The Unseen Witnesses (M/M with F audience) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

New to The Canery is this exciting caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

The Unseen Witnesses by Baddlad17

So it is true then, the Head does cane them trousers down.

Annabelle Scott could barely believe what she had just witnessed.

Yes. The boys were telling the truth.

Annabelle had smiled as she watched the teenage boy drop his trousers and bend across the arm of the chair, his bare bottom fully displayed, giving her a bird’s eye view. She had watched mesmerised as the Head laid stripe after scorching stripe across the poor boys bottom.

When told, the boy stood, rubbed his sore backside vigorously, in doing so displaying his manhood shamelessly before the Head. Lord knows what he would have done had he known female eyes had been eagerly watching. The tears rolled down his face as the Headmaster admonished him. Finally he had bent down to retrieve his fallen pants and trousers, covering his red welted buttocks.

Uplands Private Independent Day School had, up until this year, been a boys’ only establishment. However, times were changing, the school had been put under some pressure to modernise, part of which had been a pledge to admit female students. The governors, after much debate, voted in favour of this change, so for the first time in its one hundred and sixty year history, girls were allowed as members of the student body. For a trial period they were only accepted in the sixth form. If successful, they would introduce younger students from next year. Of course the school was run and operated entirely by male staff; none of them had any experience of dealing with the fairer sex, something which was of some concern to the Head and his staff.

The Headmaster, Mr Barrowclough, had argued this point with the Governors; but he had been overruled. The Head was a tall imposing man in his mid-fifties; the boys found him quite frightening, with good reason. It was certainly not wise to cross him!

Used to dealing with boys and young men, ruthlessly, he was rather intimidated as to how he would handle these’females.’ The question of discipline had been uppermost in his mind. When the boys misbehaved they could be certain of a cane connecting with their bared posteriors. He had though made it crystal clear to the Governors that he would never bring himself to cane any young lady regardless of what they had done. So for the first time in his career he would have to consider implementing some form of non– physical punishment should any of the girls need to be punished.

The senior boys, in contrast to the staff, had been very welcoming of girls attending the school. In this first intake there was only twenty. Most of the boys, from the third year up, were totally enamoured of them. Within days a number of suitors were making advances, making their choices and as males throughout the animal kingdom will, tried to win a mate. It was becoming a bit of a problem in the sixth form classes, and lessons had started to be disrupted as the boys were more interested in attracting the young ladies, than concentrating on their studies. They were warned to buckle down or face punishment. Some masters even threatened to get the slipper out to warm the backsides of these big lads, a punishment that was usually reserved for the younger boys.

In desperation, the masters complained bitterly during a staff meeting about the disruption the girls were having on classes, so that the Head had to issue a warning to the seniors that discipline would be rigidly enforced if behaviour did not improve. He made an announcement during morning assembly.

It has been brought to my notice that a number of sixth form boys are not concentrating on their studies this term. This seems to be as a direct result of having young ladies present. I will issue this warning just once to all of you. I am going to be keeping a close eye on end of term exam results and if I find any boy has dropped below the benchmark he is expected to achieve, he will be invited into my study. I do not need to spell you what that portends, do I gentlemen?

A low murmur went round the hall as the boys knew only too well the Heads meaning. Invariably when invited into the study, a lad left clutching a very sore bottom. Mr Barrowclough knew how to use a cane and he applied it with relish to the upturned bottom of any boy unlucky enough to have received an invite. A number of the sixth gave each other knowing looks with some gently pressing their buttocks as they recalled a previous painful visit to the Heads study.

The innocence of the girls soon became apparent as they questioned the boys as to what happened in the Heads study.

James Anderson and Matt Handley grinned widely when their new girlfriends Annabelle Scott and Lindsay Owen wanted to know what the Head had meant.

Well if you are invited into the Heads study, you receive a long lecture about your behaviour and then you are asked to lower your trousers and bend over the easy armchair. The Head then canes you, four, six or even eight strokes. On a bare arse it is excruciatingly painful.

James Anderson’s eyes glazed over as he recalled a visit to the study the previous year. On that occasion he had received four strokes but he had been in tears and could barely sit down in class for the rest of the afternoon.

Stop telling lies Jamie! The Head doesn’t make you take your trousers down!

The girls giggled while Matt and James looked at them incredulously.

I am telling the truth girls, ask Matt.

Matt nodded before confirming his friend’s version of events.

Oh boy yes he does. I once got six and could not sit down afterwards. My backside bore the stripes for over a week. When Barrowclough canes, you know about it!

The girls laughed, neither of them fully believing their boyfriends. However, a plot was forming in their minds. One way or another they would get the proof, and find out the truth.

Because the decision had been taken to permit girls into the sixth form at short notice, Mr Barrowclough had decided that it would not be wise to allow girls to share the same common room with the boys so a new area had to found. Directly opposite the Heads office in an old building, there were a couple of rooms which would be ideal. Situated on the first floor the rooms had at one time been used as classrooms, but had been used for nothing more than storage for over ten years. A lick of paint, fresh curtains and some comfortable chairs and sofas, had made the rooms suitable for the purpose. However no one had realized that from one of the windows you could get a full view straight into the Heads study. Lindsay had been the first to realise this as she stood looking out of the window one day. As she looked down she could see a boy standing before the Headmaster. From the way he hung his Head she sensed he might be in trouble. This was confirmed a minute or so later when the Head came round the desk and brought out a cane.

Lindsay had been fascinated as she looked on. Then she was amazed as the boy turned round and swiftly dropped his trousers and underpants before bending over the back of an armchair. The Head flicked back his shirt leaving his bottom bare. She watched in total shock as four very hard strokes were delivered to the naked bottom. When he stood up she could see he was distressed and his eyes were wet. He could not let go of his bottom at first. She sensed the Head must have said something as he quickly reached down and replaced his fallen clothes. The whole scene had lasted less than three minutes but it confirmed the boys had been telling the truth. They were caned on the bare backside.

She could hardly contain what she had seen, but decided it might be prudent to keep this to herself, as should others find out, the news might leak out and measures put in place to prevent the girls from seeing the going’s on in the Heads study. At first Annabelle did not believe her friend but after what she had just witnessed she knew better. Better still, tomorrow the end of term exam results would be issued, so the girls had a feeling some sixth form boys would be baring all in the study after the end of school and they had every intention of watching the proceedings.

Anderson, Andrews, Cole, Handley, Stephens and Webb; despite the warning I issued a couple of weeks back, you have all achieved results more than five per cent below expectations. Therefore I will follow through on my promise and invite you all to visit my study at four pm this afternoon.

Barrowclough cast a cold glare at the six blushing lads who knew without a doubt what awaited them, as did the rest of the school. Matt Handley gulped, while James Anderson shook his head in disbelief. Across the hall the lads’ girlfriends cast a knowing look at one another. Not only would they get to see six senior boys getting the cane. They would also be getting a bird’s eye view of their boyfriends’ sufferings. Lindsey licked her lips in anticipation of the afternoon’s events.

Throughout the day the condemned lads struggled to concentrate on their studies, this was compounded by the ribbing they were receiving from their classmates. Some of the girls found it quite amusing as a description of what was to happen, was described to them. Lindsay and Annabelle though, played it cool. They would be having ringside seats and did not want to jeopardise that for anything.

All too soon four pm arrived and the six seniors made the trip down the dark corridor to stand outside the Headmaster’s study. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts of their impending doom. They had all been in front of the Head before, so they were more than aware of their fate and how painful it was going to be. Meanwhile Annabelle and Lindsey made a quick dash from their last lesson up to their common room, which was as expected at this time of day, empty.

The girls were very excited at the prospect of what they were about to see. From their viewpoint they could make out the Head turning the easy armchair around so the back faced the window. This meant they would see the naked buttocks clearly being caned.

Outside the study the six boys stood, hands clammy, stomachs churning, as they waited. The door opened and Barrowclough looked down the line.

Alphabetical order gentlemen. Mr Anderson, step inside please.

James Anderson gave a weak smile to the rest of the condemned before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Anderson, there is no point in mulling over why you are here. Since the arrival of the girls at the start of term, classes have been disrupted as you boys seem to prefer to spend time chatting them up rather than studying. I might have expected this from the fourth or even the fifth form, but sixth formers should be more mature. Despite my promise you have seen fit to carry on. Well now I will keep my promise. If I can’t get it into your head, then maybe your bottom will be a better recipient. Come round by the chair and present your bare backside over the back.

In spite of expecting this James gulped and blushed before carrying out the instructions. As he came into view Lindsay nearly wet herself. She was about to witness her boyfriend getting his bottom tanned and she was relishing the prospect. Both girls watched as James dropped his trousers and then his underpants before bending over the back of the easy chair. His smooth muscular buttocks were in direct line of their vision. The girls looked on entranced as the Head came and stood beside him, a long slender cane in his hands. Suddenly he reared back and the first stroke sliced into the naked buttocks. As the Head removed the cane a red line was visible across the dead centre of the quivering buttocks. They watched him line up again and lash a second stroke. This time the bottom swayed a little as James struggled to absorb the fire burning across his behind. A second line was visible. They now watched entranced as the Head delivered a further four strokes, lower and lower down the boy’s bottom. By the time the last stroke had landed James was in tears and his backside was blazing.

Lindsay was licking her lips. She had actually enjoyed that, though she did not know why. In addition she was feeling moist inside her panties. She was looking forward to seeing her boyfriend later when she could rub some cream in and feel those raised welts. She was also hoping that he might finally take her tonight. So far they had enjoyed oral sex and some heavy petting but she wanted more, she was desperate to feel his hot rod probing deep inside her.

Before they realized it, James had his trousers back up and was wiping his eyes with a tissue as he walked his other hand massaging the inflamed cheeks. The two looked at one another and briefly smiled. A minute or so later they recognised the hunky figure of Gavin Andrews, captain of the rugby first XV. He was over six feet tall, a well– built athletic lad. His short black hair, piercing blue eyes and dimpled cheeks had made him a favourite amongst the girls. He was seeing Collette Adams but she was unaware of the window. Lindsay and Annabelle smiled cheekily as they watched him undress and present his backside over the armchair. His broad muscular backside was pale and white in contrast to his suntanned back, His legs were covered in tight short dark hair. He presented a fine figure across the chair.

Mr Barrowclough lined up the cane and lashed it across the rugby captain’s bottom. Like James before him he tried his best to remain stoical but as the strokes landed lower and lower down his backside, stinging and striping the naked cheeks, tears welled in his eyes. As the sixth sliced into him the room rent with a howl before he collapsed into the chair, tears now falling down his face. The Head watched the last stroke swell before giving Andrews permission to stand up.

The girls’ eyes nearly popped out of their Heads as the lad stood gripping his buttocks, his more than ample cock semi erect swinging freely while the Head gave him the final admonishment. Very soon Andrews was limping from the office to face his mates still waiting for their entry into the legal torture chamber.

Jonathon Cole was next followed by Annabelle’s boyfriend Matt. Each boy had swallowed their pride and bared their arses before going over the chair. If they had been aware of the audience looking on, they might have thought differently. The girls got more and more excited as the final two lads entered, stripped and bent over for their six strokes. By the time Oliver Webb had pulled up his trousers, the girls were damp and moist between their legs. They were very turned on and could barely wait to see their boyfriends later.

While the girls had enjoyed the last few minutes, the same could not be said for the six senior lads. Each one of them had emerged from the Heads study in excruciating pain, their backsides burning, throbbing and stinging like hell. As the pain reached a peak they had stopped dead in their tracks and stood just holding onto their buttocks as if their lives depended on it. Despite their seniority they could not stop tears from trickling down their cheeks as the pain engulfed them. After a few moments they had, one by one, hobbled off to the toilets, their hands unable to let go of their bottoms, their faces etched in pain resembling someone who has severe toothache.

On arriving at the toilet block they slowly eased down their trousers and pants to turn round and to try to see the damage that had been done to their arses. Tears continued to fall as they tried in vain to cool down the fires by applying cold water to the throbbing ridges. One by one they arrived in the block and commiserated with one another over the injustice of what had happened.

It was some three hours later that Jamie and Matt met up with their girlfriends. They arrived in loose fitting trousers and seemed to be walking with a gait. The girls could not help but laugh as the lads arrived.

What is so funny Jamie asked

You two are! We saw you getting your botty’s smacked earlier.

What! How! How could you see that?

Both boys blushed deeply, very embarrassed that their girlfriends seemed to be fully aware of how they had been punished.

Still giggling the girls explained the view from the window and how they had stood and watched each one of them drop their trousers and present their bottoms for the Heads cane. The boys shook their heads in disbelief.

You girls should get a taste of the cane; you would not find it so funny then!

They laughed again before asking the boys if they wanted their bottoms rubbed better. A few minutes later the boys had their bums exposed again, lying face down on Lindsay’s bed while the girls applied cold cream to the hard swollen welts. The girls seemed fascinated at the stripes while the boys began to get erect. In no time at all the lads were on their backs while their girlfriends brought them off side by side.

Later that evening, with Lindsay’s parents out of the way, the two couples made love, the girls losing their virginities. The lads ended up in ecstasy as they reached their climaxes, all thoughts of the afternoon’s beatings gone from their minds. If anything, the thrashing’s had made the boys more virulent. In spite of the rawness of their arses.

Many more boys would visit the Heads study over the coming months and bend over the back of the armchair, totally unaware they had an audience watching their beatings. If only Barrowclough had known. But ignorance is bliss and the window which overlooked his study remained a secret, shared only by the four sixth form students.

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Story ©MMXIV by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

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Authors love your feedback!  Please leave a comment. You can find the comments here, or by using the link at the top of the story.

Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

Two For The Cane (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended stories♥

New to The Canery are these two short caning stories by very special guest author Baddlad17.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

A Footballers Caning by Baddlad17

Josh Henderson sat in the changing room at the football club, slowly allowing the red mist to settle. Minutes before he had been sent off the field of play, following a spat with a player from the opposing team. Josh knew he had been the guilty party, and in letting his temper flare he had managed to let the entire team down, as well as himself. Josh had spent the entire match winding up the other player who had done nothing to him really, he had just taken an instant dislike to him, and he had been lucky not to see red before the 81st minute. The guy came out after half-time determined to get his revenge, he had deliberately slid into Josh as he went to get the ball near the halfway line. The ref had waved play on which angered Josh so intently he decided to take the law into his own hands. Still seething with this guy he disliked, he had got up and floored the poor bloke with one punch. Inevitably he had been shown a red card so off he went, much to the annoyance of his team mates, and even more the coach.

As Josh started to calm down he began to think about the likely outcome following this senseless red card. The new Coach Graham Morgan had told the lads, time and time again that he would not tolerate violence on the pitch. A player sent off had two choices under the new gaffer, out the door, or take a bloody hard caning. Josh turned pale as he thought of the canings he had witnessed just a couple of weeks back. Mark Sutton and Steve Vickers had been caned in front of the team for receiving red cards. It had been given in the changing room, with everyone watching before they showered. The lads on the receiving end received ten strokes each, shorts at half mast, and their jocks, given forcefully across their naked arses.

The raw, livid stripes were on full display in the showers for the rest of the team to see and think about their future behaviour, and what might happen if they received a red card. It did not go un-noticed that there were a number of hard cocks, some even dripping pre-cum in the showers following the highly charged events that had taken place. Well it looked as though today he was going to be afternoon’s entertainment, and he had only himself to blame.

He was not to be disappointed, the lads trudged into the changing room just over ten minutes later, hot, sweaty and muddy from their exertions on the pitch. The clatter of studded boots on the hard floor brought Josh out of his slumber, nervously swallowing hard in anticipation of what lay ahead for him. The team captain Neil Venables shook his head at the twenty year old midfielder, before asking him what he thought he was doing. Before he could answer Morgan was in the vicinity, a straight length of whippy cane in his beefy hands. He glares at Henderson for a moment before asking him if he wants out of the team, or is he willing to take it like a man? The good looking lad can already feel his throat swelling, his blue eyes feeling a little watery, but he somehow manages to say he is willing to stand tall, well bend over and take a severe dose of the cane.

Josh knows the score, he saw his teammates thrashed before. He stands and turns his back to his team mates, swallows hard, then inserts his fingers into the elasticated waistband of his muddy football shorts. In one swift movement they are hanging round his knees, exposing his chubby bum cheeks for an ordeal they will remember for a long time. His athletic jock pouch must also come down, humiliation complete before he bends over the low bench, offering his manly arse up for the fires of hell. Coach Morgan is not a man to cross, he is almost forty years old and takes discipline very seriously. At home his own sons often feel the sting of one of his grubby old, hefty gymshoes. Like the lads at the club a Morgan punishment is only given one way, bare bottom. As he prepares to take aim with the first of ten cuts, a few of the lads start to get excited, with a number of shorts soon showing signs of tenting while they await the start of another hot caning.

Morgan brings the cane sweeping down, lashing it hard across the footballers hairy arse, Josh’s eyes open wide as the first line of fire sears a stripe across his bottom. He can feel the intense sting and smart starting to develop, just as he thinks he has managed to cope with the agony another heavy stroke lashes down across his exposed rump. By the fourth cut tears have sprung into his eyes, and by the time the sixth stroke sizzles down he begins to yell. Steve Vickers who had been on the receiving end of a thrashing a couple of weeks before gently patted his own arse in sympathy, remembering how much that fuckin cane stung. The tenth and final stroke is delivered at an angle, crossing and intersecting the other cuts, leaving the young footballer bitterly crying and humilated before his team mates. Quite a number of them are trying to hide their excitement, as for the second time in a few weeks another player has been caned. Most of them are also aware that it is only a matter of time before they will find themselves centre of attention, over the bench, poking their arse up for their teammates inspection while coach whips it raw with that nasty, whippy rod he seems overly fond of.

With punishment complete the lads strip and head into the showers, to soap up, clean down, with some of them unable to wait for some privacy before having a wank. It’s all lads together though, and no one seems to bat an eyelid, after all the rest will be pulling one off the wrist before the afternoon is out. As for our young hero, he is forgiven now. He has paid a high price and his red, striped bottom will be on show for at least a week to remind his mates that if you get a red card, you will get a red bottom to match.

A Caning for the Apprentice by Baddlad17

Tom stood nervously in front of his boss, he was nervous as hell and fairly confident he was going to get sacked, all because he had allowed himself to be stupid like the others. Three of them had been on the building site that morning, Neil and Gary, a couple of likely lads if there ever was any were in their mid-twenties, they were supervising Tom, well they were supposed to have been, but they had illicitly brought in a couple of packs of cider. The weather was hot and sticky, and so after doing a couple of hours work they decided to crack open a couple of cans and have a doss around, after all it was Friday and the weekend loomed. Tom had been doing some wiring when he realised that the banging from the next room had ceased. Out of curiosity he decided to investigate what was going on. He got down and popped his head round, only to see his work mates sat on the floor, knocking back a can of cider each. Neil grinned at the youngster before offering him a can which he readily accepted, and before he knew it he was on the floor with them, having a laugh and enjoying a can of cider, even if it was only eleven o clock in the morning.

None of them counted on Bill coming by to see how things were shaping up. The gaffer walked in to find his three employees sat on their arses, drinking cider. To say he gave them a telling off would be an understatement. He tore a real strip off them, before ordering them to get on with their work, promising that he would see them in his office at the end of the day, by which time he would have decided what he was going to do with them. Neil first, then Gary had been in to see the gaffer, emerging having been sacked, so swallowing hard Tom tapped on the door and entered the office, expecting the same treatment. Bill had thought long and hard during the day what he was going to do about this. Neil and Gary were a pair of idle loafers that he had been trying to get rid of for some time. Today they had presented him with a perfect opportunity, and he had no qualms in dismissing them, but young Tom was coming on well, and showing a lot of promise.

Then he remembered how his boss had dealt with him as an eighteen year old trainee, just like Tom. His arse may have been raw, but he had never let his boss down again. It just so happened that Bill had the same cane that old man Harry had beaten him with all those years ago. He found it at the back of the cupboard in the office and placed it under his desk, close at hand should the young un agree to it. He quickly got rid of the other two, without any compunction they were fired for gross misconduct and then he summoned the lad into his office. Tom listened intently to his boss as he lectured him on his offence, he was just wishing he would give him his cards and send him on his way, when it suddenly dawned on him he was not talking about getting rid of him.

Tom had been spanked as a child by his dad, and his grandad had once used a wooden brush on his backside, but he had never been caned. He swallowed hard upon seeing the instrument of correction. Take the sack or the cane? He loved his job and had no wish to lose it. He knew the cane would hurt, but the worst would soon be over, then he could get on with his life. He was a little apprehensive when told him to take his jeans and pants down, he was so nervous as he uncovered, exposing his firm, manly buttocks, but also his long cock and pubic bush. Bill ordered him the get over the desk and moments later he felt the cane tapping none too gently on his tender cheeks.

Bill did not let him off easily, a lesson had to be learned, and by god this lad was going to learn it. From the first biting stroke he was up on his toes, desparately fighting the fierce sting of the rattan rod. These were no love taps, but solid firm strokes, laid on with a will by a strong armed builder. Eight times he sliced the cane across the lads backside, striping and smarting the previously pale flesh. Tom began to cry out after the third stroke and just hollered until it was over, but he stayed down and took his punishment. Once it was over he limped from the office, his hands glued to his blazing arse cheeks, vowing to never let his boss down again. Did he succeed? Only time will tell.

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Both stories ©MMXVII by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

______________

D I S C L A I M E R

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

__________________

Authors love your feedback!  Please leave a comment. Comments are here.

Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

Shane Finally Gets A Tanning (M/M) NEW!

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♥ Site recommended story ♥

New to The Canery is this exciting spanking and caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

My nephew Shane was on the whole a good lad, though he often sailed close to the wind. Unlike my own lads he had been brought up without the benefit of a paternal hand to keep him in line, and up till now my sister had always taken care of things as best she could.

He had recently reached the age of eighteen, no longer a boy in the eyes of the law, though his attitude and behaviour was most juvenile in almost every way. The previous evening the telephone had rang loudly, I answered to hear my sister’s distressed voice on the end of the line. Shane had finally gone too far, and she had had enough of his behaviour.

She started to tell me how bad things had become in recent times. Coming home drunk, treating the house like a hotel, and his mother like an unpaid servant. That evening had been the final straw. She had walked in and literally found him masturbating in the lounge, with a porn movie on the TV. She nearly died with the shame because she had invited a couple of the ladies from her weavers club in for coffee. This had caused her, and them acute embarrassment and the ladies were blushing furiously, yet Shane merely stood up and smiled, his manhood still swollen he calmly put it away before reaching for the remote and turning off the movie. He seemed to find the entire episode highly amusing, which just made matters worse.

In desperation she had telephoned me to see if I could take the young pup in hand, and finally give him something he should have had a long time ago. The fact he was now eighteen did not cause me any qualms. I had used corporal punishment on both of my boys till they were in the early twenties. A smile crossed my lips as I extracted the slender cane which had been used many times to curb their bad behaviour. Young Shane needed to feel this cane biting into his bottom, and it was my intention to give him something he would never forget. I was so angry to think of how he had embarrassed his mother, and her friends, and then found the incident funny. It did not occur to him that she had to face those ladies next week, and no doubt the bush telegraph would have gone round the class. How could she ever look them in the eye again? I was determined he would be laughing on the other side of his face, and his bottom would be far redder than his mother’s face.

I placed the cane into a bag and shortly afterwards, made my way across town to my sister’s home. Jean was waiting for me when I arrived, looking anxious.

I don’t know if I can go through with this John, Shane will never agree to this, and he only make life more unbearable for me if we try to force him.

Leave that to me love, and don’t worry. I suggest you make yourself scarce, I will await the little runt’s arrival and deal with him in a way that has been long overdue. I assure you there will be no further behaviour like this, he will be a changed young man by the time I am finished with him.

Jean reluctantly decided to follow my advice and headed out for the evening, leaving me to await the arrival of my errant nephew. It was over an hour later that I heard the front door bang shut and Shane bounced in. He had been straight to football practice after finishing at college, and he had skipped the shower, coming home still in his kit. Despite being indoors he thought it was fine to bounce a football up and down as he came down the hall. I knew this young man needed to be dealt with harshly. I had seen for myself how he treated his home. He was about to have a huge shock.

Shane come in here son.

The door to the lounge opened and my nephew popped his head round the door. He was a little taken aback at my presence, and seemed a little uneasy. He was a good looking boy, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, his face was round with dimpled cheeks and he had a cheeky smile that could melt most hearts, but not mine. He was athletically built, his body toned. His peachy arse was firm and meaty, and his thighs and legs which were covered in thick curly hair were solidly built.

Where is Mum, and what are you doing here Uncle John? He said in a voice that betrayed his sense of unease. I had often threatened to take his pants down and smack his backside for him over the years, which had made him uncomfortable to be alone with me. He knew how his cousins had been punished when they were at home, so he was under no illusion that given a chance I would carry out the threat.

Close the door lad. I am here to see you, we have a lot to discuss, and your mother has left us to it. We need a man to man talk. Now where do we start lad? Yes you can put that ball down over there, and stand here.

I was used to being assertive, and my tone got an instant response from the lad. I eyed him up and down for a moment, making him feel like a little boy before launching into my tirade.

Right lad where do we start? I know we shall begin with you wanking in here and watching porn on the telly. That will do for kick off. Your mother brought her friends home to be greeted by the site of her son playing with himself, and you found it amusing. Think how mortified she will be next week when she has to go to her class and face those ladies. Do you think that will be funny for her? Then we turn to the way you have been treating your mum recently. Dirty laundry strewn across the bedroom floor, turning up for meals as and when you feel like, generally treating the place like a hotel, and your mum as your personal slave. Well it is going to stop do you hear me Shane? You have been behaving like a lout and I know how to deal with louts.

And what’s it got to do with you?

I stood up and in shock slapped him across the face. He reeled back for a moment, then came towards me, fist raised ready to punch me. In an instant I had him pinned down, his arm up his back.

Listen here young man, from now on you will do as you are told. You have treated your mum with contempt for the last time. Now you are going to find out what happens to brats who think they are grown up. You are not too old to get your arse tanned, and that is what I intend to do. Now we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, but whichever way you choose I am not leaving here until I have given you the sore arse you have been asking for-for years.

I held him in position for a few moments longer ensuring he knew who was in charge before I let him up.

You can’t do this Uncle John, I am not a little kid, and I am not your son.

Well you have behaved like a little kid, so you can expect to be treated like one. Stand by the chair, drop those shorts down, and then bend over the back of it.

Shane glared at me for a moment, defying me to do my worst.

Well lad here is the deal. You have a choice to make and let’s hope for your sake it’s the right one. You can either bend over and take a long overdue hiding from me, or we go upstairs and pack your bags. Your mother has had enough.

Jean had not said anything about this, but I had used the threat on my own lads when they got older and it had always worked. One mention of being thrown out on the streets soon had them dropping their pants, and it was no different with my nephew. Shane stood facing the chair back for a few moments, contemplating his fate, then with great reluctance he edged his football shorts down off his arse and down his thighs, leaving them hanging mid-thigh. I began to unbuckle my leather belt, pulling it clear through the loops. I intended to warm his backside up with the belt before taking the cane to his arse to finish the job.

Over the chair back, and grip the arms. Keep hold and don’t get up or try to cover yourself or it will be worse for you.

Once he was in position I took a firm grip on his ’under armour’ jockey shorts and pulled them down to land on top of his shorts. This caused the lad to panic and plead for them to go back in place. I curtly told him he deserved a bare arse thrashing for his behaviour, and to keep quiet. I looked at the naked cheeks before me. Pale, lily white, virgin mounds, never before had they felt the kiss of leather or rattan against them. That was about to be ratified, and my nephew would soon learn what a sore backside felt like.

I doubled the belt in two, and tapped it against his bottom a few times before raising my arm to shoulder height, and letting it fly to land with a resounding and noisy splatt across the expectant cheeks. The lad winced and let out a loud wail as the first swathe of red appeared across his tail. This was his first ever taste of corporal punishment and it had taken him by surprise. I raised my arm again and lashed down for the second time, landing it lower. This produced an audible grunt, and a second layer of red was imprinted across his previously unblemished bottom. Having set the mark I began to lash the belt above and below the first strokes until his entire bottom was a deep shade of red from the top of his thighs to the crown of his rump.

Ten leather strokes left Shane crying like a little boy, his bare rump, blazing like a furnace, and for the first time in his eighteen years he realised what getting a good hiding from a man felt like.

I threw down my belt and unwrapped the cane from the bag.

Right lad, six with the cane now to ensure you never forget what happens to naughty boys who misbehave, and then cry when they get their bottoms smacked.

Shane pleaded for mercy as I lined the rod up across his red-raw cheeks. I was used to this which was something my own lads often did. Getting the cane over a red hot, leathered backside was one of the worst punishments I inflicted on them. I knew how effective it was, and felt it was something that my nephew should benefit from too. Selecting my spot near the base of his buttocks I raised the cane, and cracked it down. The response was immediate, he screamed, his hands flying round to protect his bottom from further arse torture.

Move them away now or I shall crack the cane across your knuckles lad, and I mean it.

My threat was taken seriously, he quickly put his hands back on the chair arms, leaving his reddened bottom clear for further arse pain. I watched the first stripe swell across his cheeks before preparing for the second cut. I swiped number two higher up the smouldering cheeks, and got a similar reaction to the first stroke, though this time his hands stayed firmly on the chair arms. Slowly I delivered the remaining four strokes between the first two, ensuring I kept them all close in a two inch band on the lower portion of his backside. Each cut produced a squeal, his buttocks quivering as they absorbed the punishment. Number six hit the sit spot and his hands once again flew round to grasp the ravaged flesh.

I stood back for a moment, observing the red, weal corrugated buttocks. Satisfied the job was well done I put down the cane, picked up my belt and began to re-thread it.

You can get up now Shane.

Very slowly he pulled himself up from the chair, his hands reaching back to gently grasp his stinging arse cheeks. His face was red, and tear streaked. He kicked off his football shorts and his trunks before turning round to face me. I caught an eyeful of his flaccid cock, hanging low from his pubic bush. He had no thoughts to cover his manhood as his hands were far too busy trying to comfort his backside.

Have you learned your lesson young man?

Tearfully he nodded his head. Pick up your shorts and go to your room. If your mother contacts me again to say you are still behaving like this I will be back. Next time it will be worse; much worse. Do you understand?

Still snivelling he nodded at me, then reached down and retrieved his clothing before hobbling from the room, his one hand pressed against his burning behind, while in the other he was carrying his football shorts and pants. My last sight was of him a rear view image of my handiwork. I was certain he would not be coming back for more, well not anytime soon.

When Jean returned I told her what had happened. She was shocked that her son had accepted his whacking so readily. I never mentioned the ultimatum I had given him. I left shortly after ensuring I had the cane firmly wrapped up again. Jean promised to ring me if Shane got out of line again. It may have been his first tanning, but I felt sure that once the fire in his arse had died out, and the bruises faded he would start to forget tonight, then I would be called on again to give him another tanning. Boys have short memories, but I don’t, and next time, well I would do my utmost to keep my promise. Shane’s backside now belonged to me and I intended to make these sessions a regular occurence.

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Story ©MMXI by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

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Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

 

A Caning For Ryan (F/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A brand new caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17.  This story is exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

I slammed my bedroom door hard in anger at what I perceived to be an injustice. How could she? What right did Lorraine have anyway? Cane me! For fucks sake! She wasn’t my mum, just some piece of stuff that my dad had married.

Lorraine had originally been my dad’s secretary and had worked for him for about ten years. Eighteen months ago, my mother had died of lung cancer, leaving me aged almost seventeen, an only child alone with dad. My father was a businessman, and his work required him to travel around the world for days, sometimes weeks at a time. He didn’t feel confident leaving me at home alone for long periods, and so he decided to enrol me into a boarding school. Naturally arriving at such an establishment at that late stage in my education, I felt very much like an outsider, and I struggled to make friends. And so, I decided to cause as much trouble as possible. Within six months my father was asked to remove me, and I ended up returning to the local sixth form college that I had previously attended.

In my absence, though things had changed, and I found on my return that Lorraine had moved into the family home and she and my dad were planning to marry. Needless to say, I was angry with the situation, and I had suspicions they may have been having an affair, even before my mother passed away. However, having just caused immense problems with the boarding school, my dad had put me on a final warning, threatening to turn me out if I didn’t behave. I was angry and felt betrayed, this young woman who was only about twelve years older than me had stepped into my dead mother’s shoes, even before her grave had gone cold. But I had to bite the bullet and be civil to her, which I did through gritted teeth.

With Dad still frequently away, as the wedding neared I took every opportunity to belittle her in his absence. Deep down though I found Lorraine attractive, who wouldn’t? She was tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with a pert pair of tits, a slim waist, and a beautiful round arse. I had stolen some of her black lacy knickers from the laundry basket so I could wank myself off while sniffing her musky scent. I imagined myself bending her over the end of the bed, whipping her knickers down and slapping her arse, while wildly riding her, doggie style and thrusting my knob deep inside her moist snatch. I would be rock hard as I neared ejaculation, then suddenly my meatus would ooze out streams of seminal fluid, giving me much needed relief.

Almost nightly I was wanking off, thinking of my future stepmother in one sexual position or another, while she slept, completely unaware of my perversions just a few feet away. And then Dad was back in time to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, and a couple of weeks later they were married. I was warned to behave myself, but I still got terribly drunk at the reception, and I became lewd and obnoxious, ending in yet another row and dad ordered me to bed. The following morning, I awoke with a hangover from hell, with an irate parent, reading me the riot act.

“I am fast running out of patience with you Ryan, you are eighteen now, an adult, old enough to stand on your own two feet. If you don’t start treating me and your stepmother with the respect we are due, I will set you adrift my lad. And don’t think I don’t know how you have been treating Lorraine in my absence. Well, here is something for you to think about. From now on when I am away she is in charge of you, her word is law and you will bloody well do as she tells you, or else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, dad,” I replied, not taking any notice. Fuck that! I thought I wasn’t going to take orders from Lorraine. I saw her as a charlatan, who had bewitched my dad into bed, and into our lives, but she was still fit, and I wanted to be the one fucking her brains out every night. I turned over as soon as he had left and satisfied myself with a long, slow wank, imagining tit fucking my new stepmother.

A few weeks later Dad went off on one of his sales drives, leaving me at home once again with Lorraine. Almost immediately I noticed a change in her attitude towards me. She made it clear she would no longer tolerate my surly attitude and from now on I would have to treat her with respect, or in her words “There will be sanctions.”

I sniggered as I walked off, and no sooner was I halfway back up the stairs than I was giving her the one-fingered salute. “Fucking Sanctions!” I said to myself as I entered my room, “Who the fuck does she think she is?”

Later that night I decided to go out, it was a Friday and with college out for the weekend and the exam season looming I decided to join my mates in the pub. Lorraine never said a word as I darted out, dressed in my dapper gear for a night of fun. One pint led to another, then another, and eventually we moved onto a nightclub. I was quite drunk by the end of the night and ended up behind the venue, fucking some bird up against the wall. Before we parted company we exchanged numbers, with me promising to call her the following night, but realistically I had no intention of doing so.

Eventually, I got home about four am, turned the key in the door and to my surprise found I couldn’t get in. I tried several times before ringing the bell and becoming extremely angry that Lorraine had locked me out. Having rung it a few times and banged on the door she opened it and gave me an angry stare.

“Where have you been young man?” I was so astounded at her tone I couldn’t find any words.

“Get inside and get yourself to bed, I will deal with you in the morning.”

I was too tired to argue, but as I mounted the stairs I turned and once again flipped her the bird. “And don’t think I didn’t see that disgusting gesture. It’s time you were taken in hand.”

Taken in hand? I thought. What the fuck is she on about? Has she lost the plot? I could not help but smirk as I closed my bedroom door, stripped off my clothes and got into bed, naked and almost immediately I drifted off to sleep, thinking of the bird I had just fucked, but her face was now that of my sexy stepmother.

The following morning Lorraine burst into my room unannounced just after nine am. She pulled back the covers, uncovering my naked state, then without batting an eyelid yanked open the bedroom curtains.

“Get out of your bed, get dressed and be downstairs in half an hour Ryan, Or I will be back in here to help you pack your belongings, the choice is yours.”

I was still in a dreamy slumber, with a massive hangover and a massive boner. No sooner had she departed than I pulled back the covers, took hold of my swollen member and enjoyed my usual morning wank, while imagining my stepmother bent over the sofa, her skirt up, knickers down, and me shagging her brains out. What the fuck was she up to, and was she serious? Dad had warned me before he went away that she was in charge. What was I going to do?

I decided on reflection I had better at least comply with her orders, and so having satisfied my lustful urges I climbed out of bed, pulled on a scruffy old tee-shirt, my undies and a pair of football shorts and trotted downstairs to face her wrath. I found her sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee as I entered, and she glared at me in a way I found terrifying.

“Stand there young man, just look at the state of you. Unkempt, unshaved, lewd, and leery. Your eyes resemble two piss holes in the snow. How much did you have to drink last night? You are a disgrace, and it is time you bucked your ideas up. I know you are eighteen and old enough to go out for a drink, but while you are living under this roof you will come home at a reasonable time, not four-o-clock in the morning. We will go into the sitting room to discuss what is going to happen, and what your punishment will be?”

Punishment? My eyes widened as I heard that! What the fuck was she going on about? I was a grown man, what was she going to do, spank me? Still, I thought I would play along with the game, for now, just to humour her. She made her way from the kitchen, across the hall and into a large room she and my dad used most evenings. I followed her at a steady pace, but when I entered the room I went pale. On the coffee table before me sat a cum soaked pair of lacy black knickers, the same ones I had been using as a wank rag for months.

Lorraine looked incensed with rage as she held the offending garment by the tips of her fingers. “Would you care to enlighten me as to why a pair of my underwear was in your bedside cabinet? And please don’t you dare try to turn this around and accuse me of spying on you. What do you think your father will do when I tell him about this, not to mention coming home drunk at four in the morning, and waking half the street up, as well as your continued surly attitude towards me.”

I was at a loss for words. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks as I struggled to find an answer.

“This is the last straw Ryan, you are supposed to be a young man, but you are behaving like a spoilt child. What you need is a thoroughly well-walloped bottom. My brothers were punished that way by my father until they were no longer teenagers, I can’t see why it should be any different for you.”

I could hardly believe what she was saying. “But.. Dad has never hit me, you… can’t.”

“I have already spoken to your father; you have three choices. One, you wait until he returns, and you take a good old-fashioned hiding from him. Two, you can take it from me right now this morning and get it over with, or three, you can pack your belongings and leave this house for good. You may have a few minutes to decide.”

I thought of the options open to me. Spanked! Put over a knee and smacked like a little boy. My dad had never hit me before, mum had been against hitting kids. Dad was a strong, athletic, and powerful man, with hands like spades. Thoughts of him walloping me scared me. Or should I let Lorraine spank me? The third option was ruled out, no way could I leave home. I had no money; my life would be in ruins. I toyed between the two remaining possibilities, neither of which was going to be easy. But I decided I would rather get it over with quickly, and besides, I felt quite turned on at the thought of my sexy stepmother spanking my bottom.

“Ok, I will take a spanking.”

“Do you want to wait until your father gets home, or do you want to get it over with now?”

I gulped in a breath of air before asking Lorraine to deal with me immediately. “Very well Ryan, if that is what you want. I will be back in a moment.”

I stood and waited in the sitting room while a woman barely twelve years older than me prepared to smack my arse. Just the thought of it set my cock tingling with delight, perhaps I would actually enjoy this. All thoughts of pleasure were quickly diminished when moments later she returned, carrying a three-foot whippy cane in her hands.

“Hold on a minute, that’s a fucking cane, you ain’t hitting me with that bloody thing.”

“Ryan, you didn’t think I was going to put you over my knee and give you a paddywhack on the seat of your pants, did you? You are far too old for that. Your dad bought this a few months ago, in case we might need to use it. And now it looks as though it is going to get an airing, while I give you the hiding which is long overdue.”

“No bloody way,” I yelled, before I charged out of the sitting room and upstairs to my bedroom, slamming the door shut in anger at what I perceived to be an injustice. How could she? What right did she have?

“Ryan, the choice is yours. Either come down and take it from me, wait until your father gets home next week and take a caning from him, or start packing your belongings. You have an hour to decide.” Lorraine had called upstairs to me, reiterating my choices. I lay on my bed for a few minutes, toying with my choices. My head was spinning, the cane! Christ, it had been outlawed a few years back, I remembered my dad telling me he had the cane at school before it was banned. Still claimed it had done him no harm. I knew there was no choice. And so, after letting my temper cool I padded back downstairs to face the music.

Entering the sitting room Lorraine was sitting on the sofa, the horrible cane was no longer in sight. “Can you just do it now,” I said?

My stepmother gave me a wicked smile, her face beaming with victory. “Very well young man, time to take your medicine. For stealing my panties and using them for your filthy habits, for coming home drunk in the middle of the night, for swearing at me and for your general surly attitude I am going to cane your bottom so hard you won’t sit in comfort for a week. Go behind that armchair over there and bend over.”

I walked humbly behind the chair and bent myself over, awaiting my fate. She was soon beside, brandishing the cane which she had secreted down the side of the sofa. She was so close I could smell her perfume. “Bend further over, I want your head in the seat and your bottom high.”

I shuffled over a little further until I was almost on tiptoe, my footy shorts stretched tight across the edge of the chair back, and then I waited. What happened next shocked me to my core, I felt her hands reaching inside the waistband of my shorts. Oh, dear god no, was she going to? Then it happened, they were pulled clear of my buttocks and gently manoeuvred down my thighs, resting around my knees. I felt vulnerable bent over, in just a thin pair of pants, but to my horror, she hadn’t finished.

“Please no!” I yelled and frantically reached back to grip my undies.

“Naughty little boys get their bare bottoms caned, now back over or shall add more strokes.” My underpants were unceremoniously slipped down and left inside out on top of my shorts, leaving my arse completely bare to my stepmother’s steely gaze.

I was mortified, bent over, bare-arsed, everything on full show. My humiliation and submission were complete, all that remained was the pain. The rod was tapping gently across the meat of my cheeks, heightening the sensory nerve endings, and once again causing my cock to spring to life, from nowhere I heard a thin swish and suddenly my backside was stinging like the fires of hell. Having never been caned before I had no idea what to expect, let alone feeling it bite into my naked flesh. Lorraine played tennis and had a powerful forehand drive, and it seemed as though she was using her entire strength to flay the skin off my arse.

The strokes rained down, two, three, four, each one seemed to be harder than the previous. The fifth cut powered into me and lashed down very low, almost along the crease of my sit spot, and despite my resolve not to, I involuntarily yelled aloud, tears dripping down my face and leaving a stain on the chair seat.

I was hoping she would stop at six, I recalled watching a programme on the TV called `That’ll Teach Em’. And some old schoolteacher talked about giving boys six of the best, but it seemed she had no intention of letting me off that lightly, despite my pleas. “You just hold your big, hairy bottom still young man, and take this like the man you think you are.”

As she finished her sentence she sliced the seventh stroke down, lancing it in at an angle, cutting and intersecting the previous cuts. I was convinced she had broken skin; the pain was so excruciating. By the time the tenth stroke bit across my raw flesh I was too hoarse to yell anymore and simply resolved to sob bitterly like a boy half my age. Twelve strokes she gave me in total, leaving my backside striped, and blazing like live coals.

“Stand up Ryan and pull your pants and shorts up.” I slowly got up and reached back to gingerly feel the searing welts etched across the surface of my buttocks for a moment, before carefully retrieving my fallen clothing and replacing them gingerly over my smouldering cheeks.

Lorraine seized the back of my hair and yelled at me. “Step out of line in future and you know what to expect next time. Now go and get a shower and a shave and make yourself look presentable or I will have you back over this chair for a few more strokes.”

I limped out of the sitting room, my hands heavily engaged kneading my blazing arse and shuffled up the stairs and into the bathroom where I peeled down my shorts and pants and gently felt the scorching welts. I was shocked when I saw the damage in the mirror, my backside was blistered bad, she had done a thoroughly good job on it. Stepping into the shower I turned the jet to cool and allowed the water to cascade down over me, in a vain attempt to dissipate some of the worst effects, while the tears flowed freely down my face

Despite the intense stinging coursing through my buttocks, I emerged from the water to find my cock once again erect, demanding urgent attention. But as I stood in front of the toilet pan, slowly pumping myself to ejaculation I knew that sometime soon I would be bending over again for my stepmother, and strangely, I was looking forward to it. Long after the fire in my buttocks had died out and the bruises faded away, I would give Lorraine another excuse to cane my bottom and one way or another I would be getting her attention. You never know, she might one day want to try a toyboy, rather than a sugar daddy.

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Story ©MMXXI by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission of the author.

Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this story.  Comments are here.

Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

Wicked Stepmother (F/M, M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot corporal punishment fiction by special guest author Baddlad17, repeated by popular demand.  All the characters are 18 or over.  Suitable for adult readers only.

As I lay down on my bed, six burning lines of fire blazing across my buttocks, I could not believe what had just happened. Tears rolled down my face as I gently rubbed in the sting across my bottom cheeks. The pain and humiliation still fresh in my mind.

Why had this happened to me? For the first time since I was eight, dad had punished me with spanking. Well not a spanking, a caning. I never even knew he had a bloody cane. It is all Annabelle’s fault, I am sure that bitch really enjoyed herself and I have no doubt in my mind that she is behind this.

Annabelle is dad’s new wife. She is only twenty-five, just six years older than me and almost twenty years younger than dad. They have been married just over twelve months. I have had little dealings with her until recent weeks as I was away most of last summer, then I went straight to university. It was not until I came home for Christmas that I got to know her a little better; I also noticed a big change in dad around the same time. Before he married Annabelle, we had been good buddies. Over the festive period I could not help but note he was more distant towards me, he had always been pretty strict but he now seemed to be more stern than I remembered, on a couple of occasions he spoke very sharply to me and even threatened to punish me. I was more than a little shocked at the change in his attitude. Feeling uncomfortable, I cut short my stay and left to spend New Year with a mate.

I did not come back home until the start of the summer break. When I arrived, I immediately noticed all the changes in the household. Annabelle had certainly got herself established. The entire house had been revamped and re-decorated. I hardly recognised the place. Even my room had been fully decorated, with new furniture. I was a little put out to discover that most of my belongings had been removed, without me even knowing. At supper that evening I pointed this out to dad. His reaction shocked me, he was more than annoyed, accusing me of being ungrateful and telling me I should be thankful to Annabelle for all the work she had put in, not moaning and groaning about a few sticks of old furniture. Honestly I felt about 3 feet tall by the time he had finished with me.

Over the following couple of weeks dad found a few reasons to really have a go at me, often threatening to deal with me if my behaviour continued to be poor. I just did not understand what I was doing wrong, I had not changed my behaviour, it was dad who had changed towards me. I noticed that whenever he challenged me about something, Annabelle would be close by watching and listening. I had come to dislike my new stepmother and as far as I was concerned she was a bitch who just seemed to relish getting me into trouble. Then this morning I came downstairs to find her messing with my phone. I was very angry with her and all my frustration with her over recent weeks came flooding out. I saw red and snatched the phone from her.

What the fuck do you think you are doing? That is my phone and my personal property.

I beg your pardon Brett, how dare you swear at me?

I will fuckin’ swear at you whenever I want. Who do you think you are you little whore, you have only been married to my dad for five minutes and you think you can do whatever you want. I have just about had enough.

Her eyes blazed into me as she spoke again, How dare you speak to me like that, I am your stepmother and you should show me the respect due to me.

Respect! I almost spat the words out of my mouth, How can I respect a woman who marries a man twenty years older than her? You don’t love my dad; How many cocks have you had up you since you married him? I bet there has been a queue in here while dad’s working away, little whore.

I had really lost it. All my pent up anger had come to the fore and poor Annabelle had just been hit with two loaded barrels. I watched the tears well up in her eyes, suddenly I started to feel guilty and went to comfort her and apologise. As I approached her she moved away before spitting out her venom.

Just you wait till your father gets home Brett Porter, I shall have him cane you, pants down for what you have just said. And I shall enjoy watching you yell as he does it. We will see who is smiling when your backside is burning.

Shut up bitch, Dad does not even have a cane and if he did I am way too old to be treated like that.

We will see about that.

I watched her turn and head off towards the lounge. I could not help but admire the tight sexy curves of her shapely arse and thighs. No wonder my dad had married her, I would like to bet she is great shag. Despite my bravado I was a little concerned over what she had said. I knew I had gone way too far and I had no doubt dad would punish me for it, but surely not. Would dad try and cane me? My arse tingled at the thought of it. I had been spanked many times off him when I was younger but that had stopped a long time ago.  I watched from my bedroom window as Dad pulled onto the driveway, then waited in trepidation as dad got out and headed towards the house.

I was in my room when the door shut and I waited, fearful over what would happen. I could hear voices downstairs and I heard them talking quietly, unable to make out what was being said.

Brett, get your backside down here now, lad.

A chill went down my spine as I heard dad shout me down. Reluctantly I stood up and walked slowly towards the door and down the stairs to my doom. I had not even put my foot on the bottom step before I was hit by a smack right across my face. Dad stood looking at me, anger clearly written across his face.

You little bastard, how dare you speak to my wife in that manner, this is the final straw, it is a long time since I punished you but I think today it is time that period comes to an end.

I was still in shock as my cheek burned after the smack dad had just given me. There in the doorway stood Annabelle, smiling like a wicked witch.

Go into the lounge now lad, it’s time I did something I should have done a long time ago.

I was so shocked I did not argue, just walked towards the door and through into the lounge.

Annabelle was by the door smiling at me, while dad disappeared upstairs.  Now you are going to get what you deserve Brett, I shall enjoy this.

I had to bite my tongue as I did not wish to anger dad any more than I had already.  Less than a minute later he came back in, my eyes nearly popped out of my head as I saw a long slender cane in his hands.

 

Dad no, you can’t be serious.

Shut up Brett, this is long overdue; I should have used this on you years back.

But I am nineteen and a grown man; you cannot seriously expect me to bend over so you can whack me with that thing.

Listen here boy and hear me well. You have a choice, you will be caned now or you will go upstairs and pack your things. Bear in mind if you choose the latter, you are on your own, no more subsidy for your university fees or anything else and you can find somewhere else to live. If you want to continue to live under this roof and be supported by me then you will submit to this.

I was in a no win situation. Take the cane or leave? I had no real choice, dad was heavily supporting me through my education and if I wanted to continue then I had only one option. But really was I going to bend over like a little boy and let him hit me with that stick? Of course I was, I had no option.

Over the back of the armchair and drop those shorts.

I was wearing a thin pair of football shorts which would have provided minimal protection but dad wanted them down, that would leave just one thin layer between my arse and the stick. As I walked over I noticed Annabelle watching from the door, a huge smirk on her face. Feeling totally humiliated I stood in front of the chair and slipped down my footy shorts before bending over the back of it and reaching down, my arse was poking up high giving dad and Annabelle a perfect view of my muscular mounds.

I started to panic as I felt dad slip his hands into the waistband of my underpants and unceremoniously peel them down to sit on top of my shorts.

Please dad no, I wailed.

You are going to feel these strokes Brett and your stepmother will see how I deal with my bratty son. Stay down or I will give you extra.

For the first time ever I felt a cane resting across the middle of my backside. Seconds later I heard a slight whistle then felt the crack before pain, unbelievable pain, erupted along a narrow strip in the middle of my arse cheeks. I could hardly breathe when a second lashed down, landing slightly lower, imprinting another stripe of fire.

The third stroke landed lower still really setting my bum on fire. I could feel the tears welling into my eyes. As the fourth landed even lower the tears dripped from my eyes and fell onto the leather seat of the armchair. My bottom was on fire. Dad thrashed the last two down even lower and harder, each time despite my resolve I yelled loudly. I was no longer concerned about anything except the sting across my arse. I lay there sobbing, my bottom on fire.

Right Brett, your stepmother will now give you a few smacks to reinforce the message. If you ever speak to her like that again she will be giving you six with the cane before I give you a further six.

I could barely believe what I was hearing. I was totally humiliated; I felt Annabelle’s hand touching my raw skin then felt a sharp smack across my left cheek. My new stepmother soon got into the swing slapping each bum cheek in turn, left, right, left, and right. I began to cry aloud as the spanking continued. Suddenly it stopped and I heard her speaking.

That is just a taster Brett. Next time I will cane you.

Dad ordered me to stand up; reluctantly I resumed the vertical and reached round to grip my stinging bottom. Through my tears I saw the smirk etched across Annabelle’s face. She had clearly enjoyed herself.

Go to your room lad and stay there till morning.

I eased my pants and shorts over my blazing backside, before limping off, my hands gripping tightly onto the burning flesh beneath.  So I lay on the bed, letting tears of pain and humiliation drip down my face. Suddenly I heard a thwipp and a crack from downstairs. What was going on? There was another stroke, then another. I slipped off the bed and gently tiptoed to the landing. From the top of the stairs I could hardly believe what I could see through the banister rail into the lounge below. Annabelle was tapping a cane across a bare arse, Shock took over as I realised the recipient was dad. I watched the cane land hard leaving a fifth stripe, then a sixth one. I watched on transfixed as she continued to whip my dad. Grunts and yelps escaping his lips.

She finally stopped at twelve. I could hardly believe what I had just witnessed. Dad stood up and I saw his rock solid erection poking out in front as he rubbed his arse. Next I watched Annabelle kneel down and take my dad’s knob in her mouth. At that point I thought it was best to leave them as I had no wish to watch them having sex.

Back in my room I sat carefully on the bed and began to think about what had happened. So that was why dad had changed and why he had suddenly become real strict with me. His new wife was a sadist who enjoyed whipping his arse and she now wanted to get her hands on mine. I was shocked to the core to think of them having rampant sex downstairs while I had been a pawn in their sordid sex game. Giving my backside another rub I carefully climbed into bed and gave something else a rub. I knew I could not stay and that tomorrow I would have to ring up my mate and see if I could spend the rest of the summer at his place.

My wicked stepmother might enjoy whipping arses, but I was determined she was not going to whip mine. Somehow I was going to have to find a way of avoiding coming home until such time as I could afford to get my own flat. I lay down and began to make plans for the future, life was going to get harder but at the moment something else had gone hard and needed urgent attention. Tomorrow will be soon enough to sort things out.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

(___________

Story © MMXIV by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

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Never Skip Pre-season Training (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

New to The Canery is this exciting spanking and caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

Never Skip Pre-season Training by Baddlad17

 

It was a hot and sticky night; the recent weather had been very warm, sunny and oppressive.

Regardless it was Thursday night and with only a few weeks to go before the start of the new season, I had ordered the lads to report for the first pre–season training session.

I am the new coach of a semi–professional footy team. I used to be a player myself, but as I am now over the hill so to speak, I no longer play. I was still physically fit though. Standing six foot three I had been a goalkeeper, a position which had allowed me to play until I reached forty. Suddenly the strain on my body started to become noticeable. It could take me days to recover from a match, so after some soul searching, I decided it was time to hang up my boots and gloves and become a coach.

That had been two years ago, my passion for the game has not diminished, I left my club unsure what to do, then after a few months I made the decision to do my coaching badges. Once I had completed my training I returned to my old club as an assistant, now I had attained a new position as coach/ manager of Brent United, a small, semi-professional club in the heart of the country.

There were some good players on the books and lots of ability. The previous coach had allowed the team to slip a little, results towards the end of last season had not been good. The chairman and the board heartily sick of the slide dismissed the previous guy. I had been brought in to Smarten the team up and get them back on track. The chairman made it clear he expected results and it did not matter how I got them as long as I did. His words Any means necessary rang in my ears.

Despite being weeks yet till the start of the new season, I wanted the lads to be as physically fit as possible and to be prepared for the onslaught once we got underway. I had rung every player personally earlier in the week, introduced myself and requested their presence at the training ground at six-thirty where I would present myself to every member of the squad and get to know them. I also made it clear I intended to put them through an intense session so I could assess their ability.

I ticked off the names of the lads as they entered the changing room and was a little concerned to note two missing. Ryan Connor was the team’s centre forward and an excellent finisher. He had scored twenty eight goals last season and was a pivotal member of the squad. Also absent was Tony Wilkinson, a central defender who had played for the club for three years. I asked the others if they had any idea where either player was, but no one seemed to know, or if they did they were not saying.

Regardless, I went through my introduction, spelling out to the team what was expected and what I would demand from them. Commitment, dedication, a willingness to work, reliability and to work as part of a team. I wanted no prima donnas in this squad. I sent them out on the field and we started the session, pushing the missing lads to the back of my mind, for now.

After training the lads arrived back in the changing room, hot and sweaty from their exertions, they stripped off and hit the showers. I was soon amongst them soaping up and rinsing off. This surprised them as it was not something the previous coach had done. But as I pointed out to them, we were all blokes together and I had nothing to hide from them. I also made it clear I expected honesty and openness from them.

As we dried off Steve Anders the team captain came up to me, Gaffer, I have just received a text from one of my mates. He is in The Bell tonight. I told him earlier that the team were training, so I would not be in the pub till much later. He said he was surprised to see Connor and Wilkinson having a beer in the garden. I am a bit pissed off with them, boss, and feel they have let the side down. Do you want to come with me and confront them?

Two of my best players had chosen to go to the pub rather than attend the first session of the season! I was more than pissed off with them, I was very angry. How dare they, I thought! I immediately thanked Steve for his offer and said I thought that would be a good idea, as I needed to speak to them as soon as possible.

I also pointed out to him that it was my intention to discipline them for missing training. Steve looked at me questioningly before informing me that punishing players for missing practice was something the previous coach had not bothered to do. Instead he had delegated it to the captain leaving him to give the lads concerned a bollocking. I could see that’s what had been going wrong and change was needed.

This was the reason I had been brought in, and before long the squad would learn a new era had begun. From now on things were going to be done my way or else! Wilkinson and Connor would be the first to discover the fate awaiting any player who screwed up on my watch. It would not be very pleasant but maybe it would get the message across that things were going to change, and quickly.

We drove the short distance to The Bell public house; on arriving Steve led me through to the back to confront the lads still sat in the beer garden, with two empty glasses in front of them and a third half full. Ryan and Tony stood up sheepishly as we approached, both a little apprehensive as they took in the angry expression on Steve’s face.

Don’t bother with any excuses. This is the new gaffer and he will be dealing with this. Over to you boss.

I looked from one to the other as I took a seat on the bench opposite them. Tony Wilkinson was almost twenty-four years old. He stood six foot two with a crop of dark hair. His strong manly face sported two day stubble. I could tell he was trim and well-toned. Beside him sat twenty-year-old Ryan, He stood around five feet eleven with very dark hair and eyes, his long lashes enhanced them, making him appear very attractive. He looked a cheeky chappie who could get into mischief easily. I sensed this was Wilkinson’s idea, but both lads were adults and Connor would have to take the consequences.

Right you two, I will make this clear, here and now. I don’t give a shit if you are the best centre forward and central defender in the league. When I call a training session I demand you turn up, on time and be ready changed, into your strips to start. That is non-negotiable; I will only accept excuses if you are ill and I expect a phone call at least an hour beforehand. It is certainly not acceptable to miss training and come to the pub, that is for sure. So I am giving you both an option. I cleared my throat and prepared to inform them of their options, You will both present yourselves at the club tomorrow evening for a special training session. In attendance will be just the four of us that is providing Steve can attend?

The team captain nodded his assent.

Right then, six pm sharp and don’t be late. If either of you fail to turn up or refuse to do exactly as you are told then I will be more than happy to terminate your contracts. After the session is over you will both receive a penalty award for missing tonight’s training. What that penalty is and how bad it becomes will depend on your attitude tomorrow, and how much effort I think you have put into it. The choice is yours. So can I expect you tomorrow night or not?

What do you mean by a penalty? said Ryan who suddenly seemed to be concerned as to what was going to happen. I smiled at the lads before informing them that they would soon find out. They both reluctantly nodded their agreement at which point we left, informing them they had five minutes to drink up and get out of the bar or else.

As we left they began to swig down their ale, a little afraid of what might be in store for them. I had a feeling even the captain would be shocked at what I had in mind, but I had the backing of the club. The chairman had been clear: any means necessary.

My old gaffer at my first club had known how to keep order and how to discipline his players. I would be paying him a visit before going to the club tomorrow night. I had decided to take him up on his offer to let me have the tools of the trade. I reached round and gently rubbed my own arse as I thought back to those far-off days and those painful times in his little office. He had known how to deal with smart-arsed players. He had offered to show me how to use them and it was my intention to do so. These lads would smarten up sharp, or there would a lot of sore arses wandering around the changing room.

I left Bill Turner’s house with the tools just before five forty. He smiled and wished me luck as I packed them into my kit bag and headed off to the car. I could see him waving me off, a satisfied grin on his face. I entered the changing room just before six to find all three players waiting. I noted Connor and Wilkinson had changed ready to start, Steve had also put on his kit and was sat with the lads when I arrived.

I won’t keep you long lads. Steve take them out to the pitch and get them doing some warm up exercises. I want a strenuous session for these two, they need to burn off the calories from last night’s beer. I watched them head off before I went into the office and extracted two long slender canes. I ran my hand along the length of one feeling surprised how light it fell. My knob began to swell as I recalled the times this very rod had slashed across my own arse as a young player. Bill Turner was a hard taskmaster and he knew how to make a player perform. Placing the canes on the table I extracted the large rubber soled pump. How many times had that thing burned my backside in training? The smooth sole was very flexible, White fire the lads had called it. It certainly set your arse on fire, but it was no longer white, a kind of off grey colour and very old. How many arses had it burned over the years I did wonder?

 

It was over an hour later when we finally returned to the cool sanctuary of the changing room. Connor and Wilkinson were hot and sticky having sweated profusely doing punishment runs around the track, not to mention all the other exercises I had put them through. Steve Anders had joined them in some of the exercises, showing his commitment to me as captain.

Right lads that is the end of the session. You have now made up for missing last night’s training. However that is not the end of the matter. Years back when I was a player at my first club, the coach had a good way of dealing with any player who broke club rules, slacked or failed to attend training. He knew the best way to deal with athletic young men. Tell me lads, did either of your dads ever deal with you the ’old fashioned way‘?

I watched a look of bewilderment cross their faces for a moment before Tony Wilkinson suddenly realised what I meant.

By old fashioned, do you mean did he leather me when I was growing up?

Yes, that is what I mean. Did either of you ever get a taste of the slipper, belt or even the cane?

Ryan looked bemused while Tony’s face displayed the expression of someone who was remembering a painful memory. Ryan’s response as I expected was a resounding no, but Tony proceeded to tell me he had been walloped with a belt till he was sixteen. Steve also seemed a little bemused, unsure where the conversation was going. I decided at this point to go for jugular.

Well lads, the penalty award I said you would receive is along the lines that your dads would have given you. And if you had gone to school at the same time as I did, your PE teacher and possibly headmaster would have given you if you had played truant from your lessons. What you did last night is the same as playing truant. So what I propose is to deal with you in the same way as my old coach and yes my PE Master dealt with me when I failed to turn up for training.

What the fuck? You are not serious man, no way, no way, Said Ryan,

You have a clear choice lads. Either you take what you deserve or you can leave now, never to return. And Steve, as of now corporal punishment will become part of the disciplinary procedures at this club. It is my intention to give every player the choice of taking cp or leaving the club. I am sure most of the squad would rather have a short sharp shock than face the sack, but it will be their own decision.

I will give you lads five minutes to decide. At the end of those five minutes if you choose to take what is due I expect you to be standing outside my office. If you are not there I will assume you have chosen to leave and will proceed to deal with your dismissals for gross misconduct. Steve can you come along to the office as well? I want you to witness the punishments if they choose this route.

As I walked off, I overheard Ryan and Tony arguing. I could tell that Wilkinson was prepared to go through with it, Connor was less so.

Five minutes later I opened the office door and was surprised to find all three of them standing outside. I looked on and smiled as I took in the sight of three young men still dressed in their kits from the training field, two of them would very shortly be bending over and I was going to savour it. I asked Steve to come in and I sensed his shock as he noticed the canes and the old plimsoll on my desk. I picked up the slipper and tapped it in my hand.

From the next training session Steve I will be using this on any player who fails to pull his weight in training or during a match. For more serious infractions I shall use one of these.

I picked up a cane and slashed it through the air. Steve jumped in shock. I could tell though that the guy was a little excited at what was about to happen. Something that was obvious by the bulge at the front of his shorts.

I shouted for the lads to come in and smiled as they appeared hands behind their backs, heads down in a typical naughty schoolboy fashion. I put down the cane and picked up the large slipper once more.

Right then, as this is the first time I will go a little easier on you. I am awarding you six with the slipper, be aware that the slipper will normally be used for more minor offences and not pulling your weight. For missing training I would normally dish out twelve strokes of the cane. So think yourselves lucky. After you have had the slipper I will give you four each with the cane, just so you know what to expect. Is that clear?

They both nodded at me, I noted they both looked afraid. Looking across to the captain I could see an obvious bulge in his footy shorts as he savoured what was about to happen.

Right then, as you have been physically punished before I shall start with you Wilkinson. Stand in front of the desk and bend over, reach across, try to grip the far side.

I watched as Tony stretched his six foot two frame across the desk, his muscular buttocks tightly encased in his footy shorts for my ministrations. I had one final shock for them though. I walked behind him and gripped onto the hem of his shorts and yanked them down clear of his buttocks exposing his naked arse cheeks, tightly framed by his jockstrap. I heard Ryan gasp and utter a swear word as I tapped the target before me with the large rubber soled pump.

Stepping back I raised my arm high before swinging the weapon down ensuring I flicked my wrist and followed through. As the first splatt of the plimsoll landed dead centre onto his left cheek, I heard the guy gasp and his head shot back as the pain exploded across his arse. I quickly landed the second onto the same spot and then a third at which point I heard Wilkinson groan. Stepping back I looked at the red inflamed left cheek. It looked sore. Taking aim I targeted the as yet untouched right buttock and proceeded to give him another three very hard swats. With each swat I got a grunt and could tell that after the last one had landed, he had felt it.

Up and stand to the side. Connor your turn.

Wilkinson stood up, giving his red arse cheeks a good rub as he did. I watched as Ryan reluctantly lowered himself across the desk. Once again I gripped the hem of the shorts and peeled them clear. Unlike Wilkinson’s hairy bum cheeks, Ryan’s backside was white and smooth. His cheeks presented a tempting target as I tapped the slipper on his left buttock. I glanced at Steve who looked to be in a high state of arousal. My own knob was swelling in the highly charged atmosphere pervading the room.

Connor struggled to take his punishment. He squealed after the first swat and stood up as the second one burned across his backside. I ordered him back down, threatening him with extras. Once back in position I cracked a third one which emitted a blood-curdling scream from his throat. The three strokes to his right buttock produced a similar response but somehow he managed to stay down. I doubted he would do so for his caning so I had a plan in my mind. I watched as he stood there in tears rubbing his burning arse. Placing the slipper on the table I picked up the cane and swished it.

Wilkinson, I said tapping the cane in my hand. He resignedly bent back over the desk offering his already sore arse up for further treatment. I stepped back, took aim and cracked the cane hard across the middle of his backside. The response was immediate. A loud howl rang out and he shook violently across the desk. The following three strokes emitted further cries and yells as the cane cut into the already sore, inflamed flesh. After the last stroke which I had landed right on the crease, I allowed him to stand up and watched as the guy stood rubbing his very sore bottom. Despite his age he was clearly in tears and just could not let go of his bottom.

Connor. I watched as the lad almost on the verge of crying bent over the desk. Anders and Wilkinson, I want you to grip onto Connor’s hands and hold him in place, I doubt he will stay down for this.

Ryan began to plead as the lads gripped his arms, holding him across the desk. I tapped the cane on his red swollen cheeks before raising it high and cracking it dead centre. As predicted Ryan howled like a banshee. He struggled to free himself, but the lads kept a tight grip on him. I delivered the remaining strokes quickly. After each one he howled loudly. After the last stroke was delivered to the crease of his arse cheeks he screamed. It was obvious he had never been disciplined before. I nodded for the lads to let go and he was up immediately, dancing around the office gripping his buttocks tightly. After a couple of minutes he calmed down at which point I summoned both of them to stand in front of the desk.

Pull your shorts back up Connor. Now I hope you have both learned your lesson. Be warned if you wish to remain on the team this is what to expect if you fuck up. I bent the rod before them as a warning. Now then, hit the showers, you are dismissed. Remember next week’s training starts at six-thirty on Thursday and I expect you ready to start then or else you know what will happen.

I dismissed the lads and watched them go, rubbing their fiery arses. My knob was swollen solid and would require attention soon. I gave my cock a little rub and prepared to deal with it when I became aware that Steve was still stood there.

Need a hand there, gaffer?

The tent in his shorts made his intention clear. At a nod from me he was on his knees slipping down my shorts. He eagerly took my swollen manhood between his lips and began to blow me. As he did he pulled himself off, within a minute I had exploded into his mouth and he had spilled his seed onto the floor. I felt a wave of release as he swallowed my sperm down his throat, I jerked as the spasms of ecstasy surged through my body.

Once we had calmed down he stood up and wiped his cock clean with a piece of tissue.

I wanna feel that slipper on my arse, gaffer, and then that cane.

His meaning was clear. An hour later, once we made sure the block was completely empty, I gave Steve what he wanted, six hard slipper swats and six hard cane strokes. I lashed them hard across his naked arse cheeks. He took it well and gratefully thanked me. Once he had recovered we had a mutual masturbation session.

I had a feeling that this new job was going to turn out ok and I was looking forward tanning many other players’ arses in the near future. As for Steve, well we had both discovered something we enjoyed and many nights, long after the rest of the squad had left, I would deal with him and then we would have some fun. The future looked good and I had no doubt that before long the club would be back at the top.

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Story ©MMXIV by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

__________________

Authors love your feedback!  Please leave a comment. You can find the comments here, or by using the link at the top of the story.

 

Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

 

Mr Black (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

New to The Canery is this exciting spanking story by very special guest author Baddlad17.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

Mr Black by Baddlad17

Roger Black loved his job. The longest serving member of staff at Farmley FC, he was in charge of the club’s laundry. It was his job to ensure all kits were washed, dried and pressed for the next training session or match for the first, second and youth teams, a job he did extremely well. Despite these tiresome and repetitive duties he took pride in his work, ensuring the lads were turned out well. As a lifelong fan of the club he loved every minute of it.

In addition to this, he also took in two or three of the younger trainees as lodgers, earning extra money from the club for looking after them. The young lads under his care soon discovered that the laundry man was a very different character at home than the jovial, lovable character well–known at the club.

The comedian was a real tartar with the lads under his roof.  Eighteen-year-old Jack Wilkinson rode his bike the last few yards down the street on the pavement as he made his way home to his digs after a long day at the club. He had spent the afternoon in the boot room, cleaning and polishing the first teams’ boots in readiness for tomorrow’s match. He was in the company of housemate and fellow trainee Colin Jenks who also boarded with Roger. Colin had been busy sweeping up, and taking care of other menial tasks that are necessary requirements of all club trainees.

Today was Friday and both lads knew that meant discipline night, the night their arses paid for any misdemeanours they had committed or deemed to have. As Jack dismounted his stomach began to do somersaults as he knew he was up for a whacking this week for sure. Roger had caught him smoking at the bottom of the garden on Wednesday. Club rules strictly forbade any player to smoke. Roger had given him the option and knowing that the likely outcome of the manager finding out would result in him being let go from the team, he had meekly agreed for his landlord to deal with it at the end of the week. In addition he had also overslept earlier in the week. He knew he would get little sleep tonight, face down on his stomach with blazing stripes burning across his pert, muscular mounds.

Colin was also up for a sore arse, leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, general slovenliness around the house and failing to get home before curfew which was ten-thirty on weekdays. Roger was a stickler for the rules, and both lads knew they would be getting a whacking.

Jack closed his bedroom door and began to strip down. He stood as always admiring himself in the mirror. He was a good looking lad, short dark hair, hazel eyes and a cheeky smile which could win anyone’s heart, except Roger Black’s. His broad muscular chest had a slight fuzz of hair, leading down to his washboard stomach and then a treasure trail of hair from his belly button down to his pubic bush. His ample cock sat astride his tight firm balls. His arse was smooth, muscular and firm to touch. Thighs thick and firm were covered in fine downy hair all the way to his ankles. Girls loved his looks and athletic physique. His first passion though was his football, his dream being to gain a permanent place at Farmley and play for the first team. He often dreamed he was leading the club out in a cup final at Wembley to thousands of cheering fans.

Colin was very similar. He was a very good-looking lad who would make it as a model if his football career did not materialise. Blonde and blue eyes with a smile to melt a thousand hearts he was already over six feet tall. He was, if anything more determined than Jack to make it. His grandad had been an icon for the club and when he had shown promise of following in his footsteps, he had been given an apprenticeship more because he was Arthur Jenks’ grandson than on merit. This made him focus on proving the other lads wrong, hence his determination to make it.

When the clock struck six o’ clock, two eighteen-year-old lads stood facing the wall, hands on head waiting for the summons into the dreaded study. Roger walked along from the lounge and admired the lads dressed in full kit, awaiting his pleasure. His eyes paid particular attention to their backsides, currently encased inside the club’s soccer shorts, and the firm thighs already bare. Roger’s cock began to swell as he looked lustfully at them. Yes, Roger was secretly gay and would want nothing more than to bend them over and take them from behind. Denied that pleasure, he contented himself with using the excuse of discipline in order to get his hands on the lads in his care. Later on he would enjoy his evening wank as he remembered the sight of their red, striped bottoms.

No one at the club was aware of this, or that he often brought home some of the soiled shorts and socks of his favourite players in order to sniff and masturbate over them. Being the laundry man no one ever knew any uniforms were missing.

He went into the little office and left the door ajar while he made the preparations for this Friday night ritual. He took out his little notebook and examined the reasons why he was about to thrash his charges tonight. It was a futile exercise, he had already read the notepad several times, sentence already decreed, the lads would be going to bed with very sore backsides. The cane was sat as always in a wicker basket behind his desk, and an old gymshoe lay in the desk drawer.

Jack was called in; he stood with his arms at his sides in front of the desk. Roger looked lustfully at the hunk in front of him. He would sorely love to slip his shorts down and take his cock between his lips and suck him till the creamy fluid erupted, but unable to perform that task and give the lad immeasurable pleasure, he would have to content himself with applying a very painful punishment, leaving his backside red and sore.

Where do we start this week Jack? You overslept on Wednesday, and why did you oversleep?

I was tired, Roger.

Come on now Jack, up half the night playing on your X-Box is the reason, don’t deny it, I heard the thing when I popped to the toilet. I have told you before about this, you can have no complaint as to the punishment. Six whacks of the gymshoe should serve as a reminder to get you out of bed on time in future. We now turn to the smoking incident, far more serious. You are well aware that Mr Coleman would dismiss you from the club if he discovered you had been partaking in such a filthy habit. If we keep this between ourselves I will award you eight strokes of the cane. Any repeat and I will have no option than to report this to club management.

Roger had no intention of reporting the incident to the club. He enjoyed tanning Jack’s arse immensely. He would never do or say anything to jeopardise that pleasure.

You know what to do, get them down and get over.

Jack stood in front of the desk, inserted his hands into the waistband of his soccer shorts, and then peeled them down, ensuring his briefs were lowered with them. Roger sat at his desk for a moment, salivating at the juicy cock now just inches from his face. He opened the desk drawer and extracted the large grubby old plimsoll. It had slapped many backsides over the years, once it had belonged to a goalkeeper who had size fourteen feet. When the old pumps were of no further use Roger retrieved them from the bin and brought them home in order to make use of them for a different purpose. They had seen far more use in this secondary role than their original. He stood up and walked behind Jack who had now positioned himself over the desk. Once again Roger looked lustfully at the two bulbous mounds presented for his pleasure. He could just see the tuft of hair poking out from between the twin globes. He tapped the slipper gently across the bared backside before taking his arm back to shoulder height. He held it for a second or two, then let it let fall rapidly onto the exposed surface. Jack hissed and twisted as the first bite stung his bottom.

The slipper cracked down a second time, rapidly inflaming the skin. A clear oval patch could be made out on each cheek. Roger’s knob was already starting to thicken and swell as he observed the results of his ministrations. Four more large loud cracks of the plimsoll rang round the room in the little office. Jack could not hold back and began to grunt and yelp as the fiery torment reached its conclusion.

Roger stepped back and took in the sight now presented, two quivering mounds of reddened bum cheeks awaiting the next part of their torturous punishment. He placed the slipper on the desk, sole side up, in front of the tearful lad who could gaze on the instrument that had inflicted white hot pain across his buttocks. Picking up the cane from its resting place he swished it through the air a few times before coming behind the waiting youth and gently resting it low down, close to where buttock meets thigh. He eyed the reddened target then raised the cane before bringing it cracking down. Jack yelled lustfully as the first bite of the rod sliced through the already tenderised cheeks, causing searing pain on the line it had struck. Tears rolled down the youth’s face as the pain reached his brain. Stroke after searing stroke of the rod sliced across his bottom causing untold agony to the young player. He vowed never to touch another cigarette.

The eighth and final stroke of the cane slashed across his buttocks leaving the lad sobbing gently.

Stand up Jack, and go across to the wall, leave your shorts dropped and your hands on your head.

The lad slowly rose and reached down to take hold of his shorts and pants. Roger looked on lustfully as he waddled to the wall, and then let his shorts drop again before placing his hands on his head. The old man gently stroked his cock as he looked at the red striped cheeks. How he would love to kneel down and let his tongue slip beneath those burning mounds. If only these lads would appreciate a bit of cock, it would save them a lot of arse pain.

Colin, let’s have you in lad.

The second good-looking youth stumbled into the little office, as always he was greeted with the sight of his housemate facing the wall, his red striped arse on full display. Colin hated this and often wished that Roger would deal with him first, but for some reason Jack was always called in before him. He stood before the desk, his eyes glued to the outsized gymshoe that lay sole side up. He winced remembering the many times it had slapped his arse cheeks. Roger was sat behind the desk looking lustfully at his second lodger. He loved Colin’s boyish good looks. If anything he found him more attractive than Jack.

Colin, you are a lazy little sod. How many times have I told you about clearing up after yourself? In addition you seem to think that you can ignore curfew and come in when you want. You need to understand that if you are to do well in training and earn that longed-for position as a centre half at the club, you need to be committed and sacrifice some of the things other teenage lads get up to.

He picked up the slipper and looked at the smooth surface, then opened the drawer and put it away, its work done for today.

Last time I gave you a walloping with the slipper, it did not seem to have the desired effect. Perhaps a taste of the rod might be more memorable? Shorts down and assume the position.

Colin knew it would be the cane this time; he had been warned last time that any further lateness would result in a caning. He slipped down his shorts and pants then went over the desk, gripping onto the far side. Roger stood up and picked up the cane once again. Once more he stood ogling a pair of fine muscular mounds, totally at his mercy. His cock was already stiff and he could feel pre-cum already dripping from the tip.

The bare arse cheeks quivered as he laid the rod in the crease ready to strike the first of six strokes. The cane lashed across Colin’s buttocks right on the crease, just as Roger had planned. Immediately the lad’s head shot up, his face contorted in agony. He shut his eyes tight and gripped firmly onto the desk. The next stroke doubled the agony and once again he bit down, desperate not to yell out. The third loosened the tear ducts, bringing water to the corner of his eyes and the fourth saw them drip down his face. The final two strokes had the lad grunting as the caning reached its ending.

Up, and go and join Jack by the wall.

Roger quickly turned his back on Colin for a moment in order to hide his raging erection. He watched as he hobbled across to the wall before dropping his shorts and placing his hands on his head.

Roger sat at his desk and looked at the two red, striped arses on display. Shorts and pants at their ankles, their socks pulled up to just below the knee. Footy kit always turned on the laundry man and the sight of the trainees with their shorts around their ankles, red arses on show was more than he could take. He slipped out a tissue from his desk drawer and whipped out his cock.

While the lads faced the wall, their own knobs now at ninety degrees, their landlord took just a couple of pulls before he exploded into the tissue. He somehow managed to control himself from grunting out. Clearing up the mess he looked on for a few moments longer at the sight before him. He knew he would be having another wank before bedtime as he recalled the events of the last few minutes.

Pull them up and off you go. I hope I don’t have to repeat this next Friday.

Of course that was a lie; he would make sure he found some reason to give them sore arses next week.

They pulled their underpants over their erect cocks before getting their shorts back in place. The lads left the office rubbing furiously at their stinging cheeks, then made their way upstairs and into Colin’s room where they could examine the damage, commiserate with each other, and then enjoy their own little wank sesh as they both tossed off to see who could cum first. If only Roger Black knew what was going on one floor above. But alas he would never know. He would have to content himself with a solo performance. He would have to wait another week before he got the chance to thrash the boys again. But one thing was for sure he would find a reason and next Friday the lads would be before him once again.

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Story ©MMXV by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.

______________

D I S C L A I M E R

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

__________________

Authors love your feedback!  Please leave a comment by using the link at the top of the story.

 

Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

A Strict Father-in-law (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A first repeat of this red hot caning fiction by very special guest author Baddlad17.  All the characters are over 18.  Strictly Adults Only!

A Strict Father-in-law by Baddlad17

I married my wife Alison after a whirlwind romance. She was still at University, while I worked in a garage close by. I did not meet her father until a few days before the wedding. I was immediately in awe of him. Robert Black, a police sergeant, a well-built man around six foot tall and weighing sixteen stone with not an ounce of fat on him; he was solid muscle. He unnerved me as his cold blue eyes penetrated me. I felt he disapproved of our relationship and was not very happy that I would be taking his daughter away from him. He was very overbearing and on that first meeting, although I was polite, was secretly pleased that I would have very little to do with him.

My wife is the middle of three children and the only girl. Her brothers, Mark and Gary were twenty three and eighteen respectively when we married, while Alison and I were twenty. Her brothers were as tall as their Father though built more slightly. Their mother had left many years before leaving all three in their Father’s care. Although Robert loved his children dearly he was very strict and the boys received regular discipline whenever they disobeyed him; even when they were no longer boys. At the wedding I could tell both were very wary of their Father, though at the time I had no idea why.

It was almost a year after we were married when things suddenly changed. Alison had finished her degree just as I lost my job. However as a motor mechanic it would be reasonably easy for me to find another one. Alison longed to return to her hometown to be closer to her family. After much debate and quite a few arguments we decided to give it a go. Her Dad was insistent we moved in to the big house with him and the boys while we saved up enough money to buy a place of our own. So somewhat reluctantly I agreed. We gave notice on our rented flat and moved back to my wife’s home town and family home.

Robert greeted us at the door, throwing his arms around Alison; he was so pleased to have the apple of his eye back home. While clear he was pleased to have his daughter back, my reception was between cold and frosty. At dinner that evening we sat down with the boys to enjoy a full roast which had been prepared by the daily, Mrs Wilkinson, who had worked for the family for many years. Gary and Mark were polite and respectful to Alison and me. It was obvious that my wife and her father adored one another and they dominated the conversation until we started on pudding. Robert suddenly turned to Gary.

You and I need to have a talk in my study after dinner. Come up at eight thirty son.

Yes sir, he said, bowing his head. Mark also put his head down and for a few minutes the conversation went quiet. I had no idea what was going on but there seemed to be some tension over the upcoming meeting.

After dinner we went into the lounge while her Father made his way upstairs. The boys were nowhere to be seen so as we relaxed on the sofa, I asked Alison what was going on and why Gary seemed so nervous at meeting his Dad.

Oh, he will be getting a caning, she said matter of factly. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

What! You are joking right? He is nineteen years old, not nine.

The boys have always been punished by my father in that manner. Even Mark still bends over if he does anything wrong. You had better watch out darling! He might want to put a few stripes on your bottom if you are naughty.

At that moment I heard a thwipp and crack followed by a howl. I realised she was not joking. Gary was actually being caned. I had been over the Heads desk at school on a few occasions so the experience was not uncommon to me. What I could not get my head around was that Gary was a grown man, not a boy.

I listened to the strokes landing, with each succeeding one the cries became more vocal. After the tenth stroke it stopped, and a few minutes later I heard two doors close before it all fell silent. Alison seemed totally unperturbed at the evenings action, but my mind was in turmoil. What I could not understand though, was why the event had turned me on! My cock was rampant, so shortly after we went to our room, stripped down and Alison and I made passionate love.

As I thrust in and out of her tight juicy quim, the image of her Father wielding a cane across my arse went through my mind. Soon my loins emptied inside her and we both moaned in ecstasy as our lovemaking reached its inevitable climax. Lying beside her in the warm afterglow I brought the subject back to Gary’s caning and the evening’s events.

Darling, anyone would think it had turned you on! Do you like the idea of being caned? Maybe I could get daddy to cane your naughty bottom for you Jamie, she said teasingly.

Just the thought of it got me excited, so very soon I was ready again, thrusting my rampant cock deep inside her.

The following morning I came out of our bedroom and caught a glimpse of Gary going into the bathroom. He was naked, so from the back I got a full view of his black and blue backside. The stripes were livid and swollen, it looked so sore. He turned to close the door and spotted me standing there. He was really embarrassed, quickly went and closed the door. He was obviously angry I had seen him like that.

The incident stayed in my memory for a long time; hearing the cane striking, the howls, and the sight of his arse the next morning. For some reason I began to find my father-in-law attractive. He was big and strong and the thought of him wielding the rod of correction really gave me the horn. The image of him thrashing me in his police uniform would really send me over the edge.

About two weeks after Gary’s caning I came home from my new job and caught sight of the next incident. That afternoon I had finished early, as I had to go and register with a new GP. The first thing I heard as I entered the house was the swish and crack of the cane echoing down the stairs. I took off my shoes and made my way slowly upstairs. As my eye line reached the top step I had a clear view into the office which was straight ahead and the door was only half open. I could barely believe the sight before me. This time Mark was over the desk, his big hairy backside was on full display, trousers and underpants bunched around his ankles, his shirt halfway up his back and his buttocks proudly displaying a set of livid stripes which were starting to swell, across the exposed skin. As I watched I saw my father-in-law line up the cane and strike again. The buttocks quivered as they absorbed the stroke and Mark yelled out in agony. I counted the stripes; he was sporting eight burning welts.

I watched a further four strokes land across the already sore buttocks. I was shocked; but excited. My cock was swelling rapidly as I drank in the sight before me. As the last stroke burned its angry way across Mark’s arse Robert turned round and spotted me looking.

Enjoy the show did you young Jamie? Watch out, that one is for free. If I catch you spying again I will have you in here for some of this, he said, flexing the cane.

I quickly rushed off to my room. I should have been really annoyed at that statement but instead my cock was dripping pre cum as I thought of what I could be in for. I lay on the bed and took my prick out giving it a few pulls till my sack emptied into the tissue I had ready. Feeling relieved I replayed what I had just witnessed in my mind’s eye. I don’t know why, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be bending over for that cane. The thought of it got me really excited.

Over the coming weeks I thought more and more about Robert caning my arse. It was becoming an obsession. At dinner one night he announced that Gary was due another meeting in the study. Alison was out with her friends. I waited till I heard the first swish then slowly made my way upstairs. Once again the door was open, with Gary bent over the table his bare arse in full view. Two vicious welts were swelling across his cheeks while the cane was being lined up for the third. I made my way to our bedroom and could not wait to get my cock out. I listened to the swish and crack of the cane while I masturbated furiously. On the ninth stroke my cock exploded, shooting semen all over the bed sheets. I lay there spent as I heard the door close. Gary’s room was next to ours and through the wall I could hear him gently sobbing. Suddenly, the door burst open and Robert stood looking at me as I lay there my cock still dripping cum.

Enjoy that Jamie did you?

I quickly grabbed my pants to cover up but Robert just smiled and said, I think we need to have a discussion in my study young man. Be there in five minutes. He turned and left.

Once he had gone I got off the bed and covered up properly, my cock still moist with semen. I straightened my hair then slowly slipped my jeans back down before turning my back to the mirror to examine my still lily white cheeks which I knew would soon be inflamed and striped by the cane. I was already getting excited at the thought of it.

I pulled them up and crossed over to the study. The door was open and my father-in-law was sitting behind his desk, on top of which lay a slender punishment cane, similar to the one I had felt at school years back.

Right now young Jamie, we need to have a little discussion about your general behaviour. You live under my roof now and over the last few weeks you have shown little appreciation of my generosity. As you are well aware, when Mark or Gary overstep the mark they get to feel this across their backsides. It is quite amazing really how this changes a young man’s arrogant behaviour. As my son-in-law I see no reason why you should not be dealt with in the same way as my sons.

He went on, Your attitude has been rather surly and you have behaved in a less than courteous manner to both me and your wife. And as for your masturbating whenever you see one of the boys caned, words fail me! So, the choice is yours. Drop your trousers and get over this desk or I will have to tell Alison about your dirty little habit. Which is it to be?

But she is going to see the stripes anyway, what am I going to tell her?

You can tell her that your general attitude has been less than expected, unacceptably so. As such I gave you a choice; a caning or to move out. You agreed to take the cane rather than lose your home. She will believe that.

My stomach was doing somersaults as I contemplated the next few minutes. It had been almost seven years since I had last bent over for the cane in my Headmaster’s office. I had always wanked afterwards; but on this occasion my prick was already swelling! I unbuckled the belt before slipping my jeans down to my ankles. My underpants followed the southward journey landing in a heap on top of my jeans. I slowly bent over the desk and stretched across the surface taking a grip of the far edge.

Robert was behind me tapping my naked cheeks with the cane.

I think eight strokes as this is your first time, Jamie. In future you can expect the full dozen.

I heard the cane swish then felt it crack across my arse. I lost my breath as the white heat of the first stroke zipped across my buttocks. The cane was tapping again before I heard the second swish. This time my voice returned and I let out a yell. As the strokes lashed across my bottom leaving line after searing line of agony my eyes filled with water and began to fall down my face. I had always thought my Headmaster knew how to lay on a cane; compared to my father-in-law he must have been an amateur. The sixth stroke landed right in the crease causing me even more misery. I felt him change direction and tap diagonally, my cheeks were already aflame. Suddenly I felt the lash, crossing all the previous welts, he changed direction again lashed the last one in the opposite direction leaving a large X over the first six stripes.

I laid over the desk sobbing as he put the cane down.

You can stand up Jamie.

I stood up and reached round to feel the swollen ridges across my poor bottom, unable to let go of my inflamed cheeks.

Right then Jamie, from now on you know what to expect if your attitude or behaviour is unacceptable. I hope you will learn to control your attitude and urges. Now go to your room.

I pulled my underpants over the scalded flesh and gently raised my jeans just high enough to allow me to waddle from the room. Taking shorts steps, everyone an agony, I somehow managed to make my way back to our room. As I opened the door I realised Gary was watching me from his doorway. He turned around dropped his pants and gave me the full moon, showing his own ridged buttocks. I was amazed to find that despite the fire burning fiercely I was getting hard. Despite what had happened earlier I whipped out my prick ready to play with it when I heard the front door shut. Alison was home.

Within a minute she burst into the room a big smile on her face.

Hi Baby, have you had a pleasant evening?

She saw the pain etched across my face as she closed the door. She beamed at me.

Has Daddy smacked your bottom for you? I know that look well enough; I have seen Mark and Gary with that expression many times in the past.

I nodded.

So he has finally caned you! Daddy always does what I want.

What!

Yes Jamie, it has been quite obvious that you wanted him to cane you. I saw how you reacted when Gary was caned, and then daddy told me you were excited as you watched Mark take his punishment the other week. Let me have a look at the stripes.

I was lost for words, in a trance I turned over,wincing in pain. She peeled my undies down to examine the marks.

He is still pretty good, but he does get plenty of practice.

Alison reached into the drawer and suddenly I felt some cold cream being gently applied to the wounds. Her tender touch and the cooling cream quickly got me turned on. Within a minute I was fully erect and gagging to go for it.

Not yet darling, she purred, let me relieve you first. We can make love later.

She gently took my manhood between her lips and began to caress the tip, teasing and gently blowing me. I was in ecstasy, my erection rock solid. Soon I reached the point of no return and within a minute I blew my load deep down her throat. The relief was immense. In spite of the soreness in my arse I was feeling very horny.

About ten minutes later we made love, as I thrust my rampant cock deep inside her she moaned with pleasure. We made love twice more that night, then again in the morning. Despite my arse being raw the memory of the caning had awoken something inside me. Something I needed. Alison knew this, and so did her father.

We lived with the family for several months before finally we had enough money to move into our own place. Robert caned me often when he felt I deserved a sore backside and on every occasion our lovemaking was far more intense. Even after we moved out I still returned from time to time to have my faults caned off. Each time Robert was happy to oblige and Alison enjoyed our more energetic lovemaking.

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

(___________

Story © MMXIV by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome, please use the link at the top of the story.

Comments from the original posting are here

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An Encounter With Dr Willoughby (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A brand new caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17.  This story is currently exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

 

2007

It was a shock revelation, to see it, boldly printed in black and white print on the front page of the local newspaper.

Former headmaster arrested

Dr George Willoughby, retired headmaster, was arrested yesterday following accusations of physical assault against several of his former pupils over a number of years. Whilst conducting a search of his property several VHS Tapes depicting images of senior schoolboys in the process of receiving corporal punishment were seized as evidence. The investigation continues into the alleged assaults.

I sat back at my desk and subconsciously my hand slid under my buttocks. It had been more than twelve years ago since it had happened, and I had pushed it far from my mind, but just the mention of his name had revived the memory, and once again I could almost feel the welts, throbbing across my backside, and that overwhelming burning pain that had lingered for hours. The physical marks soon faded, but the mental ones had never truly left me, and despite my best efforts to erase it, this had brought that terrible event right back to me as though it had happened yesterday.

***********

1995

“I am afraid it will have to be the full six, and on the bare given the offence and your seniority in the school.” I stood with my head down, aghast and dismayed before Dr Willoughby while he berated myself and James Baker for breaking the rules. I could hardly believe what he was saying. The cane, on the bare! It was 1995, not the dark ages. Corporal punishment had been abolished in state schools almost seven years before, and since then the majority of private schools had followed suit, leaving just a handful who still retained the right to use it, and it was just bad luck I was a student at one of them.

To round off the humiliation about to befall us we were eighteen-year-old seniors. It was March, the early spring sunshine streaming through the tall window into the airless room starkly reminded me it was just a week away from the Easter holidays. Father had booked a trip to Spain for the break and I was looking forward to spending some time sunning myself and sipping sangria by a pool before returning to sit my A-Level exams in May. But standing before the dour old headmaster intent on whipping an old school cane across my bare arse, my mind was solely focussed upon a more urgent and entirely different fate that was about to befall me.

Baker held his hand up to protest, but he was curtly cut off before he had even spoken a word. “Don’t even bother to try and offer any defence, I know you are both eighteen, and legally entitled to go into a public house, drink alcohol and smoke, but you are also fully aware that all three of those activities are strictly against the rules for students here at the College. I intend one way or another to make an example of you, you are however legally adults, so, the choice is yours. Take your punishments, or you may go. If you choose to leave you will be summarily expelled and will not be permitted to sit your finals. You may take a moment to decide.”

I glanced across at my mate. It had been Baker’s idea to go to the pub in the first place, and it was with grave reservations I had been persuaded to tag along. We would have got away with it too, had we not run into the head’s secretary Mrs Pritchard. She had popped out in her lunch break to the butchers’ shop to get some meat for her husband’s meal and happened to be passing the pub entrance at the very moment we stepped into the street and straight into her path. We knew we were for it. She hated all the boys at the school and was quick to report them for any misdemeanour so, discovering two of the most senior boys leaving a pub she must have felt she had hit the jackpot. The gratifying smirk across her lips was enough evidence to convince me that whatever meat she had purchased, our goose was cooked.

It had come as no surprise to receive the summons to report to Dr Willoughby at the end of school, and so here we found ourselves before him, with an agonising choice to make. The cane on the bare, or expulsion. The head sat in his chair, glaring coldly over his horn-rimmed spectacles at us. I wondered how many boys arses he had thrashed over the years, and whether he enjoyed it. I had never been caned before in my life, I had only joined the College in the sixth, after relocating to Hampshire following my father’s promotion. Baker on the other hand had been a student here for almost seven years and he was no stranger to the rod, but as I later discovered, never before had he been required to lower his clothing.

Over the years the use of the cane had started to be frowned upon. Sensing the mood for change Dr Willoughby had removed the right for masters to use corporal punishment, retaining the ultimate deterrent for himself to administer if it was required, and then only after consulting parents and gaining their approval did the rattan rod descend upon a pair of quivering buttocks prostrate before him.

Nearly all boys summoned for caning were punished with trousers in place, on rare occasions if the miscreant was a recidivist, or the offence particularly heinous he would send for them when he knew they would be having a sports lesson. When this happened, he would attach a note for Mr Nicholls in the gym to direct the boy concerned straight to his study, not allowing him to change into his school uniform. So, when he presented himself he would be clad in just thin cotton PE shorts which provided almost no protection from the piercing bite of the cane. But a thrashing on the bare bottom was indeed a red-letter day, and one that the head would only ever contemplate if the malefactor was eighteen years old, and legally an adult, thus negating the need to contact parents.

I was terrified of getting the cane, but I didn’t want to appear cowardly in front of Baker, nor did I have any wish to be expelled, such an outcome was too horrific to even contemplate, my father would go berserk and my mother would die of shame. I could see the look of disappointment on her face as I stood quaking before the desk. Willoughby looked askingly at Baker. “I will take the cane, sir.” My mate had accepted the thrashing option without a thought, and now all eyes were on me.

What could I say? My head was pounding, my heart pumping wildly in my chest as I plucked up the courage to say the words that would condemn me to an eye-watering beating I would long remember. “The cane sir.” I eventually said, which clearly gratified the headmaster.

“A wise decision, best to get this unsavoury business out of the way.” He stood up and walked across to a tall cabinet in the corner of the window. Opening it up he reached inside and extracted a long slender cane. I estimated it was around three foot in length, including the curved handle. I had never seen one in the flesh before, and the anxious knot in my stomach tightened even more as I watched the head swish it savagely through the air.

“Blazer’s off now and leave them on my desk.” Taking my cue from Baker I nervously fumbled with the buttons of my smart blue blazer, removing it and placing it beside his on the desktop.

“Barratt step back and stand by the wall, Baker, stand behind the leather chair and lower your trousers and underpants down to your ankles, then go over it and present your buttocks for the chastisement they so thoroughly deserve.”

I looked on in stunned silence as my friend complied, unbuckling his belt, unzipping, and allowing his trousers to slope down his legs, and land in a heap at his feet. I held my breath as he slipped his hands inside the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts, and then lowered them clear of his arse and southwards to straddle around his ankles. He stretched over the back of the low backed leather chair and placed his palms on the seat cushion, his upthrust buttocks bared and prepared for the stinging justice of the rod. My eyes were fixed on the meaty mounds, firm and muscular, with a dusting of fine, downy hair which was to be expected from a fit athletic lad who was a stalwart of the First XI cricket team.

Dr Willoughby removed his suit jacket and placed it on his chair before stepping across and standing behind and just to the left of Baker wielding the whippy rod with glee. The bastard licked his lips, a sadistic grin etched across his face as he sawed the cane across the centre of the penitent buttocks, which twitched in anticipation of the hurt they were about to feel as he prepared to strike the target. He tapped a few times, taking careful aim, then lifted the rod away, before whipping it back down with the venom of a snake. It swept into the bared cheeks with a will of its own, imprinting a vivid white line that almost instantly turned red as the blood rushed along the bruised flesh. Baker hissed in pain and his cheeks quivered of their own accord.

Pressing on Willoughby gently tapped the cane low down, gaging the distance he prepared to strike again, and with a flick of his wrist he swished the second cut along the crease line of the manly mounds. Baker emitted a low groan but somehow managed to maintain remarkable composure, crisply holding his position despite the intense agony coursing through his buttocks. Strokes three and four fell heavily, slicing fresh streaks of fire between the first two blazing welts. I could hardly watch as the head placed the fifth stroke from lower left to upper right, gating the earlier stripes. The rod struck true sweeping in and intersecting through the cuts which caused my friend to howl aloud. Without waiting for him to regain any composure he aimed the last stroke from the opposite angle and lashed it down with all his might. Baker wailed once again in utter agony. From my vantage point I watched the final stripe swell across the bare arse, leaving a pattern of four horizontal lines and a large X crossing through them.

Dr Willoughby stepped back and admired his handiwork while Baker remained prostrate over the chair, his sizzling buttocks clenching and unclenching of their own accord. I looked on in a state of sheer horror knowing in just a few short moments I would be in the same wretched state. “You may rise and dress boy, Barratt, prepare.”

The back of my shirt was soaked in sweat, despite the room feeling cool. “Come on boy, I haven’t got all day.” Willoughby was gleefully flexing the whippy stick between his hands, limbering up in readiness for the attack. I somehow got my feet moving, swapping places with Baker. His face was purple, his eyes wet with tears and his face creased in pain as we passed one another. Standing behind the chair I stared ahead, unwilling to go any further.

“Take your trousers and underpants down boy and present your bare buttocks for punishment.” He swished the cane through the air and repeated the instruction. Slowly and steadily, I reached for my belt and began to lower my clothing. It took further prompting before I stretched over the chair and placed my hands onto the warm surface of the leather seat which was still moist from Baker’s sweaty palms. Stretching over the apex I was sure my stomach pressed into some sort of sticky residue, it was then I realised Baker had leaked precum as he danced over the chair. While I waited for the pain I stared blankly at the soft leather before me, a large round stain in the middle of the seat clearly produced from the copious tears of countless boys who had been in the same humiliating position over the years. I felt Willoughby placing my shirttail over my back, fully exposing my arse and then the cane was pressed into my bum.

Was this really happening? Here I was, eighteen years old and bent double over the back of a chair, my bare arse pointing upwards, waiting for a grouchy old schoolmaster to whip a cane across it. My old schoolmates would never believe it was possible. The cane lashed down and the pain exploded across my rear, incredible pain which brought tears to my eyes almost immediately. I don’t know how I got through the remaining five strokes. I squealed, squawked, yelped, and bellowed as he flayed my arse raw. I was far from brave, though I did manage to hold my position over the chair, fearful of the consequences should I stand up.

Eventually, the agony came to an end and I was permitted to stand. Tears rolled down my face as I stood before the desk beside Baker to receive the final admonishment. Dismissed we waddled down to the bogs to inspect the damage. I stood with my back to the mirror, craning my neck to glance at the livid welts which blazed fiercely across my backside. At that moment I made a vow never to step foot inside a pub until I had left the College for good.

***********

The stripes lasted well into the Easter holiday and I had to be careful when wearing my trunks that the marks stayed hidden. How could I have explained to my parents what had happened? Within three months I had taken my finals and departed from the College, never to return, nor to give the place a second glance. The encounter with Dr Willoughby had soured my time there and I wanted no further connection to the school.

Reading the headline had left me with mixed emotions, it also brought back a most painful memory I had long ago hidden, but above all, I was left with a feeling of satisfaction. Willoughby had clearly abused his position and finally, the long arm of the law had caught up with him. Justice would be done.

___________)

 

Story ©MMXXI by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission of the author.

 

Please leave a comment by using the link at the top of the story.

 

Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.

Wicked Stepmother (F/M, M/M)

WARNING ADULTS ONLY

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!

As I lay down on my bed, six burning lines of fire blazing across my buttocks; I could not believe what had just happened. Tears rolled down my face as I gently rubbed in the sting across my bottom cheeks. The pain and humiliation still fresh in my mind.

Why had this happened to me? For the first time since I was eight, dad had punished me with spanking. Well not a spanking, a caning. I never even knew he had a bloody cane. It is all Annabelle’s fault, I am sure that bitch really enjoyed herself and I have no doubt in my mind that she is behind this.

Annabelle is dad’s new wife. She is only twenty five, just six years older than me and almost twenty years younger than dad. They have been married just over twelve months. I have had little dealings with her until recent weeks as I was away most of last summer, then I went straight to university. It was not until I came home for Christmas that I got to know her a little better; I also noticed a big change in dad around the same time. Before he married Annabelle, we had been good buddies. Over the festive period I could not help but note he was more distant towards me, he had always been pretty strict but he now seemed to be more stern than I remembered, on a couple of occasions he spoke very sharply to me and even threatened to punish me. I was more than a little shocked at the change in his attitude. Feeling uncomfortable I cut short my stay and left to spend New Year with a mate.

I did not come back home until the start of the summer break. When I arrived, I immediately noticed all the changes in the household. Annabelle had certainly got herself established. The entire house had been revamped and re decorated. I hardly recognised the place. Even my room had been fully decorated, with new furniture. I was a little put out to discover that most of my belongings had been removed, without me even knowing. At supper that evening I pointed this out to dad. His reaction shocked me, he was more than annoyed, accusing me of being ungrateful and telling me I should be thankful to Annabelle for all the work she had put in, not moaning and groaning about a few sticks of old furniture. Honestly I felt about 3 feet tall by the time he had finished with me.

Over the following couple of weeks dad found a few reasons to really have a go at me, often threatening to deal with me if my behaviour continued to be poor. I just did not understand what I was doing wrong, I had not changed my behaviour, it was dad who had changed towards me. I noticed that whenever he challenged me about something, Annabelle would be close by watching and listening. I had come to dislike my new stepmother and as far as I was concerned she was a bitch who just seemed to relish getting me into trouble. Then this morning I came downstairs to find her messing with my phone. I was very angry with her and all my frustration with her over recent weeks came flooding out. I saw red and snatched the phone from her.

What the fuck do you think you are doing? That is my phone and my personal property

I beg your pardon Brett, how dare you swear at me?

I will fuckin swear at you whenever I want. Who do you think you are you little whore, you have only been married to my dad for five minutes and you think you can do whatever you want. I have just about had enough

Her eyes blazed into me as she spoke again.

How dare you speak to me like that, I am your stepmother and you should show me the respect due to me

Respect! I almost spat the words out of my mouth. How can I respect a woman who marries a man twenty years older than her? You don’t love my dad; How many cocks have you had up you since you married him? I bet there has been a queue in here while dad’s working away, little whore

I had really lost it. All my pent up anger had come to the fore and poor Annabelle had just been hit with two loaded barrels. I watched the tears well up in her eyes, suddenly I started to feel guilty and went to comfort her and apologise. As I approached her she moved away before spitting out her venom.

Just you wait till your father gets home Brett Porter, I shall have him cane you, pants down for what you have just said. And I shall enjoy watching you yell as he does it. We will see who is smiling when your backside is burning

Shut up bitch, Dad does not even have a cane and if he did I am way too old to be treated like that

We will see about that

I watched her turn and head off towards the lounge. I could not help but admire the tight sexy curves of her shapely arse and thighs. No wonder my dad had married her, I would like to bet she is great shag. Despite my bravado I was a little concerned over what she had said. I knew I had gone way too far and I had no doubt dad would punish me for it but surely not.

Would dad try and cane me? My arse tingled at the thought of it. I had been spanked many times off him when I was younger but that had stopped a long time ago.

I watched from my bedroom window as Dad pulled onto the driveway, then waited in trepidation as dad got out and headed towards the house.

I was in my room when the door shut and I waited fearful over what would happen. I could hear voices downstairs and I heard them talking quietly, unable to make out what was being said.

Brett, get your backside down here now lad

A chill went down my spine as I heard dad shout me down. Reluctantly I stood up and walked slowly towards the door and down the stairs to my doom. I had not even put my foot on the bottom step before I was hit by a smack right across my face. Dad stood looking at me, anger clearly written across his face.

You little bastard, how dare you speak to my wife in that manner, this is the final straw, it is a long time since I punished you but I think today it is time that period comes to an end

I was still in shock as my cheek burned after the smack dad had just given me. There in the doorway stood Annabelle, smiling like a wicked witch.

Go into the lounge now lad, it’s time I did something I should have done a long time ago

I was so shocked I did not argue, just walked towards the door and through into the lounge. Annabelle was by the door smiling at me, while dad disappeared upstairs.

Now you are going to get what you deserve Brett, I shall enjoy this

I had to bite my tongue as I did not wish to anger dad any more than I had already.

Less than a minute later he came back in, my eyes nearly popped out of my head as I saw a long slender cane in his hands.

Dad no, you can’t be serious

Shut up Brett, this is long overdue; I should have used this on you years back

But I am nineteen and a grown man; you cannot seriously expect me to bend over so you can whack me with that thing

Listen here boy and hear me well. You have a choice, you will be caned now or you will go upstairs and pack your things. Bear in mind if you choose the latter, you are on your own, no more subsidy for your university fees or anything else and you can find somewhere else to live. If you want to continue to live under this roof and be supported by me then you will submit to this

I was in a no win situation. Take the cane or leave? I had no real choice, dad was heavily supporting me through my education and if I wanted to continue then I had only one option. But really was I going to bend over like a little boy and let him hit me with that stick? Of course I was I had no option.

Over the back of the armchair and drop those shorts

I was wearing a thin pair of football shorts which would have provided minimal protection but dad wanted them down, that would leave just one thin layer between my arse and the stick. As I walked over I noticed Annabelle watching from the door, a huge smirk on her face. Feeling totally humiliated I stood in front of the chair and slipped down my footy shorts before bending over the back of it and reaching down, my arse was poking up high giving dad and Annabelle a perfect view of my muscular mounds.

I started to panic as I felt dad slip his hands into the waistband of my underpants and unceremoniously peel them down to sit on top of my shorts.

Please dad no I wailed.

You are going to feel these strokes Brett and your stepmother will see how I deal with my bratty son. Stay down or I will give you extra

For the first time ever I felt a cane resting across the middle of my backside. Seconds later I heard a slight whistle then felt the crack before pain, unbelievable pain erupted along a narrow strip in the middle of my arse cheeks. I could hardly breathe when a second lashed down, landing slightly lower, imprinting another stripe of fire.

The third stroke landed lower still really setting my bum on fire. I could feel the tears welling into my eyes. As the fourth landed even lower the tears dripped from my eyes and fell onto the leather seat of the armchair. My bottom was on fire. Dad thrashed the last two down even lower and harder, each time despite my resolve I yelled loudly. I was no longer concerned about anything except the sting across my arse. I lay there sobbing, my bottom on fire.

Right Brett, your stepmother will now give you a few smacks to reinforce the message. If you ever speak to her like that again she will be giving you six with the cane before I give you a further six

I could barely believe what I was hearing. I was totally humiliated; I felt Annabelle’s hand touching my raw skin then felt a sharp smack across my left cheek. My new stepmother soon got into the swing slapping each bum cheek in turn, left, right, left, and right. I began to cry aloud as the spanking continued. Suddenly it stopped and I heard her speaking.

That is just a taster Brett. Next time I will cane you

Dad ordered me to stand up; reluctantly I resumed the vertical and reached round to grip my stinging bottom. Through my tears I saw the smirk etched across Annabelle’s face. She had clearly enjoyed herself.

Go to your room lad and stay there till morning

I eased my pants and shorts over my blazing backside, before limping off, my hands gripping tightly onto the burning flesh beneath.So I lay on the bed, letting tears of pain and humiliation drip down my face. Suddenly I heard a thwipp and a crack from downstairs. What was going on? There was another stroke, then another. I slipped off the bed and gently tiptoed to the landing. From the top of the stairs I could hardly believe what I could see through the banister rail into the lounge below. Annabelle was tapping a cane across a bare arse, Shock took over as I realised the recipient was dad. I watched the cane land hard leaving a fifth stripe, then a sixth one. I watched on transfixed as she continued to whip my dad. Grunts and yelps escaping his lips.

She finally stopped at twelve. I could hardly believe what I had just witnessed. Dad stood up and I saw his rock solid erection poking out in front as he rubbed his arse. Next I watched Annabelle kneel down and take my dad’s knob in her mouth. At that point I thought it was best to leave them as I had no wish to watch them having sex.

Back in my room I sat carefully on the bed and began to think about what had happened. So that was why dad had changed and why he had suddenly become real strict with me. His new wife was a sadist who enjoyed whipping his arse and she now wanted to get her hands on mine. I was shocked to the core to think of them having rampant sex downstairs while I had been a pawn in their sordid sex game. Giving my backside another rub I carefully climbed into bed and gave something else a rub. I knew I could not stay and that tomorrow I would have to ring up my mate and see if I could spend the rest of the summer at his place.

My wicked stepmother might enjoy whipping arses, but I was determined she was not going to whip mine. Somehow I was going to have to find a way of avoiding coming home until such time as I could afford to get my own flat. I lay down and began to make plans for the future, life was going to get harder but at the moment something else had gone hard and needed urgent attention. Tomorrow will be soon enough to sort things out.

___________)

D I S C L A I M E R

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

(___________

Story © MMXIV by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

Comments are here

A Strict Father-in-law (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Red hot caning fiction by very special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!

I married my wife Alison after a whirlwind romance. She was still at University, while I worked in a garage close by. I did not meet her father until a few days before the wedding. I was immediately in awe of him. Robert Black, a police sergeant, a well-built man around six foot tall and weighing sixteen stone with not an ounce of fat on him; he was solid muscle. He unnerved me as his cold blue eyes penetrated me. I felt he disapproved of our relationship and was not very happy that I would be taking his daughter away from him. He was very overbearing and on that first meeting, although I was polite, was secretly pleased that I would have very little to do with him.

My wife is the middle of three children and the only girl. Her brothers, Mark and Gary were twenty three and eighteen respectively when we married, while Alison and I were twenty. Her brothers were as tall as their Father though built more slightly. Their mother had left many years before leaving all three in their Father’s care. Although Robert loved his children dearly he was very strict and the boys received regular discipline whenever they disobeyed him; even when they were no longer boys. At the wedding I could tell both were very wary of their Father, though at the time I had no idea why.

It was almost a year after we were married when things suddenly changed. Alison had finished her degree just as I lost my job. However as a motor mechanic it would be reasonably easy for me to find another one. Alison longed to return to her hometown to be closer to her family. After much debate and quite a few arguments we decided to give it a go. Her Dad was insistent we moved in to the big house with him and the boys while we saved up enough money to buy a place of our own. So somewhat reluctantly I agreed. We gave notice on our rented flat and moved back to my wife’s home town and family home.

Robert greeted us at the door, throwing his arms around Alison; he was so pleased to have the apple of his eye back home. While clear he was pleased to have his daughter back, my reception was between cold and frosty. At dinner that evening we sat down with the boys to enjoy a full roast which had been prepared by the daily, Mrs Wilkinson, who had worked for the family for many years. Gary and Mark were polite and respectful to Alison and me. It was obvious that my wife and her father adored one another and they dominated the conversation until we started on pudding. Robert suddenly turned to Gary.

You and I need to have a talk in my study after dinner. Come up at eight thirty son.

Yes sir, he said, bowing his head. Mark also put his head down and for a few minutes the conversation went quiet. I had no idea what was going on but there seemed to be some tension over the upcoming meeting.

After dinner we went into the lounge while her Father made his way upstairs. The boys were nowhere to be seen so as we relaxed on the sofa, I asked Alison what was going on and why Gary seemed so nervous at meeting his Dad.

Oh, he will be getting a caning, she said matter of factly. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

What! You are joking right? He is nineteen years old, not nine.

The boys have always been punished by my father in that manner. Even Mark still bends over if he does anything wrong. You had better watch out darling! He might want to put a few stripes on your bottom if you are naughty.

At that moment I heard a thwipp and crack followed by a howl. I realised she was not joking. Gary was actually being caned. I had been over the Heads desk at school on a few occasions so the experience was not uncommon to me. What I could not get my head around was that Gary was a grown man, not a boy.

I listened to the strokes landing, with each succeeding one the cries became more vocal. After the tenth stroke it stopped, and a few minutes later I heard two doors close before it all fell silent. Alison seemed totally unperturbed at the evenings action, but my mind was in turmoil. What I could not understand though, was why the event had turned me on! My cock was rampant, so shortly after we went to our room, stripped down and Alison and I made passionate love.

As I thrust in and out of her tight juicy quim, the image of her Father wielding a cane across my arse went through my mind. Soon my loins emptied inside her and we both moaned in ecstasy as our lovemaking reached its inevitable climax. Lying beside her in the warm afterglow I brought the subject back to Gary’s caning and the evening’s events.

Darling, anyone would think it had turned you on! Do you like the idea of being caned? Maybe I could get daddy to cane your naughty bottom for you Jamie, she said teasingly.

Just the thought of it got me excited, so very soon I was ready again, thrusting my rampant cock deep inside her.

The following morning I came out of our bedroom and caught a glimpse of Gary going into the bathroom. He was naked, so from the back I got a full view of his black and blue backside. The stripes were livid and swollen, it looked so sore. He turned to close the door and spotted me standing there. He was really embarrassed, quickly went and closed the door. He was obviously angry I had seen him like that.

The incident stayed in my memory for a long time; hearing the cane striking, the howls, and the sight of his arse the next morning. For some reason I began to find my father-in-law attractive. He was big and strong and the thought of him wielding the rod of correction really gave me the horn. The image of him thrashing me in his police uniform would really send me over the edge.

About two weeks after Gary’s caning I came home from my new job and caught sight of the next incident. That afternoon I had finished early, as I had to go and register with a new GP. The first thing I heard as I entered the house was the swish and crack of the cane echoing down the stairs. I took off my shoes and made my way slowly upstairs. As my eye line reached the top step I had a clear view into the office which was straight ahead and the door was only half open. I could barely believe the sight before me. This time Mark was over the desk, his big hairy backside was on full display, trousers and underpants bunched around his ankles, his shirt halfway up his back and his buttocks proudly displaying a set of livid stripes which were starting to swell, across the exposed skin. As I watched I saw my father-in-law line up the cane and strike again. The buttocks quivered as they absorbed the stroke and Mark yelled out in agony. I counted the stripes; he was sporting eight burning welts.

I watched a further four strokes land across the already sore buttocks. I was shocked; but excited. My cock was swelling rapidly as I drank in the sight before me. As the last stroke burned its angry way across Mark’s arse Robert turned round and spotted me looking.

Enjoy the show did you young Jamie? Watch out, that one is for free. If I catch you spying again I will have you in here for some of this, he said, flexing the cane.

I quickly rushed off to my room. I should have been really annoyed at that statement but instead my cock was dripping pre cum as I thought of what I could be in for. I lay on the bed and took my prick out giving it a few pulls till my sack emptied into the tissue I had ready. Feeling relieved I replayed what I had just witnessed in my mind’s eye. I don’t know why, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be bending over for that cane. The thought of it got me really excited.

Over the coming weeks I thought more and more about Robert caning my arse. It was becoming an obsession. At dinner one night he announced that Gary was due another meeting in the study. Alison was out with her friends. I waited till I heard the first swish then slowly made my way upstairs. Once again the door was open, with Gary bent over the table his bare arse in full view. Two vicious welts were swelling across his cheeks while the cane was being lined up for the third. I made my way to our bedroom and could not wait to get my cock out. I listened to the swish and crack of the cane while I masturbated furiously. On the ninth stroke my cock exploded, shooting semen all over the bed sheets. I lay there spent as I heard the door close. Gary’s room was next to ours and through the wall I could hear him gently sobbing. Suddenly, the door burst open and Robert stood looking at me as I lay there my cock still dripping cum.

Enjoy that Jamie did you?

I quickly grabbed my pants to cover up but Robert just smiled and said, I think we need to have a discussion in my study young man. Be there in five minutes. He turned and left.

Once he had gone I got off the bed and covered up properly, my cock still moist with semen. I straightened my hair then slowly slipped my jeans back down before turning my back to the mirror to examine my still lily white cheeks which I knew would soon be inflamed and striped by the cane. I was already getting excited at the thought of it.

I pulled them up and crossed over to the study. The door was open and my father-in-law was sitting behind his desk, on top of which lay a slender punishment cane, similar to the one I had felt at school years back.

Right now young Jamie, we need to have a little discussion about your general behaviour. You live under my roof now and over the last few weeks you have shown little appreciation of my generosity. As you are well aware, when Mark or Gary overstep the mark they get to feel this across their backsides. It is quite amazing really how this changes a young man’s arrogant behaviour. As my son-in-law I see no reason why you should not be dealt with in the same way as my sons.

He went on, Your attitude has been rather surly and you have behaved in a less than courteous manner to both me and your wife. And as for your masturbating whenever you see one of the boys caned, words fail me! So, the choice is yours. Drop your trousers and get over this desk or I will have to tell Alison about your dirty little habit. Which is it to be?

But she is going to see the stripes anyway, what am I going to tell her?

You can tell her that your general attitude has been less than expected, unacceptably so. As such I gave you a choice; a caning or to move out. You agreed to take the cane rather than lose your home. She will believe that.

My stomach was doing somersaults as I contemplated the next few minutes. It had been almost seven years since I had last bent over for the cane in my Headmaster’s office. I had always wanked afterwards; but on this occasion my prick was already swelling! I unbuckled the belt before slipping my jeans down to my ankles. My underpants followed the southward journey landing in a heap on top of my jeans. I slowly bent over the desk and stretched across the surface taking a grip of the far edge.

Robert was behind me tapping my naked cheeks with the cane.

I think eight strokes as this is your first time, Jamie. In future you can expect the full dozen.

I heard the cane swish then felt it crack across my arse. I lost my breath as the white heat of the first stroke zipped across my buttocks. The cane was tapping again before I heard the second swish. This time my voice returned and I let out a yell. As the strokes lashed across my bottom leaving line after searing line of agony my eyes filled with water and began to fall down my face. I had always thought my Headmaster knew how to lay on a cane; compared to my father-in-law he must have been an amateur. The sixth stroke landed right in the crease causing me even more misery. I felt him change direction and tap diagonally, my cheeks were already aflame. Suddenly I felt the lash, crossing all the previous welts, he changed direction again lashed the last one in the opposite direction leaving a large X over the first six stripes.

I laid over the desk sobbing as he put the cane down.

You can stand up Jamie.

I stood up and reached round to feel the swollen ridges across my poor bottom, unable to let go of my inflamed cheeks.

Right then Jamie, from now on you know what to expect if your attitude or behaviour is unacceptable. I hope you will learn to control your attitude and urges. Now go to your room.

I pulled my underpants over the scalded flesh and gently raised my jeans just high enough to allow me to waddle from the room. Taking shorts steps, everyone an agony, I somehow managed to make my way back to our room. As I opened the door I realised Gary was watching me from his doorway. He turned around dropped his pants and gave me the full moon, showing his own ridged buttocks. I was amazed to find that despite the fire burning fiercely I was getting hard. Despite what had happened earlier I whipped out my prick ready to play with it when I heard the front door shut. Alison was home.

Within a minute she burst into the room a big smile on her face.

Hi Baby, have you had a pleasant evening?

She saw the pain etched across my face as she closed the door. She beamed at me.

Has Daddy smacked your bottom for you? I know that look well enough; I have seen Mark and Gary with that expression many times in the past.

I nodded.

So he has finally caned you! Daddy always does what I want.

What!

Yes Jamie, it has been quite obvious that you wanted him to cane you. I saw how you reacted when Gary was caned, and then daddy told me you were excited as you watched Mark take his punishment the other week. Let me have a look at the stripes.

I was lost for words, in a trance I turned over,wincing in pain. She peeled my undies down to examine the marks.

He is still pretty good, but he does get plenty of practice.

Alison reached into the drawer and suddenly I felt some cold cream being gently applied to the wounds. Her tender touch and the cooling cream quickly got me turned on. Within a minute I was fully erect and gagging to go for it.

Not yet darling, she purred, let me relieve you first. We can make love later.

She gently took my manhood between her lips and began to caress the tip, teasing and gently blowing me. I was in ecstasy, my erection rock solid. Soon I reached the point of no return and within a minute I blew my load deep down her throat. The relief was immense. In spite of the soreness in my arse I was feeling very horny.

About ten minutes later we made love, as I thrust my rampant cock deep inside her she moaned with pleasure. We made love twice more that night, then again in the morning. Despite my arse being raw the memory of the caning had awoken something inside me. Something I needed. Alison knew this, and so did her father.

We lived with the family for several months before finally we had enough money to move into our own place. Robert caned me often when he felt I deserved a sore backside and on every occasion our lovemaking was far more intense. Even after we moved out I still returned from time to time to have my faults caned off. Each time Robert was happy to oblige and Alison enjoyed our more energetic lovemaking.

___________)

D I S C L A I M E R

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

(___________

Story © MMXIV by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

Comments are here

---

Calling In Some Help – Part 3 – The Rugby Coach Needs Some Help (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new special guest author Baddlad17 – strictly over 18s only!

 

Saturday mornings were a time of the week that my son David had come to dread. After his last thrashing I imposed a tally system, so that any breaking of house rules is jotted down. Then on Saturdays I would examine the book to see if he needed to be given a sharp reminder. The reminder is with a cane, which Ted Wilson, my neighbour and David’s former headmaster, would use on his naked buttocks, hard. Quite often I would add a few swipes with a leather tawse beforehand, just to make sure he really felt the sting of the rattan.

Ted is an expert with the cane. He has many years of experience, ensuring David’s attention. He always targets the sit spot, landing the strokes in a tight band on the lower portion of the boy’s buttocks. He never gave less than four, often six and sometimes eight or ten. Even though David is a big burly rugby player he always ends up in tears by the time the punishment is over.

In addition to hating these Saturday morning canings he had the added humiliation of having to go off and play rugby in the afternoons.

The one positive thing in David’s life is sport. He is an avid football fan, though his biggest passion is rugby. He plays for a local amateur team every Saturday. Of course, after the match the lads usually end up having a few pints and he often arrives home in a drunken stupor. Then, being worse for wear is entered into the tally book and goes towards any punishment he may be due the following week.

He often had a very sore bottom as he walked down the path, his kitbag over his shoulder, heading off to his match. There is no possible way he could be hiding the marks so I had begun to wonder what his teammates must be making of his striped arse on show in the changing room and showers.

Then only last Tuesday I saw David’s coach in the supermarket. Owen Morgan is a big guy standing six feet two high. He is in his late thirties, married with two young children. He is very good looking and obviously very fit and athletic. I have known him for some years as he coached both the junior and senior rugby teams. He made it clear he wanted to have a quiet word with me so I arranged to meet him in the café after I had done the shopping. I saw Owen in the corner so I ordered a coffee and joined him.

Tom it’s good to see you. I don’t see much of you up at the club these days.

I find I have little time to come and watch David play these days, besides he is no longer a boy needing his Dad standing on the touchline encouraging him.

Owen raised his eyebrows and gave me a funny look.

Do you mind if I speak my mind Tom? David may no longer be a boy but I think you still treat him like one at home. I would have to be blind not to notice the cane welts on his backside most weekends. Last Saturday after the match I had a word with him and asked what this is all about. He broke down in tears and poured his heart out to me. In spite of everything though, he told me he still needs to be punished like this and he had become more respectful to both you and his Mother since your neighbour began caning him.

Yes, Ted Wilson knows how to wield a cane, and applies it with vigour to David’s bottom. His years as a Headmaster have stood him in good stead.

Owen’s eyes glazed over.

Mr Edward Wilson! Former Head of Westcliffe! He caned my arse on a few occasions when I was there. He knew how to lay it on. I was sore for days after he gave whacked me; he once gave me six of the best for bunking off maths so I could watch the rugby game. He certainly made an impression on me in more ways than one.

We both grinned but the glint in Owen’s eye made me suspect it had not been a totally unpleasant experience.

Tom can I be blunt with you? In the last few weeks David’s attitude has improved tenfold. It is obvious that the cane is having an effect on his behaviour in general. I remember how painful a caning from Wilson is. I have been having some disciplinary issues with a couple of members of the team, so I wonder, do you think there is any chance he might consider dealing with them the same way he deals with David?

I nearly choked thinking Owen was joking, but it soon became clear he was deadly serious.

If a couple of them show up with striped arses, I am sure the news will soon go round. If the others discover their own arses could be on the line, discipline will certainly improve. Fines seem to have little effect on lads these days. Maybe we need to return to a more physical form of punishment.

I left the café promising Owen I would speak to Ted and get back to him in a couple of days.

I thought Ted was going to have a heart attack when I told him of my conversation with David’s rugby coach. The thought of caning a couple of rugby hunks obviously appealed him!

Tell Morgan to bring them round here on Saturday morning. If David has done anything I will cane the three of them together. Maybe the coach should apply something to the lads’ arses to soften them up before I cane them. At school I recall my sports master’s used to wield a large rubber soled gymshoe to deadly effect. I think they should receive a few swipes with one before I stripe their seats for them.

I telephoned Owen who was eager to meet me at Ted’s house at eleven o clock on Saturday morning.

So on Saturday, I checked the log to see if David would need a trip next door. Since I had introduced the punishment log his behaviour had improved dramatically. No longer am I finding clothes all over his floor or crockery left in the sink. He has cleaned up his act and even helps around the house. The threat of punishment hangs over him but keeps him in line. He had even been to job interviews recently; one of them is very promising. I am finally beginning to think he is growing up. But until such time as he moves out and stands on his own two feet, I shall not be easing up on the strict regime which I have imposed.

The log showed that David only had a couple of minor issues, so a sore arse is not warranted. He went off to rugby with a smooth unmarked bottom. The same cannot be said for two of his teammates.

Danny Jones is a nineteen year old rugby back. He is only about five feet ten but his speed and agility make him perfect for evading the opposition, while taking the ball forward. He has light brown hair and hazel eyes. Firm flat stomach with very pert buttocks which just asked to spanked. His teammate, Harry Cattell plays fly half. He is taller than Danny, at six foot, with dark cropped hair and green eyes. He is very attractive and extremely athletic. Neither of them is built like a tank, they are wiry and agile. I was waiting on Ted’s doorstep when Owen walked up the path with the two players in front of him. I allowed them in and we all go into the lounge where Ted is sitting with a smile on his face eagerly looking forward to the morning’s activity!

The three guys were dressed in tracksuits.

Ted looked at the coach and narrowed his eyes. Owen Morgan! I remember you from year’s back. I think I had to cane you on a few occasions, back in the day. It must be more than twenty years ago?

Owen blushed, Twenty three, Sir to be exact. I still remember the last time.

At this point Owen’s hand subconsciously wandered round to gently touch his firm buttocks. Ted looked at the two lads standing by nervously, clasping their hands.

So what have these young pups been up to then?

Well, turning up late for practice, failing to follow instructions, disobeying my commands and finally going for a drink before training. Fines don’t seem to work and my last resort is to sack them both from the team. However they are both excellent players. I had a meeting with them the other night. As a result, they have agreed to submit to a punishment more in line with how you used to deal with things at school. I feel sure you can turn these lads around. You certainly changed my behaviour Sir.

A broad smile spread across Ted’s face as he continued to observe the three men.

Of course I can, though these young men are no longer schoolboys. The punishment must be stiffer than you received.

Addressing the lads directly, he went on, Gentlemen, I will cane each of you to save your rugby careers; but it must be severe. You will receive twelve strokes of the gym slipper which will be laid on by Mr Morgan here. Six hard swats on each cheek. These will be followed by eight hard strokes from my cane. Of course those tracksuits bottoms will have to be lowered along with any underwear. I want your bottoms bare for your tannings.

The lads and Morgan seemed quite shocked. Ted opened the drawer in his desk and extracted a large grubby looking oval shaped plimsoll which reminded me of the one my own gym teacher had always carried around during PE classes, ready to wallop any boy who breathed out of line. Next, he opened a cupboard and took out a long whippy rattan, placing it on the desk besides the slipper.

Mr Cattell, please wait outside in the hallway until we have dealt with Mr Jones here.

Harry grimaced before turning and leaving the office.

Ted, firmly in control told Jones, Stand in front of the desk lad. Pants and underwear down then bend over the desk. Reach across to grip the far side. And stay in position till you are told to get up.

Young Danny did as he is told, in the process revealing white Ralph Lauren underwear which ended up in a heap on top of his tracksuit bottoms. Bending forward his tight muscular buttocks opened and parted revealing some fine hair nestling between his cheeks. Ted handed the large slipper to the grinning coach.

Six hard ones on each buttock, Morgan.

I watched as Morgan lined the plimsoll up gently against the lads left buttock. He raised the slipper high in the air before bringing it swiftly and firmly down, to land with a loud smack on the pale exposed cheek. The sound was electric. Morgan raised the slipper a second time, his face set with grim determination, to crack a second stroke over the first. This time Jones grunted as the lower portion of his left buttock turned increasingly red and looking sore. A further four landed, all on the same side. The coach then moved round and repeated the punishment on the right cheek. Inside a minute a shocked and gasping Jones was fighting to stay bent over, the lower portions of his buttocks burning hot and looking as sore as they certainly were.

Morgan, looking grim, moved aside, while catching his breath as he recovered from his exertions.

Ted seemed very pleased and nodded his approval before speaking.

Get up Jones and go and stand in the corner. Cattell will be slippered before I cane you.

Ted opened the door and summoned Cattell into the office; he froze as the first thing he saw was the state of his teammate’s arse.

Cattell, go to the desk, let your pants and underwear down, and bend over to grip the far side.

Once again Morgan began to swipe the slipper hard across the presented naked muscular cheeks. Cattell’s backside is slightly hairy whereas Jones is smooth. By the time the twelfth had lambasted the guy’s arse he was holding on for dear life. He had sworn loudly halfway through the punishment and the reward is a thirteenth swipe with a warning to hold his tongue or the number of cane strokes would increase to ten.

Cattell stood and gripped his arse, his face contorted with pain, screwing his eyes tight as he tried his best to blink back the tears threatening to roll down his face. As instructed he hobbled across to the wall and stood next to his mate, hands on head.

I hope you are both thoroughly ashamed of yourselves. Big lads like you being treated like boys half your age. I hope Mr Morgan has made his displeasure felt across your posteriors. I will shortly be caning you to ensure the message has got through to you and your teammates, once they see the results.

I looked at the two very red athletic bottoms only inches away from me. I could feel a tightness in my pants as I drank in the sight of these guys. How could this turn me on? After all I am not gay. Maybe it is just the atmosphere and the testosterone in this room.

For a few moments Morgan and Ted chatted happily, remembering times gone by. They even laughed as Morgan recalled some of the thrashings he had received at this man’s hand. Finally Ted stood up and walked over to the desk. He picked up the cane and swished it through the air.

Right you two, approach the desk.

The two guys did as bidden, their semi erect cocks on show as they walked across the room. Their bottoms looked very sore yet even more punishment was coming their way.

Bend over the desk side by side. I want those backsides high and tight. Stay down till I tell you or there will be penalty strokes.

The lads complied, offering their reddened cheeks for more torment. Ted came behind and observed the sight before him. I glanced across at Morgan and can hardly fail to notice his raging cock which is tenting his tracksuit bottoms; so I am not alone!

Ted lined the cane up against Jones’s arse, and then as I had watched him do before with David, he raised it high, before lashing it down hard across the waiting buttocks. The swish, crack and cut is followed by a blood curdling scream from Jones’s throat. As Ted pulled the cane away and raised it ready for the second, the first stripe of fire swelled across the Rugger lads’ backside. Once again the cane lashed the seat, slightly lower than the first time. He now moved across, and measuring the distance sliced the first stroke across Harry Cattell’s backside. The lad jumped up completely surprised and let rip with a Fuckin’ hell. Ted ignored the remark before ordering the lad back down. He resumed his position and a second one landed quickly almost on top of the first. His reward is a lusty yell.

He now alternated between the two lads striking time and again leaving a pattern of red stripes across each backside. He struck the last two at an angle intersecting the first six causing the lads to howl loudly. Just after he cracked the last stripe across Cattell’s bottom he announced two penalty strokes for the swearing. These came very fast and zipped down with lightning speed across the lads arse. Cattell screamed out AHH, MY ARSE, before sobbing across the desk.

Right, get up and dressed, both of you. Punishment is completed. I hope you have learned your lesson?

The two young men slowly got up and painfully dressed, covering up their swollen striped buttocks. Each had tears rolling down their cheeks. When they were finally dressed they stood, hands gently massaging their stinging bottoms, unable to stop the tears from falling.

I hope that I have managed to get through to you lads. Remember, when you can sit down, why you have been punished. Now, if your performance and attitude fails to improve I shall be paying a visit to the club with my cane so I can thrash you in front of the rest of the team. I am also giving Mr Morgan here this old gymshoe so he can use it as he sees fit on you or any other member of the team who deserve it. Now you may go to your Match and best of luck for this afternoon.

Owen took the slipper with thanks, his large cock still quite swollen in his pants as he ushered the two distressed players out and down to his car, where no doubt they would have a very hard and bumpy ride down to the club.

Ted seemed to be really enjoying his new hobby and over the next few weeks, in addition to keeping David in line, he visited the club after training on Wednesday evenings. A new regime is now in force for the Rugger lads. Any bad behaviour is dealt with in the changing rooms by the application of the gymshoe and the cane.

Once more, Ted is more than happy he has been called in to help!

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D I S C L A I M E R

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

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Story © MMXIII by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

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