Mutton Dressed As Leopard (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A newly revised version of this hot femdom story by Rod Cayenne.  All the characters are 18 or over.  This story is suitable for adult entertainment only.

 

It was 1975.  The two nineteen-year-olds were sat on the bed listening to records.  They were chatting noisily as the diamond stylus hit the run-out groove.

“I reckon your Aunt Belle is really hot, Tim,” volunteered Simon.

“Yeah, she is, if you like mutton dressed as leopard!” his friend replied.  The pair of them burst out laughing.  “How about some Dylan next?”

Unfortunately, at that moment, Belle had been passing the open bedroom door and had heard the insult.  She was mortified, especially as she had her favourite leopard print top on.  She headed off to the kitchen, by which time the cruel words had really hit home.  Tears formed in her eyes, and she sat and slumped at the table, head in hands.

An hour or so later, Tim let his friend out of the front door and they wished each other goodbye.  Tim went to look for his aunt, and found her still at the table, looking worse for wear, and tearful.

“Hello Auntie, what’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?  What’s the matter?  I heard what you called me!  Mutton dressed as leopard, indeed!  You certainly know how to hurt someone.”

“Oh, sorry, Auntie.  It was just a joke!”

“A hurtful joke at my expense!  Really, you can be a real beast at times, Timothy.”

If there’s one thing in the world Tim hated, then it was being called Timothy.  Of course, his aunt knew that and this was just the first assault of what was to be a prolonged verbal attack.

“You are rude and disrespectful.  I really regret letting you stay here while your parents are in Australia.  I’d throw you out if you had somewhere to go.  Bettina said I was mad having you here, and she was right!  Disrespectful and thoroughly disobedient.  If you were one of my pupils, I’d have sent you to the headmaster for the cane!”

“Oh auntie!  I’m sorry.  Really I am.  What can I do to make things right?”

Unfortunately for Tim, the tears started flowing again.  He felt terrible.  He fetched a box of tissues from the sideboard.

“I’ll tell you what.  You can cane me if you like!  Anything to wipe the slate clean!  Please?”

“Pah!  If only!  If only!  Anyway, I don’t have a cane here.”

“I suppose you could get one from the school though, couldn’t you?”

“Don’t be silly.  Have you ever had the cane, Timothy?”

“No, no.  I was always too good.”

“Now that I find hard to believe!”

“No, honestly.  I was so scared of the cane that I always behaved myself at school.”

“I see.  It seems to me, Timothy, that if you had been caned then perhaps your general attitude and behaviour would be more adult and respectful.”

“Maybe you’re right, Auntie.  I feel so awful.  Really.  It sounds crazy, but maybe I’m overdue for a caning.”

“You certainly are.  But I couldn’t possibly cane you.  Or maybe I could!  Are you really willing to take a caning, if I can get my hands on a cane?”

“Yes, I suppose so, I just want to make things right.”

She got up and walked to the phone in the hall.

“It’ll hurt, you know!  I’m going to ring the caretaker, to see if he has a key to the head’s study.”

But she drew a blank.  Mr Martin was not answering.  Maybe he had the TV on too loud, for he was as deaf as a post.  She decided to cut out the middleman and ring the head.

“Ah, Mr Rodbourne!  Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday evening.  I’m ringing to ask a favour.   I’m having trouble with my nephew.  Yes, yes.  Exactly!  You’re right.  Bettina did warn me he’d be trouble.  Yes, I’d like to borrow a cane from the school if possible, please.  You have a couple at home?  Ideal!  No, no.  I want to cane him myself, but thank you for offering.   I know!  He’ll be sorry, alright!  Can we come over now?  Mrs Rodbourne won’t mind?  We’ll set off soon.  Thank you so much.”

Less than half an hour later Belle and Tim pulled up at the head’s house.  They got out of the Rover.

“Tim, you go ahead and ring the bell, and ask Mr Rodbourne for the cane.”

The ambiguous nature of her request was not lost on Tim.  She was tidying the boot of the old car, when Tim returned.

“He wouldn’t give me it.  He wants us both to come in for a cup of tea,” said a rather red-faced Tim.

“Oh right, that’s very nice of him.  He’s quite a sweet man.”

That’s not what Tim had heard.  Mr Rodbourne’s reputation as a strict disciplinarian had spread way beyond the grammar school.  Soon Belle and Tim were sat in the spacious lounge listening to Mr Rodbourne pontificating about rudeness and the virtues of the school cane.  Tim was really embarrassed; even more so when Mrs Rodbourne joined them.  What was worse was that she was wearing a leopard print scarf!  Tim could only hope that Belle didn’t tell all.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to cane him now?  You and Doris could watch.  It would be better entertainment than The Generation Game!” he laughed.

“No, really.  That’s very thoughtful of you to offer, but it’s a matter between him and me,” Aunt Belle sighed.

“Righty-oh then!  I’ll go and get the sticks now.”

Soon Mr Rodbourne returned with two crook-handled canes.

“Take them both.  One is thinner and will sting more, the other will bruise more.  I would use both, if I were you.  Use them on the bottom, not the hands.  Bare bottom, if you can stand the sight.  No hurry to return them.  We won’t be needing them this weekend will we, Doris?  And I have a new delivery due from the school suppliers.  In fact, why not keep them?  You might need to use them more than once,” he smiled.

“Why, thank you!  You’re so kind.  They’re just what’s needed, aren’t they Timothy?”

Tim blushed.  Soon he was in the Rover again, heading back with Aunt Belle.  He was shifting uncomfortably on the seat, dreading what was in store.

Back at Belle’s she made him go up to her bedroom.  She stayed in the living room, swishing the canes, whacking cushions and testing her technique.  She had used the cane before, but that was a long time ago.  Ten minutes or so later, she climbed the stairs quietly.  Tim was sat on the bed, looking worried.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be doing this tonight, I must say,” she laughed at him.  “Mr Rodbourne recommended a bare bottom, didn’t he?”

Tim’s face reddened yet again.  “Yes he did, Auntie.  But that’s up to you.  I’ll do whatever you decide.”

“Trousers and pants down then, Timothy.”  His luck had run out.  His boyish bottom and mannish penis were soon displayed to her.

“How many, Auntie?”

“A lot, I think!  The traditional six won’t be enough.  That’s for kids.  You’re a man.  You can take a lot more.”

Tim wasn’t so sure.  He was alarmed by his aunt’s enthusiasm for dishing out a generous beating.  He couldn’t understand how she, and earlier Mr Rodbourne, treated the matter so light-heartedly.

“Bend over!”

With a vicious swish and crack the whippy cane made first contact with the nineteen year-old’s bottom.  It stung but it wasn’t too bad.

Tim was soon gasping and squirming as Aunt Belle laid into him some more.  The cane hurt alright and gradually he began to yelp and cry as she beat him.  He was feeling sorry for himself as the wicked cane whipped down again and again.

“That will do for now.  I’ll give you some more in the morning, I think.  With the thicker cane!”

“Yes, Auntie.  Thank you.  I’m sorry.  I deserved that.”

“Good.  Glad to hear it.  Now off to bed with you!”

“But Auntie, it’s only half-past eight!”

“Just do as you’re told, unless you want some more caning now?”

Tim apologised and went off to his room.  Belle put the cane down.  She had enjoyed beating him.  She felt a little guilty about that.  But only a little.  She was deciding what to wear tomorrow.  Perhaps that newish leopard print trouser suit?  Yes!  that would be wonderfully appropriate.  She would give him the thrashing of his life while wearing it!  She felt moist and strangely turned on.  She would have to masturbate.

In his room, Tim felt his very sore bottom.  The individual cane strokes had not been too bad, but the cumulative effect had been close to overwhelming.  He was pleased that he hadn’t broken down.  He had taken his punishment like a man.  He felt strangely turned on though, and of course he had to masturbate.

Simon Freshbrook knocked at the door.  Tim’s Aunt Belle answered, dressed only in a slinky black satin bathrobe.

“Oh hello Belle, I didn’t think you would be here.  I was looking for Tim!”

“Yes, of course.  But Timothy isn’t here.  He’s gone to London for the day.  It was my idea.  I couldn’t stand having him around!  He’s not in my good books.”

“Yes, I heard!” said Simon knowingly.

“Oh you heard did you, Simon?  I wonder just how much you’ve heard?  What a pity Timothy can’t be a good boy like you.  Why don’t you come in for a minute?”

He wasn’t sure he should.   After all, this was the fearsome leopard woman who had caned his friend!  However, curiosity and that shiny robe got the better of him, so he followed her inside.  They sat down in the living room.  Belle had some coffee percolating, so she offered him a mug.  Despite the coffee, the room smelt of incense and patchouli.

Soon the conversation worked around to the mutton comment.

“I thought you’d be mad at me for laughing at his joke.”

“Well, I was for a few minutes.  But then I remembered you had described me as hot.  So I was quite flattered,  really.  Especially when I thought about it in bed.”

He blushed with embarrassment, “Oh yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“There’s no need to blush, Simon.  You really are a sweet, sweet man.”

Simon was still rather embarrassed, especially as Belle patted his knee affectionately.  He decided to change the subject, but there was only one on his mind.  The cane!

“Err, I heard about the canings…”

“Yes, I thought Timothy might tell you about them.  What did he say exactly?”

“Well, he said you borrowed a couple of canes from old Mr Rodbourne.  He said that the evening caning wasn’t too bad.  In fact, he said it turned him on a bit.  But the morning one with the thicker cane was absolute hell.”

“I see!  Turned on?  Well, we can’t have that, can we?  Anyway, I did get rather carried away the second time.  I beat him like crazy.”

“Yes, but you were probably right to.  Tim’s awfully immature.  I sometimes wonder why I hang around with him.  He is just like a naughty schoolboy, so a caning is just what he needed.”

“What a sensible man you are, Simon!”  She stroked his knee this time. 

It wasn’t long before Belle and Simon were kissing passionately.  She led him upstairs to her bedroom.  The very bedroom where his friend had received two canings, only a matter of hours apart.  They spent the whole morning together.  The sex was fantastic.

“I really should be moving on, Belle,” Simon said as he glanced at the bedside clock, “if only because Tim might come back early.”

“Screw him!” laughed Belle, as she lit a Gitanes cigarette.  She didn’t believe her nephew would dare come back so soon.

“No, stick to screwing me!” laughed Simon.  They cuddled.

“Belle, I wonder if I may see the canes, please?  You do still have them, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr Rodbourne said that I could keep them.  He’s so kind and thoughtful.  As is his wife.  The canes are hanging on the rail in that wardrobe over there.  You can have a look if you really want to, but I can’t see the fascination.”

Belle was one of those people who didn’t understand how the British male’s psyche is forever scarred by the shadow of the cane.

Simon made his way over to the wardrobe.  He was still naked, and Belle couldn’t help thinking about how it would be fun to cane him, too.  He returned to the bed, holding the two canes.

“Gosh!  I’ve never had the cane.  I bet it hurts!  Shouldn’t I receive some punishment for laughing at Tim’s joke?”

“Yes, indeed you should Simon!  Six hard strokes on your naked bottom with the thinner cane, for starters, I should think!”

“Yes please, Belle.  Shall I touch my toes?”

“No, I don’t hold with that nonsense.  Get on all fours on the bed, and I’ll thrash you like that.”

And she did!

The first stroke landed hard, to be accompanied by a token “Owwww!”  A harder second stroke was met by a more sincere “Arrgh!”  And so it went on with each swish and crack of the whippy cane until six painful strokes had been delivered.  Simon had taken the strokes comparatively well, and he had now become aroused again.  Inevitably, he entered her again, and she clasped on to his ridged arse, as it bobbed up and down as he thrust into her.  It felt great.

“We should make this a regular thing once Tim has gone back to his parents.  Don’t you agree?” she asked him.

“Of course!  Thank you, Belle.  I’ll need the cane as well though, please.”

“Really?”

“Yes really, Belle.  I’m a very naughty boy!”

“You certainly are, you certainly are.”

Tim’s Aunt Belle was sorting out his washing. She was still very annoyed with him for his hurtful remarks. She had caned him twice for his sins. Even a wild morning of sex and caning with Tim’s friend Simon had only lifted her mood for a short time, although there was the promise of repeat performances. She became exasperated as she sorted Tim’s underwear. It all had tell-tale cum leakage in. And then she saw them. A pair of leopard print briefs! Was he having another joke at her expense? She examined them closely. Slightly cum stained, of course. Yes, they appeared to be new. So he was poking fun at her again, was he? She became agitated, and a little tearful again.

Gradually, she calmed down. A plan was forming in her mind. She went into her bedroom, and headed for the wardrobe. There, hanging on the rail were the two canes Mr Rodbourne had given her. Yes, it was high time they saw some more action! She removed them both and cradled them. Then she swished them around. How she loved the sound they made. Even better, was the sound they made when they made contact with bare male flesh!  Today, they would be doing just that once again!

Tim returned to his Aunt’s at about 6.15. His bus had been delayed. He headed to his bedroom. On the unmade bed, his Aunt’s two canes were laid neatly. Right next to them were his new leopard print underpants. He gulped. He’d been looking forward to a quick wank before eating, but it looked like events would be taking a rather different direction. Indeed, he was sure of it as he felt the frosty presence of Aunt Belle immediately behind him.

“Well, I’m waiting for an explanation, Timothy!” she exclaimed.

Rather foolishly, Tim decided to play it cocky.

“An explanation of what Auntie?”

“Those leopard print briefs, of course. Are you poking fun at me and my taste in clothes again?”

“Oh no, Auntie.  I meant them as a tribute to you. I happened to see them, and I thought of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes really, Auntie. You won’t be needing those canes today, really.”

“Just one problem, Timothy.”

“And what’s that Auntie?”

“I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. I’m going to cane you again. I was going to refuse to do your washing for you instead, but I’m not sure I can trust you not to break my washing machine.”

“Oh Auntie!  No, please.  My bottom’s only just recovered from the two canings. Please!”

“I don’t care.  Now, get your jeans and pants off. Come on.  Hurry!”

Once again his teenage bottom was presented to her for chastisement. Was it fair? Was it righteous? Was it deserved? Was it hell!

She lined the thicker cane up against his bottom and tapped it gently. She was anticipating his discomfort and her pleasure. Suddenly, a vision of Mr Rodbourne, the headmaster, popped into her head. He seemed to be egging her on. She sliced the cane down on Tim’s backside. He wailed!

Again she raised the cane and slashed it down again. Ah yes! It was making that sound she loved. The sound of rattan on bare male flesh! Tim too was making a sound she’d come to love as well. The sound of agony! How gratifying it all was. At the same time, it struck Belle how immature Tim was. His looks, his deportment, his attitude. In identifying this to Belle, his friend Simon Freshbrook had been completely correct. She slashed the cane down again.

“I think we’ll stop there, Timothy.”

Tim breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, we’ll stop there just for a minute while you put your leopard print underpants on for me. Then you can bend over for six strokes on them.”

Tim was furious that his aunt was playing games with him. He couldn’t help but feel that he did deserve this treatment, however. Despite what he’d said to her, he had bought that underwear to tease and goad her. Stupidly, he’d forgotten about the rattan consequences that could easily follow such an upset. Meanwhile, his aunt was lining the cane up again.  Six more times the wicked cane slashed and burned his teenage rump.

“Let me pull them down for you Timothy. Another six, I think!”

“Oh no, Auntie, please, please!”

She pulled the leopard briefs down and then took them off him completely. She examined inside the briefs. A little damp patch of pre-cum was visible.

“I do hope you’re not finding this caning arousing, Timothy. That would never do. It would make me very angry indeed. You wouldn’t want to make me angry again, would you?”

“No definitely not, Auntie. Anything to keep you happy.”

“Well six hard strokes on your bare bottom will make me happy.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“But just to drive home the lesson, I want you to put those lovely leopard underpants on your head while I thrash you!”

“Oh Auntie, that’s a bit kinky!”

“Shut up Timothy. I don’t do kinky. I do do a mean caning though.  Put those pants on your thick head, and bend over again!”

So it was that Tim put the pants on his head, and bent over the bed, once again offering his backside submissively as the cane sliced into his already sore buttocks.  How stupid and submissive Tim looked with the pants on his head and his arse reddening rapidly.

Two more strokes cracked down. Belle laughed. What fun this was.  She too had a damp patch forming.

An extra hard stroke whipped down.  Tim gasped. This was no fun at all.  A final beastly stoke followed and then it was over. Belle pulled the underpants off her nephew’s head.

“Very good Timothy. Your caning is over.”

Tim was happy to hear this news. “Thank you,” he replied.

“Yes, your caning is over. Now fetch me that hairbrush from my dressing table!”

She was going to spank his bare bottom with the brush. If he made too much noise, she’d use the leopard print pants as a gag!

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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.

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

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Delayed Retribution (F/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A hot new femdom caning story by very special guest author Barry Spockings.  This story is exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are 18 or over. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

DELAYED RETRIBUTION by Barry Spockings

Some 5 years after leaving Grammar school I was surprised to receive a letter from my old Headmistress, Miss Gray, inviting me to a school reunion. It surprised me as I had had nothing to do with the Grammar school since leaving it and also that she knew of my new address. However my main concern was that I had left the school under a bit of a cloud and was worried that she might remember it. It was the last week of term and exams were over and as we were all looking forward to the summer holidays and perhaps thereafter studying at University, our spirits were high and as we were not being supervised some of the sixth formers’ behavior was a bit over the top. Roy Suckling, whose foolhardiness had frequently got him into trouble resulting in his reputation of being the most caned boy by the Headmistress in the school, was unfortunately seated in the next row to me and as I was about to sit down he pulled my chair away causing me to fall to the floor, painfully banging my head and making the whole class laugh. Naturally I tried to pull my chair away from him but in so doing he also fell to the floor resulting in breaking both his chair and mine!

This was a serious situation and would be interpreted as vandalism carrying serious painful consequences for the perpetrators. Suckling and I quickly exchanged our chairs for two spare ones at the back of the classroom hoping no one would notice the damage. However our hopes were dashed at the end of the final assembly on Friday when Headmistress Gray announced that the previous day there had been a serious case of vandalism in the sixth form room discovered that evening by the caretaker. ‘’The person or persons responsible are expected to report to my study immediately after this assembly and can expect some painful consequences for their reprehensible behaviour!’’

I immediately said to Suckling that we should own up as everyone in our class knew that we were both responsible. He disagreed as he said it had been his fault and that I should not be involved. ‘’I have been caned by the Headmistress many times before so it will be no big deal.’’ I was so relieved to hear this as I had never been caned before and was terrified at the prospect. So we left it at that and he left me feeling more than a little pusillanimous and, strangely, perhaps because I had never been caned before I had a paradoxical attitude towards being caned – it would be painful but there was a strangely appealing aspect about being punished by a woman. I did not see Suckling again after he visited her study but learnt later from one of his friends that he had been sent home after receiving twelve strokes of the cane on his bare bottom! I felt awful as I considered myself as much to blame as he was and should have shared his punishment. But Friday was my last day at school and I left it unpunished.

Now five years later, after university and starting a career as a science teacher, I was returning to the Grammar school for a reunion. I parked my car near the entrance and entered the school through the main entrance to find it strangely deserted. Perhaps I had got the wrong date for the reunion – then I heard footsteps behind me and turned round to find Headmistress Gray approaching me.

“Ah, Barry Spockings! I am so pleased you could make it. Please follow me to my study. “

Meekly I followed her, a still very attractive woman now in her late forties. I noticed she had maintained her slim, trim figure and was dressed in a daringly short tight skirt with black stockings and black high heels. I found it strange that she had not married, as I always considered her to be very attractive. She entered her study and I followed in as she sat behind her desk. Addressing me she began by saying that she had to apologise for misleading me.

“I am sorry but I have brought you here under false pretenses – there is no school reunion today. I am afraid instead I have brought you here for some unfinished business or as I call it delayed retribution!”

My heart skipped a beat – and I suddenly suspected that I possibly faced the prospect of a beating!

“You may recollect that on your last day at this school I had to give Roy Suckling a severe caning for an act of vandalism. Do you remember?”

“Yes Miss Gray.”

“Well at the time I suspected that he was not the sole perpetrator despite his denials. However a few weeks ago by chance I met Janet Priday, a classmate of yours and Roy Sucklings, at a local coffee bar and we reminisced about her time at the school. By chance I asked her what she remembered about her last day at school and, not surprisingly, she remembered that Roy Suckling was caned for vandalism which she had witnessed in class. Naturally I asked if he was the only one responsible and she said no another boy was involved and on asking his name can you guess what she said?”

I knew this was coming and realized that I could not deny that it was me so I said “Barry Spockings?”

Headmistress Gray smiled at me saying “Absolutely correct! And she told me where you now lived and that you too had become a schoolteacher. So how do you propose I should deal with this matter?”

I was gobsmacked! I had dated Janet for a while whilst at university but we broke it off unceremoniously so I was surprised that she had kept tabs on me but not so surprised that she had revealed my participation in the vandalism. I did not know what to say to Headmistress Gray and said so.

“Well I consider that there is unfinished business that needs completing. Also I consider that there is interest to pay – your failure to own up was both cowardly and unfair to Roy Suckling, allowing him to take all the blame! In effect you took a loan on his willingness to shoulder all the blame. Well today is payback day and when you take a loan over time there is interest to pay – if you had owned up you would have received the same punishment as Roy Suckling – twelve of the best on your bare bottom! But that was five years ago and twelve strokes at ten percent compound interest over five years earns an extra ten strokes. So I propose to give you a total of twenty two strokes with the senior boys cane on your bare bottom! What do you think?”

I was shocked! But the paradoxical attitude I had towards being caned resurfaced – yes it would be painful but there was the strangely appealing aspect about being punished by a woman, especially a woman as attractive as Miss Gray!

She added “I have checked the school punishment book for the time you attended this school and discovered that you were never caned during your time here. A rare occurrence indeed! But today I intend to rectify this omission despite your age and no longer being a pupil here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

I was at a loss for words – here was I, an adult male facing the prospect of a bare bottom caning from my very attractive ex-Headmistress. Reluctantly I decided to say yes and so I stuttered out the words – “Well if you really think I deserve it and you really want to do it how can I refuse?”

“Good boy! But I warn you it will be really painful as I intend to give you the very hard thrashing I think you deserve. Are you certain that you are willing and also believe that you can take it?”

“Yes Miss Gray.”

“So be it then – but you must do exactly what I say. I have caned many naughty boys’ bare bottoms but up till today they have all been juniors or sixth formers – you will be the first adult male to receive a bare bottom beating from me and I think I am going to enjoy giving your bare bottom the hiding it deserves. I have always found that caning the older boys bare bottoms an exhilarating experience!”

At this she rose from her chair and walked to a slim wall cupboard from which she withdrew a long crook handled school cane, which I presume she applied to senior boys’ naughty bare bottoms.

“The procedure is as follows – I am going to remove your trousers and underpants, you will then bend over my desk and hold on to the far side. You will open your legs and stick your bottom well out and when I am satisfied with your position I will commence caning you. You will stay in position until after the twenty second stroke and I tell you to stand up. If you try to get up or try to resist or attempt to protect your bottom with your hands I will start your punishment over again. You can, of course, cry out as that is to be expected. Is that all understood?”

“Yes Miss.” What more could I say as I had agreed to the caning. However I had developed another problem. The thought of being undressed by this very attractive Headmistress I found arousing and I was embarrassed to feel my penis stiffening. It continued to grow and felt fully erect as she approached me, took my jacket and undid my belt before pulling my zip down and then my trousers which she took off over my shoes. I was wearing only skimpy briefs and my fully erect penis was prominently “tenting” them to the obvious amusement of the Headmistress.

“I see that part of you at least is looking forward to your punishment – but I very much doubt whether your nether regions will enjoy it! Now let’s get these off so I can get down to business!”

She then gently pulled my briefs down, carefully easing them over my erect and now weeping penis.

“My goodness you are a big boy!” She exclaimed “Perhaps later I will see if we can avoid that going to waste.” At which point she gently gripped my penis and led me to her desk before pushing me and it against the woodwork before bending me over it. I did as she said and clutched the far side, opened my legs and stuck my bottom out, releasing my erection which continued to dribble.

“Well done Barry, you are in the perfect position to take a good caning!”

Tantalisingly I heard her swish the cane several times in the air before resting it across the centre of my buttocks. I felt her tap it six times before I heard the swish and on impact it initially felt harmless but microseconds later it became an incredibly painful collision with both buttocks as she thrashed the cane down on my unprotected bottom. I could not help but cry out in pain. Somehow I managed to remain in place but wondered how on earth I could take another twenty one such strokes. About ten seconds later I heard that terrible swish and felt the dreadful agonizing impact of the second stroke. Again I cried out. The next eight cuts were equally unbearable, with me yelling out in distress after each stroke. Amazingly despite the throbbing in my buttocks my penis was still erect and also throbbing!

Unexpectedly she interrupted my punishment saying “I think we both deserve a break and as this activity is tiring I need a glass of water. So just stay in position while I get one.”

I heard her leave the study and lock the door. Despite being told to stay in position I could not resist standing up both to feel my bottom and attend to my penis. Even just touching my bottom was agonizing and I could feel the weals she had embedded into my buttocks. Strangely, despite the pain, my penis remained rigid, leaving me to wonder what she had meant when she said “Perhaps later I will see if we can avoid that going to waste.” Such thoughts, however, came to an abrupt halt as I heard her key in the door and I hastily resumed my prone position over her desk.

“Good boy – you have not moved! I feel refreshed and so we can resume where we left off! But first I want to check that part of you that seemed to be looking forward to your punishment….” I felt her cool hand move between my legs and towards my groin, brushing against my testicles before grasping my penis! “My goodness it is both erect and very hard so, despite crying out in torment on receiving each stroke, the caning has aroused you as much as it has aroused me! Let us hope it maintains this condition right until the end or your punishment! So stick your bottom out I am about to continue!”

As before I felt the cane rest across my buttocks and felt it tap six times before I heard the inevitable swish and resounding crack as it whipped into my poor bare beaten bottom! Naturally I yelled out and continued to do so after each of the next nine strokes. “Now that’s twenty strokes completed and, even if I say so myself, that is a jolly good job well done – your bottom has twenty parallel lines stretching from the base of your spine to the top of your legs! Two to come and they will each be a diagonal in opposite directions – very painful but it will be a work of art to admire when I have done! So brace yourself as these two will really hurt!”

And my god did they! Each stroke cut across twenty earlier ones causing the most appalling agony and I screamed out loud after each of the two strokes.

“Now Barry stay in position while I inspect the damage.”

Gently she felt each of my buttocks, trailing her fingers along each cane track, her cool hands gradually easing the pain as she softly massaged my bottom. I was in heaven and my arousal was now crying out for some attention! She seemed to sense this and once again pushed her hand between my legs before gently squeezing my scrotum and clutching my pulsating penis.

“Well although your caning was undoubtedly painful you obviously found it pleasurable as indicated by the state of arousal of this big boy! You probably have guessed that caning older boys bare bottoms I also find incredibly arousing so shall we indulge each other a little?”

My goodness this was totally unexpected but how could I say no given the state of my throbbing penis and her undoubted sexual appeal? So I readily agreed and she made me stand up and fully kissed me on the lips.

“Well my very naughty boy I like being taken by well-endowed men like you from behind in doggy style. Do you think you could oblige if I undress and bend over the desk?”

Could I? This was the subject of so many of my unfulfilled dreams! So I readily agreed and watched her slowly disrobe. She slipped her black figure hugging skirt to the ground revealing black stockings, matching suspender belt and red silk panties. On slipping off her white silk blouse I saw she was wearing a red bra matching her panties. All in all a very sexy outfit and not one I would be expecting a mature Headmistress to wear! But more was to come as she removed her bra revealing two well formed and ample breasts and then seductively slipped out of her panties.

“Now are you ready? “She said bending over her desk with legs wide open and her already wet pussy just waiting to be plundered!

I was more than ready and positioned myself behind her with my erect and dripping penis ready to pound her pussy and provide the sexual relief we both needed. And so I slowly entered her and she pushed backwards inviting more vigorous penetration. I obliged and she screamed out in ecstasy as I pounded in and out until we both climaxed simultaneously.

“Barry that was amazing! Can you remember any other naughty exploits you got up to at school and got away with?”

“Why?” I asked.

“I thought you might like a repeat performance!”

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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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Story and photographs ©MMXXII by Barry Spockings, used here by very kind permission.

Authors and the site management appreciate your feedback. Please leave a comment on this excellent story.  Comments on this story are here.

Barry Spockings’ excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further stories by Barry Spockings are at this external link.

Rump Kilt Skin (F/M)

Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne

Although the smoke of the steam engines engulfed the platform, the two figures recognised each other instantly.

“Hello Aunt Penelope!”

“Hello Gregory!”

They exchanged a kiss and smiled at each other.

“It’s very kind of you to let me stay this week!  I really want to explore the city’s architecture.  It will help with my finals.”

“There’s no finer city in Scotland, Gregory.  I’ll show you around.  Just be a good lad for me.”

“Oh I will Aunty!  I’ll be on my best behaviour.  You won’t be needing your old cane this time.”

“Well, that’s good.  I don’t think I’ve got it any more.  I think your uncle threw it out just before he died.  He said it wouldn’t be needed any more.”

“Oh,” said Gregory trying to hide his disappointment.  He had been thinking about his Aunt’s canings a lot lately.  They had been terrible at the time but now that he was in his early twenties and sexually mature, he had rather fancied a reminder of the cane’s bitter sweet caress.  “You must really miss Uncle Robert.”

“Yes, I do miss him.  Most of all I miss having a man around the house.  I feel like I’m rattling around in that big empty house.  So it will be a comfort having you to stay for the week.  Come on, let’s head home and I’ll fix you some food.”

Over broth and oatcakes the two stared at each other lovingly.  There was real electricity between them.

Aunt Penelope nipped out to the outhouse.  She hadn’t been there much since the death of her husband.  She rummaged around and eventually found what she was looking for – the old leather tawse.  She picked it up and stroked it with affection.  The brown leather twin-tailed strap was capable of severe punishment.  The happily-married couple had used both it and the cane regularly to spice up their sex life.  Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the cane.  He hadn’t thrown it out after all!  He had always been a bit of a tease!  She decided to take both items in to show Gregory.

She placed both items on the kitchen table.  Gregory was sat there still, daydreaming, but the arrival of the cane and tawse brought him back down to earth.

“Oh Aunty, you won’t be needing those, will you?”

“I rather think I might be, young Gregory!”

“I thought you said Uncle Robert had thrown the cane away.”

“Well, I honestly thought he had.  But now I’ve found it, I rather think I might put it to use.”

“Oh Aunty!  And that beastly tawse?”

“Yes, that too!  I think you deserve a good thrashing for all of those times you took advantage of me.”

“But Aunty, you led me on!”

“Yes, I may have done.  But you should have declined.  I had a devil of a job keeping it secret from Robbie.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No, I didn’t.  I felt so guilty though.  Maybe he guessed and that’s what finished him off.  Poor Robbie.  Anyway, you can take advantage again this week, but only if you accept your punishment first!”

“Oh Aunty, must I?”

“Yes, you must.  It’ll help us both assuage the guilt, I think.”

“Yes, Aunty.  I suppose you’re right.”

“I hope you’ve brought your kilt.”

He nodded.

“Go and change into it then.  Remember, no underwear”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“And I’ll slip into something more comfortable.  Something you’ll really like.  Meet me in the bedroom.  I want the full outfit too, please.  Sporran, garters, shirt…”

So it came to be that the two of them met up in the master bedroom.  Gregory looked smart in his traditional Scottish wear, and Aunt Penelope looked severe in a black girdle.   She flexed the cane menacingly.

“Right Gregory, bend over the side of the bed and lift your kilt up for me.  I will be alternating strokes between the cane and the tawse.  That’s it, stick your rump out for me.”

She approached him, and tucked the cane under her arm.  She had a good feel of his generous, meaty rump.  Its skin was still soft and boyish, not nearly as hairy as her husband’s had been.  The smooth surface was about to become marked by the lash of the cane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“ACH – YEOWCH!” Gregory cried as the stroke was much harder than he’d been expecting.   He heard the clatter of the cane being put down on the side table.

WHACK!  Now the tawse lashed down.  A different kind of pain followed.  A bruising, hurtful pain.

SWISH-CRACK!  It was the cane again and a sharp line of fire assaulted his arse.

WHACK!  The tawse crashed down on Gregory’s cheeks.

SWISH-CRACK!  The whippy cane struck down.

WHAACK!  The tawse crashed down even harder than before!

“AARGH!”

WHACK!  The tawse struck again, unexpectedly, as the cane had been due.

“OWWW!”

“That’s enough of the tawse, I think.  Six of the best with the cane!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

Both were really getting into their stride.  Aunt Penelope stopped to feel his manly cheeks.  They were hot and inviting.  She made a mental note to find something suitable to push up his arsehole.  A quick feel of his semi-erect penis followed.  Yes, it would serve her well once again.

“Six more, I’m afraid Gregory.  Your penis is betraying your true feelings.  You’re enjoying this!  Six more, then you can mount me.”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

She tucked the cane under her arm again and groped his arse and cock once more.  

“Still enjoying it I see!  Do you think you can take six more with the tawse?”

“I’d rather have the cane, Aunty.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, but make it a dozen!  In for a penny, in for a pound!” he laughed.

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Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

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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.

__________________

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

Comments from the original 2012 post are here

 

Old School Blazer (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Femdom fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from October 2013.  Strictly 18+, adults only!

He stroked the felt badge on his old school blazer with affection.  He should have thrown the blazer away years ago, as he never wore it, and it smelt of mothballs.  There it was, hanging on a polished wooden coat hanger, on a brass rail within a rather knackered old wardrobe.  He sighed and remembered his school days.  They were happier days and simpler times.

It was seven whole years since he’d left the sixth form.  He had been an underachiever, or lazy, depending on your point of view.  The odd fierce beating had failed to motivate him.  Neither had the special attention and encouragement of his homosexual English cum RE teacher been of any help.  He left with one solitary ‘A’ Level pass, in History of all subjects.  It was a subject that appealed to him still, for he was of a nostalgic bent.  To a certain extent, you could say he lived in the past.

Carefully he took the blazer down from the hanger and folded it once, neatly, and placed it in one of the large leather trunks in his bedsit.  He carried on placing clothes in the trunk, thinking now and then about his old blazer as he did so.  Eventually, he was packed.  His aunt would be there soon.  He was moving out of paid digs into his aunt’s home in a leafy suburb of the city.  In truth, being a tenant hadn’t worked out for him, and when his favourite aunt offered him a room at a token rent, he really couldn’t resist.

It had been agreed between the lad, his aunt and parents that he would stay there for a year or so.  The idea was that he should sober up and take his fledgling Civil Service career a little more seriously.  He could save up the deposit on a rental property while he lodged with his aunt.

Eventually she arrived in her beat-up Morris 1100 estate.  It was barely big enough to accommodate the two leather trunks, his record player and albums.  She smiled lovingly at her nephew, lit a cigarette and gave the accelerator hell in high heels.  The overladen old car burst into life, the tyres screeching and leaving an acrid smell of burning rubber behind.  He’d forgotten what a truly awful driver she was!  He held on for dear life as she whipped the recalcitrant Morris around corners it was clearly taxed by.

In record time, they were back at her house, a whitewashed semi in a pricey cul-de-sac.  He’d forgotten quite what a lovely place it was, and he remembered glorious summer holidays he’d spent there while his parents had short holidays in a desperate hope of saving their loveless marriage.  Despite the odds, they had succeeded in maintaining their relationship.  He wondered to himself why his aunt hadn’t settled down.

It was a few weeks later that things took an interesting turn.  One Friday evening, young Jonathan was summoned downstairs by his aunt.  As ever, she looked remarkable and regal.  Her purple paisley outfit stank of cigarettes and cheap perfume.  She had her arms crossed and an expression which veered between disdain and amusement.

“Anything the matter Aunty?” he asked.

“Yes, a little something, Jonathan.  It’s not the end of the world, but you have been a little inconsiderate.”

“I have?” asked Jonathan, racking his brains as to what he could have possibly done wrong.

“Yes.  Now, when you moved in, I agreed to clean your room now and then, as you couldn’t really be trusted to.”

“Yes, Aunty.  I’m truly grateful.  Really, I must thank you.”

“Alright, alright!  Don’t overdo it.  Now, I don’t want you thinking I’m a miserable old fossil, Jonathan, but I really didn’t like the state of your room.”

“Sorry, Aunty.”

“It’s OK, Jonathan.  I was just a little dismayed to find dirty handkerchiefs and underpants lying around.  Then, I almost tripped over a pile of girly magazines.”

“Oh, Aunty, I’m sorry, I should have put them away.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I’m sorry.  In fact, I’ll throw them away, if you like.”

“No, no.  Don’t be silly.  I understand that men like to play with themselves.  Apart from which, I had a quick flick through the magazines.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Err, no, Aunty.  I’m just a bit shocked.”

“No need to be.  I enjoyed the pictures.  I have always had Sapphic interests, you know.”

Actually, he didn’t know.  He’d seen that word somewhere but couldn’t remember what it meant just then.  He blushed a little, as she continued, “But I was a little surprised to find some spanking magazines in the pile.  An interest of yours?” she asked with a penetrating gaze.

“Err, not really.  I bought them on a whim.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jonathan!  I saw the cover prices of those magazines, you don’t pay that kind of money if you’re not really interested.  You’ve circled some of the personals as well.”

“Oh, Aunty!”

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Jonathan.  Aunty’s not happy.  Can you guess what comes next?” she asked him teasingly.

“No.”

“Naughty boys get their bottoms smacked, Jonathan.  We’re agreed about that, aren’t we?”

He nodded anxiously.

“And if you’re the naughty boy, who’s left to do the smacking?”

He gulped, “Well, you are, I suppose.  But I don’t want to do it Aunty.  It’s only a silly fantasy.  Can’t I just throw the magazines away, and we can forget all about it?”

“No, I told you.  I liked those magazines.  You’ve opened Pandora’s box.  You can share your magazines with me in future, naughty boy.  Especially the spanking ones.”

“Oh, Aunty.  This isn’t right at all!”

“Shut up, Jonathan!  You and I are going to have some fun.  Now, go and put your office clothes on.  Except for a jacket.  Instead, you can wear that cute school blazer for me.”

He hadn’t realised she had even seen the old blazer in the built-in wardrobe unit.  How he wished he’d thrown it away.  And those cp magazines!  Why couldn’t he be normal?  He headed upstairs anxiously.  In his bedroom, he slid the frosted glass doors of the wardrobe back along their runners.  He reached out for a pair of grey slacks, and a white shirt.  It would need ironing!  But, much to his surprise, it was uncreased.  Aunty had ironed all of his shirts, perhaps in expectation of the evening’s events.  He picked a striped tie that would complement the blazer.  Slowly, he got changed.  He wasn’t sure that he really deserved or wanted a spanking.  He couldn’t bring himself to argue with Aunty, however.  She was so nice, after all.

Slowly, he did up the buttons of his shirt and then he peeled down his underpants and gazed at his pert, naked buttocks in the full-length mirror.  He gave them a loving squeeze.  If he was going to be spanked, he decided, then he wanted it to really hurt!  He toyed with the idea of leaving his underpants off altogether, but obviously Aunty wanted him in traditional schoolboy attire, so he pulled them back up.  Then he thought about the spanking some more.  Would it be on his bare bottom?  Bound to be, as he’d been looking at nude magazines!

Jonathan had dithered enough.  It was time to go down the stairs and face the music.  He strolled into the living room, trying to look nonchalant or even a touch defiant.  However, he couldn’t keep the pretence up for long, for he was astonished to see his aunt flexing a rattan school cane, just like the ones in his spanking mags, crook handle and all!

“Aunty, you didn’t say anything about a caning!  Just a smacked bottom!”

“You’re forgetting those circled adverts, my boy.  ‘Dominant aunt canes naughty pupils in luxury home’ and so forth.  I know what you want and what you need.  But don’t worry you’ll be feeling my hand as well as this cane.  My, my, I must say how smart you look in your old school blazer!”

He did look rather handsome and very boyish.  The black blazer with the yellow piping and neat school crest made him look even younger than his twenty-five years.  The tie he had chosen was a pretty good match, too.  He really did look the part.  He was excited and scared at the same time.  There was no sign of life in the front of his grey trousers, however his bottom was tingling in expectation.

She pulled a dining chair into the middle of the room, and sat down.  She smoothed a few creases out of her purple skirt and then demanded, “Over my lap, Jonathan.”

She proceeded to smooth out some creases in his trousers, patting his bottom gently as well.  His cheeks seemed to demand attention.  As advertised, you could say!

“Ready, Jonathan?”

“No,” he said defiantly.

She ignored his disrespect and slammed her hand down on his bottom.  She did it again and again, smacking hard and moving straight into frenzy mode!  He wriggled and writhed in a vain attempt to avoid the chastising hand.

“UP!” she demanded, “Trousers down!”

He obeyed instantly, and took his place over her lap again.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the cane on the dining table.  He really didn’t want to experience it.  Not today, anyway.  He wondered whether, if he took his spanking like a man, she might let him off.  Taking his punishment manfully rapidly became impossible however, as aunt spanked and spanked hard and effortlessly.  He began to moan and cry out in pain.  She responded by tugging at his underpants!

“Nice clean pants, I’m pleased to see, Jonathan.  Let’s keep them that way, by moving them out of the danger zone, shall we?”

Before he had a chance to reply, they were history!  His naked arse cheeks were revealed.  His aunt paused the spanking and ran her hands across his bottom.

“Mmmmm, nice and hot, Jonathan!  Get comfortable now and we’ll carry on.”

Of course, there was no possibility of comfort.  He thought of his mother.  She was nothing like this!   He thought about his bottom, so cruelly treated and exposed.  He hoped his aunt couldn’t see his arsehole!  But she could, and indeed was admiring it with a strange fascination as the spanking resumed.  In fact, she couldn’t keep her eyes off it.  It was a most obscene display she thought, as it spurred her on to smack him even harder.  Jonathan’s thoughts moved onto another part of his anatomy.  He was willing away the possibility of an erection.  He didn’t want a spanking or a caning, but most of all he didn’t want an erection!  Not in front of Aunty!

“Stand up!” she ordered.  She admired his red bottom.  Imprints of her hand and fingers decorated his thighs where her hand had strayed a few times.  She really should have taken her rings off to reduce the pain.  However, she reasoned, that they were family heirlooms and she really didn’t want to mislay them.

“Ooh Aunty, that really hurt!”  said Jonathan, rubbing his sore and thoroughly disciplined bottom cheeks.

“Think yourself lucky I didn’t use my hairbrush on you, young man!” she chided sadistically.

They both stared at the cane on the dining table at the same time.  He gulped.  She grinned.

“You’ve had the cane before?” she asked dispassionately.

“Yes, I’m afraid I have.  At school.”

“Well, yes of course.  It would hardly have been at home, would it?  Your parents are too soft by half.”

“They’re not soft!” he scoffed, “They just love me, that’s all.”

“I love you too, Jonathan.  I’m going to demonstrate my love for you in a very special way.  Bend over the table for me.”

She picked up the cane and flexed it.  Then she whipped it through the air several times.  It made a fearsome sound as it sliced through the air.  He was bracing himself for the first stroke.  It had been a long time.  Over seven years.  Seven lonely years of masturbation as he struggled to come to terms with his spanking fetish.  Girls seemed to sense that he was a bit weird.

“How many strokes did you get at school, Jonathan?”

“Oh.  Always six, Aunty.  It was that kind of school.  Only the type of cane and the judgement and mood of the master varied.”

“Well, at least your softy parents had the sense to send you to a traditional school.  Let’s keep within your boundaries, then.  Six of the cane.”

“Thank you Aunty!”

“And one for luck, I think.  That makes seven.  Let’s go for it then!”

But she didn’t.  Instead she plonked herself down on the sofa and lit up a Camel cigarette.  She had a lovely view from there.  The reddened buttocks, the hairy arsehole and the crown jewels beyond were all visible from her vantage point.

“Just having a ciggie,” she said quite unnecessarily.  He screwed up his nose as the smoke drifted his way.  Eventually, he heard her stubbing out the cigarette.  It was time!  Surely?  Except it wasn’t!  He heard her fumbling in her handbag again.  She had decided to have another fag!  After a couple of drags, she got up and approached her nephew.  She pushed the old blazer and the tail of his shirt well out of the target area.  She couldn’t resist running her hands over his buttocks.  He coughed as the cigarette smoke surrounded him.  He was fearful that she might explore around the front, or even worse, between the buttock cheeks.  Thankfully she didn’t.

Eventually, he heard the second cigarette butt being stubbed out.  He heard the clatter as she picked up the cane from the sideboard where she’d left it.  She whipped it through the air just once before slicing it down on Jonathan’s cheeks with an almighty crack!  Oho, she was good!  Or bad, depending on your point of view.  She hit as hard as Mr Truman, he thought to himself, if not as badly as the chaplain!  A second stroke had him re-assessing his aunt’s capabilities as she very nearly sliced him in half, or so it seemed!  Stroke three was less intense, although his aunt chuckled as the cane seemed to bounce off his pert mounds, leaving a fainter mark but still imparting a stinging caress.  Strangely, this was the first stroke to cause Jonathan to squeal.  Then there was an unexpected pause as Jonathan’s aunt paced around the room for a minute or two.

The silence was deafening.  Eventually, Jonathan had to say something, and it was, “Is everything alright?”

“What?  Oh yes, sorry I was miles away, Jonathan.  How far did we get?”

“I’ve had three, so I’ve got four left.  Unless you want to let me off?”

“Let you off!  You’re joking of course?  I was just thinking what fun this was.  Be careful I don’t add extra for your cheek!”

“Sorry, Aunty,” Jonathan said with a touch of truth in his voice, “I deserve the full seven.”  He stuck his bottom out further, as if wiling his aunt to do her worst.

“Yes, you do!” she said, slicing the cane twice in rapid succession and causing him to grunt and gasp.

The sixth stroke slashed down.  He was silent, but somehow sensed the final stroke would be the worst.  He wasn’t wrong.  She crashed it down diagonally, disrupting the neat parallel weals left by the six preceding strokes and adding to Jonathan’s agony.

“AAAARGH!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Jonathan.  Now, take your blazer off and go and stand in the corner, facing the wall.  I think we both need a few moments to reflect on what’s happened here.  You can rub your bottom if you must.”

Stood in the corner rubbing frantically, Jonathan didn’t really know what to make of things.  His aunt sat down on the sofa, kicked off her stilletos and lit another cigarette.  She was a little more certain about things, announcing, “Twelve with the cane next time, Jonathan.  Or maybe more.”

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Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne

All rights reserved.

______________

D I S C L A I M E R

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

_______________

Comment please! Use the link at the top of the story.

Comments from the original October 2013 post are here.  

Aunt’s Birthday Present (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot femdom erotica by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2013 by popular demand. 

All the characters are 21 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

 

Aunt and nephew surveyed the presents on the dining table.

“Well, quite a good haul this year!” said Aunt Suze as she looked into her nephew’s eyes, “Thank you for the chocolates, Tommy.”

“My pleasure Auntie,” he spoke softly, “It’s the least I can do for you for letting me stay for the week.”

“Nonsense, my boy,” she purred, “The pleasure is all mine. You know I hate to be all alone in this big place during my birthday week.”

“Yes, Auntie. It looks like someone else knew I was coming. I’d guess that’s why they’ve bought you this cane.  Don’t you think?”

Well, the rattan cane certainly looked out of place there on the table.  A silken scarf, chocolates, a floral table mirror, a couple of hardback romantic novels and two sets of gift vouchers all looked at home.  But there, incongruously, was a rattan punishment cane with a crook handle right in the middle of the other presents.

“Yes. I wonder who bought it? I’ve never had an anonymous present before. Obviously someone who thinks you’ll need keeping in line. But we both know you won’t, don’t we Tommy?”

“Well, it certainly is a strange present to receive in this day and age. But I suppose if I’m really, really bad, you could use it on me.”

“No, Tommy. Out of the question. It’s quite a sick present in a way. I could never hurt you. You’re my favourite, you know.”

Tommy blushed with embarrassment. As the day wore on, however, Tommy thought more and more about that cane. Secretly, he began to fancy a thrashing. Aunt Suze was an attractive lady with a fine figure and a most beautiful face. It was surprising she was single, he reflected. He wondered whether she was frustrated, and began to fantasise about her and about being punished by her. She wouldn’t rise to the bait, however, when he nagged her about the rattan rod, in a discreet but persistent manner.

In the evening, they sat over warm cocoa in the harbourside cafe. “I’ve had a lovely birthday, thank you, Thomas.”

But all that twenty-something Tommy could think about was that bloody cane. Try as he might over the next few days, he couldn’t goad Aunt Suze into hitting him with it. Even a plea for just one stroke “for fun” fell on deaf ears.  Every night and every morning he would masturbate to the thought of Suze caning him. Hard. Bare bottom. Mercilessly. Enthusiastically. Cruelly. Somedays, he would sneak off to the bathroom during the day, to knock another quick one off.

All too soon, the end of his holiday arrived. One last try for a caning failed miserably. Suze informed him that the cane was most likely destined for a charity bag. Tommy’s face fell with disappointment. It had been a great holiday for both, but he felt it lacked that extra frisson that a good, hard caning might have added. Suze drove him to the station, and waved him off with a tear in her eye. He was a good lad, after all, and she was very, very fond of him.

Over the next few days, Tommy was tortured by thoughts of the cane and his aunt. He wanted to go and visit her again, to get down on his knees and beg for a caning. He began to research his new-found interest on the net. It seemed to be a popular fetish! Tales of cruel aunts and docile nephews weren’t that hard for him to find, and those stories gave him some comfort as he wanked away as he read them. Eventually though, he had to accept that his aunt just didn’t share his fascination with the cane.

A few days later, Tommy was round at his sister’s house. Amy was somewhat older than him, and newly divorced. He wondered how she managed to afford to run a place on her own, but then he remembered she had a second income from a rental property, as well as her office job. Her house was really quite plush. He was really envious, as he was still stuck at home with their parents. His bedroom really was a grim, grey and lonely place, full of fantasies and masturbation, but little else.

“Did you have a good holiday with Auntie Suze, Tommy?”

“Yes, terrific, thanks! I love it there on the coast, and she is so sweet and such good company.”

“Mmmmm yes. I know what you mean. So were you a good boy for her or were you a naughty boy who got his bottom caned?”

Tommy choked on his cola, “You what, sis?”

“I asked whether you got your bottom caned? I bought her that cane, you see. I thought she might need it to keep you in line.”

“You bitch, Amy!”

“Language, Tommy, language!”

“Well, really! The very idea! But sorry to upset your plans. I was good all week and Suze had no use for that wicked-looking cane.”

“Pity, pity. It might have done you some good. You know, you’re the very definition of fecklessness.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Amy. I just need to get my shit together.”

“You certainly do, young man! Loafing around all day. You want to be careful you don’t end up unemployable, and your language is shocking.”

“Amy!”

“Well, it’s true.  A good motivational caning is just what you need.”

Tommy laughed nervously, and then conceded, “Yes, you’re probably right there.”

“Of course I am, silly. Now, it’s just as well I bought a pair of canes, isn’t it?”

“What?” said Tommy as the penny dropped.

“Yes, I’ll just go and get my cane.”

“But Amy…”

“I’ll give you but, Tommy! Butt with two Ts!”

Soon Amy returned with the cane in her hands.  It was identical to the one he’s seen at Aunt Suze’s house. It was now or never, fight or flight. Suddenly, he told himself he might never get an opportunity like this again.

Amy chuckled, “Yes, I think a good caning is just what you need. It might teach you to appreciate Mum and Dad rather more than you do at the moment. They don’t like you hanging around when you could be working. Get yourself down to an agency.”

“It’s not easy, Amy.”

“Neither will this caning be!” she laughed. “Now, I think we’ll start with twelve on your boxers.”

“Twelve? That’s a lot!”

“Oh, I don’t think so. After all, you’re not a schoolboy, so you deserve rather more than six of the best.”

“If you say so, sis.”

“I do say so. Now bend over the table and get those jeans down for me!”

Amy was shocked to find that her brother was wearing rather old-fashoned white briefs. Still, they did look clean. And after all, she didn’t want her brand new cane to get soiled!

She flexed the cane and brought it down with a resounding CRACK! on her brother’s bottom. Poor Tommy had never felt the cane before and was surprised by just how much it hurt! All manner of expletives ran through his mind, though none escaped from his mouth. Shit, it hurt!

CRACK! A second lusty stroke hit his pristine white pants. He gasped as the pain overwhelmed him briefly.

CRACK! What a bitch Tommy’s sister was turning out to be. He regretted going round there.

CRACK! How much more could he take? He couldn’t stand the thought of wimping out in front of his sister.

CRACK! He allowed himself a loud gasp, that wouldn’t be too embarrassing, would it now?

CRACK! There was no faulting Amy’s rhythm as she beat him with relentless fervour.

CRACK! All the same, Tommy couldn’t help but writhe with discomfort as the cane whipped down again and again. Whatever had made him wish Aunt Suze had caned him? This was no fun at all.

CRACK! Tommy’s arse was now aglow and ablaze, but through it all he was beginning to get some satisfaction. Perhaps it was a bit sexy?

CRACK! A vicious stroke made him reconsider, briefly. But no, it was good, cleansing and satisfying. It was almost ecstasy.

CRACK! He couldn’t let his sister know how satisfying it was. But then, maybe she was finding the same thing too? After all, she was the sadistic one who had bought the pair of rattans!

CRACK! He’d lost count but in a way he hoped it would go on forever.

CRACK! That was it! She tossed the cane aside. But a bombshell was to follow!

“Now then Tommy, you took those well, but I think a further six strokes on the bare will improve your attitude immensely.”

Without further ado, she slid his pants down gently, revealing a scarred, hairy but attractive rump. She wasn’t Aunt Suze, but she was close enough…

 

___________)

Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Comments from the original 2013 posting are here

Hot Time For A Valentine (F/M) repeated

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne.

“Mmmm, a dozen red roses, my favourite artisan chocolates and breakfast in bed.  My, you really have pushed the boat out, darling, haven’t you?”

He just grunted, exhausted temporarily from their lovemaking.  She kissed his stubbly face and then dabbed copious amounts of cum away from his cock with a tissue, before announcing, “Actually, I’ve bought something for you.”

“You have?” he asked, with barely disguised surprise.

“Yes, just a little something.  Something you’ve wanted for a while, and something I wanted to give you.”

She reached under the bed and retrieved a long, white cardboard box, tied with a bonny red ribbon. He took it from her with a kiss, and was immediately surprised by the light weight of the box, immediately suspecting that it was empty, or some other kind of wind-up.  He untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box.  Inside was black tissue paper, which he parted to reveal a rattan school cane!

“Oh good lord!” he exclaimed.  “What’s this for?”

“Well, it’s for you of course, my darling.  You said you’d missed out on the cane when you were younger, and that you’d often wondered what it was like.”

“Oh!  I didn’t mean it.  I’ve changed my mind!”

“Nonsense, darling.  Don’t lie to me.  You know you really want it!  Let’s try it out.”

“No way!”

“Don’t you like my present, darling?” she pouted, “I’m hurt.  You said you wondered what it was like and I thought, at 52, it’s time you found out!”

“Alright, alright.  But I’m a damned fool for saying yes.  Just don’t do it too hard, will you?”

They both climbed out of their peachy duvet, and she picked up the cane.

“Right darling, bend over the bed then.  I think a dozen red marks to match the dozen red roses!”

“A dozen sounds a lot.  Go easy on me!”

“No!” she cried, lashing the cane down with a laugh and all of her strength.  The cane wrapped around badly, cutting his haunch painfully.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!  That’s not meant to happen!” he cried.  “Look, you’re holding that cane all wrong!”

“Nonsense darling.  I’m holding it by the handle.”

“Exactly!  As I understand it the crook handle is just for show, or for hanging the cane up by.  You need to hold it a few centimetres down the shaft, otherwise you can’t control it properly.”

“Quite the expert, aren’t you?”

“Well, all boys know this stuff.  Let’s try again shall we?”  The second stroke was hard but landed accurately on his ample arse.  He gasped at the pain.  Had he really wanted to try this?  Just two strokes in, and it was proving to be quite an ordeal.

“How was that darling?”

“Fine, just fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

A third stroke whipped down, accompanied by a manly grunt.

The fourth however, was met by a boyish squeal.  She laughed and laughed.  “This is really turning me on darling,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad someone’s enjoying it!” he moaned.

Strokes five and six landed on top of the earlier ones, causing more discomfort and grunts.

“Can we leave it at six of the best, darling?” he asked.

“Certainly not!” she said, becoming ever more turned on, “This cane is a present we can both enjoy!”

A seventh stroke hit hard and he cried out, “I can assure you I’m not enjoying this at all!”

She whipped the eighth and ninth strokes down, saying, “Maybe not now, but later you will.”

“ARRRGH!” he exclaimed as the tenth stroke hit, clearly not enjoying it one bit.

“Elevensies,” she laughed and then “Last one darling!”  Her face was flushed, not so much from exertion, more from being really turned on.

After the final stroke, he leant over and dabbed the cum-soaked tissue on his wounded haunch.  That seemed to help with the pain.  Just then they both heard a key in the front door, followed by a loud cry of “Yoohoo, darling.”

He dropped the tissue, saying, “Shit!  It’s your mother!  Doesn’t she know it’s fucking Valentines Day?”

(__________

Story © MMXVI by Rod Cayenne

Heart image: Creative Commons

____________

D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

_____________

 Comments welcome

Blue Rinse Brigade (F/M) repeat

Erotica by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012.

The two ladies were enjoying a pot of Darjeeling tea together.  Only the finest china was appropriate for such an occasion.  They sat at the kitchen table sharing chocolate biscuits and tittle-tattle.

“Look at this!” said Brenda producing a laptop.  “It’s a computer!  I’m on the internet now!”  She booted the machine up and was soon showing her friend Audrey family snaps and websites on knitting and ballroom dancing.  “It was a present from my nephew Tony, he’s a such a good boy.  He’s got a top job in computing.”

“It’s impressive, Brenda,” said Audrey admiring the silver machine. “But aren’t there a lot of dangers with these things, people stealing your identity, stalkers and pornography?”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Audrey.  There is a lot of pornography, yes, but let’s be honest, everyone likes to look don’t they?”

Audrey spat out her tea in disbelief, “Brenda, I can’t believe you just said that!  Bless my soul!”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, you old fraud!  Look at these for example.”

There were pictures of handsome men with proud erections, gorgeous bottoms and muscled physiques.

“Oooh!  Well yes, bless me, I can see the attraction, I suppose.  Couldn’t we be arrested for looking at this?”

“By a hunky young copper, I suppose?  No, don’t be ridiculous, everyone looks at this sort of thing these days.”

“They do?  My, my, what a sheltered life I’ve lived!”

“I’m looking for a toy boy online.  After all, there’s more to life than tea and knitting.”

“Really?”

“Yes, one I can mother, pamper and spoil.  And spank his bottom when he’s bad.  A man in his 30s I should think.”

“Oh my!”

“I especially fancy the idea of the bottom smacking, actually. It seems a lot of younger men are looking for a strict maiden aunt figure.”

“Gosh Brenda, I’m seeing you in a new light.”

“Yes I feel quite liberated!”

“Well don’t go burning your bra just yet!”

“No I’ll do that when I’ve found my naughty boy online.”

“I used to use the cane at school, you know…”

“Well, no I didn’t know.  Come on then, tell me more.”

“Well perhaps it would be best if I brought my canes around.  I kept a few as souvenirs when abolition came along.  Now you mention it, I’d quite like a toyboy to thrash as well.”

“Well, when I said you were a fraud I hadn’t expected such a rapid confession.”

“Must be the cane.  It always seems to get to the bottom of things!”

“Yes, don’t remind me.  I used to be on the receiving end.”

“Why am I not surprised?  You have always been a naughty girl, Brenda.  I’ll go and fetch the canes, then we can talk about luring us some toyboy action.”

_________________________________________

A few months later, Brenda is thrashing her thirty-something boyfriend with a harsh, thick leather strap.

“Eighteen!”

“Yeeow!”

“Nineteen!”

“Aargh!”

“Twenty!  That’s it for now.  Now lick my boots!  That’s it.  Nice aren’t they?”

“Oh yes, I love them!”

“Of course you do!  Now lick me out!”

“Mmmmm.”

“That’s it!  Good boy!”

“Mmm.”

“Now, how about a surprise?” Brenda asked, staring at the clock.

“Mmm, yes please!”

“How about an appointment with the headmistress and her cane?”

“Ooh yes, beat me with the cane!”

“Well, that’s the surprise!  I’m not the headmistress.  My friend Audrey is!  It’s just coming up to 12 – she’ll be here in a minute.  Go downstairs and wait by the front door.  Don’t bother to get dressed.  She only canes bare bottoms!”

Soon Audrey drew up the drive in her old Beetle.  She was dressed in a tweed suit, but with shiny white Mary Quant-style boots.  She looked a good ten years younger than usual, the blue rinse gone and her hair dyed blonde and swept up in a bun.  She walked over to the passenger side, opened the door and retrieved a long bag.

“Ah, you must be Wayne,” she said as he timidly opened the front door, hiding his nudity behind it.  “Gosh, what a red bottom you have.  It’ll be black and blue by the time I’ve finished with it!”

“Audrey.  How nice of you to drop in.  I’m afraid young Wayne here says he deserves an appointment with the cane.  Can you oblige by some chance?”

“Oh, I suppose so.  It’s dreadfully inconvenient though.  I should be out walking the dog.  He’ll have to convince me that he’s fully deserving of my attention.”

“That won’t be necessary Audrey.  I can give you a full report.  Wayne is a wanker.  He plays with himself incessantly.  He has a boot fetish and licks my boots when I am not around.  He also has a crafty cigarette despite my clear decision that he should give up.”

“I see, he sounds thoroughly disobedient.  Wayne, take this bag upstairs and empty the contents on to your bed!  Hurry up lad!”

“Gosh this is fun Audrey!  How long since you caned in anger?”

“Not that long actually, my dear.  I had a neighbour who liked a touch now and then.”

“Oh Aud!  You really are a dark horse, aren’t you?  Anyway, there’s a naughty boy waiting upstairs.  Can I watch?”

“Of course, darling!”

“Good.  Thank you.  I do so like to watch!”

Upstairs young Wayne emptied the bag as instructed.  He could only gulp as half a dozen canes and a solitary riding crop dropped onto the floral quilt.

“Well Wayne!  What do you think to those?  Have you had the cane before?”

“Err, no.”

“Let’s make up for lost time then.  I will give you thirteen strokes.  Brenda will watch.  Bend over the bed.”

Wayne was wondering if there was any significance to the number thirteen when suddenly the first stroke of the cane whipped down.  He couldn’t believe how much it hurt!  He wanted to swear out loud but before he could, a second stroke lashed down.  Brenda clapped her hands with joy.

“Oh yes!  This is great!” exclaimed Audrey as she cracked a harsh third stroke down on Wayne’s peachy naked cheeks.  “I’ll have to borrow him from you Brenda!”

WHACK! A fourth one landed on Wayne’s red bottom.  The two ladies laughed simultaneously.  Wayne didn’t feel like laughing.  Instead he grimaced and offered his bottom up for another stroke.

WHAACK!  He didn’t have long to wait for the fifth.  The burn was intense and all-consuming.

“Do it harder, Audrey, he can take it!”

WHAAAACK!  Brenda was right.  He could take it alright. He offered himself up for more and more.

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

Wayne was a tough fellow who could take a lot of whipping.  Audrey changed canes.

“Last four now Wayne.  Take them like a man, not a wanker!”

WHAAACK!

WHACK!

“OWWW!”

WHACK!

“YEEEOWWCH!”

WHACK!

“AARGH!”

“Well, you were a bit noisy there Wayne, but I’ll forgive you just this once.   What do you say – shall I give Brenda thirteen strokes as well?”

_______________)

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

 

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.

Comments welcome.

Comments from the original 2012 post are here

Married To The Cane (F/M, M/M) repeated

Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012…

1. WELL BEFORE THE HAPPY DAY

“Gerald, may I have a quiet word?”

“Yes, of course, wedding nerves?”

“No, it’s not that.  I’m quite relaxed about that, as is Judith.  I’ll try to be a good husband and make you a proud father-in-law.  It’s about that early wedding present.  The cane you’ve given her.  What’s that all about?”

“Oh that!  Well, it’s just in case, really.  I don’t approve of hitting women, but I am a great believer in males needing a touch of discipline.”

“But I’m twenty-nine!”

“Yes, and Judith is a good deal older and more responsible than you are, son.  I just thought it might help.  Just in case there are problems.”

“Help?  Problems?  It sounds pretty barbaric to me!”

“Oh I don’t think so Jason, my boy.  You see, I have experience of these matters.  Two successful marriages, and a successful teaching career.  I hope Judith will never need to use that cane.”

“Well I’m not happy about it.”

“Take my tip, Jason, just be loyal, hard-working and honest.  Judith won’t need to use the cane then.”

2. A LITTLE NEARER THE HAPPY DAY

“Hello Gerald, I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unexpectedly.”

“Not at all, Jason.  The door’s always open, you are family now, or will be soon.  What brings you here?  Missing Judith while she’s on her course?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really.”

“You’ve come here about nothing?”

“No, no.  It’s that cane thing again.  I’m worried.”

“Nothing to worry about, Jason.  Just be sure to behave yourself.  Come and sit down.  Let’s talk.”

“What’s worrying me is, it’s going to hurt.”

“Yes…”

“Well, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Judith if she does decide to use it.  I need to know how bad it is.  I wondered if you could demonstrate?”

“Eh?  Let me see if I’ve got this right?  You want to sample the cane?  And you want me to give it to you?”

“Er, no.  I don’t really want it.  But, maybe you should.  I want this marriage to work, even in the bad times.”

“Well, I don’t know.  This is a most unusual request.”

“Well, you caused it Gerald, by giving Judith that damned cane!”

“Hmmm.  We do seem to have an attitude problem, Jason.  Perhaps a taste of the cane would be appropriate.”

“Oh!”

“Not so keen now, then?”

“I’m not keen at all, it just seems like a good idea.  Oh, and I don’t want Judith to know, please.”

“Tut, tut!  Secrets, too!  Alright, alright.  I can see your point of view is reasonable enough.  Let’s do it, and keep it our little in-laws secret!”

“Thanks, Dad, er Gerald I mean.”

“You probably won’t feel like thanking me afterwards!”

“No, maybe not, how’s this going to work then?”

“Well, let’s see then.  I think six of the best to get rid of any residual attitude problem.”

“Six!”

“Yes, a good round number.  You can keep your trousers on.  Not that Judith may be that kind if it comes to it.”

“Oh!”

“We’ll do it in my study room.  You can bend over the desk.  Upstairs now, please.”  The two men climbed the stairs.  Jason went first, which gave Gerald a good chance to survey the bottom he was about to cane.  It was a peach!

“In here?”

“Yes, that’s it.  Over the desk!” Gerald instructed as he wandered over to the brass umbrella stand in the corner and selected a crook-handled cane.  He sliced it through the air a few times.  Jason flinched each time the cane swished.  Gerald was minded to offer his future son-in-law the opportunity to back out, but then he decided not to.  After all, in some ways he was looking forward to demonstrating just who was the boss.  He looked at the rump offered submissively before him.  It was a very tempting target.  Best get stuck in!

SWISH-CRACK!

“AARGH!”

Jason leapt up clutching at his sore arse.  This was murder!

“JASON, JUST YOU GET BACK DOWN THIS INSTANT!” boomed Gerald.  He was minded to award a penalty stroke but decided to see how the next stroke was received.

SWISH-CRACK! “Yeeeowwww!”  At least he stayed down this time.

SWISH-CRACK!  “Arrrghhh!”  What a noisy boy he was!  Hardly like a twenty-nine-year-old…

SWISH-CRACK! “Arrrgghh!”

SWISH-CRACK! “Owww!”

SWISH-CRACK! “Ouch!”

The prescribed six strokes had been delivered.  Gerald returned the cane to the umbrella stand, giving a hearty laugh as he did so.  “So how was the picnic?” he asked Jason who was still bent over the desk.  “You can get up now.”

“Thanks, and yes, that was no picnic!”

“Now, let me see the marks.

You didn’t take it very well, Jason, I’m afraid.   In fact, it was a pretty poor performance.  Leaping up and all that noise!”

“Sorry Gerald.  I was surprised how bad it was.”

“Good, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.  Now you know what to expect from Judith if you mess her about.  And it goes to show I was right about your immaturity.  Any trouble, and you’ll have me and my cane to reckon with as well.  Is that clear?”

“Er yes, of course!”  What an alarming development for Jason…

“Now if my calculations are right, there’s six weeks until the wedding.  I suggest I give you another caning one month from today, so that’s the 12th of September.  That will give your bottom time to be cleared up in time for the honeymoon.  It’ll do you good and you need the experience.”

“Gosh no, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.  Believe me, I know what some men need and you are definitely in that category.”  Already, Gerald was thinking in terms of twelve strokes for the next session.  He was proud of Jason in a way.  The lad’s peachy arse was just made for the whippiest of canes.  He mused to himself that some more, perhaps monthly thrashings might be required, even after the wedding.  Maybe not?

3. AFTER THE HONEYMOON

Judith stared at the mess in the kitchen.  The living room was no better.  Her new husband was turning into a bit of a slob, if she wasn’t much mistaken.  He was sat on the sofa eating crisps and watching rugby on the TV.  It was now or never!

“Jason, come here.  What’s the meaning of this mess?  Get me the cane, it’s under our bed!”

“Oh Judith, I’m sorry, let me tidy up.”

She scowled at him and ordered, “The cane!  Now!”

Sheepishly, he went upstairs and retrieved the cane from its hiding place.  He gulped as he realised the moment he had been dreading had arrived.  At least Gerald’s canings had prepared him.  He knew what to expect.  Or did he?

“Right!  Give me that cane now!  I’m  going to give you a bloody good whipping.  I’m not putting up with this any longer.  Have you had the cane before?”  She whipped the cane through the air.

“Er yes, a while back.  Twice.  On my trousers.”

“Well those jeans are coming off, I can tell you.  And your boxers!  You can keep your rugby shirt and socks on.  I rather like them!”

He was relieved that she liked those, perhaps this was just going to be a sexy sort of game?  She made him bend over a little coffee table in front of the TV.  He was on all fours with his arse sticking out nicely.

“How many?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Bah!  How many will it take to make me happy?  Maybe ten or twenty!”

“Twenty?  That’s a hell of a lot.”

“No, it’s not.  Yes, we’ll make it twenty.  Prepare yourself!”

Soon the air was full of the sound of the cane swishing down on the peachy buttocks.  It landed with a resounding and satisfying thwack each time.  Judith was enjoying it enormously, and chuckling out loud!  Jason wasn’t enjoying it one bit, but at least the strokes were not quite as beastly as those given by Gerald.

“My naughty, naughty husband!  Don’t mess with me!  Stick your bottom out for the second ten!”

Just then her mobile rang.  Should she answer it?  Yes, she should.  It was her dad on the line.  He must have a psychic link!

“I’m  just using the cane for the first time.  It’s the best wedding present we could have had.  Yes, bare bottom!  The place was a real pig sty.”

Jason blushed.  Oh, the embarrassment!

“Twenty I think.  You think it should be twenty-four?  Yes, more traditional, I suppose.  But no, I’m going to stick at twenty.  No, he won’t be doing it again in a hurry.  I’m halfway through.  Yes, lovely red lines.  He’s making a lot of fuss.  How’s mum?  Yes, we’ll come over for tea later.  Bye.  Love you!”

SWISH-CRACK!  The eleventh stroke hit with a vengeance.  Jason cried out.  Judith flexed the cane.

SWISH-CRACK!  The twelfth was even harder.  Was it her dad’s influence?

SWISH-CRACK! He gasped.

SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry.

SWISH-CRACK! She laughed.

SWISH-CRACK! He said he was sorry again.  He certainly was!

SWISH-CRACK! She was thinking about her dad.

SWISH-CRACK! The wedding present was terrific.

SWISH-CRACK! He was close to sobbing now.

SWISH-CRACK! His cock was stiffening.

“All done.  Go and get into bed, I’ll be up in a minute!”

________________)

(________________

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

Comments from the original 2012 post are here

Hot Time For A Valentine (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Brand spanking new erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne.

“Mmmm, a dozen red roses, my favourite artisan chocolates and breakfast in bed.  My, you really have pushed the boat out, darling, haven’t you?”

He just grunted, exhausted temporarily from their lovemaking.  She kissed his stubbly face and then dabbed copious amounts of cum away from his cock with a tissue, before announcing, “Actually, I’ve bought something for you.”

“You have?” he asked, with barely disguised surprise.

“Yes, just a little something.  Something you’ve wanted for a while, and something I wanted to give you.”

She reached under the bed and retrieved a long, white cardboard box, tied with a bonny red ribbon. He took it from her with a kiss, and was immediately surprised by the light weight of the box, immediately suspecting that it was empty, or some other kind of wind-up.  He untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box.  Inside was black tissue paper, which he parted to reveal a rattan school cane!

“Oh good lord!” he exclaimed.  “What’s this for?”

“Well, it’s for you of course, my darling.  You said you’d missed out on the cane when you were younger, and that you’d often wondered what it was like.”

“Oh!  I didn’t mean it.  I’ve changed my mind!”

“Nonsense, darling.  Don’t lie to me.  You know you really want it!  Let’s try it out.”

“No way!”

“Don’t you like my present, darling?” she pouted, “I’m hurt.  You said you wondered what it was like and I thought, at 52, it’s time you found out!”

“Alright, alright.  But I’m a damned fool for saying yes.  Just don’t do it too hard, will you?”

They both climbed out of their peachy duvet, and she picked up the cane.

“Right darling, bend over the bed then.  I think a dozen red marks to match the dozen red roses!”

“A dozen sounds a lot.  Go easy on me!”

“No!” she cried, lashing the cane down with a laugh and all of her strength.  The cane wrapped around badly, cutting his haunch painfully.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!  That’s not meant to happen!” he cried.  “Look, you’re holding that cane all wrong!”

“Nonsense darling.  I’m holding it by the handle.”

“Exactly!  As I understand it the crook handle is just for show, or for hanging the cane up by.  You need to hold it a few centimetres down the shaft, otherwise you can’t control it properly.”

“Quite the expert, aren’t you?”

“Well, all boys know this stuff.  Let’s try again shall we?”  The second stroke was hard but landed accurately on his ample arse.  He gasped at the pain.  Had he really wanted to try this?  Just two strokes in, and it was proving to be quite an ordeal.

“How was that darling?”

“Fine, just fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

A third stroke whipped down, accompanied by a manly grunt.

The fourth however, was met by a boyish squeal.  She laughed and laughed.  “This is really turning me on darling,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad someone’s enjoying it!” he moaned.

Strokes five and six landed on top of the earlier ones, causing more discomfort and grunts.

“Can we leave it at six of the best, darling?” he asked.

“Certainly not!” she said, becoming ever more turned on, “This cane is a present we can both enjoy!”

A seventh stroke hit hard and he cried out, “I can assure you I’m not enjoying this at all!”

She whipped the eighth and ninth strokes down, saying, “Maybe not now, but later you will.”

“ARRRGH!” he exclaimed as the tenth stroke hit, clearly not enjoying it one bit.

“Elevensies,” she laughed and then “Last one darling!”  Her face was flushed, not so much from exertion, more from being really turned on.

After the final stroke, he leant over and dabbed the cum-soaked tissue on his wounded haunch.  That seemed to help with the pain.  Just then they both heard a key in the front door, followed by a loud cry of “Yoohoo, darling.”

He dropped the tissue, saying, “Shit!  It’s your mother!  Doesn’t she know it’s fucking Valentines Day?”

(__________

Story © MMXVI by Rod Cayenne

Heart image: Creative Commons

____________

D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

_____________

 Comments welcome

Rump Kilt Skin (F/M) repeated

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Femdom fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012. Strictly 18+, adults only!

Although the smoke of the steam engines engulfed the platform, the two figures recognised each other instantly.

“Hello Aunt Penelope!”

“Hello Gregory!”

They exchanged a kiss and smiled at each other.

“It’s very kind of you to let me stay this week!  I really want to explore the city’s architecture.  It will help with my finals.”

“There’s no finer city in Scotland, Gregory.  I’ll show you around.  Just be a good lad for me.”

“Oh I will Aunty!  I’ll be on my best behaviour.  You won’t be needing your old cane this time.”

“Well, that’s good.  I don’t think I’ve got it any more.  I think your uncle threw it out just before he died.  He said it wouldn’t be needed any more.”

“Oh,” said Gregory trying to hide his disappointment.  He had been thinking about his Aunt’s canings a lot lately.  They had been terrible at the time but now that he was in his early twenties and sexually mature, he had rather fancied a reminder of the cane’s bitter sweet caress.  “You must really miss Uncle Robert.”

“Yes, I do miss him.  Most of all I miss having a man around the house.  I feel like I’m rattling around in that big empty house.  So it will be a comfort having you to stay for the week.  Come on, let’s head home and I’ll fix you some food.”

Over broth and oatcakes the two stared at each other lovingly.  There was real electricity between them.

Aunt Penelope nipped out to the outhouse.  She hadn’t been there much since the death of her husband.  She rummaged around and eventually found what she was looking for – the old leather tawse.  She picked it up and stroked it with affection.  The brown leather twin-tailed strap was capable of severe punishment.  The happily-married couple had used both it and the cane regularly to spice up their sex life.  Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the cane.  He hadn’t thrown it out after all!  He had always been a bit of a tease!  She decided to take both items in to show Gregory.

She placed both items on the kitchen table.  Gregory was sat there still, daydreaming, but the arrival of the cane and tawse brought him back down to earth.

“Oh Aunty, you won’t be needing those, will you?”

“I rather think I might be, young Gregory!”

“I thought you said Uncle Robert had thrown the cane away.”

“Well, I honestly thought he had.  But now I’ve found it, I rather think I might put it to use.”

“Oh Aunty!  And that beastly tawse?”

“Yes, that too!  I think you deserve a good thrashing for all those times you took advantage of me.”

“But Aunty, you led me on!”

“Yes, I may have done.  But you should have declined.  I had a devil of a job keeping it secret from Robbie.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No, I didn’t.  I felt so guilty though.  Maybe he guessed and that’s what finished him off.  Poor Robbie.  Anyway, you can take advantage again this week, but only if you accept your punishment first!”

“Oh Aunty, must I?”

“Yes, you must.  It’ll help us both assuage the guilt, I think.”

“Yes, Aunty.  I suppose you’re right.”

“I hope you’ve brought your kilt.”

He nodded.

“Go and change into it then.  Remember, no underwear”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“And I’ll slip into something more comfortable.  Something you’ll really like.  Meet me in the bedroom.  I want the full outfit too, please.  Sporran, garters, shirt…”

So it came to be that the two of them met up in the master bedroom.  Gregory looked smart in his traditional Scottish wear, and Aunt Penelope looked severe in a black girdle.   She flexed the cane menacingly.

“Right Gregory, bend over the side of the bed and lift your kilt up for me.  I will be alternating strokes between the cane and the tawse.  That’s it, stick your rump out for me.”

She approached him, and tucked the cane under her arm.  She had a good feel of his generous, meaty rump.  Its skin was still soft and boyish, not nearly as hairy as her husband’s had been.  The smooth surface was about to become marked by the lash of the cane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“ACH – YEOWCH!” Gregory cried as the stroke was much harder than he’d been expecting.   He heard the clatter of the cane being put down on the side table.

WHACK!  Now the tawse lashed down.  A different kind of pain followed.  A bruising, hurtful pain.

SWISH-CRACK!  It was the cane again and a sharp line of fire assaulted his arse.

WHACK!  The tawse crashed down on Gregory’s cheeks.

SWISH-CRACK!  The whippy cane struck down.

WHAACK!  The tawse crashed down even harder than before!

“AARGH!”

WHACK!  The tawse struck again, unexpectedly, as the cane had been due.

“OWWW!”

“That’s enough of the tawse, I think.  Six of the best with the cane!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

Both were really getting into their stride.  Aunt Penelope stopped to feel his manly cheeks.  They were hot and inviting.  She made a mental note to find something suitable to push up his arsehole.  A quick feel of his semi-erect penis followed.  Yes, it would serve her well once again.

“Six more, I’m afraid Gregory.  Your penis is betraying your true feelings.  You’re enjoying this!  Six more, then you can mount me.”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

She tucked the cane under her arm again and groped his arse and cock once more.  

“Still enjoying it I see!  Do you think you can take six more with the tawse?”

“I’d rather have the cane, Aunty.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, but make it a dozen!  In for a penny, in for a pound!” he laughed.

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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 persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story ©  MMXII by Rod Cayenne

Photo © by Jonathan, R.I.P.

Comments welcome

Comments from the original 2012 post are here

Old School Blazer (F/M) repeated

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Femdom fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from October 2013.  Strictly 18+, adults only!

He stroked the felt badge on his old school blazer with affection.  He should have thrown the blazer away years ago, as he never wore it, and it smelt of mothballs.  There it was, hanging on a polished wooden coat hanger, on a brass rail within a rather knackered old wardrobe.  He sighed and remembered his school days.  They were happier days and simpler times.

It was seven whole years since he’d left the sixth form.  He had been an underachiever, or lazy, depending on your point of view.  The odd fierce beating had failed to motivate him.  Neither had the special attention and encouragement of his homosexual English cum RE teacher been of any help.  He left with one solitary ‘A’ Level pass, in History of all subjects.  It was a subject that appealed to him still, for he was of a nostalgic bent.  To a certain extent, you could say he lived in the past.

Carefully he took the blazer down from the hanger and folded it once, neatly, and placed it in one of the large leather trunks in his bedsit.  He carried on placing clothes in the trunk, thinking now and then about his old blazer as he did so.  Eventually, he was packed.  His aunt would be there soon.  He was moving out of paid digs into his aunt’s home in a leafy suburb of the city.  In truth, being a tenant hadn’t worked out for him, and when his favourite aunt offered him a room at a token rent, he really couldn’t resist.

It had been agreed between the lad, his aunt and parents that he would stay there for a year or so.  The idea was that he should sober up and take his fledgling Civil Service career a little more seriously.  He could save up the deposit on a rental property while he lodged with his aunt.

Eventually she arrived in her beat-up Morris 1100 estate.  It was barely big enough to accommodate the two leather trunks, his record player and albums.  She smiled lovingly at her nephew, lit a cigarette and gave the accelerator hell in high heels.  The overladen old car burst into life, the tyres screeching and leaving an acrid smell of burning rubber behind.  He’d forgotten what a truly awful driver she was!  He held on for dear life as she whipped the recalcitrant Morris around corners it was clearly taxed by.

In record time, they were back at her house, a whitewashed semi in a pricey cul-de-sac.  He’d forgotten quite what a lovely place it was, and he remembered glorious summer holidays he’d spent there while his parents had short holidays in a desperate hope of saving their loveless marriage.  Despite the odds, they had succeeded in maintaining their relationship.  He wondered to himself why his aunt hadn’t settled down.

It was a few weeks later that things took an interesting turn.  One Friday evening, young Jonathan was summoned downstairs by his aunt.  As ever, she looked remarkable and regal.  Her purple paisley outfit stank of cigarettes and cheap perfume.  She had her arms crossed and an expression which veered between disdain and amusement.

“Anything the matter Aunty?” he asked.

“Yes, a little something, Jonathan.  It’s not the end of the world, but you have been a little inconsiderate.”

“I have?” asked Jonathan, racking his brains as to what he could have possibly done wrong.

“Yes.  Now, when you moved in, I agreed to clean your room now and then, as you couldn’t really be trusted to.”

“Yes, Aunty.  I’m truly grateful.  Really, I must thank you.”

“Alright, alright!  Don’t overdo it.  Now, I don’t want you thinking I’m a miserable old fossil, Jonathan, but I really didn’t like the state of your room.”

“Sorry, Aunty.”

“It’s OK, Jonathan.  I was just a little dismayed to find dirty handkerchiefs and underpants lying around.  Then, I almost tripped over a pile of girly magazines.”

“Oh, Aunty, I’m sorry, I should have put them away.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I’m sorry.  In fact, I’ll throw them away, if you like.”

“No, no.  Don’t be silly.  I understand that men like to play with themselves.  Apart from which, I had a quick flick through the magazines.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Err, no, Aunty.  I’m just a bit shocked.”

“No need to be.  I enjoyed the pictures.  I have always had Sapphic interests, you know.”

Actually, he didn’t know.  He’d seen that word somewhere but couldn’t remember what it meant just then.  He blushed a little, as she continued, “But I was a little surprised to find some spanking magazines in the pile.  An interest of yours?” she asked with a penetrating gaze.

“Err, not really.  I bought them on a whim.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jonathan!  I saw the cover prices of those magazines, you don’t pay that kind of money if you’re not really interested.  You’ve circled some of the personals as well.”

“Oh, Aunty!”

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Jonathan.  Aunty’s not happy.  Can you guess what comes next?” she asked him teasingly.

“No.”

“Naughty boys get their bottoms smacked, Jonathan.  We’re agreed about that, aren’t we?”

He nodded anxiously.

“And if you’re the naughty boy, who’s left to do the smacking?”

He gulped, “Well, you are, I suppose.  But I don’t want to do it Aunty.  It’s only a silly fantasy.  Can’t I just throw the magazines away, and we can forget all about it?”

“No, I told you.  I liked those magazines.  You’ve opened Pandora’s box.  You can share your magazines with me in future, naughty boy.  Especially the spanking ones.”

“Oh, Aunty.  This isn’t right at all!”

“Shut up, Jonathan.  You and I are going to have some fun.  Now, go and put your office clothes on.  Except for a jacket.  Instead, you can wear that cute school blazer for me.”

He hadn’t realised she had even seen the old blazer in the built-in wardrobe unit.  How he wished he’d thrown it away.  And those cp magazines!  Why couldn’t he be normal?  He headed upstairs anxiously.  In his bedroom, he slid the frosted glass doors of the wardrobe back along their runners.  He reached out for a pair of grey slacks, and a white shirt.  It would need ironing!  But, much to his surprise, it was uncreased.  Aunty had ironed all of his shirts, perhaps in expectation of the evening’s events.  He picked a striped tie that would complement the blazer.  Slowly, he got changed.  He wasn’t sure that he really deserved or wanted a spanking.  He couldn’t bring himself to argue with Aunty, however.  She was so nice, after all.

Slowly, he did up the buttons of his shirt and then he peeled down his underpants and gazed at his pert, naked buttocks in the full-length mirror.  He gave them a loving squeeze.  If he was going to be spanked, he decided, then he wanted it to really hurt!  He toyed with the idea of leaving his underpants off altogether, but obviously Aunty wanted him in traditional schoolboy attire, so he pulled them back up.  Then he thought about the spanking some more.  Would it be on his bare bottom?  Bound to be, as he’d been looking at nude magazines!

Jonathan had dithered enough.  It was time to go down the stairs and face the music.  He strolled into the living room, trying to look nonchalant or even a touch defiant.  However, he couldn’t keep the pretence up for long, for he was astonished to see his aunt flexing a rattan school cane, just like the ones in his spanking mags, crook handle and all!

“Aunty, you didn’t say anything about a caning!  Just a smacked bottom!”

“You’re forgetting those circled adverts, my boy.  ‘Dominant aunt canes naughty pupils in luxury home’ and so forth.  I know what you want and what you need.  But don’t worry you’ll be feeling my hand as well as this cane.  My, my, I must say how smart you look in your old school blazer!”

He did look rather handsome and very boyish.  The black blazer with the yellow piping and neat school crest made him look even younger than his twenty-five years.  The tie he had chosen was a pretty good match, too.  He really did look the part.  He was excited and scared at the same time.  There was no sign of life in the front of his grey trousers, however his bottom was tingling in expectation.

She pulled a dining chair into the middle of the room, and sat down.  She smoothed a few creases out of her purple skirt and then demanded, “Over my lap, Jonathan.”

She proceeded to smooth out some creases in his trousers, patting his bottom gently as well.  His cheeks seemed to demand attention.  As advertised, you could say!

“Ready, Jonathan?”

“No,” he said defiantly.

She ignored his disrespect and slammed her hand down on his bottom.  She did it again and again, smacking hard and moving straight into frenzy mode!  He wriggled and writhed in a vain attempt to avoid the chastising hand.

“UP!” she demanded, “Trousers down!”

He obeyed instantly, and took his place over her lap again.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the cane on the dining table.  He really didn’t want to experience it.  Not today, anyway.  He wondered whether, if he took his spanking like a man, she might let him off.  Taking his punishment manfully rapidly became impossible however, as aunt spanked and spanked hard and effortlessly.  He began to moan and cry out in pain.  She responded by tugging at his underpants!

“Nice clean pants, I’m pleased to see, Jonathan.  Let’s keep them that way, by moving them out of the danger zone, shall we?”

Before he had a chance to reply, they were history!  His naked arse cheeks were revealed.  His aunt paused the spanking and ran her hands across his bottom.

“Mmmmm, nice and hot, Jonathan!  Get comfortable now and we’ll carry on.”

Of course, there was no possibility of comfort.  He thought of his mother.  She was nothing like this!   He thought about his bottom, so cruelly treated and exposed.  He hoped his aunt couldn’t see his arsehole!  But she could, and indeed was admiring it with a strange fascination as the spanking resumed.  In fact, she couldn’t keep her eyes off it.  It was a most obscene display she thought, as it spurred her on to smack him even harder.  Jonathan’s thoughts moved onto another part of his anatomy.  He was willing away the possibility of an erection.  He didn’t want a spanking or a caning, but most of all he didn’t want an erection!  Not in front of Aunty!

“Stand up!” she ordered.  She admired his red bottom.  Imprints of her hand and fingers decorated his thighs where her hand had strayed a few times.  She really should have taken her rings off to reduce the pain.  However, she reasoned, that they were family heirlooms and she really didn’t want to mislay them.

“Ooh Aunty, that really hurt!”  said Jonathan, rubbing his sore and thoroughly disciplined bottom cheeks.

“Think yourself lucky I didn’t use my hairbrush on you, young man!” she chided sadistically.

They both stared at the cane on the dining table at the same time.  He gulped.  She grinned.

“You’ve had the cane before?” she asked dispassionately.

“Yes, I’m afraid I have.  At school.”

“Well, yes of course.  It would hardly have been at home, would it?  Your parents are too soft by half.”

“They’re not soft!” he scoffed, “They just love me, that’s all.”

“I love you too, Jonathan.  I’m going to demonstrate my love for you in a very special way.  Bend over the table for me.”

She picked up the cane and flexed it.  Then she whipped it through the air several times.  It made a fearsome sound as it sliced through the air.  He was bracing himself for the first stroke.  It had been a long time.  Over seven years.  Seven lonely years of masturbation as he struggled to come to terms with his spanking fetish.  Girls seemed to sense that he was a bit weird.

“How many strokes did you get at school, Jonathan?”

“Oh.  Always six, Aunty.  It was that kind of school.  Only the type of cane and the judgement and mood of the master varied.”

“Well, at least your softy parents had the sense to send you to a traditional school.  Let’s keep within your boundaries, then.  Six of the cane.”

“Thank you Aunty!”

“And one for luck, I think.  That makes seven.  Let’s go for it then!”

But she didn’t.  Instead she plonked herself down on the sofa and lit up a Camel cigarette.  She had a lovely view from there.  The reddened buttocks, the hairy arsehole and the crown jewels beyond were all visible from her vantage point.

“Just having a ciggie,” she said quite unnecessarily.  He screwed up his nose as the smoke drifted his way.  Eventually, he heard her stubbing out the cigarette.  It was time!  Surely?  Except it wasn’t!  He heard her fumbling in her handbag again.  She had decided to have another fag!  After a couple of drags, she got up and approached her nephew.  She pushed the old blazer and the tail of his shirt well out of the target area.  She couldn’t resist running her hands over his buttocks.  He coughed as the cigarette smoke surrounded him.  He was fearful that she might explore around the front, or even worse, between the buttock cheeks.  Thankfully she didn’t.

Eventually, he heard the second cigarette butt being stubbed out.  He heard the clatter as she picked up the cane from the sideboard where she’d left it.  She whipped it through the air just once before slicing it down on Jonathan’s cheeks with an almighty crack!  Oho, she was good!  Or bad, depending on your point of view.  She hit as hard as Mr Truman, he thought to himself, if not as badly as the chaplain!  A second stroke had him re-assessing his aunt’s capabilities as she very nearly sliced him in half, or so it seemed!  Stroke three was less intense, although his aunt chuckled as the cane seemed to bounce off his pert mounds, leaving a fainter mark but still imparting a stinging caress.  Strangely, this was the first stroke to cause Jonathan to squeal.  Then there was an unexpected pause as Jonathan’s aunt paced around the room for a minute or two.

The silence was deafening.  Eventually, Jonathan had to say something, and it was, “Is everything alright?”

“What?  Oh yes, sorry I was miles away, Jonathan.  How far did we get?”

“I’ve had three, so I’ve got four left.  Unless you want to let me off?”

“Let you off!  You’re joking of course?  I was just thinking what fun this was.  Be careful I don’t add extra for your cheek!”

“Sorry, Aunty,” Jonathan said with a touch of truth in his voice, “I deserve the full seven.”  He stuck his bottom out further, as if wiling his aunt to do her worst.

“Yes, you do!” she said, slicing the cane twice in rapid succession and causing him to grunt and gasp.

The sixth stroke slashed down.  He was silent, but somehow sensed the final stroke would be the worst.  He wasn’t wrong.  She crashed it down diagonally, disrupting the neat parallel weals left by the six preceding strokes and adding to Jonathan’s agony.

“AAAARGH!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Jonathan.  Now, take your blazer off and go and stand in the corner, facing the wall.  I think we both need a few moments to reflect on what’s happened here.  You can rub your bottom if you must.”

Stood in the corner rubbing frantically, Jonathan didn’t really know what to make of things.  His aunt sat down on the sofa, kicked off her stilletos and lit another cigarette.  She was a little more certain about things, announcing, “Twelve with the cane next time, Jonathan.  Or maybe more.”

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Story © MMXIII by Rod Cayenne

All rights reserved.

______________

D I S C L A I M E R

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

_______________

Comment please!

Comments from the original October 2013 post are here.  

Mother-in-law Knows Best – Part 1 (F/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Repost of hot erotic fiction by very special guest author David Stewart

Mother-in-law was a rather fearsome lady, never one of David’s great admirers.  She was scathing about his lack of achievement and inability to provide, as she thought, what her daughter deserved.  A lawyer by calling, she had an authoritative tone and dominant nature, that in truth David had often admired. He saw much of that in her daughter, his wife, and this was one of the reasons that the couple had lived so happily in their ten years together.

In truth, she was well off the mark and David was a thoughtful and hard-working individual devoted to his wife, who, in their private life, was every bit as dominant as he perceived her mother to be.

It was one of the bi-annual visits to the house that she made her discovery.  As usual David had spent the week making sure the house was cleaned and ready for his mother-in-law to arrive. His wife had ensured, with two sound thrashings that he had done so. Hidden from all the family was the fact that David was subservient to his wife and had been since early in the relationship.

On the second night of the four night stay the alarm bells sounded as David, with bravado and too much wine, had argued with his wife over something quite silly. Never the less, if looks could kill, David would have been collecting his insurance premium, or rather his wife would have.

His mother-in-law commented about, “David is being brave tonight, is he not?”

His wife replied, “Yes he is, or rather he is being silly tonight and will pay the price after your visit.”

Smiles and laughter led to a blushing face from David and his mother-in-law rounded on him saying, “Oh, so you will be on the end of some retribution when I am gone, will you David?”

David blushed, his wife laughed and his mother-in-law added, “Perhaps the canes you keep upstairs are explained now?

It was his wife who blushed now, and his mother-in-law continued, “I did wonder, who used these and I am pleased to assume it is you, my dear, who chastises David here! Is that the case?”

A conversation where his wife opened up and admitted to taking charge led to David feeling totally humiliated as his wife and mother-in-law started to discuss marital domestic discipline.

“I am no stranger to this my dear, as I can assure you that your late father was as obedient to me, and was soundly thrashed at times by me. That is the secret of success!”

Almost oblivious to David’s presence they both discussed how early on in the relationships they had discovered that their partners were basically in need of guidance and discipline and one thing led to another. “I used to take your father over my knees for the hairbrush at regular intervals, both as a reminder and also when he was badly behaved. Much the same dear as I recall doing to you with the same hairbrush!”  It was David’s wife who blushed as her mother recounted how she would administer the hairbrush with good effect to both sisters at times.

The wine continued and eventually all retired to bed. In bed that night David apologised, but as they cuddled, he was obviously excited about what his mother-in-law had revealed and pressed his wife for more intimate details about how she herself had been spanked with that brush.

“She was a real monster with that brush and the mere threat of it was enough, once we had sampled it a few times. I got it till I left the house at 21 and it was a most humiliating experience, but I suppose it was never given unless deserved.”

Question after question led to some marital fumblings and at one point his wife made the comment, “I think it is you that should perhaps sample her brush next?”

David drew a breath and could not hide the delight at this prospect saying, “Ooh, my darling, how absolutely humiliating that would be!”

In the morning all were a bit embarrassed, and at lunch the mother-in-law suddenly started the conversation that altered the day, “So my dear, last night?” adding, “Last night was an eye-opener and I have decided that my stay should not interfere with your marital discipline. I suggest we send David home and we continue to the shops. After that we can join David and you can do whatever you would do to him as punishment for his intolerable behaviour last night. I suggest if the boy wants to be disrespectful in front of his mother-in-law then I deserve to see his punishment?”

So after some small talk it was accepted and David returned home. It was a lonely wait of mixed anticipation and fear for the three hours before they returned.

“Mother wants to see you punished as I would do normally, and I see no reason not to do that. Go and get ready for me now David, and we will be along when we are ready.”

As he headed out the door he turned to his wife and asked “Err, darling, is that exactly as I would be for you?”

She smiled and both her and her mother laughed and she said “Yes, exactly!”

So it was that twenty minutes later his wife and mother-in-law entered the bedroom and found a naked David, head lowered and blushing with his shaven cock and balls on display.  A cane, three-tailed tawse and heavy bath brush were laid out on the bed.

His mother-in-law tried not to look amused, but she was.

“Now perhaps an apology to myself and Mother?  And then your usual?”

David, still head lowered, said, “Darling, I am sorry for answering back the other night.  I deserve this thrashing.  I also want to apologise to you, Alison, for having to be a witness.”

“You will be sorry very soon David, now bend over!” said his wife in her strictest tone.  He bent over the edge of the bed, grateful not to be exposed any longer.

“So how many will you give him?” asked his mother-in-law.  The magical sentence of 36 was announced.

The caning started and David yelped and the next landed shortly afterwards. He took the full 36 and heard various comments from the audience culminating in, “Good show, darling!”

The caning stopped and the order was given to lie on the bed. The tawse was administered to his backside 36 times too, and each blow brought a yelp from the ever-suffering David.

“Are you feeling sorry now David?” asked his mother-in-law.

“Yes, yes, I am very sorry.”

“I think you may like to take over mother,” his wife said and handed the brush to her mother. The brush was then used with amazing force on poor David’s burning cheeks! He was amazed at the strength of the woman.

What also amazed him was the tirade of verbal insults she gave with the spanking, “You deserve every one of these, David!”, “This will teach you to obey your wife!” “My boy you need this so much!”

The force of the beating caused David to shout out, “For fuck’s sake, I am sorry, sorry!”

His mother-in-law asked, “What was that you said David?”

“Ssssorry, I said I was sorry!”

“Yes, but did you not say the “F” word as well?”

“Yyess. Ssorry I did!  I am sorry I did not mean to, just it is so sore, and it slipped out!”

“Stand up David!” his mother-in-law commanded and he gratefully stood in front of her, his hands covering his front.

“Swearing is unforgivable and your wife knows what happens now don’t you my dear?”

His wife blushed, thinking back to the days when her mother spanked her, then she smiled knowingly and said, “Yes Mother, you would start again, wouldn’t you?”

His humiliation was complete as both ladies burst into laughter.  He was taken by the ear and almost thrown back on the bed and told by his mother-in-law, “50 smacks and any swearing you’ll get the same again!”

The spanking that followed caused David to cry out a lot.  But he did not swear and despite tears welling he managed not to cry for real.

The thrashing over, David stood up and his wife raised her eyes to the ceiling. David reacted by saying, “Alison, thank you for my spanking which was deserved.”

After a pause his wife added, “And what else do we say after a spanking?”

He added, “Oh and Alison, if I ever deserve another please don’t hesitate, because I need to be disciplined when I am naughty.”

It was a well-rehearsed sentence that David always had to use, but somehow both ladies found it so humorous and before laughing too much his mother-in-law sarcastically added, “Thank you David.  Be assured I shall  do so!”

That concluded his thrashing, and for the remainder of the visit his behaviour was impeccable.

Before leaving, his mother-in-law sat both of them down and said, “Now I may have found David’s reactions amusing, but I am proud of you both. You my darling for taking charge, and you David for accepting the need for a strong woman to lead you. I shall help out again if needed, and this is obviously our secret. It is, I am sure, the secret to a very successful marriage, so long as you my dear never forget that David requires discipline, and plenty of it!”

____________)

Story ©2012 by David Stewart

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