.

Chico wagged his tail encouragingly and put a large paw on Danny’s knee.

“Huh! It’s well seen it’s not your hide that’s gonna be in the firing-line, you hairy vandal,” said Danny; and he gave Chico a hug. “I thought a dog was supposed to be a boy’s best friend.”

Chico suddenly reared up and licked Danny’s face.

“Okay, okay, you daft mutt!” protested Danny as he pushed the dog down, “you’re still my best friend; after Ronan of course.”

“Wow! I come before Chico on your friends-list? I’ve arrived!”

“You don’t dig bloody great holes in the flower-beds,” said Danny, “but if you do, I’m promoting Chico back to the top-spot.”

At this moment, Alan summoned us into the kitchen. We stood guiltily before him, eyes downcast. Aunt Myrtle was sitting at the table, looking smug.

“It appears,” he began, “that you two abandoned Chico in the garden for over two hours because you were so engrossed in your own activities that you just forgot about him; and, not unnaturally, he got bored and began to do some excavations to amuse himself. Does that sound right, boys?”

“Yes,” we admitted together.

“And you were also inexcusably rude to Miss Stebson here, Danny?”

“She insulted Chico,” muttered Danny.

“I beg your pardon!” riposted his step-dad in a warning tone.

Danny got the message.

“Yes,” he said. “I was rude.”

“You know what I’m going to do to you when I get you home, don’t you, Danny?”

“You’re gonna cane me,” said Danny sulkily.

“Now, as to Ronan,” continued Alan, turning to Aunt Myrtle, “what are you going to do about him?”

“I’ll ground him for a week,” she said. “I’d take my hairbrush to his behind, but I couldn’t spank hard enough to get through to him.”

“I could help you there,” offered Alan. “If you’d like, after I’ve taken Danny home and thrashed him, I’ll come back here and give Ronan a good beating with my cane.”

“That would be very kind of you,” said Aunt Myrtle as I stared in horror. “I think you could hit hard enough to get through his tough young hide.”

“Oh, I’ll get through to him all right, don’t worry,” he assured her.

“Thank you so much, Alan. I’ll be very grateful.”

“I’ll be back in about three quarters of an hour,” he said.

I was sent to my room where I prowled anxiously, alternating between bursts of fury against Aunt Myrtle and attacks of fear about how much a caning would hurt. I considered refusing to submit to the cane, but that would mean a week when I couldn’t meet Danny; and possibly additional punishment from dad when he came down for the weekend in a few days’ time. I also felt that if Danny was getting caned, then it was only fair that I should be caned too, as I’d been just as much to blame over the Chico episode as he had.

Eventually I heard the sound of Alan’s returning car and a few minutes later I was summoned down to the kitchen. Alan and Aunt Myrtle were sitting at the table, on which lay the cane. I eyed it nervously. It looked nasty and capable of inflicting a lot of pain. I also eyed Alan’s well-developed biceps and concluded that when he had stated that he could hit hard enough to get through to me, he was simply stating the plain truth.

“Right, Ronan. Shorts and briefs off and bend over with your hands on that chair,” ordered Alan.

I stared at him.

“B…but Aunt Myrtle will see!” I protested.

“So?”

“It’s not…..you can’t……no!” I half shouted.

“Don’t you say ‘no’ to me, boy! Now do as you’re told!”

“Please! Can’t we go to my room?” I pleaded. “I’ll take my licks; but you can’t expect me to drop my pants in front of her.”

“Don’t you try to tell me what I can or cannot expect you to do,” said Alan in a dangerously soft tone. “I’m going to count to ten; and if you haven’t completely removed shorts and briefs and bent over that chair before I’m done, you’ll be getting extra strokes of my cane.”

I looked disbelievingly at him and then, as he began to count steadily, I gave in, swiftly ripped off my clothing and bent over the chair, doing my best to keep my back to Aunt Myrtle. I looked down at my tackle where it swung low between my legs; and to my horror I could see Aunt Myrtle at the other end of the table, looking straight at my balls.

You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, I told myself severely. Probably do the old bitch good to see what a young guy looks like. Find out what she’s been missing for the past thirty years!

These thoughts were brought to an abrupt end as Alan showed me his cane. He held it before my eyes, letting me see its slender length and potential for inflicting pain. I swallowed and looked straight ahead, resolving to be stoical as a young guy should. He rapped my behind a few times with the cane and then he hit me hard. Pain blossomed across my rear like a whole spring unfolding in an instant and I gasped aloud as the fearsome sting burned deep. I felt a trembling in my body and even as I struggled to still it, he hit me again, slightly lower. The pain-level rose sharply and I stifled a yelp, desperately clenching my buttocks. Even as I eased them back, the third stroke seared across my bare flesh, lacerating it with excruciating pain. This time I failed to stifle the yelp.

I forced myself to steady up and be ready for the next cut and barely made it before a fourth searing lash of fire licked my bottom and drove another yelp from me. The fifth came perilously near to my crease and I just knew that the pain was going to intensify the lower the strokes were delivered. I waited for the sixth to cross-hatch some of the earlier welts, but instead it came lower still and forced a squeal from me, while my right hand scrubbed desperately at my tormented rump.

“Get your hand away, boy!” shouted Alan. “Don’t you know to keep your hands on the chair while you’re being caned?”

“He’s never been caned before,” said Aunt Myrtle helpfully, “which is probably why he has no idea how to behave when he’s being beaten.”

“Well, he should have been,” declared Alan grimly. “If boys were still caned hard, there’d be a lot less youth trouble in the country. I’m going to give you that one again, Ronan. And keep your hands on the chair!”

I swore furiously at him under my breath and breathed hard as I waited for the repeat-stroke. It came full on my crease and I yelled and squirmed in desperate agony as he set my bottom ablaze. I could feel scalding tears trickling down my face as I fought to steady myself. The cane was probing my buttocks again. I couldn’t believe it. The sadistic bugger still hadn’t finished beating me. The stroke felt as if it landed on top of a couple of the earlier ones and the pain-level soared as I writhed in urgent torment; and scarcely had I begun to marshal my battered resources when he hit me yet again, whipping the lithe rod viciously round the centre of my bottom and driving yet another squeal of agony from me. I was panting, sweat-streaked, shuddering with pain, my bottom a roaring inferno of searing fires.

He had finished. Slowly I calmed my taut body, eased the tightly-clenched glutes, loosened my almost manic grip on the chair, and fought to steady my breathing. I’d done it. I’d taken a hellish beating; but I’d survived.

I was told to stand up and put my briefs and shorts back on, which I did hastily, wincing as the fabric of my underwear rubbed against my cane-welts.

“Now, I’d advise you to keep him on a tight rein,” said Alan to Aunt Myrtle. “Don’t let him away with anything; and if he gives you any trouble at all, just give me a call and I’ll come round and deal with him for you. This is the language that boys understand,” he added, flexing his cane, “and if you find that telling him doesn’t seem to get through to him, just send for me, and my cane will deliver the message in a way that definitely will get through.”

“Thank you so much, Alan. You’ve been such a help. I’m deeply grateful; as is Ronan of course. He appreciates the time and trouble you’ve taken to give him the beating he needed. Say ‘thank you’, Ronan,” instructed Aunt Myrtle.

Furious but impotent, and fully aware that any hesitation would probably incur further strokes of the cane, I muttered a sullen ‘thank you’ to Alan; and was then sent to my room. I went with relief. Alone, I pulled down my shorts and briefs again and examined my cane-marks in the mirror, uttering a low whistle of shock and admiration when I saw the fiery welts on my skin, pulsing in neat, close-together parallels in a band of flesh between the centre of my bottom and the very tops of my legs. I touched carefully and winced as I registered the tenderness of the beaten skin. Danny had been right. His step-father knew how to use a cane to maximum effect.

After an hour, I went down and told Aunt Myrtle I was going out for a walk. I half expected her to object, and was ready to remind her I’d been punished and shouldn’t be confined to my room as well; but she said nothing and I was able to make my way to Danny’s house where he received me eagerly in his room. We stripped and examined each other’s war-wounds and then fell to licking them tenderly until urgent demands from our genitals claimed our attention for a while.

“So, how did you like your first caning, Ronan?” asked Danny.

“I didn’t. I never realised it would hurt that much; and having that sadistic old bitch watching and enjoying every stroke, just made it worse. I know you told me that the good thing about the cane is that you get your punishment over quickly, and I get that. We couldn’t have been together now if I hadn’t been caned as well as you; but it’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Danny stared at me.

“Getting used to? You volunteered to get caned by my step-dad in future?”

“Not quite. He volunteered his services to beat me if I fucked up; and my kind Aunt Myrtle accepted his offer.”

“Bloody hell! You okay with that, Ronan?”

“I think Aunt Myrtle would probably cut up rough if I refused; tell dad I was out of control; and he might insist I abandon my college-course and go up north to stay with him for the next few months. I don’t want to risk that, Danny. I need to be here with you.”

“And I need you here too,” Danny assured me, “so you just be a good boy and bend over for the cane when you’re told.”

“Cheeky sod!” I retorted; and we had a very enjoyable wrestle on his bedroom floor.

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

Life with Aunt Myrtle didn’t get any easier, but I forced myself to swallow her insults and keep my head down, because I really didn’t want any more of Alan’s vicious cane. All the same, what eighteen-year-old boy can be perfect? One of the many domestic tasks given me by my aunt was the cutting of the extensive lawns round her bungalow. A neighbour had told me that she used to employ a gardener to do this for her, but now that she had me to do it for nothing, she had dispensed with his services, at least for this summer and autumn. Maybe you should ask her to pay you, the neighbour had suggested with a grin. No way, I’d replied, she’d have my hide if I even suggested it!

Maybe it was because I was feeling a little resentful at the way I was being exploited that the incident occurred. I was busy mowing grass on a very warm September afternoon and removed my shirt which was already damp with sweat. I recalled the small victory I felt I’d won on the last occasion when I’d taken off my shirt because I was hot and sticky.

I’d scarcely been working shirtless for three minutes when Aunt Myrtle came storming out.

“Get your shirt back on at once, Ronan! I’ve told you about this before. I will not have you cavorting half-naked in my garden.”

“Cavorting? I’m cutting the fu…flaming grass!”

“Don’t you swear at me!”

“I didn’t!”

“You started to. I’m not stupid. Intending to swear is almost as bad as swearing.”

“Sorry,” I muttered as I resumed work; but she wasn’t to be deterred.

“I told you to get your shirt back on, Ronan! Now!”

I stopped the mower and looked at her.

“It’s a very hot day and it’s perfectly reasonable to remove my shirt when I’m sweating,” I said carefully. “It’s not disgusting or rude; and there’s nothing about my chest which should scare your neighbours. In fact, I think Carol over there likes it,” I added, nodding towards the young woman in the garden over the hedge to one side.

“Sex-mad!” screeched Aunt Myrtle.

“What? I never even mentioned sex!”

“You don’t need to. It’s written all over you. I dread to think what you and that disgusting boy Danny get up to when you go off together. Hunting down girls like a pair of wolves I suppose.”

I laughed out loud.

“You’re priceless, Aunt Myrtle,” I said.

She was furious.

“Don’t you mock me! I know why the pair of you go out in these obscene shorts, making sure your assets are on show. Just because you’re a big boy, you’ve got to make sure everyone knows.”

“How do you know that I’m a big boy?” I enquired.

“I saw you that day you got the cane.”

“I never realised you were so interested in what I’ve got between my legs,” I said.

“There you go again,” she accused. “Sex-obsessed! Now, for the last time, get your shirt back on and get the grass finished.”

“No,” I said quietly.

“What do you mean, no!”

“It’s a negative word. It means that I’m not doing it,” I replied insolently.

“You’re not leaving my lawns half-mown, Ronan.”

“I never said anything about leaving your lawns half-mown. I’ll finish the grass-cutting; but, no, I won’t put my shirt back on. It’s hot and it’s hard work and I need to keep my shirt off. If you insist that I have to wear a shirt to finish the mowing, then I’ll leave the rest of the grass until we get a cooler day.”

“You will put on your shirt and finish the grass, right now, young man, or I’ll call Alan,” she warned.

“You’re going to have me beaten because I won’t wear a shirt when I’m working hard on a hot day?” I asked, stunned.

“It seems that the cane is a language that you understand,” she informed me grimly.

“I’m perfectly capable of understanding that you’re being totally unreasonable without needing to have it caned into me,” I riposted angrily.

“How dare you suggest I’m unreasonable!”

“Because you bloody well are!” I shouted furiously.

“Don’t you swear at me!”

“You’d make a saint swear,” I retorted.

“Right; that’s it. I’m calling Alan.”

She stalked off towards the house. I stood, fists clenched in barely-suppressed rage at the sheer injustice of how she treated me. After a couple of minutes, I resumed mowing the lawn; but I didn’t put my shirt back on.

“Come to the telephone, Ronan,” called Aunt Myrtle from the house.

I sighed and answered the summons. On the other end of the line I found Alan, Danny’s step-dad who informed me that my aunt had called him to complain about my attitude.

“Rudeness; swearing; disobedience; obscenity. Is that correct, Ronan?” he asked.

“Well, yeh, sort of, I suppose, if you put it like that; but that’s not how it was,” I protested.

“Your aunt thinks you need to be caned again.”

“I bet she does! She’d have me bending over for six of the best every day before breakfast,” I said bitterly.

“Right! I want you to come round here right now, my lad. You and I need to have a talk,” he replied.

“Is eh, is your…er…your cane going to be doing the talking?” I asked uneasily.

“We’ll see. Hurry up!”

I put down the receiver and sought out Aunt Myrtle, explaining what Alan had told me to do.

“What about my grass?” she demanded.

“What about my arse?” I yelled, tried beyond endurance. “I’ll finish your flaming grass when I get back.”

I turned and strode off, pausing only to pick up my shirt from the garden as I passed. I pulled it on as I went through the gate. Alan informed me that Danny was out at the supermarket and then sent me up to his room. I sat on Danny’s bed and admired his pictures of naked male athletes. I picked up a pair of his briefs from the dirty-washing basket in the corner and sniffed at the sexy male scent of him. I heard Alan’s footsteps on the stair and stood to attention. He came in and sat on Danny’s desk-chair and questioned me closely about what had happened.

“Look, I know it sounds bad,” I told him, “but she’s so unreasonable. I’m not disobedient. She told me to mow the lawns and I went and mowed the lawns. It’s a hot day and it’s hard work. I took off my shirt; and she came out screeching like a banshee and told me to stop being obscene and cavorting half-naked and get it back on. Then she said all I thought about was sex and showing off my assets to girls; but I’d never even mentioned sex; and you know I’m not into girls; and I definitely wasn’t cavorting. The old bi….girl told me again to put my shirt on and I just said no. I told her it wasn’t reasonable. For fuck’s sake, it’s not as if I was prancing around in the front garden with my balls on show!” I protested.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Sorry,” I said hastily, perceiving I’d overstepped the mark. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”

“Yes; the rein needs to be tightened. You, young man, are in need of some discipline and I’m going to give you a hard dose of my cane,” said Alan. “Now, tell me why I’m going to beat you.”

“For refusing to put my shirt back on when I was told,” I replied sulkily.

“You’re not going to be caned for that, Ronan.”

“I’m not?”

“As you said yourself, removing your shirt when you’re working hard in hot weather is perfectly reasonable. I’ll have a word with your aunt about that; and I’m sure I can help her to see reason.”

“Thanks. That’s great. So……so….I’m not getting a beating then?”

“Oh yes you are! Now tell me why, Ronan.”

“For being rude to Aunt Myrtle; and to you,” I suggested.

“You’re getting there.”

“Er…..for swearing?”

“That’s part of it.”

“Well, I didn’t do anything else,” I protested.

“What I’m trying to get you to see is the common denominator which lies behind these examples of bad behaviour. Why do you swear; why are you rude?”

“I don’t know, do I? I just do these things sometimes. Why don’t you stop playing about with me and just beat the shit outta me if that’s what you want to do?” I demanded angrily.

“And there,” declared Alan, “is a perfect example of what I’m speaking about. What did you just do there?”

“I said shit; but I don’t see why that’s the end of the world. And I guess I was a bit rude to you again,” I admitted.

“And the reason,” continued Alan, “why you swore and were rude to me was because you lost your temper. That’s what lies behind most of your bad behaviour. You don’t keep control of yourself and then you come out with rudeness and swearing. That’s what you’ve got to work on. The swear-words and the rudeness are just symptoms; you’re going to learn to control your temper and then the other matters will take care of themselves. You need to get your own temper on a tight rein, Ronan. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

He went out and returned with his cane. I gulped.

“Only you can train yourself to get on top of your temper, Ronan; but I’m going to help you a bit,” he said.

“By beating me?”

“This is going to hurt. I’m hoping that when you begin to lose your self-control, you’ll remember this and make an effort to keep your temper in check. Because if you don’t, I’ll cane you again; harder. That clear, Ronan?”

I swallowed.

“Yes.”

“Bare your bottom and bend over the end of the bed.”

I obeyed, relieved at least that Aunt Myrtle wasn’t here to see me being caned this time. He wasted no time in getting started and as the searing strokes lashed into my bottom, cruelly close together, he made me gasp and then squeal, flinch and then writhe. I sank my teeth hard into the duvet and fought the ferocious burn. He gave me the full dozen, the final three given at an angle across most of the earlier welts so that the intensity of the pain was dramatically increased.

When he’d done, he patted my shoulder and told me to stand. I did so carefully and felt my way across my ravaged buttocks with both hands. Ridges and fiery heat lay beneath my palms. Hot tears trickled down my face. My breathing was ragged and noisy.

“Do you think that the promise of an even harder dozen if you lose your temper and swear or are rude to your aunt again, will be enough to persuade you to keep your temper, Ronan?”

“Yes,” I replied unsteadily.

“You can take your punishment like a man, so show me that you can learn from it like a man,” said Alan. “Do you want to stay here until Danny gets back? He shouldn’t be long.”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.”

Alan went out, taking the cane with him. I blew my nose hard, dried away my tears and carefully pulled my clothing on again. I didn’t feel like sitting down, so stood at the window and watched for Danny returning. Shortly after, I saw him walking up the road and he was soon bursting into his room and enveloping me in a giant hug. He insisted in seeing the marks; and on licking them and then anointing them before we lay on his bed side-by side face-down.

“Are you gonna try to keep your temper under control?” asked Danny.

“Your step-dad made crystal clear what he’d do to me if I don’t,” I replied. “Same again, but even harder. I don’t want that. In fact, if I never see that fucking cane again, it’ll be too soon,” I declared hotly.

“Er, Ronan?”

“What?”

“Swearing? Getting worked up?”

“Oh, shit! It’s not so easy, is it? But I gotta try, Danny. Alan’s cane is horrendous. I really hate it; even more than I hate Aunt Myrtle.”

“And Alan?”

“Huh? No, I don’t hate him. He doesn’t go easy on me, but he’s reasonable and he’s fair; not like Aunt Myrtle with all her stupid demands and little niggles that get me wound up.”

“But you’re not gonna let her wind you up, are you? When she annoys you, think of hot sex with me and think of a beating with the cane,” advised Danny. “That oughta do it.”

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

Alan was as good as his word. I had just brought my aunt a cup of tea in the garden and had sat down beside her. She told me that he’d had a talk with her and she informed me somewhat grumpily that I could in future remove my shirt when working in the garden if it was hot. She also informed me, decidedly cheerfully, that Alan had assured her that if I were to display any rudeness or a disrespectful attitude towards her he’d beat me again.

“Alan also explained to me about you and Danny and he seems to think it’s okay, so I’m going to accept it. I actually met Danny in town this morning and he was very polite to me. Even carried my shopping-bags to my car for me. Maybe he’ll have a good influence on you. I gather his step-father caned him after that incident when he was rude to me over his destructive dog, and he certainly seems to have improved.”

“I like him a lot, Aunt Myrtle, “and I’m glad you’re accepting him.”

“What do you like about him?” she enquired unexpectedly.

“He’s cheerful and funny and easy to talk to; and……” I hesitated. “….and he’s very good-looking too.”

I held my breath.

“I’ll grant he’s got an attractive smile and very nice hair,” agreed Aunt Myrtle.

“And an absolutely gorgeous bottom,” I added daringly.

“I don’t think we need to go into that much detail,” she said primly.

At that moment, the said Danny appeared, complete with Chico. He addressed Aunt Myrtle politely and ordered Chico to give her a paw; which the dog obligingly did. She looked slightly flustered; and even turned rather pink when Danny insisted on moving the sun-shade so that the sun wasn’t in her eyes. The three of us had tea together and she and Danny had a good chat. I could see he was making a huge effort and was definitely creating a very good impression; while Chico behaved impeccably.

“I’ll need to go now,” said Danny. “I was just on my way home with Chico after his walk. I’ll see you later,” he told me; and then, to my everlasting astonishment, he kissed Aunt Myrtle’s hand and strode off towards the gate.

Aunt Myrtle looked stunned as she gazed after him.

“He’s really rather nice,” she said thoughtfully.

“Aunt Myrtle, you’re becoming almost human,” I said.

“Well, maybe I have been a bit hard on you; but I’m not loosening the rein too much, Ronan. Maybe your relationship with Danny will steady you up; but don’t forget that his step-dad’s there with his cane to beat you soundly if you need it.”

“I’ll never forget that fire-dealing cane,” I assured her earnestly. “And thanks for liking Danny.”

“Well, you know,” she opined thoughtfully, “he does have a gorgeous bottom, doesn’t he?”

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

D I S C L A I M E R

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

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Story ©MMXXIV by Joelstrap, used here by very kind permission.  Joelstrap’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.

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