Erotic amusement by Rod Cayenne
Sometimes I almost feel like I want to kill my mother-in-law. Why? Well, let me take you back…
I’d been married to Janine for about a year. Circumstances dictated that I had to spend a week at her mother’s cottage in leafy Worcestershire. The area was beautiful but at the same time rather boring for a youngish fellow like me. Naturally, over the week I had the urge to masturbate, and quite a lot at that. Much to my shame, Janine’s mum caught me at it one day! She was furious, accusing me of being unfaithful to her daughter, and generally made me feel pretty rotten. It’s not easy for a mature woman to understand just what it’s like being a man. Being a man means possessing an uncontrollable, rampant cock and two balls full of sperm between your legs. It’s torture sometimes.
Anyway, as I was saying, she caught me at it. I was going hell for leather at the time, hoping for a quick orgasm. I think if I’d been doing it more sedately, it might not have been so embarrassing. She squealed and then the shouting started! She could shout for England! I covered up quickly, but her face went bright red with anger, or something. I wanted to die, or make amends somehow or other.
As she berated me, she revealed that she had once caught Janine’s half-brother Gilbert doing the same thing when he was nineteen. She had ‘smacked him black and blue with her hairbrush’ apparently. Unfortunately, I chose that moment to crack up with laughter. I couldn’t help it. It was just the vision of stuffy old Gilbert over her lap that did it.
Her fury was awoken again, and in the end to placate her, I foolishly suggested that she gave me the “Gilbert treatment.” I couldn’t believe how quickly she jumped at the opportunity. She trotted off to her bedroom to retrieve her hairbrush. Even to my less than expert eye, I could see that it was a vicious-looking item. I later found out that it was a genuine ebony one.
She ordered me to lower my keks but allowed me to keep my underpants on. An arrangement that suited my newly-found modesty. However, those underpants were unfashionably skimpy, so offered little real protection as the hard, merciless brush blows hit home.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The brush continued its punishing reckoning. Only just then, as I wriggled on mum’s lap did it dawn on me just how sexy she was. It was her black nylons that started it. Then her perfume, which like her presence, was almost overwhelming. Then there was her sexy voice as she belittled me with her pithy and barbed comments,
“I’ll teach you to masturbate in front of me. You’re going to regret this! You disgusting little worm! You’re not worthy of my Janine’s affections.”
On and on she went. All the time the ebony brush beat the hell out of my bottom. And then suddenly and inexplicably I felt the first stirrings of another erection. Damn! She could feel it too, as she suddenly stopped the spanking.
“I think we’d better have these down, so that I can keep an eye on you!” she laughed.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The brush struck again and then again and again. The pain as it assaulted my naked backside was phenomenal. And then, suddenly it was all over.
After she’d gone, I finished off. I came heavily as I thought about her. I managed to keep quiet as I came, as I didn’t want to alert her to my actions. I massaged my burning cheeks, which gave some momentary relief from the burning pain.
The atmosphere was electric for the rest of the week. There was a real sexual frisson between us.
On the last day of my stay, I was packing my Adidas bag when she came into my room, the guest bedroom. She had the hairbrush in her hand, but it wasn’t being used for grooming her hair. Oh no! She waved it at me, saying, “I think, my boy, a reminder would be in order before you go back to my Janine!”
I couldn’t argue with her as I still felt incredibly embarrassed. I bent over her lap again, this time keks and briefs were around my ankles from the word go as she punished me with the brush.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Sitting down was painful as I took my reserved seat on the train. She was waving to me from the platform, and then, Oh God, she waved the hairbrush in the air as the train accelerated away! It was at this point that I began to hate her a little. That little public gesture with the hairbrush made me think that my spankings would not be kept secret. And indeed, by the time I got back to our London home, Janine had received a blow by blow account of my humiliations.
Mum’s evil influence spread, with Janine acquiring a special wooden hairbrush from an upmarket arcade somewhere in Chelsea. I was treated to weekly spankings, and quite quickly these became even more frequent, and came to dominate our sex life.
Things got even worse however, when mother-in-law came to stay. I ended up being spanked by the pair of them as they watched TV in the living room. Strictly! And then there was that infamous shopping trip. I was enjoying the peace and quiet when they burst in the front door, obviously after a few drinks. I was informed that they’d bought me a present. I was told to close my eyes. I was handed the present, and, even before I opened my eyes I had a good idea what it was.
It was a cane. A school cane. About three feet long with one of those crook handle things. It looked lethal, and in their willing hands it was. I was made to drop my keks and underpants, bend over and then place my hands on the coffee table. Very soon, the assault on my arse began. SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! I had to beg for a halt around the sixth stroke, but was immediately told that the 12 strokes due had been increased to 14 because of this! It was good to rest for a few seconds as the pain sunk in before the caning resumed. They were taking it in turns now, and I was becoming a very sorry husband. And a very sore husband. They laughed and laughed and I was awarded further sets of six strokes. Eventually, I think I took 32 strokes before they took pity on me. The damage was incredible.
I was sore for days! But even worse was the knowledge that my sweet Janine now had a doomsday weapon to control her husband – a whippy, rattan school cane. And all thanks to my kind, caring mother-in-law.
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Photography © 2012 by Bamboo Swinger, used by kind permission
Erotic equestrian fiction by Rod Cayenne
My riding instructor cut a handsome figure in his tweed jacket, jods and shiny black Aigle boots.
“You seem to be a little too fond of the whip, my friend!” he admonished. “Please cut down its use on the horses. If you have a sadistic streak, you should take it out on the stable lads or lassies. They are used to the riding crop and dressage whip on their haunches.”
“Really?” I laughed as I dismounted and tied the horse. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Aha, another enthusiast, if I’m not mistaken. I’m not shocked. Your interest is quite common. Are you really keen? If so, I may be able to help.”
“Really?” I asked again. I stared into his blue eyes.
“Yes, really. There is a flogging group hereabouts. Interested?”
“Yes, rather! Tell me more please,” I added, more than intrigued.
“It’s called The Crop Circle. Get it?”
“Oh, how very droll. Sounds right up my street.”
“Well, don’t get too worked up about it just yet. Let me tell you a bit more about it.”
“Thank you,” I added, trying to seem humble and at the same time trying to will away an erection from forming in my jodhpurs as I thought about beating stable lads and lasses.
“Alright then. I’ll be honest with you. It started off as a spin-off from an occult group.”
“Oh, wicked!” I said, somewhat childishly.
“Quite. But then quite a few of us realised we were more interested in the floggings than the witchcraft.”
“I see. I understand.”
“Of course, some of the traditions have followed on. There is an initiation. Which will be painful for you…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can handle that.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. Most likely it’ll be be a birching. With rods you’ve collected yourself from the sacred forest.”
I gulped a little. It’s true I was less keen suddenly, although I was aware that I had a masochistic side too. We went into the stables where he showed me the fine collection of crops and whips, which were prominently on display. I picked a crop and admired its beautiful craftsmanship and leatherwork. I placed it back with a shudder.
“I’ll get the Circle Master to contact you. Of course, I cannot guarantee anything. He is choosy. There is the initiation and you have to prove yourself worthy. There are dominant and submissive members of the group. And of course, some who like a little of both sides of the coin. Tell me frankly, where would you see yourself fitting in?”
“Well, to be honest, I do like a bit of variety in all things.”
“I see. At least, I think I do. You want some give and some take?”
“Yes. Yes, to be honest, that’s what I really want.”
“Good! In that case I think a preliminary thrashing right now would be appropriate.”
“Yes, just think of it as a pre-initiation. After all, I could forget to mention your interest to the Circle Master.”
I don’t think I’d ever felt so trapped in my life before!
“Can I keep my jods on please?”
“No, no, no! That won’t do at all! It wouldn’t be a proper initiation if it wasn’t on the bare, would it?”
“But this is just the pre-initiation,” I tried to plead.
“Don’t split hairs and don’t try to be funny with me. The stable hands get it bare, and they are a lot younger and less tough than you are. Get your bottom bare now and get over the bale. I’m going to beat you for excessive use of the whip. Isn’t that fair?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Although I didn’t mean any harm by my use of the whip.”
“Tell that to your mount! But don’t worry, because I won’t mean any harm by my use of the whip on you. To make it fair, I’ll use your own whip on you. Give it to me please.”
I handed the crop over. It was a cheap item, not as impressive as those in the display, and I was seriously doubting that it was that severe. However, my opinion soon altered as it thrashed down on my naked haunches!
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I gasped as lines of fire lit up my backside.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
It was humiliating.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
It was even worse that I was being beaten with my own crop.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I resolved to go easy on the horses in future.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The flames began to subside just a little as the crop was thrown down beside me.
“I think we’ll complete your schooling with a final half-dozen with the dressage whip!”
I wanted to say no, more than anything in the world. But I was under the instructor’s spell, and the word just wouldn’t come out. He pushed me further into the bale with his shiny boot.
That dressage whip was even worse! It cut and flailed and reduced me to tears. It was agony. Agony and ecstasy. I loved it!
There were to be several more sessions over bales, fine leather saddles and in a bedroom back in the farmhouse once the weather got really cold. But I didn’t hear from the Circle Master in all that time. Had I been tricked, or was I just not worthy? I didn’t want to press it with the instructor as our sessions were so intense and enjoyable. No, I didn’t want to jeopardise the good thing we were sharing.
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Photography © 2011 by Jonathan, and used by very kind permission
Adult entertainment by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: 22-year-old Johnny has just had a severe caning from his father. The cane has been in use regularly ever since Johnny complained about how boring Sundays were.
Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Now read on for Part 4:
“Quick, Johnny, pull your trousers up, your mother’s here!” said Dad hanging the whippy cane back on the brass hook.
“Shit!” said Johnny, but whether it was the surprise of his mum’s arrival or the pain he felt as he pulled his jeans up over his sore arse wasn’t clear.
Dad opened the kitchen door as Mum strolled in through the rear entrance. She gave them both a peck on the cheek, then addressed Johnny sternly, “You’re obviously in disgrace! Go to your room, shut the door, and stay there until one of us tells you to come out again.”
With that, 22-year-old Johnny and his sorry arse disappeared upstairs. Fortunately, his bedroom door had a lock. For he knew he would soon be masturbating happily to the recollection of his Sunday caning. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what his mother was doing there. The timing of her arrival had been unfortunate, to say the least. It was a coincidence, surely?
Meanwhile Mum and Dad were having a cuddle in the kitchen. It had been a while, but a reconciliation was underway.
“So tell me about this caning business, honey,” she purred.
“Well, there’s not a lot to tell, really. It started happening a few weeks ago. Johnny was in one of his surly moods. It was a Sunday, and he was bored. I told him that I’d got into trouble at boarding school for saying how boring Sundays were. I’d had a bare bottom caning for my troubles. I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. Anyway, I had a cane in the loft. I’d nicked it from school.”
“Yes, I remember seeing it a long time ago. I’d have hoped you’d thrown it away by now.”
“Oh you know me. I never throw anything away. Yes, well anyway, I was saying. Johnny wanted to see my cane. And then he wanted a sample stroke just to see what it was like. And then he started provoking me, so I gave him six of the best. Since then, I’ve caned him every Sunday. I’ve spanked him, too. Bare bum of course.”
“Hmmm, sounds a bit kinky to me darling. Are you sure, this isn’t some gay thing?”
“Oh come on! You know me better than that, surely?” he lied, for the homoerotic nature of the canings was a great source of pleasure to him. Since that first caning, he had masturbated most days thinking about bare bottoms and whippy canes. He had even knocked one off right there in the kitchen.
“Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. If I move back in though, I want Johnny’s canings to continue. He’s a bad lad a lot of the time. Maybe we could take it in turns? One of us canes him while the other one watches.”
“Now, who’s the kinky one?” he enquired.
“That’s enough of your cheek. Now let me see that cane!”
He leapt up as commanded and removed the cane from the hook.
“Here it is, darling. I stole it from my housemaster’s study. Looks like a vicious one, don’t you think?”
“It does indeed, Phil. It does indeed. And it did make a real mess of Johnny’s backside today didn’t it?” She flexed the cane playfully. “So is this one you had used on you at school?”
“Well, I don’t know darling. My housemaster was quite the disciplinarian. He had quite a collection of canes. They were all stood in a giant vase thing in his study. He always said it was a Ming vase, but I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“So you can’t be sure that you’ve been caned with this one. Or be sure just how vicious it is?”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out then, Phil. Drop your trousers and pants for me!”
“WHAAAAAT? You’re joking?”
“Hurry up! Unless you want double?”
“But darling! If we must do it, we can’t do it here! What about Johnny?”
“Johnny’s in his room in disgrace, if you remember? Now, hurry up! Keep quiet too. I’m sure a big boy like you can take his medicine bravely and quietly, without disturbing Johnny!”
“Oh, OK then. Not too hard though. Remember I haven’t had it in decades…”
“You are long overdue then. Now get those things down now! Hurry up boy!”
A new side to his wife was emerging. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Carefully, he unbuckled his trouser belt. He slid his trousers and underpants down. It felt sexy.
“Bend over!” she demanded. As he did, she admired his pert backside. It had always been delectable she thought. Now it was presented to her for a good whipping. She couldn’t resist feeling the cheeks. They were quite beautiful and youthful. She pinched the flesh gently, thinking it was a bottom that could take a generous amount of punishment. She had been thinking of six of the best, but was realising that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her whiplust. She pinched his cheeks a bit more.
“Steady on!” he said.
“Bah! Now Phil, tell me just how many cane strokes did you inflict on poor Johnny?”
“He’s not poor. He’s a bad lad, as you said yourself. Anyway, it was a dozen.”
“I see, but he’s new to the cane isn’t he? You’re more experienced, aren’t you?”
“Oh Gloria! Not lately!”
“Don’t you Oh Gloria me! You will be caned. You will be caned hard. You will be caned hard sixteen times.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The beating was underway. Up in his room, Johnny was enjoying the warm afterglow of his own caning. He gripped his stiffening penis, pulled back the foreskin and wanked away, enjoying the soreness of his arse and feeling very turned on as he thought about his father and the cane. Furiously he wanked and wanked and fantasised about a harder caning next time. He felt sure his father would oblige. Then he thought about his mother. She had seen at least some of his caning. This turned him on even more and more. He thought about how dominant and masterful his father looked, especially with a cane in his hands. Johnny couldn’t hold back any longer. He spunked heavily, groaning and grunting and yet sure he could hear a cane in use downstairs. He rationalised this as just his vivid and perverted imagination. It wasn’t though! For downstairs, his mother was thrashing the cane down as though her life depended on it!
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Dad Phil squirmed as the cane lashed down. He hadn’t had this treatment for years. It bloody well hurt. However, it was turning him on, just like it always used to.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Want some more?” his wife asked menacingly.
“Oh no! No more! Please!” His arse throbbed painfully from the red cane marks. However, his cock was stiff and engorged, even stiffer than it had been of late. He would be able to satisfy her today, he thought to himself. She wouldn’t need to wander for a good cocking anymore.
She was thinking along similar lines. Her pussy was wet and willing.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said. “Oh and I want that horrible hook thing removed,” she said, pointing at it with the cane. “The cane will be kept under your pillow from now on. Is that perfectly clear? Now, take the cane upstairs with you.”
Content © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Real life story by new guest author Strapmenow
Webmaster Rod’s note: This was originally published as a comment on my recent story “Full Bottom Of Steam”, but I thought it good enough to use as a short piece in its own right. Fortunately the comment author was happy with this, so in slightly tidied form, here it is:
…Reminds me of receiving from my wife the ½” thick cane, 3½” double leather spanker, and 1¾” thick double leather tawse (split vertically for the last 6½“) last Tuesday. Boy how I hate the tawse! Actually in that session I hated all those implements. They all really hurt.
I was very pleased with the after effects. The tramlines were still very visible 24 hours later. I just had to smile to myself whenever I sat on a hard seat, like the toilet seat or whenever I went driving. Car seats are great reminders if one has just received a jolly good thrashing. When you first sit in the driver’s seat you are reminded of why your bottom is so sore and everytime you shift position to operate the foot pedals one receives further reminders. I can’t help smiling to myself at each of these reminders, knowing how I came to have them and also knowing from whom I received them! I suppose if it were not for those very painful strokes received, one would not have such delicious reminders afterwards.
Whenever my wife feels like giving me a thrashing that is exactly what I receive. The waiting up in our room is really the worst time. There I am, naked and draped over a couple of pillows on the centre of our bed with the instruments of correction either lying on top of me or right beside me. I know (or at least think I know) what I am in for. My ears are very attuned to every sound I hear from the kitchen. My wife is heard rattling around, doing a whole lot of things, I presume, wholly unrelated to my impending spanking. I think to myself during this interminable waiting time, “I wish she would hurry up and get this thing over with.” My tension level keeps on ramping up to a higher and higher level. Yes, I am fearful of what is about to happen and yet at the very same time I really do want it to happen! Eventually I hear her footsteps coming down the hallway and know that it will all soon be underway.
When I introduced my wife to BDSM spanking (by hitting myself with an implement – can’t remember which one at this point of time, which I had purchased from an Adult Shop – it may have been a crop) I gave myself some 500 strokes on my bare bum, which of course considerably reddened it! Ha ha! I told her, “See it has not done me any harm and you can see how much it has excited me.” This was evidenced by my rampant erection. I said,”Next time I would like you to apply the implement.” She did!
I had always heard that the person giving the thrashings got turned on too, as well as the person receiving, but I did not really believe it. I had thought that they were doing it solely for the pleasure of the one receiving. But Pam was wet. I discovered that when she invited me to touch her. Yes, I discovered that she was very wet indeed.
After ten years of marriage I still love vanilla sex. Each time I come inside Pam is just as much a thrill as the first time. “Yes!” I say to myself, “I can still do this,” and it gives me as much of a charge as the very first time. Yet Pam spanking me adds a very thrilling dimension to our sex life. I don’t fully understand why this is so but just know that it is. It most likely is because in consensual BDSM Spanking the one receiving knows that the giver will not permanently injure you, it is not abuse, which I am very much opposed to. The surrender of control says in a very powerful way, “I trust you and know that you will not in any way harm me. Yes, what you are about to do will hurt me, but I know that you will not take me beyond my ability to bare. Yes, at times you will extend my limits and I’ll discover that my ability to bear the pain is much greater than I would have thought.”
Sometimes, indeed most times, I enjoy the spankings. I love the feel of leather being applied to my bare bottom, or hands. Sometimes I think that it is harder than I can bear. The mind most certainly plays tricks with you. I had really thought that when Pam was caning me that she was using full force. In actual fact she was horrified that I thought she was doing that! She was only using her forearm. Of course, what is actually happening is that your brain releases those wonderful chemicals, endorphins, in response to the pain. The recipient drifts off into that dreamlike state, that state of euphoria called sub-space.
Well Rod, I started off supposedly commenting on a story here and ended up giving a rant on the whole spanking scene! I think that I need a jolly good thrashing! Perhaps you may consider writing a story where you do just that. Ha ha!
I will close now after reading what I have just written to my wife, prior to posting. Keep writing those great stories! I, along with your other select group of readers I have no doubt, enjoy what you write here…
Content © 2012 by Strapmenow
erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne
THE STORY SO FAR: At the ripe old age of 75, Dad has taken to thrashing his 52-year-old son, Peter. Both men find gratification from this.
Part 1 is here
Now read on for Part 2:
Dad’s trusty old cane thrashed down on the naked buttocks of prodigal son Peter.
“Owww!” Peter cried. He could usually take his strokes stoically, but this seventeenth stroke hurt beyond belief!
The eighteenth bitter-sweet stroke lashed down.
Outside the study door, the sound of leather crop and rattan cane on bare flesh had sent Duke the Cairn Terrier into a barking frenzy. It was ever thus.
The thrashings took place every Friday evening. To start with they had been after the gents had enjoyed their fish and chip suppers. Latterly, however, Dad had taken to sending Peter out to buy the food after his thrashing. Peter would therefore stand in Pam’s Fish Bar with a red hot bottom, almost hotter than the food on offer! On returning home, Peter would sit awkwardly at the dining table facing his father.
This evening was no different. Peter’s pert bottom throbbed and burnt from the eighteen strokes. His face was flushed with embarrassment, or was it sexual excitement? This particular evening, Dad also looked rather red-faced. He leant over and touched his son’s hand.
“I hope that thrashing has taught you a lesson, my naughty boy. Now, listen. I want you to share my bed tonight, son.”
“Yes, why not? And we’ll both be naked, won’t we? I want to have a good talk about your spanking and caning interests, Peter. Pass the ketchup, please.”
“Dad, this is kinky, kinkier than we should allow ourselves to be.”
“Nonsense, son! We’ve a shared interest. Now, I want to share it more intimately.”
“Dad, you really are incorrigible!”
“Maybe son, maybe. Are you up for it, then?”
“Well, yes, as long as you don’t tell anyone. Especially Sandy, if you ever bump into her.”
“Mum’s the word!”
“How about an early night then, Dad? These fish and chips always send me into a bit of a drowsy kind of slump.”
“I’ll decide when son. Is that clear?”
As if on cue, Peter felt a shooting pain, just where the crop and cane had done their very dirty work.
“Yes Dad. Perfectly clear.”
“Good boy. I could always give you a reminder of who makes the decisions around here.”
“No Dad, no reminders necessary. You’ve made a firm impression already.”
Was that innuendo, or cheek? It didn’t matter.
“You will have a bath at nine o’clock and then come and join me in bed, naked. In the meantime, you can wash up when we’ve finished eating.”
“Son! It’s nine o’clock! Toilet and bath now. Don’t forget your teeth. Oh, and take the cane and crop from my study and put them on my bed, will you?”
“Errr, yes Dad. Of course.”
Peter wasn’t too sure he liked the sound of all this. He was being treated like a kid. Told when to use the toilet indeed! Nevertheless, he was excited and felt his cock stiffen as he called into the study to pick up the cane and crop. Already they had wreaked havoc that day. Now it seemed that an encore was in prospect. It was only a few hours later, but Peter was craving more punishment, especially as it seemed to fit in with his father’s plans.
Peter entered his father’s bedroom. It stank of cigar smoke, and there sat on the bedcovers was Duke. More worryingly, Peter could see his handcuffs, confiscated by his father, lying on the bedside table. Next to them, was a well-used tube of lube. Peter gulped with dread, placing the cane and crop down carefully on the bed. Duke barked at him.
Peter made his way to the bathroom. Soon the taps were running, and Peter sat on the toilet, which reminded him how sore his bottom was.
Dad popped his head round the door.
“Good lad! I’ll be in later to soap you down.”
Peter rolled his eyes. He couldn’t even have a shit in peace, it seemed.
A few minutes later, Peter was enjoying his hot bath when the door swung open. Peter was astonished to see Pam the proprietor of the chip shop stood holding the cane, and Dad just behind her.
“Your father has invited me round to join in the fun! Lucy is minding the shop. I’ll be caning you both tonight! Hurry up and get dry! This cane needs some use!”
She swished the cane down and chuckled. “Two strokes for each minute it takes you! You’d better hurry up!”
Peter pulled the plug out and smiled to himself. By the time he got to the bedroom, his father was stood naked and handcuffed.
“Five minutes! Ten strokes! Your father will be getting the same. Peter you can go second.”
It was the first time Peter had seen his father naked. For a 75-year old, his body was in surprisingly good shape. His bottom was most attractive, pert and hairy. Peter was also naked, after his bath. Unlike his father, Peter had a stonkingly stiff erection. Pam gazed at it lovingly as she flexed the cane. She was particularly fond of uncircumcised penises. She flexed the swishy rattan cane again. Oh yes, it was going to be a night of revelations!
© Rod Cayenne, 2012
Hot adult fiction by guest author David Stewart
Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.
Now read on for Part 3:
David and his wife continued to play as they had with David happy to cede to his “Mistress and Wife” in everything. His stay at his Mother-In-Law’s house had brought home the undoubted benefits of being disciplined, but he would far rather this was done by his wife.
It was some months later, the bank holiday weekend, when they next all met. His wife had teased him a few times, “If you don’t behave I may have to ask Mother to see to you again,” and so on. Thus it was with some trepidation that David arrived with his wife to stay the weekend at Mother-in-law’s.
Immediately David realised that his Mother-in-law had changed her attitude towards him and she had become more domineering, much to his wife’s amusement. It was no longer a case of, “Would you like a coffee, David?” Now it was, “Would you like a coffee daughter dearest?” followed by, “David go and make the coffee for us.”
During that Friday night the conversation turned to David and his behaviour and she mocked him with, “And have you been a good boy since your last visit David?” and other humiliating comments. His Wife said that his behaviour had been better and he had returned from his stay rather embarrassed, but eager to behave.
The Saturday they all went out for a meal, which David paid for and much consumption of wine took place. During the meal David got a bit disrespectful towards his wife. Some of his comments were rude and when they returned home he huffed and tutted several times when told to do things.
It was obvious that his Mother-In-law was not impressed and when they awoke the next morning his wife remarked that he had made a real idiot of himself, and could be in bother as a result. She commented that before bed her mother had said to her, “I will deal with this tomorrow.” Despite a sore head herself, she managed to laugh at David’s expression and said, “Yes my silly drunken husband, I suspect mother will be taking your pants down again today, and I will get to watch!”
Breakfast was late and they all went to the church service and had a late lunch, walking home instead of driving.
Lunch eaten David was told to, “Clear up the dishes then join us in the lounge.”
In the lounge her mother started to berate her daughter about the way she had allowed David to speak at the meal the previous evening and how she felt his attitude needed addressing. “You are letting him off with far too much my dear, and will regret it if you don’t stop him now.”
David arrived with coffee and as they drank, mother started to tell David off for his attitude. He apologised to both ladies.
“Yes apologise you should, and must, but I still intend to send you home with a sore bottom as a reminder. When in my house it is MY RULES,” she emphasised the last phrase. “Since I learnt how my daughter deals with you I have admired her. Alas, she has failed this time, so I shall intervene and sort you out and send you both home on the right tracks. Now, David I want you to go upstairs, put your pj’s on and then wait in my bedroom for us. You can spend some time thinking why you are waiting for us. When I come up I expect an apology and a request to punish you.”
David blushed. With resignation on his face, he left the room, glancing at his smiling wife as he did so. He was soon nervously standing in his night shorts and t-shirt looking at the hairbrush that was laid on the bed.
Downstairs her mother was giving advice to her daughter but also castigating her for allowing her husband so much slack. “You know the way I always dealt with you and your sisters,” she said. “Immediate and harsh spankings, whenever deserved. You also need to ensure David gets that. I am a bit surprised that you have failed to follow my example darling, but today I hope to give you both an idea of where you’ve gone wrong.”
Upstairs, David was nervously contemplating his fate. He had to acknowledge he deserved to be spanked, and also that his life was all the better for being a submissive husband. The humiliation of being spanked by his mother-in-law had some attraction, and he knew he was in for a real hiding. However, his excitement was squashed as he reflected on the severity of his last spanking from her. It had been a thirty minute wait, but now he heard footsteps and was suddenly a very scared naughty boy indeed.
Both wife and mother-in-law trooped in. Mother sat on the bed and called David to her side, “You have something to say and ask, David?”
David was well-rehearsed. With head bowed, he said in an not altogether steady voice, “I am very sorry for my behaviour last night, and I deserve to be spanked.”
“AND…what do you want me to do about that David?” came the impatient voice of his mother-in-law.
“Will you spank me, please?“
“Yes indeed, I am now going to give you the first of two spankings you will get today, David. Perhaps you will learn some manners and respect?” She hooked a thumb in either side of his shorts and pulled them slowly down revealing a very limp cock and then demanded, “Now GET OVER MY KNEE.”
David was soon looking at the carpet as the trepidation set in and the first smack of the brush descended. He yelled and the spanking continued unabated for what seemed an eternity.
“See, this is how you deal with naughty disrespectful husbands my dear. He is learning now.”
David was having a conversation of his own, yelping and crying out, “I’m sorry, honest I will behave” and so forth.
Eventually, he was told to stand. He didn’t know whether to massage his bottom or cover his exposed cock and balls.
“Go and face the wall now,” he was told and as he did so he remembered her words that there were to be two spankings that day. He’d had the first, but there was to be more! How sorry he felt.
The next words were to his wife, “And now darling it is your turn for the brush. It is David’s fault you are being spanked as well. You should have kept on top of him. Had you been harder on him before, this would not be necessary. NOW GET OVER HERE!”
An obviously shocked daughter was taken aback and said, “Mother, no you can’t…I mean it’s not fair, it is David’s fault and he has been spanked, it’s not my fault.”
“My house and my rules, dear! Now get over here or should I let David watch you as well as hear you?”
“No Mother! Surely not with David in the room.”
“We will do this as in years past.”
David did not fully understand. His wife walked nervously towards her mother and stood at her side. She reached forward and as she spoke started to undo the belt on her daughters jeans followed by the noisy zipper. Then the jeans were tugged down leaving her panties as her only protection.
“Now my dear, I am going to spank you very hard, after you have asked me to do so, and you are being spanked because of David’s behaviour and your lack of control over him. I want you to feel every smack and blame David, because believe me you will feel this. Now what have you to say?”
David could hear but only imagine the scene. His cock was growing rock hard. He could never have envisaged what was happening and he wished he could watch it unfold, not just listen.
A quiet nervous voice said, “Mother I am sorry for not dealing with David firmly enough and allowing him to be a brat. I deserve to be spanked. Will you spank me please?”
“Yes my dear I certainly will and remember this is entirely David’s fault. Now get over my knee and we will get this over with.”
A sudden smack and yell broke the silence, and soon the brush was cascading down on the daughter. Yells, screams and apologies were forthcoming. Tears followed.
“Dry your tears now my dear. You needed that. Now get dressed. Remind me, who was at fault, dear?”
“It was that husband of mine!” she said.
“And do you appreciate the need to keep him disciplined now?”
“I certainly do and won’t make the same mistake again, Mother.”
“Well that’s good to hear because you are now going to give David his second spanking and if I don’t think you have been hard enough then your own bottom will get another roasting.”
She eagerly took the brush from her mother and announced, “No fear of that, Mother. David is going to regret this day. David, get over here now!”
“Remember my dear, you’ve got to be cruel to be kind.”
David was pleased it was his wife and not her mother that was giving the second spanking. His happiness was misplaced, however. His shorts had fallen to his ankles and he was proudly erect as he faced the two dominant ladies. They looked at the erection and then at each other. Mother leant over and grabbed a box of tissues. She gave them to her daughter, suggesting, “Perhaps we need to get rid of that?”
A very good impression of an angry wife followed. the box of tissues was thrown at David. “Right, David! Wank yourself off while we watch and laugh at you.”
David was in his element. He was humiliated and submissive. He eagerly started to pump his cock before quickly cumming into a tissue.
“Is he always as quick?” Mother-in-law asked, in an amused tone.
The second he had cum, David decided he did not fancy a further spanking. However,he knew it was not his choice. His Wife sat down on the chair and pulled a towel over her knees. She summoned David, calmly.
“Now David I have just suffered the hardest and most humiliating of all spankings and all because you were a brat last night. You will behave like that again! Once we get home expect your punishments to be harder and more regular. You are going to pay for last night. Now get over my lap!”
Mother-in-law laughed, saying, “Remember dear, you give David what he needs or you’ll get it from me!”
The first crack of the brush on bare flesh followed. David squealed. The brush descended and rose in time with his yells and the punishment continued unabated for several minutes. He was yelling and shouting out. Mother-in-law helped by holding him down and encouraging, “Go on, give the brat what he deserves and remember how your botty feels.”
He started to feel tears welling up. The pain was agony and there seemed to be no stopping his wife. Eventually it was the words of Mother-in-law that ended it. “Right dear I think you have proved the point and should stop. I am proud of you.”
David got up. His eyes were sore with tears and his bottom was burning like mad. He was relieved it was over.
After a few minutes of calm, David was aware of some whispering. His wife suddenly announced, “Mother and I are going out for the afternoon. You will remain as you are, and sit at the table and write your lines.”
He was taken to the table and given the hardest chair to sit on. His wife dictated the line, “I must always be respectful and obedient and know that if I am not I will be spanked again like today.”
“Good line, if a bit short,” her Mother opined.
“And I want that done neatly 300 times today. And for every mistake I will give you five seconds of the brush before your early bedtime tonight.”
They were soon gone. David sat painfully and wrote and wrote all afternoon. It was after 6pm when they returned. David was done with his lines but still sat painfully.
His wife took the lines and handed them to her mother saying, “Mother will you mark these for me please?”
They had a meal at 7.30 which was uncomfortable for David. Afterwards, he was told to clear up.
When he returned his wife had the lines in front of her.
“Well, how do you think you did?”
“I tried ever so hard, but know I had a few mistakes,” David replied.
“Well Mother, how many did you find?”
“I found, despite being generous, some glaring errors and had to mark 11 of these as faults.”
“Good! Now do your maths, David. How long have I to spank you before bed?”
David knew there was no escape and replied “55 seconds Ma’am.”
Both ladies smiled at this. “Now go upstairs and wait in Mother’s bedroom.”
It was a short while later that both ladies appeared and David was summoned over to his wife again. His shorts came down and a bruised and sore bottom was exposed. Nothing was said and he obediently laid himself over the waiting lap of his wife.
Mother-in-law said, “Time starts NOW!” It was a long long painful 55 seconds and tears flowed again. The call of “Time’s up” was very welcome.
It was his wife’s turn to give the orders now, “Right get up David, and take that as a hard lesson learnt. Now, if you want to behave and be treated like a little boy then you will be. Go and brush your teeth and get into bed and I will tuck you in.”
David obeyed without hesitation and his wife came and tucked him in as promised. “Oh my poor darling David, I know you have had a tough day but I got spanked because of you and that will never happen again!”
She turned and showed her own bottom to her husband then slipped a hand under the bedclothes and found his semi-erect penis. It soon became erect in her hands. “We will see what happens when I come to bed David, as I think the day has been rather exciting…don’t you?”
Back downstairs the conversation revolved around David’s chastisement and then the daughter mentioned her own spanking.
“I had forgotten how much of a disciplinarian you were Mother, and also how hard you can use that brush!” Both laughed.
“And have you learnt a lesson today, my dear?”
“Oh I don’t think I ever forgot what I was spanked for Mother, I had just forgotten how better I felt afterwards.”
After another glass of wine, Mother returned to the subject and asked, “What did you mean about how better you felt afterwards?”
“Oh that! Well I always feared a spanking from you, obviously, but afterwards the air was cleared. There were never any bad feelings and to be honest I always felt a better person for it, relaxed kind of, I suppose.”
“So today’s spanking has that had the same effect on you, has it relaxed you?”
“Well strangely, yes. Sore at the time but afterwards, a good while afterwards…well I appreciated why David feels the need to be kept in line by me.”
A short time later Mother broke the silence, “You know my dear perhaps it would do you good now and again to get your bottom spanked, you know to relax you and whatever…”
“Well, I am not letting David do that as that would spoil our play.”
“From what I have heard and seen today, David most certainly must be the one spanked and kept in line. No, I was offering my own help to you.”
“To me Mother…you don’t mean…well you will spank me again?”
“That’s exactly what I am suggesting, my dear. Whenever you visit or I visit you I shall bring my trusted brush and spank you like I have done many times before. No fuss, no complaining, just what you need”
“But David, I can’t have him knowing this.”
“No my dear, it must remain strictly between you and I. David can go to the shops or on some errand while we get on with our business.”
Her daughter embraced her mother. They cuddled, “Oh, thank you Mother for being so understanding.”
“Right my dear. That is settled and we will not discuss this further. Each time you visit, or I visit you, then at some point you will be told to get ready for a spanking. We will do it as we did when you lived here. I shall use the brush and I shall spank you hard. Is that understood?”
“Yes Mother. Thank you.”
In bed that night, husband and wife were wide awake. She touched his sore and burning bottom and, as he winced, she turned her attention to his rock hard member.
“Go down on me!” she whispered. He crawled between her open legs and licked her exceptionally moist pussy. He enjoyed the fact that his wife was so excited after his chastisement. Had he only appreciated the real reason she was so wet, he may have been even more pleased.
Story © 2012 by David Stewart, used here by kind permission
Adult entertainment by Rod Cayenne
THE STORY SO FAR: 22-year-old Johnny has been caned by his father after moaning about how boring Sundays are. Now, on the following Sunday, the two men meet again at the scene of the action.
Part 1 is here.
Now read on for Part 2:
It was Sunday again. Johnny sat at the kitchen table, with his head in his hands. Dad ruffled the lad’s hair and asked, “Well, what’s up son? Is it your mum again?”
“No, it’s not her. Although she hasn’t rung me this week.”
“Typically thoughtless of her. It’s the caning, then?”
“Come on, spit it out, lad!”
“Yes, yes, it was so weird. Almost exciting, and I’ll never say I’m bored again.”
“Well, that’s one lesson the cane has taught you! It’s OK, Johnny. I understand. Mixed feelings, eh? I hated getting the cane, but it was exciting at the same time, no doubt about it.”
“Right. It’s just kind of odd as today is Sunday, and I’m feeling kind of low and, er, how shall I put this? Almost bored.”
Dad said nothing, but slipped upstairs and fetched the cane from the wooden storage box under the marital bed. The box was kept locked as he wouldn’t want Johnny to find his well-thumbed porn collection and selection of anal toys. Softly, he came down the stairs with the cane and returned to the kitchen. Johnny’s head was slumped further down in his arms. The lad seemed totally dejected. Carefully, dad laid the rattan rod down on the table. It made a small clattering sound as dad placed it down, even so. Johnny raised his head up and saw the cane. A smile crossed his face, briefly. The cane’s appearance was not unexpected.
“Pick it up son. Take a good look at it. It’s hard to believe something so light can make such an impression, isn’t it? Remember, it’s a genuine schoolmaster’s one so it’s seen a lot of action and a lot of tears. Of course, we could always throw it away, if it’s upsetting you.”
“No, no, don’t do that for heaven’s sake Dad!”
Johnny caressed the cane and then swished it gently through the air. He grinned and laughed, then rubbed his bottom.
“That’s more like it, son! If you really want it again, you only have to let me know.”
“No, that would be too weird Dad. Although, it’s kind of you to offer. And, I can’t help thinking…”
“How that bitch has screwed up our lives!”
“Johnny! Are you trying to provoke me? That’s no way to talk about your mother!”
“Well, it’s true Dad.”
“Hmmm. No remorse, I see. Give me the cane, lad. I think you need a gentle reminder. And maybe a little excitement too, don’t you think?”
“No, Dad! I mean it. Everything I said about the cane. It’s really just too weird.”
“You are trying my patience, son. I’ve decided that this is what you need and you are getting another sixer, at least. Now, bare your bottom for me!”
“Do I have to?”
“Don’t play games with me, Johnny. Get your trousers down right now, or else!”
Johnny complied reluctantly, the brass buckle of his belt clanging on the stone-tiled floor. The 22-year-old went to bend over the table again. He felt incredibly foolish but maybe a little lucky, too. His white Jockey Y-fronts remained in place, almost in defiance of his father.
Dad was having none of it! He pulled the underpants down in a rough, purposeful manner. The pants snagged briefly on his son’s growing erection. Dad’s hands then wandered over the cheeks of Johnny’s manly bottom.
“Dad, what on earth are you doing?”
“Hey now, son! Don’t you talk to me like that! Let’s just remember who is in charge around here. I am. As you will soon be reminded! Now shut up, if you know what’s good for you. I’m just checking the marks from last time are gone. Alright?”
“Alright, Dad. Sorry!”
“Oh, you will be! You certainly will be! Now, no more cheek from you, unless you want extra strokes?”
With that, a resounding SLAP! hit the lad’s bottom. Father reflected on how good that felt and made a mental note to dish out an over the lap spanking at some stage. Johnny gulped as he heard his father swishing the cane through the air.
Submissively, Johnny thrust his bottom out, ready for the cane. He wanted it. He wanted to be beaten. Hard and mercilessly. Strictly and without forgiveness. So hard that there would be absolutely no chance of boredom this Sunday. But what happened next surprised him!
SLAP! SLAP! Dad’s rough right hand again slapped the inviting arse before him. It was, after all, an invitation that couldn’t be declined. In his pants, Dad felt his cock stiffening. He massaged his son’s bottom and landed a couple more slaps, just to add to the lad’s humiliation.
“Six of the very best today, I think, Johnny!”
“Err yes Dad.”
“Count them out for me this time!”
“Owww, two Dad!”
“Three, Dad, harder please!”
Father was surprised by this request. Then he reflected that he could manage somewhat more severity, so he lashed the cane down hard.
“Well, you did ask for it!” his Dad chuckled, lashing down another severe stroke.
“Owww! Five, Dad!”
The sixth stroke slashed down diagonally in order to inflict maximum pain. Sure enough, Johnny squealed delightfully! His father smiled wickedly.
“You forgot to count, son! The rule is two extra penalty strokes!”
Johnny gasped a little, but offered his buttocks just as submissively as before. This was severe, but it sure was fun!
CRACK! CRACK! The bonus strokes hit home satisfyingly. Johnny’s eyes were moist. Dad adjusted his own trousers which had become uncomfortably tight. Yes, Dad’s erection had grown and grown during the beating.
“Mmmm, that was just what you needed, I think Johnny. Your attitude to your mother must improve. As must your behaviour in general! I think another caning next Sunday to drive the lesson home. Perhaps a dozen?”
“Oh, Dad. Yes, thank you Dad!”
“I shouldn’t tell you this, Johnny. But after a hard caning, I always had to have a good, long wank. It seemed to help. Run along now!”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne.