The Stolen Cane (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

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

 

The Stolen Cane by Joelstrap

“Whooff!” gasped Jamie as he rubbed energetically at his bottom, “that’s one vicious cane!”

“Tell me about it,” agreed his best friend Nathan, who was also trying, with little success, to alleviate the fierce sting in his buttocks. “Crabtree might be old, but he can still use a cane.”

“We were probably lucky to get off with just four each,” said Jamie. “But he made darned sure we felt every one of them.”

“I never thought we’d still be getting our arses beaten at eighteen,” Nathan observed. “I’d sort of believed the cane was for younger boys and us seniors in our last year wouldn’t get it any more. Boy, was I wrong!”

“Let’s go and have a look at the marks,” suggested Jamie. “I bet he’s managed to put a few welts on our behinds.”

The pair made their way to the toilets and dropped their trousers and pants so that each could see the other’s bare bottom.

“Shit! Four bright red marks, clear as hell, and neatly spaced,” remarked Nathan as he examined his friend’s caned rump.

“Yup! And you’re the same,” said Jamie. “He hits bloody hard. No wonder they sting so much.”

“Well, I guess we won’t be taking a shortcut across the playing-fields on our bikes again,” said Nathan ruefully. “He promised us six if we did it again and I really don’t want six of that bugger’s cane.”

“Me neither,” agreed Jamie. “You gonna tell your uncle?”

“I’m meant to; and then he gives me double with his cane at home,” said Nathan.

“Yeh; I’ve heard you describing some of his canings,” admitted Jamie. “He doesn’t let you off lightly, by the sound of it.”

“Maybe I’ll risk not telling him this time,” said Nathan. “I really don’t want eight more tonight. Mind you, if I don’t tell him and then he hears about it from somebody, I’ll get even more.”

Jamie gave him a sympathetic look and then, as the bell rang for the end of the interval, the boys pulled up their clothing and headed off to their next class.

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

Nathan awoke suddenly and listened. Something had disturbed his sleep and he strained to hear if there was any unusual sound. All, however, was silent. He glanced at the luminous dial of his clock and saw that it was shortly after three in the morning. He lay still for a while but a sense of unease grew although he wasn’t sure why. Eventually he slid naked from his bed and padded softly to the door, opened it carefully and peered out. The house was still, and in the darkness he could see little; but after a few seconds he noticed a faint light from downstairs, where no light should have been. Moving over to the head of the staircase, he looked down and saw that there was a glow coming from beneath the door of his uncle’s study. Nathan couldn’t see any reason why his uncle would be in there at three in the morning and so descended the stair quietly, approached the door and pushed it carefully open a little way. The desk-light was on, but there was no-one there. He went into the room, switching on the main light as he entered. That was when he noticed the window-curtain.

Nathan was no expert on curtains, but he knew that the curtain shouldn’t be moving; not unless the window was open. He walked across and drew the curtain aside to reveal that the window was indeed wide open; and bore clear signs of having been forced. There were long scores in the woodwork at one side and the frame was distorted.

“Burglars,” said Nathan to himself and he went off to rouse his uncle.

Nathan had lived with his Uncle George for the past four years, ever since his parents had split up and both left the town to begin new lives elsewhere with fresh partners. Unwilling to leave his school and his friends, Nathan had asked to be allowed to live with his uncle, with whom he had always got on well. His parents had eventually agreed, although both kept in touch with him and he spent time with them separately during holidays. Uncle George was a strict disciplinarian, but he was scrupulously fair, and Nathan accepted his firm discipline without rancour.

Uncle George pulled on a dressing-gown and followed Nathan to the study where he observed for himself the evidence of the break-in.

“Don’t see much sign of anything being taken,” said Nathan.

“Let’s just go and check the rest of the house,” suggested George, “and maybe you should at least put on a pair of briefs, Nathan. Don’t want to scare the living daylights out of any burglar we might come across, do we?”

“Oh, heck, no!” declared Nathan. “I just got up and came down. I didn’t really realise I was starkers.”

He bounded upstairs, donned a pair of briefs and dashed back down again. The two went into all the other rooms, but there was no sign of anything having been disturbed. George checked various drawers and cupboards but as far as he could tell, nothing had been taken. They returned to the study and again checked drawers and cupboards but there was no sign they had even been opened.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Nathan. “Why break in and not steal anything?”

“Maybe he made a noise by mistake just after he got in – which might be what woke you – and he realised he might have been heard so decided to scarper in case someone came,” said George.

“Mmm; I guess,” said Nathan.

“Anyway, I’d better report it,” said George and went to the ‘phone.

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

Nathan met up with Jamie on the way to school the next morning and told him of the break-in at his house and the curious fact that nothing appeared to have been stolen.

“He probably heard you getting up after he accidentally made a noise, and just decided to get out as fast as he could,” opined Jamie, echoing Nathan’s uncle’s theory.

They entered the playground and met up with some of their classmates who greeted them with exciting news. There had been a break-in at the school overnight.

“And did they take the cash from the school-office?” asked Len rhetorically. “Did they take the sports-trophies so they could melt them down for the silver? Did they take tape-recorders and projectors and items of value like that? No they bloody well didn’t!” declared Len.

“So what did they take?” demanded another boy.

“They took,” said Len, pausing for dramatic effect, “eleven canes.”

“Eleven canes?” repeated Nathan. “Why the hell would they steal eleven canes?”

Len shrugged. His knowledge didn’t extend that far.

“Weird,” said Jamie.

In spite of the missing canes, the school’s system of discipline didn’t collapse into chaos and disarray, and lessons proceeded as normal, with any master whose cane had disappeared managing to borrow from another teacher, so that no deserving boy’s bottom missed out on its punishment.

Nathan arrived home from school as usual, did his homework, and settled to watch some TV. Shortly afterwards a rather grim-looking George came home from work.

“I happened to meet Mr. Crabtree,” he informed Nathan, whose stomach immediately experienced a jolt of apprehension. “It seems that you were caught riding your bike across the playing-fields yesterday. Is that right?”

“Er, yes,” admitted Nathan.

“And?”

“And I got the cane,” Nathan confessed.

“And what is the rule when you get caned at school, Nathan?”

“I tell you about it and I get punished again to make sure I’ve learned my lesson,” replied Nathan, somewhat sulkily.

“But you forgot to tell me?” asked George.

Nathan was too honest to try to pretend that had been the case.

“No. I hoped you wouldn’t find out so that I didn’t get caned again,” he admitted.

Uncle George had a slender, whippy cane which apparently his father had used on him and his brother (Nathan’s father) when they were boys. George had used it effectively on Nathan over the past four years, which was part of the reason why the boy had hoped to avoid getting it on this occasion. Not only did George hit very hard, but since Nathan had turned sixteen, he’d begun caning him on his bare bottom, so that the pain-level was even more intense than what he experienced when he was caned at school.

“But you’re going to be caned now, aren’t you, Nathan?”

“Yes.”

“How many strokes did you get at school?”

“Four,” Nathan confessed.

“Which means?”

“You’ll give me eight.”

“And you realise that I’ll be caning you for behaviour which required a caning at school, and about which you failed to inform me?”

“Yes.”

“That will be another four, Nathan. A full dozen in total. Do you want it now, or after tea?” asked George.

“I’ll take it now, please,” replied Nathan, who preferred just to get it over.

“Go and wait in the study.”

Nathan went. There was a ritual involved here. Nathan stood with his hands behind his back, facing the wall, and waited. It was usually several minutes, during which he was expected to think about his bad behaviour. In due course his uncle would come in and tell him to remove his shoes, jeans and underwear. This occasion ran exactly to form. Nathan was then given an order.

“Fetch the cane, Nathan,” said George; and Nathan padded out into the hall, opened the coat-cupboard, and reached inside a large, heavy winter-coat which hung at the far end. On its hanger, concealed inside the coat, was the cane.

Nathan’s hand found nothing but empty space. He felt along the length of the hanger; but there was no cane. He pulled the coat along the rail and opened it so that he could look at the bar of the hanger. It made no difference. There was still no cane. Nathan stood irresolute for several seconds and then returned to the study.

“It’s not there,” he said.

His uncle stared at him.

“Are you messing me about, Nathan?”

“No, honest, I’m not. The cane’s not there.”

George went to look for himself and confirmed what Nathan had said. When he returned to the study, Nathan told him about the break-in at the school and the missing canes.

“And nothing else was pinched,” said Nathan. “It can’t be a coincidence that there’s a break-in here the same night and your cane’s stolen.”

“I agree it seems an unlikely coincidence,” admitted George. “Anybody would know there’s canes in a school; but how would they know there was a cane here?”

Nathan flushed slightly.

“Er, well, I’ve told some of the guys about how you cane me double for any caning I get at school. You know; it’s the kind of thing boys talk about. My mate Connor’s dad leathers him with an old-fashioned razor-strop. Connor says it stings like a score of wasps attacking his behind at once. And Jamie says he gets spanked with a wooden bath-brush and it can leave him all tears and snot, even at eighteen,” explained Nathan.

“But even granted it could be reasonably well known that you get caned at home, how did the thief know where to find the cane?”

Nathan’s face turned the colour of a well-spanked bottom.

“I…eh….I…sort of…..tell the guys about the standing in the study; and getting my bottom bared; and then being sent to get the cane from the hall-cupboard; and then getting beaten,” he admitted.

“Do you indeed?”

“I don’t mean any harm,” said Nathan defensively. “They like hearing about it. They think you sound cool.”

“Ah; that’s all right then,” said George. “Do you think I’m cool?”

“I don’t really think about you that way,” admitted Nathan, “but I don’t complain about you thrashing me. I know I deserve to be punished when I’ve misbehaved. It’s just boys comparing their experiences.”

“Yes; fair enough. I have to admit that your dad and I used to tell our pals about that same cane you get, when we were young. However, you have reminded me that you still need to be punished for being caned at school. Since I can’t cane you, you’ll be confined to your room for the next twelve evenings, one for each stroke you ought to have got with my cane.”

“What! No; please, Uncle George, no! You can’t do that to me. Think of all the things I’ll miss. Please don’t do that. Couldn’t you spank me with the bath-brush? Or take your belt to my bum? Or I’ll go and cut a switch from the garden for you to lash me with.”

“No, Nathan. You’ll stay in your room for the next dozen evenings; and if I hear any more protests from you, I’ll make it eighteen evenings.”

Nathan was appalled but he didn’t dare risk losing his freedom for still longer, and so he seethed inwardly but said nothing. He put his clothes back on and went dismally to his room.

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

“Fuck! That’s pretty hellish!” declared Jamie when Nathan told him next morning. “But I still don’t see why anybody would break into the school and your house to steal bloody canes.”

Tony approached them as they crossed the playground.

“Hey, Nathan. Did your uncle’s cane get pinched?” he asked.

“How the hell do you know that?” demanded Nathan.

“There was a break-in at my house the same night. Everybody knows my dad canes me, ’cos I’m like you. I tell the guys about it. Dad’s a teacher in the next town, so he’s got a cane anyway; but sometimes he leaves it at school and sometimes he brings it home with him. He’d left it at school the night of the break-ins and so whoever came to our house didn’t find it; and nothing at all was stolen.”

“And the only thing pinched from my place was Uncle George’s cane,” said Nathan thoughtfully. “Yeh, there’s gotta be some connection, but I just don’t get it.”

“Well, you definitely won’t get your uncle’s cane,” observed Tony with a grin. “Lucky sod!”

“Lucky?! I was to get a dozen of the cane yesterday evening as punishment for getting caned at school, and I didn’t get it. I got caged in my room every bloody evening for twelve nights. I’ll tell you something. I need to get that cane back. If I don’t, my life’s not gonna be worth living. You’re the lucky sod. At least your dad’s still got his cane to beat you with,” said Nathan vehemently.

“Yeh; well I never thought of it like that,” admitted Tony. “I’ve no idea what my dad would do if his cane was pinched; but I’d rather have a hard dose of the cane than be shut in my room for nights on end.”

The boys headed off to their classes.

Nathan dawdled a bit over his lunch as his brain worked away at the problem of how to find his uncle’s stolen cane. Jamie had already left to go and finish off some French homework before the upcoming lesson and the only boys left at the table were Clive and Barry, sitting together at the far end. Nathan rose to his feet and gathered up his bag just as Clive also got up and strode out of the dining-hall, leaving Barry alone. He gave Nathan a smile as he passed. Nathan liked Barry. The boy was slim, almost skinny, but had a wiry athleticism about him; and the thick brown curls which cascaded over his forehead almost to his eyebrows appealed greatly to Nathan. That little, almost shy, smile was irresistibly attractive in Nathan’s eyes.

He’s with Clive. Leave him alone, Nathan told himself. But he smiled at me. And anyway, even if he is with Clive, could he not be even happier with me? Clive’s not that big a deal. I could fight Clive for him; and win!

Nathan reached the door of the dining-hall, hesitated and then turned back.

“How’d you like to come for a run with me after school, Barry?” he asked quickly, before he could change his mind.

“With you? Well, yeh, sure. I’d love that,” replied Barry, flushing coyly.

He hesitated and then said, “Maybe I should just tell Clive….”

“Why?”

“You know….him and me….we’re kind of……”

“Fuck Clive!” declared Nathan.

“Oh,” said Barry, giving Nathan little appreciative glances from beneath his curls.

“If I want to go running with a cute, sexy boy, then that’s what I’ll do,” stated Nathan firmly.

Barry went bright red.

“Er, thanks,” he muttered, the tips of his ears glowing.

“See you at the changing-rooms after classes,” said Nathan. “Don’t be late or I’ll tan your hide.”

“Tan my hide?”

Nathan nodded gently and looked Barry straight in the eyes.

“You will too, won’t you?” he said softly.

“Damned right I will,” said Nathan. “See you.”

He trotted off, leaving Barry gazing after him in undisguised admiration.

 

Barry was already waiting when Nathan arrived after classes. He smiled shyly at Nathan and Nathan’s stomach did a flip-flop. He didn’t understand what the sight of Barry did to him; but it very definitely did something powerful. The two boys ran for over an hour and then, about three hundred yards from home, Barry glanced at Nathan and said, “Race you to the building?”

“Yeh.”

Both lads sped up considerably, but Nathan was astounded to find Barry pulling away from him and, despite his best efforts, reaching the school first.

“Bloody hell, Barry,” panted Nathan as he stood bent over, hands on his knees as he got his breath back, “there’s more to you than meets the eye!”

“So, you gonna tan my hide for beating you?” asked Barry, looking sideways at Nathan.

“You think I should give you a spanking?”

“Yes, please,” replied Barry as if Nathan had offered him a chocolate-biscuit.

Nathan swallowed and regained his poise.

“Right. We’ll go back to my place. My uncle won’t be in for over an hour yet.”

Showered and dressed, the boys made their way to Nathan’s home, saying little but glancing surreptitiously at each other as they walked. They walked fairly slowly, although neither boy alluded to the reason for this. Nathan took Barry up to his room.

“Okay, Barry-boy; shoes, trousers and pants off,” ordered Nathan.

He watched, enchanted, as Barry quietly revealed his charms, finally unleashing a slim but fully-aroused cock which bounded free with great exuberance. Nathan whistled softly.

“Wow!” he observed. “Impressive; and I think you like me.”

Barry went slightly red. Nathan also stripped from the waist down, revealing his own substantial, and highly-excited, assets to Barry’s admiring gaze.

Nathan sat on a chair and indicated to Barry that he should lie across his knees. The contact of bare flesh pushed both boys even closer to orgasm as Nathan began to spank Barry’s exquisite bottom. He’d never spanked anyone before, but it all seemed to come naturally and he soon had Barry’s buttocks a bright, glowing red from a lengthy and relentless application of his right hand. Barry was making small sounds while squirming and kicking, but he made no objection to what Nathan was doing to him. When the spanking stopped and Nathan hauled him to his feet, he pressed both hands to his burning globes and closed his eyes as pain and pleasure combined to produce ecstasy. Nathan stood behind him, his body pressed to Barry’s spanked behind, and used both his hands to work expertly on Barry’s cock until, with a bass groan of delight, he shot his load in a long, high arc over his shoulder, to land on Nathan’s desk.

Nathan moved over to the desk, pushing Barry ahead of him, and examined the several globules of spunk where they lay on the open page of a jotter.

“Fuck! My essay on Hamlet’s all blurred; and it’s gonna smell of your boy-cream!” exclaimed Nathan.

“You should have turned me in another direction,” riposted Barry. “You were in control.”

“It’s your spunk; you put it there; so it’s your fault,” declared Nathan firmly.

“So? You can’t make me copy out your essay afresh for you, because the master will know your writing,” said Barry.

“No. I’ll need to do that myself; but you’ll be here, standing silently while I’m doing it, arse bare. Because when I’m finished, I’ll put you back over my knee and spank you with my hair-brush.”

“Hair-brush?”

“Hair-brush,” asserted Nathan. “Hard,” he added.

“I don’t think I want that,” said Barry.

“Think I care?” retorted Nathan. “If I want you to get it, you get it. Now come and see to this for me,” he went on, nodding at his towering erection.

Barry knelt at Nathan’s feet and used his hands and tongue to send Nathan’s spunk soaring high.

“It’s landed on your bed,” said Barry, “but I guess there’s plenty of your juice there anyway so a bit more won’t make much difference. You got a hell of a lot,” he added.

The pair lay face to face and indulged in a long session of kissing, accompanied by intimate manual explorations of each other’s body.

“Best get dressed,” muttered Nathan. “Uncle George should be home in a few minutes.”

Reluctantly they fell apart and hauled on their clothes. Barry picked up his school-bag and made for the door.

“Oh! My blazer,” he said, turning back.

Nathan picked it up from where Barry had discarded it on the floor and was about to hand it to him when he let out a yelp.

“What the…..?”

He glanced at a small globule of blood on his finger and then at the lapel of Barry’s blazer. He could see, protruding from the material, the point of a safety-pin. Turning the lapel over he saw, where it had been hidden inside the lapel, a round badge, made from cardboard and with the safety-pin taped to the back. Nathan pulled the badge off and looked closely at it. It showed a cane, partly bent into an arc; and with a red cross over it.

Nathan looked at Barry, who had turned bright red.

“Wanna explain?” asked Nathan.

“Not really.”

“I’ll put it differently,” said Nathan. “You’re going to explain, aren’t you?”

Barry looked decidedly uncomfortable but remained silent.

“I don’t think,” said Nathan, turning the badge over in his hand, “that the theft of canes from the school and from my house, and a badge with a motif like this on it, are a coincidence. Are they, Barry?”

Barry shook his head.

“So, tell me,” said Nathan, sitting on the edge of his bed, taking Barry’s hand and drawing him to sit beside him.

He kept hold of Barry’s hand as he turned a questioning face towards him.

“You see,” began Barry, “there’s this organisation of lads across the country who want to ban the cane and there’s a little group in our school. Clive’s the main one and he’s gathered about half a dozen boys who support him; and I got kind of entangled with them, being Clive’s boyfriend, you know?”

“He forced you into it?” asked Nathan.

“No. He just asked me and I didn’t like to say no.”

“But you’re not that committed to it, huh?”

“Well, not really. I mean, I don’t like getting caned, but I’d rather get beaten than get hours of detentions,” admitted Barry.

“Yeh. I don’t like getting my uncle’s cane across my bare arse, but I was due twelve for getting the cane at school and for not telling him about it. Then some bastard broke in and stole the cane, so I’m doing twelve evenings shut in my room instead. It might sting like sitting on a nest of scorpions, but I’ll take a caning any day rather than be caged every evening,” declared Nathan.

Barry gulped and went bright red.

“The stolen canes,” he said. “Clive and three other boys did the school break-in. We knew that you and Tony both got caned at home too because you’ve both told us about it, so Maurice and me were sent to try to pinch these two canes.”

“And were you successful at the house you went to?” enquired Nathan.

Barry looked deeply unhappy.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Which means,” said Nathan, “since no cane was stolen from Tony’s house, that it was you who did the break-in at my house and swiped my uncle’s cane?”

“Yes,” replied Barry more softly still. “I’m really sorry, Nathan.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be telling anybody; but I need to get my uncle’s cane back so that he can thrash me and then I can get out in the evenings again.”

“Okay. I think I can do that,” said Barry.

“You’ve got it?”

“Nuh! Clive’s hidden them all somewhere; but I’ll ask him for it and tell him I need to return it,” Barry assured him.

By the time the pair descended to the hall, Nathan’s uncle was home and he was introduced to Barry briefly before he went home.

“Nice, polite lad that,” observed George to Nathan. “You should try to keep him as a friend.”

“Yeh, I like him a lot,” agreed Nathan.

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

Next day, Barry told Nathan that he’d have his uncle’s cane on Saturday morning.

“Clive can’t get it back from where it’s hidden – somewhere in the woods, I think – until then; but it’s only another two evenings you’re gonna be caged.”

“Great! That’ll still be four evenings shut in my room; but better than twelve. I wonder if he’ll let me off with just eight with the cane, seeing that I’ll have done four nights shut in. Shit! I never thought the day would come when I’d actually want to be caned.”

“Clive’s not best pleased with me,” admitted Barry.

“He’s not being violent?” asked Nathan.

“No, no, nothing like that. You’re the only one who’s spanked me,” he added with a mischievous grin. “I….eh…..I’ve told Clive that I want to break up with him. I think I’d like to get to know you better,” he ended with a shy smile.

“Even though I spanked you?”

“Especially because you spanked me!”

“Well, I’ll be doing more than spank you when you bring that cane to me on Saturday morning,” declared Nathan.

Barry stared at him and then asked hesitantly, “You’re gonna cane me?”

“Fucking right I’m gonna cane you! Breaking and entering; theft; getting me caged in my room for nights on end? You need to be punished, kid; and since I’m not going to report you, I’ll have to do it myself,” said Nathan firmly.

Barry plunged a hand urgently into his trousers and rearranged his throbbing organ.

“I love it when you’re dominant,” he said.

“You won’t love it when I’m beating the shit outta you with my uncle’s cane,” Nathan informed him grimly. “It’s a bastard of a cane and I’ll be a bastard when I’m tanning your sorry arse with it.”

Barry ran a hand along the muscle of Nathan’s right arm.

“Mmm,” he said, “I bet you will.”

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

They’d agreed that Barry should bring the cane to Nathan’s home on Saturday morning, as his uncle would be out golfing; and Barry, having got the cane back from Clive, duly arrived with it down the leg of his jeans.

“That was a hell of a walk,” he said as he pulled the rod out. “It’s bloody hard walking with a cane down your denims.”

Nathan took the cane and arched it slowly while Barry watched.

“You know what I’m gonna give you?” asked Nathan; and Barry nodded.

“Okay; strip for it.”

“Everything?”

“Everything!”

Barry obeyed and stood naked and fully aroused before Nathan.

“Four for the break-in; four for theft; and six for getting me caged in my room,” declared Nathan.

“Getting you caged is a worse crime than housebreaking or theft?” enquired Barry.

“Damned right it is!” said Nathan. “Bend over that chair and don’t move out of position until I’ve finished.”

Barry duly complied and Nathan admired the lean, taut buttocks, presented for the cane. He’d never used a cane before, but his eye was good and he had a strong right arm. He brought the rod down hard across the centre of Barry’s bottom and watched in fascination as the boy tensed his muscles and a slim red tram-line rose from his skin. He wielded the cane thrice more, etching a parallel line slightly lower at each stroke and eliciting powerful clenching and flinching from Barry.

“That was for housebreaking,” said Nathan.

He flexed the cane and adjusted his own full erection. He noticed that Barry was still partly hard; and when he did a couple of vicious-sounding practice-strokes just behind him, he made Barry jump. He began to inflict the second set of four, continuing to lash in the lithe cane hard, slightly lower each time. The third got Barry full on the crease and elicited the first sound; a half-stifled yelp. Nathan watched as Barry squirmed and then steadied himself. He gripped the cane tightly and whipped it as hard as he could lower still across the tender flesh where Barry’s bottom merged into his upper legs. Barry squealed and writhed, and for a moment Nathan thought he was going to break position; but the boy regained control of his body and, panting audibly, settled himself.

“That was for theft,” said Nathan.

He slashed the cane down at an obtuse angle across the first two welts on Barry’s behind and watched with satisfaction as the boy twisted his lower body, muscles urgently clenched. The next stroke sliced across the two welts beneath and a yelp escaped Barry as his right leg kicked and then came back to the floor. Nathan rearranged his genitals and took a couple of deep breaths. I’m not half gonna fuck the living daylights outta you when I’m done beating you, he promised himself.

He whipped the cane in hard below the furthest down of the marks on Barry’s rump, searing the tender flesh with blazing fire. Barry uttered a desperate squeal and his hand flew back to comfort his tormented rear. Nathan rapped his hand hard with the cane and ordered him to get it back on the chair. He made the boy wait for the next one before delivering it lower still and getting a very gratifying yowl out of him, along with an athletic writhe. Barry couldn’t quite steady himself and a persistent tremor coursed through his body. Nathan inflicted the penultimate stroke at a steep angle, cross-hatching all the welts on the lower part of Barry’s bottom. Barry yelled again, stifling his cry as he sank his teeth hard into the chair-cushion. He kicked violently and then stood, clenching and relaxing his gluteal-muscles as he fought to master the fierce pain. A pause of several seconds ensued while Nathan made him wait; and then the cane lashed hard across the lowest two welts, full on the boy’s crease, delivering the most intense pain yet. Barry’s squeal of agony was barely stifled by his mouthful of cushion and his lower body squirmed and writhed with all the energy of a snake impaled on the tines of a garden-fork.

Nathan slid his hand into his jeans and felt the pre-cum on the end of his towering erection. He laid down the cane and felt his way gently with both hands over Barry’s flaming, welt-scored buttocks.

“That was for getting me caged,” he said.

He continued to caress Barry’s rear for some time and then gently told him to stand up. Barry complied slowly and turned a tear-stained face to Nathan. Nathan kissed him and within a few seconds the pair were entwined, lips and tongues eagerly exploring. Nathan felt he couldn’t hold off any longer and he noticed that Barry was powerfully aroused too. He swivelled Barry round and pushed him on to the bed on his back before mounting him, throwing Barry’s legs over his shoulders, holding his wrists above his head, and then carefully but determinedly driving his way in. Barry responded, anal muscles tightening and relaxing in time to Nathan’s thrusts until an explosion erupted between Nathan’s legs and he climaxed with a bass groan of ecstasy.

Nathan rolled Barry on to his face and licked gently at the cane-marks on his bottom, savouring Barry’s moans and small sounds of pleasure as his beaten flesh was tenderly treated. He rolled him over on to his back once more and worked skilfully with both hands on his erection until Barry gasped and sent his spunk soaring in a long arc across the room.

“And that’s what happens to a boy who goes housebreaking and thieving and messing up his boyfriend’s life,” said Nathan severely. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Barry, his eyes dancing. “That was some caning. I’ve never been beaten that hard before. But I’m not the only one to do a bit of thieving.”

“No?”

“You stole me from Clive,” Barry reminded him.

“Hmm,” said Nathan. “Clive didn’t deserve you. You’re not thinking of going back to Clive, are you?”

“No way!” declared Barry emphatically.

“You’re amazing,” Nathan told him.

“And you’re quite something too,” replied Barry. “You know, all this pinching canes was a bit daft, because they’ll soon get new canes at the school. I tore up my badge too. I think I’m one of these boys who needs to have a cane in his life. Dad doesn’t cane me and I’ll be leaving school in a few months, but at least you’ll give me the cane if I misbehave. Although, now I’ve felt what you can do, I’m gonna be on my very best behaviour,” he ended with a rueful grin as he scrubbed at his bottom.

“I’ll be getting the cane myself,” Nathan reminded him. “Uncle George will be pleased to get his cane back, but he’s still gonna blast my arse into next week.”

“How are you going to explain how you got his cane back?” asked Barry.

“I’m not. I’m just gonna say that I was in town for a while and when I got back, the cane was lying on the back doorstep.”

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

Nathan’s uncle was delighted at the return of his cane.

“It’s very odd,” he said. “Maybe the thief had a conscience?”

Nathan shrugged.

“So, now you’ve got your cane back, are you gonna give me a beating? I’d rather have the caning you were going to give me than get shut in my room for another eight evenings.”

“Ah yes. Twelve strokes, wasn’t it Nathan? Double the four you got at school and an extra four for not telling me?” said George.

“Er, yeh; but I’ve done four evenings in my room, so maybe it should just be eight with the cane?” suggested Nathan hopefully.

“That sounds fair,” agreed his uncle. “Go to the study, Nathan.”

Nathan went and his uncle hung the cane in its usual place in the hall-cupboard before going to the study, ordering Nathan to get ready and then sending him for the cane. Nathan felt a sense of relief to find the slender rod hanging in its accustomed place. He arched it gently before returning to the study and handing it to his uncle.

“Bend over, Nathan.”

His uncle wielded the cane with practised skill, delivering stroke after searing stroke to Nathan’s taut buttocks and creating six closely-set parallel welts on his skin. The boy winced and clenched as he gripped the edges of the chair with white-knuckled intensity; but he took the strokes in silence. The final two cross-cut the set of six and screwed up the pain to a much higher level, forcing desperate yelps from Nathan as he writhed urgently, fighting with all he’d got to process the ferocious burn and stay in position.

Punishment complete, Nathan stood, body arched in a concave curve from head to feet, hands pressed to his blazing behind, his eyes closed and his face still showing clear signs of the pain he was dealing with.

“Wishing you’d just done another eight evenings in your room, Nathan?” asked George with a slight smile.

Nathan opened his eyes and looked him in the face.

“No,” he said. “I’d rather get it over; and now I can get on with my life.”

“You’re not one of the boys in favour of getting rid of the cane?”

“No way! I know it hurts like the fires of………..woa! How do you know about that?” asked Nathan.

“It seems that a certain boy was caught slipping a note under the door of the Headmaster’s study; a note which said that the canes had been stolen as part of a campaign to get corporal punishment abolished. The Head gave the boy a choice: either return the canes and then take a severe caning; or be reported to the police for breaking and entering and theft, with all that would lead from that. Oh, and get a severe caning from the Head into the bargain,” said George.

“Clive?” asked Nathan.

“That was the name, I think,” agreed his uncle. “He opted to return the canes and get a beating. One hard stroke on his bare bottom with each of the eleven stolen canes, so I’m told.”

“Phew! I bet the poor sod felt that,” said Nathan.

“And how do you know about this, Nathan?”

“I heard guys saying things,” replied Nathan vaguely.

“Was it this Clive who stole my cane?” asked George.

“No,” said Nathan.

“But you know who it was?”

“Yes.”

“And did you persuade him to return the cane?”

“Yes. I made up that bit about it being on the doorstep. But you do understand that I’m not gonna tell you who he is?” asked Nathan.

“Yes; I see that. But he goes unpunished?”

“No,” said Nathan.

“But the Head doesn’t know about him presumably, and nor do the police; so how has he been punished?” asked George.

“He got a very hard caning,” replied Nathan.

“I’m pleased to hear it; but I’m still curious. Who caned him?”

Nathan blinked a few times and then looked his uncle straight in the eyes.

“I did,” he said.

George raised his eyebrows.

“I did it properly,” said Nathan. “He agreed to take it because he knew he had behaved badly. When he brought back your cane earlier today, I gave him fourteen on the bare with it. He’s promised he won’t have any more to do with the anti-caning group. I…..I didn’t go easy on him. I can hit pretty hard,” Nathan added.

George eyed his nephew’s firm biceps and grinned suddenly at him.

“I bet you can,” he said.

“I can; and I did,” Nathan assured him.

“In that case I think we can consider the matter closed,” said George.

“Thank you,” said Nathan. “Would it be okay if I brought Barry round for his dinner this evening?”

“Yes, of course.”

That evening when Nathan brought Barry back to his house, the boys spent an hour or so in Nathan’s room, during which Nathan told Barry about the caning his uncle had given him and about what George had heard about the theft of the canes and Clive being caught.

“He guessed that I knew who had swiped his cane and that I’d managed to get it back; but of course I didn’t tell him who it was; only that it wasn’t Clive,” said Nathan.

On being called to eat, both sat down carefully on the hard wooden-chairs at the kitchen table and then eagerly engulfed the food which George had prepared.

“So, you got caned, Barry,” observed George as they approached the end of their meal.

Barry spluttered and coughed violently before turning an interrogative look on George.

“I saw you sit down at the table,” replied George with a grin; “and I recognise a boy who’s lowering himself carefully on to a tender bottom which has recently been caned. Nathan was the same of course; but I already knew that he’d been caned, having done it myself.”

Both boys gave rueful smiles.

“I trust you learned your lesson, Barry?”

“Oh, yeh. I got it hell of a hard,” replied Barry. “The guy who thrashed me knew what he was doing.”

“I’m sure he did. My nephew has a good eye and a strong right arm.”

Barry flushed bright red.

“Did a good job, did he, Barry?” asked George with a smile.

Barry threw Nathan an admiring glance and said, “Oh, yeh. He did a good job. But you said you hadn’t told your uncle,” he said accusingly to Nathan.

“I didn’t!” protested Nathan. “I told you. I just said to Uncle George that I’d found the thief and got the cane back and given him a beating.”

“It was just a hunch on my part; helped by seeing you wince slightly as you sat down,” admitted George. “And you looked like you’d been caned very recently; and since it’s Saturday I assumed it wasn’t at school; and you were here this morning. It all seemed to add up.”

“You’re….er…..you’re not gonna cane Nathan again for tanning me, are you?” asked Barry anxiously. “It was right that I got punished, like Clive did, with a caning; and the police didn’t need to know.”

“I told Nathan that the matter was closed after he assured me that the culprit had been punished,” said George. “And I’ll stand by what I said.”

“Thanks,” replied Barry, looking relieved.

“And thanks from me too,” said Nathan. “I honestly don’t want you to cane me again today.”

Later that evening, back in Nathan’s room, the boys were talking about their experiences.

“I’m pleased it’s all over,” confessed Barry, “and that I’ve split with Clive. And now we’ve both had our licks and our arses are safe.”

“Mine certainly is,” said Nathan.

Barry eyed him doubtfully.

“I’ve still got to rewrite my essay that you spunked all over,” said Nathan. “I’ll do it tomorrow evening so I can hand it in on Monday morning; and you remember what I said I’d do?”

Barry scowled slightly and said, quietly, “You said I’d have to stand and watch you doing it, and when you’d finished, you’d spank my bare arse with your hair-brush.”

“So your arse isn’t safe yet, is it, Barry?”

“Since you stole me from Clive, you’ve turned out to be a tough boyfriend to have,” said Barry. “Clive would never have spanked me with his hairbrush. In fact, he’d never have spanked me at all.”

“You complaining?”

“No,” replied Barry, breaking into a huge grin. “I’m sorry that I stole your uncle’s cane; but I’m pleased that you stole me!”

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

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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