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!

____________)

______________

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

If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment.  Comments are here

My Aunt Canes Really Hard (F/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Brand spanking new fiction in a rare excursion into femdom by your host, Rod Cayenne. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery.  All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!

My Aunt Canes Really Hard by Rod Cayenne

At eighteen, I was quite used to being bundled off to relatives by my parents when they went for their long and indulgent skiing holidays.  It wasn’t my scene at all, but they didn’t trust me not to wreck the house while they were away.  I could hardly blame them, after all a teenage rampage was not unheard of in the metropolis.

_________________________________________________

I sighed heavily as I pulled off my shiny black wellies.  I’d had the foresight to bring them with me for my winter stay with Aunty in wet and windswept Yorkshire.  I stood them next to the umbrella stand there in the vestibule.  It was then that I noticed a crook-handled school cane in among the brollies and walking sticks.  It’s strange that I hadn’t noticed it before.  Yes, really strange indeed.  Unless it was a new addition?  Anyway, I drew it out from the shiny and dimpled brass container.  I sliced it through the air.  Boy, was it ever whippy!

“I see you’ve found my cane, Julian,” my aunt said.  “Be careful now, I’m not afraid to use it.  Maybe even bare bottom!” she cackled.  I didn’t know where to look, laughed nervously and blushed redder than I’d ever done before.  There was no denying her attractiveness.  She was in her late 30s, but incredibly sexy.

Eventually, I found my voice, “Oh Aunty, you wouldn’t!  I’m eighteen now!”

“Really now, eighteen?  Just the right age to benefit from some discipline then.”  She cackled some more and winked at me.  “Be a dear and put it back where you found it, unless you want me to demonstrate.”

I was somewhat unnerved, replaced the cane and replied sheepishly, “I’ll be good.”

“Mmm, yes, I’m sure you will.  The cane does seem to encourage that sort of response.  Now, how about showing me just how good you can be by doing some drying up for me?”

I was so grateful that she had changed the subject and saved me from any further embarrassment.  All the same, that cane and that threat were all I could think about as I dried the floral crockery with the off-white tea towel.  I was still strangely excited by my discovery and by my aunt’s reaction.  I felt a tingle down below and blushed some more.  In a funny way, I really wanted to feel that cane used in anger.  I wondered what it would be like.  But why?  It was all too much for me.  I gazed at my aunt and said, “If we’re finished here, I’ll go up to my room.”

She nodded sagely.  It was funny how she could sometimes read me like a book, but  I told myself that teachers seemed to have a knack for being able to do that sort of thing.  Maybe part-time teachers like Aunty even more so.

Just a day later, on the Tuesday, I returned and found a cane hanging on a hook on the back of my bedroom door.  I was alarmed and yet excited.  Maybe even a bit amused.  It was only later as I laid on the bed and stared at it that I realised it wasn’t the same cane I’d seen downstairs.  It was similar, but the natural patina was slightly different.  So, she must have a veritable arsenal of them, I told myself.  An arsenal for arses!  I decided to play it cool and ignore what I saw as a deliberate provocation.  Nevertheless, when I turned in at bedtime I got to think some more about the possibility of Aunty caning me.  I found the idea strangely appealing and wanked off a couple of times before finally falling asleep.  In the morning, I had to do the same.  I knew Aunty and I knew her game.  I was going to get caned by her, of that I was sure.  The sudden appearance of that second cane was just confirmation.

I didn’t have to wait long, as it happened.  That evening she was admonishing me as I’d left my boots on and trampled copious quantities of finest Yorkshire Dales mud into her hall carpet.  “I’m going to have to shampoo that carpet, Julian!” she informed me, “I’m really annoyed with you.”

“Sorry Aunty, I wasn’t thinking,” I said with genuine regret.

“Hmm.  Well, I’ve been thinking that your thoughtlessness deserves a caning!”

“Oh Aunty, no.  Please no. Not that!”

“I bet you’ve never had a caning have you?”

“Err, no.  No.”

“High time you did then.  Fetch me a cane, Julian.  There’s one in the hall, as you know.  And one hanging on the back of your bedroom door.  Either will do.  They’re much the same as each other.  And hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

I was lost for words, so I sloped off to my guest bedroom to retrieve the cane that I’d been admiring up there.  I picked it up and came slowly down the stairs with it.

“Very well,” she said.  “I think six of the best as you’ve caused me all this extra work.  You can keep your underpants on this time, but if we have to do this again be assured you will have to take them down.”

“Six!” I exclaimed and shook my head.  That seemed a lot for a first offence.  I considered plea bargaining, but I was so embarrassed.  I knew I was blushing as I handed her the stick.  That strange excitement had returned and I felt my cock thickening in anticipation.

“Yes Julian, six should be enough!  Now, drop your trousers and bend over the back of this sofa.  Hurry up!”

I quickly did as I was told, hurriedly bending over as instructed while trying to hide the erection in my briefs.

“I must warn you that this is going to hurt you, Julian.  I’m well known as a hard caner and I expect you to take it like a man.  No fussing, no rubbing or standing up, or putting your hands in the way.  I should tell you that you will get extra penalty strokes if you do anything of the sort.”

Shit, she was really dominant and bossy and any thoughts of pleasure disappeared as she sliced the first stroke down on my underpants.  Thank God I’d put a clean pair on that morning, I told myself.  But the burn from that first stroke was now taking over all my thoughts.  God, it hurt.  And then the second stroke followed.  It landed lower than the first, but if anything was even harder.   I gasped for air.  God, this was awful.  It might have been a nice fleeting fantasy to have, but the reality was excruciating.  Her teaching experience was really evident!

Just then she was distracted by the sound of letters coming through the door.  She told me to stay as I was while she went to get the post.  I was grateful for the break.  The red hot pain was remorseless, however, so the respite was minimal.

She returned and placed the letters on the table, and picked up her cane again.  She scythed it through the air a couple of times, teasing me.

“Now, where were we?” she asked.

“I’ve had two strokes Aunty,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked, adding, “We could always start again.”

“Err, no thank you Aunty, please just carry on from where we were.”

Her sadism was evident.  She was playing games with me.  I just wanted it over as my arse was throbbing so painfully.

“Three!” she cried as she whipped the cane down once again.  The bitch could really hurt, I thought to myself as new waves of pain swept over me.

“Four!” accompanied the next stroke which had to be the hardest yet.  I groaned and gasped and ached.

“Oh Aunty!” I cried out.

“Don’t you Oh Aunty me!” she said as she whipped the fifth stroke down, this time neglecting her counting.

“Arrrgh!”

“Very well, Julian.  Last stroke coming now.  Let’s make this one really count!”

And it did.  Shit, shit, shit, it was unbearable.  But then I realised it was over, at last.

“I hope you’ve learnt to treat my property with respect, Julian.  Going forward, I shall expect the highest standards from you.  You know now what will happen if you don’t.  If there’s a next time, it will be bare bottom, my boy.  Don’t forget now.”

As if I could!  A bare arse caning was something I was really dreading.  Male intuition  told me it was something I would definitely experience before I headed back to London, though.  It seemed to be my destiny.  It was what Aunty was planning for me.  I’d have been stupid and naive to think otherwise.  I was trapped and miles from home.

“Pull up your trousers, Julian!”  I did so gingerly as my arse was throbbing, aching and scorching hot.  I rubbed it gently.  I made my apologies and left.  Upstairs in the large mirror in my room, I studied the bright red lines and wheals that decorated my arse.  Soon I found something else that needed rubbing!  Doing that seemed to ease the pain in my bum cheeks.  I was on the verge of orgasm when Aunty called me down for supper.  It was too late to stop it, and I spunked into some tissue I’d liberated from the bathroom.  Hurriedly, I cleaned myself up and flushed the evidence away.  Nonetheless, as I entered the kitchen Aunty gave me a funny look as if she knew or could guess what I’d been doing.

“I hope you’re going to behave now, Julian.  Your bottom must be quite sore?”

I wished she’d give it a rest.  I considered snapping back at her, but my feelings were mixed.  I just said, “Yes, pretty sore.  You’ll have no more problems with me, I promise.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if in some disbelief.  We sat at the table and she dished up some hearty food.

“I’ll shampoo the carpet, if you like,” I offered.

“Thank you Julian.  Actually, the damage is not as bad as I first thought.  I think most of it will brush or hoover up once it’s dried.  Eat up now.”  I did see a bit red at that point.  So, I had been caned for next to nothing!  I wasn’t best pleased but kept my thoughts to myself.  After the meal she told me to take the cane back upstairs.  I took it, amazed again at how light it was and yet what heavy pain it had caused.

That night I masturbated furiously, my thoughts centred only on my aunt and her canes.  I was becoming fixated.  I also decided that I had to see her naked.  Just two days later, I was hanging around on the landing, pretending to be looking at the epic Yorkshire Dales landscape through the large panorama window.  I hit the jackpot as she suddenly appeared from the bathroom wearing  some very sexy black underwear.  Once again, she was perceptive, “Are you spying on me, Julian?”

“I, I errr, no, no, of course not.”

“I rather think you were, you dirty boy.  Time for that bare bottom caning, I’d say.  Let’s go into your room.”  She wasted no time, pushing me towards the bed, and taking the cane off the door hook.  “Right, let’s have you on all fours.  Take your trousers down.”  Once I’d complied, she then startled me by whipping down my underpants in double quick time.  She studied my bottom, observing, “The marks from your first caning have almost gone.  Either you have a tough bottom, or I didn’t cane you hard enough.  Or maybe, just maybe, both.”

There I was, bare bottom sticking out, waiting to be thrashed.  And thrashed I was.  Fast and hard.  The cumulative pain was overwhelming and after it was over, I slumped on the bed whimpering.  My cock was on manouevres again and the rest of me soon perked up too.  My aunt was hanging the cane back on the hook.  I had to tell her, “Ooh Aunty!  That was terrific.  The sting is really intense without pants on.”

She looked at my erect cock and said, “You’re not meant to enjoy it, you know!”

“Oh Aunty, I didn’t. I really didn’t!  But that sting is really invigorating.”

“Mmmm.  I understand, I think.  Now, make yourself decent.  Although I must say you have a most attractive bottom, just made for caning.”  She cackled again.

She was right though.  I had enjoyed it in a masochistic way.  I wanted the cane again.  As soon as possible.  I needed its vicious enlivening bitter caress.  I resolved to be be much naughtier going forward.

Some three days later, after our evening meal, I surprised her by turning up in the lounge holding the cane.

“I see,” she said, “Have you something to confess, Julian?”

“Yes, I do and I deserve the cane for it, Aunty.”

We never did establish what it was though!  She ordered me upstairs, saying, “Let’s do it in my bedroom, there’s more room to swing a cat.”

Once again, I found myself on all fours with my arse bared for her ministrations.

“Ten, I think this time, Julian.”

She went absolutely crazy with that cane. She slashed it with wild abandon, slicing both cheeks with punishing stripes.  As she finished I gasped with relief, only to have it dashed as she announced, “Another two, I think, to make the round dozen.”

After that, she really had finished.  She gazed at my erection which had returned with a vengeance.  “Get the rest of your clothes off and get in my bed Julian.  It’s alright, my boy.  We both have needs, I think.”

I fucked her half the night, losing my virginity in style.  She had brought me extreme pain and extreme pleasure.  All too soon, the holiday came to an end.

“Well, I guess my caning days are over, Aunty.”

“Yes, what a pity.  Unless your parents decide to follow my lead, of course.”

“Mother wouldn’t cane me, Aunty.”

“You’re probably right there, Julian.  I know my sister only too well.  She’s much too squeamish.  But your father might.  Especially if I provide him with a suitable cane.  And tell him to use it on your bared bottom.  It’s really a father’s job to discipline his son, after all.  I’m sure I can spare him one of my canes.  I’ll give him it when he comes to pick you up.”

(__________

______________

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 © MMXXIII by Rod Cayenne

____________

Authors appreciate feedback, so your comments are most welcome.

Comments are here.

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!”

______________

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 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.

Awakening Desires (F/M, F/F) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

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

Lucinda stood tearfully beside me outside Miss Kerby’s office, her anxiety levels off the scale. “Will we be expelled, Steven?”

I looked down fondly at my girlfriend, the tears glistening her deep blue eyes was getting me hard again, despite my stomach churning over with the possibility of what might happen. You might ask what we had done to find ourselves waiting outside the office of the senior schoolmistress? Well, we had been caught `in flagrante’ in the laundry by Matron. I was topless, with my trousers and pants around my ankles, while Lucy was bent over a bench, her knickers around her ankles, and her skirt raised, giving me full access to her warm, moist cunt. I was thrusting deep inside the folds of her snatch, my knob getting harder by the second with lustful urges as I neared the point of no return when the door was unceremoniously thrust open. I don’t know who was more shocked, Matron, me, or Lucy. The old bag screamed like a demented cow, cursing us, and vowing to have us expelled as soon as she spoke to Mr Lawrence.

She stood outside while we rapidly made ourselves decent, my cock was dripping pre-cum, and I was desperate to finish myself off, but there was no chance of getting any sort of relief, instead, we were frogmarched down to the headmaster’s study. I could hardly believe this was happening, after all, we were no longer kids. I was only still at this prestigious boarding school to resit my A-Levels, I was nineteen years old and in my last term. Lucy was in the upper-sixth and was just about to sit her finals too, now aged eighteen we had been seeing one another since she arrived two years before with the first intake of girls ever to cross the threshold of our august establishment.

Until that momentous occasion we had been a boys-only establishment, with only a frumpy old Matron, and several domestics and kitchen staff being female, and looking at the state of some of them, their gender may well have been questioned, but suddenly the halls of the school were awash with sexy young ladies. Naturally, the older boys began to compete with one another, as males in the animal kingdom are prone to do for a mate, and I had been lucky enough to win the hand of Lucinda Evans, a blonde, blue-eyed stunner, with an hourglass figure and firm pair of tits that sent my cock into orbit whenever she was around.

Two years on and the school was transforming from a male-dominated environment, into a more modern forward-looking establishment, but one thing that was still in place was corporal punishment. Mr Lawrence was over sixty years old and had been headmaster for more than a quarter of a century. He had fought hard to prevent girls from coming to the school, but he had been overruled by the board of governors. One thing he had insisted upon was the retention of the cane, but he had also been adamant that under no circumstances could he swish a girl if it was required. The board had thought long and hard about it. Should the cane remain mandatory for boys alone? Or should they employ a senior Mistress to cane girls if it was required? Eventually, they decided, with Mr Lawrence’s approval to choose the latter option, and so Miss Geraldine Kerby was employed in the newly created role.

Miss Kerby was quite young, in her late twenties, she was tall, slender and athletic, spending a large amount of her free time playing tennis. As such, she had a powerful forehand drive which should occasion merit would be put to good use thrashing naughty schoolgirls. Naturally, young ladies do not require the corrective sting of the rod as frequently as their male counterparts, but when necessary she performed her duty robustly, leaving a miscreant with a well-striped bottom that she would find difficult to sit on for days. I had heard from some of the girls that she usually raised their skirts and swiped their beknickered bottoms heartily, leaving them in tears.

That was not to say that the boys got away lightly, Mr Lawrence was a proficient caner, who expertly seared lines of pain across the buttocks of misbehaving boys, trousers up, or for older boys and recidivists, down, often with underpants too he left troublemakers nursing sore behinds they would not forget for a long time. I had been caned many times during my years, and I knew his beatings were energetic and memorable. He had last caned me just over a year before, bent over the back of the battered leather armchair in his study, my trousers and pants pooled around my ankles he had given me six of the very best for being caught with tobacco on my person, despite me being eighteen years old. I had waddled back to my study in agony, the blisters across my bottom causing me merry hell as they rubbed against the elastic in my pants. Once again I examined the perfect five bar gate he had etched upon my flesh, before having a furious wank to relieve the pain in my arse.

That had been the last time, and now over a year later I thought I was finally beyond such childish punishments, but standing outside the office I began to have my doubts, even worse though was the fear that at this late stage of my school career I might be thrown out, dad had been far from pleased that I had had to stay on an extra year after failing my A-levels previously, should I now be expelled there would be hell to pay.

The office door was thrust open, and Matron emerged, her top lip curled up in disgust as she glared at us. “Miss Kerby will see you both now.”

I stood alongside Lucy in front of this formidable woman. She looked coldly at us both, unsure how to proceed. “Taylor! Evans! We appear to have a situation here, don’t we? You must both understand that sex between students cannot be permitted. I know you are both over eighteen, but you have broken one of the most sacred rules of this school. I have to tell you now that Mr Lawrence had to leave school this morning due to an unexpected bereavement in his family, otherwise you would be standing before him at this very moment. Your offence is so serious I feel the headmaster will wish to expel you, something which I am afraid I don’t have the authority to do, so, I propose suspending you both with immediate effect, pending a referral to the head and the board of governors.

Lucy burst into tears, while I struggled to comprehend the gravity of her words. “But Miss! Please don’t suspend us so close to our final exams, would it be fair to ruin our lives over this? After all, what we did was nothing more than any other young couple does.”

“Except Taylor, you did it on school premises, and you were caught in the act by Matron. What if it had been a pupil? A young boy or heaven forbid a girl. Regardless of you being on the cusp of leaving such actions cannot go unpunished. What would you suggest I do then, if not suspend you?”

“You could cane us miss.” The words spilt from my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. Lucy looked at me incredulously, and Miss Kerby was clearly shocked too.

“Well, you are both a little old to face such a punishment, but besides that surely you must understand I cannot possibly cane you; you are a fully mature young man. If caning was to be administered it would have to be Mr Lawrence, but as we have ascertained he is not here at the moment. I can of course give Miss Evans a few strokes, but I am not authorised to cane boys. Would you like me to refer you to Mr Todd?”

Mr Todd was the head of the sixth form, he was much younger than Mr Lawrence, strong, athletic and a stalwart of the local rugby team. He sometimes caned sixth formers instead of sending them to the headmaster, and by all accounts his thrashings were awesome. If I had to I would accept such an outcome, but I suspected my words were softening Miss Kerby, and I might persuade her to cane me herself.

“Please Miss, do we need to trouble Mr Todd? I am over eighteen and prepared to accept my punishment from you without complaint.”

A broad smile spread across her face. “And I suppose you think I would be a soft touch do you? I can assure you Taylor if that is in your thoughts you may come to regret asking me. Very well then, as the headmaster is not available I suppose I am the most senior member of staff in school, however what about you Miss Evans? Are you prepared to accept a caning, or do I need to suspend both of you, pending a referral for expulsion?”

Lucy teared up again, her beautiful blue eyes brimming with water made my cock jump with lust once again. My mind was wandering over what I wanted to do with her, and with the delightful Miss Kerby, I wouldn’t mind mounting her as well, but there was zero chance of that happening. Lucy turned and looked intensely at me, unsure what to do.

“It is best to take the caning and get it over with, it will hurt, but the pain will soon pass, the alternative could be the end of our future careers.” The mention of expulsion loosened the tear ducts completely, and she started to sob like a little child. Through her sobs, she reluctantly agreed to the caning. Miss Kerby rose swiftly from her chair and walked across her office, before reaching up and bringing down a slender cane from the top of a filing cabinet. She swooshed the instrument through the air and pointed towards me.

“Taylor, wait outside while I deal with Miss Evans please.” Lucy looked terrified as I turned to leave her alone, with the cane-wielding mistress. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I waited in trepidation outside her room. From behind the closed door, I could hear some mumbled conversation before a deathly silence prevailed. A swish, crack and a loud scream suddenly erupted into the corridor as the cane struck Lucy’s bottom for the first time. My cock was straining to burst out of my pants as I thought of her shapely arse across the senior mistress’s desk. I could not help but wonder if her skirt had been raised, and if so were her panties still in place or around her ankles. The cane struck again, followed by an ear-splitting howl, I wondered how Miss Kerby would punish me, thoughts of lowering my undies and showing her my throbbing cock sent my erection into orbit and I was desperate to whip it out and pull one off the wrist there and then.

Further strokes struck across the bending target, each one followed by ever more desperate screeches of anguish, yet despite feeling sorry for her, I was also getting more and more turned on. I felt a dampness in the front of my pants as pre-cum began to ooze from the end of my knob. The caning stopped abruptly after six strokes, but Lucy’s sobbing continued, along with a few more inaudible words before the door finally creaked open and Lucy stepped out. Her eyes were red, and her face awash with hot tears, while her hands were tightly pressed against the seat of her arse. “Taylor, come in please.” Shouted a voice of authority from inside the room.

I gave Lucy a reassuring pat on the shoulder, indicating that all would be well before stepping into the office and closing the door. The sight of Miss Kerby bending the cane between her hands was too much, and before I could stop myself I creamed my pants. It was so difficult trying to keep a straight face as my knob oozed creamy semen into the front of my undies. The mistress must have seen something as she flashed me a look of disgust.

“Stand in front of the desk boy. I hold you more culpable than Miss Evans, you are nineteen years old and fully aware that what you were doing was wrong. I will tell you now that your girlfriend received six strokes across the seat of her panties, however, for you, I feel I need to really get the message across, so, I am going to award you ten strokes of the cane, across your naked bottom. Have you anything to say before we begin?”

“No Miss, except I am very sorry.”

“You will be in a few minutes Taylor, very sorry indeed. Take your trousers and underpants right down, then bend over the desk.”

I felt my face flush as I unbuckled my trousers and let them fall to the floor. I stood as close to the desk as possible before hitching my cum soaked undies off over my dripping cock and let them pool down around my ankles, before stretching myself over the desk and presenting my bare arse for Miss Kerby’s ministrations.

She came behind me and tapped the inside of my legs with the stick to get me to stretch them slightly, and opening up the lower part of my cleft, giving her a bird’s eye view of my hairy crack. “Right Taylor, ten strokes for you boy.” The cane was gone, then it swiftly whistled down and smacked hard across the middle of my arse. The pain shot through my body like a bolt of lightning and my backside was aflame with an intense sting. A second stroke lanced into my flesh, just below the first cut, doubling the pain. Any thoughts that Miss Kerby was going to be a soft touch were completely eradicated from my thoughts.

When the third stroke bit into my bum I began to regret not taking up the offer of being caned by Mr Todd, surely even he wouldn’t beat as hard as this. My backside was boiling, and she was using her entire strength to thrash it raw. Strokes four, five and six fell at a steady pace, each one landing lower and lower, causing me to squirm and yelp like a whipped puppy. The next two cuts were lashed down across the crease of my arse cheeks, along the line of my thigh, causing the most intense pain I had ever felt, It was even worse than the time I had broken my arm. If I thought they were bad, I had not counted on the final two as she planted them diagonally across earlier welts, branding my poor bum horrendously.

I could not stop myself from roaring in pain, and despite my resolve not to, the tears began to trickle down my face. Miss Kerby had broken me, and I doubted the pain roaring through my arse would ever dissipate. “Get up and make yourself presentable Taylor. Just look at you. Nineteen years old, thinking you are a man, but crying after having your botty caned, you are a disgrace. Stay there for a moment.”

She dropped the cane onto her desktop while I gingerly pulled up my fallen pants and trousers, wincing as the soft cotton brushed against the painful welts. Once I was dressed, my hands gently touching my aching arse she went to the door and summoned Lucy back into the room. I turned to see my girlfriend standing beside me, looking a little more composed, but still clearly in a lot of pain. Miss Kerby seated herself behind her desk and glared angrily at us.

“I hope the pain surging through your bottoms will act as a constant reminder that your behaviour was completely unacceptable, should you get caught again indulging in acts of indecency on the school grounds there will be no second chances, next time I can promise you that you will be expelled. There are only a few short weeks until you sit your finals and depart from this school for your adult lives, you will then be free to explore each other’s bodies to your heart’s content. But for now, keep your heads down, revise hard and concentrate on those exams. You may leave.”

We turned and shuffled from the room, one hand vigorously massaging my scorched arse cheeks while closing the door with the other. Outside I gave Lucy a quick peck on the cheek and asked her how she was.

“I will be OK. My bottom is stinging like crazy, and it feels like it is on fire, but despite that Steven, I feel as randy as hell. I want you to take me, if only we could.”

Lusty thoughts returned to my head as she described what she wanted to do with me. The soreness in our backsides had done nothing to damper our ardour. An hour later, in a quiet part of the woodlands, I was again deep inside the tight folds of my girlfriend’s hole, her muscles clamping hard around my shaft, driving me on to wilder depths until we came together in a frantic explosion of love and lust.

Later that night I lay on my side in bed, my arse still sore, and my cock once again rampant as I recalled the days’ events. Bent double over the desk in Miss Kerby’s’ office, my arse bare to the wind, then wildly shagging Lucy in the woods, the livid stripes still rubbing horribly as I thrust in and out of her juicy quim, in no time I was spunking up for the fourth time that day. Whatever happened I knew that being caned by Miss Kerby had awakened a desire in me, a desire to be dominated and beaten by a woman. I found no pleasure being thrashed by a man, but with a female, it was completely different. As I drifted off to sleep I knew that in the not-too-distant future I would be seeking out a sadistic mistress to satisfy my carnal lusts.

___________)

Story ©MMXXI by Baddlad17, used here by very kind permission of the author. Second and third photographs by Barry Spockings ©MMXXI, also used here by very kind permission.

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

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

Wicked Stepmother (F/M, M/M)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We will see about that.

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

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

Brett, get your backside down here now, lad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Dad no, you can’t be serious.

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

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

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

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

Over the back of the armchair and drop those shorts.

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

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

Please dad no, I wailed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go to your room lad and stay there till morning.

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

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

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

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

___________)

D I S C L A I M E R

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

(___________

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

All rights reserved

___________)

Comments welcome

Comments are here

Comments from the original posting are here

 

Three Players (F/M, M/F and M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot bisexual spanking and sex in this brand new story by special guest author David Stewart.  This story is exclusive to The Canery.  All the characters are 18 or over.  Strictly adults only!

Three Players by David Stewart

David was 43 and had been an avid receiver and giver of the cane.  He had played this way with other guys and some females since he was about 22.  His activities had dried up somewhat over the last year or so with no spanking partners.  But tonight he was visiting a hot couple.  Their personal advert had said “Couple, he 57 and she 49, looking for switch playmate to spank and cane wife and then submit to spanking and caning from both.”  They had exchanged mails then spoke on the phone and eventually had met for a drink one night.

She was a good looking lady, medium build but a great bum and nice boobs.  She looked younger than her age with flowing blonde hair. He looked his age, however.  He was well over six foot and strong-looking, but both were friendly and they all earned each other’s trust very quickly.

So much so, that tonight was to be the real thing.  David had to travel about an hour, but he assured himself that it would be worth it.  They were to play to an agreed script and of course, it started as soon as the door was answered.

“Ah, come in David. Good journey?”

“Yes Sir!” He had been told to call the man Sir for the duration of their time together.  The conversation continued in the lounge where Amanda sat looking very attractive.  They had a glass of wine and all the time it was “Yes Sir” to all of the questions.

“Right then David we are all adults and have discussed this.  First Amanda is getting spanked and caned by you and then we will be dealing with you.  Then, we’ll see where it goes.  No sympathy and proper chastisement for all.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Right!  You two, follow me.”

They were led to the bedroom where there was a cane laid out on the dresser.  David was not sure what to do, but Sir was, “Right Amanda!  Get that dress off and let David see what you have.”  Amanda undid her dress and dropped it to the floor revealing a curvy figure, black hold-up stockings and a red matching bra and panties set.

“David!  Amanda needs her arse turned red by your hand before you cane her.  Do it!”

“Eh, yes Sir.  Amanda, over you come!”  He sat on the end of the bed and pulled Amanda over his knees and looked at Sir who nodded.  David started to spank Amanda over her panties. The strength of his smacks gradually increased  and they were producing a good response fromhis victim. He paused to pull her panties right down and the resumed the spanking.  All the time he saw Sir nodding his approval at him. Sir then indicated that it was time to stop, and Amanda scurried off David’s knees, immediately rubbing her bottom before pulling her panties up from her ankles.

Sir spoke, “Do you want to have Amanda thank you, David?”

“Well, that would be nice, Sir.”

It was not the thank you he expected as Amanda knelt on the floor and undid his trousers and started to suck on his very erect cock.  “Now, imagine how she will thank you if you cane her hard!”

“Now Amanda, that’s enough.   Go and stand in the corner.

In a change to the prearranged plan, Sir interjected, saying, “And now, while Amanda contemplates her caning, I want you to strip naked please David. Let me show you how I spank.”

David eagerly took all his clothes off and was soon over Sir’s knees being spanked very hard and long.  He glanced at Amanda in the corner.  She had turned round a bit, and was watching and smiling.

“Now get off and thank me, David.”  David then found himself eagerly sucking on Sir’s enlarged cock in the same way as Amanda had done his.

“Right then, Amanda.  David is going to cane your arse for you.”

David needed no further telling and picked the cane up.  He indicated to Amanda that she should bend over the side of the bed.  He swished the cane then grabbed at her panties and pulled them down.  He took aim and swished the first stroke down hard on her already red arse. She yelled and Sir smiled.

David carried on caning this delightful bottom and delivered a full 12 strokes before looking for approval from Sir.  “Same again, please.”

David gladly continued the caning and brought more yells from his willing victim with each stroke.  Then it was over.  Tears streamed down from Amanda’s eyes but somehow she looked totally wanton.  David had not noticed when, but Sir hd made himself naked as well, and was erect for all to see.

Amanda took the lead and said, “Now David, get your arse in the air for me and let me get my revenge.  This will hurt!”

David did as instructed and felt a light tap followed by an agonising swish as the first stroke landed. In all she gave him 12 strokes and each caused him to jump and bite his lip.  After Amanda’s dozen, Sir took over and landed another mighty 12 strokes, taking David’s breath away.  It was then back to Amanda who teased him by touching David’s flaccid cock, bringing it back to life.  However, his semi soon vanished as she started to give him a second 12 strokes.  Every one burned deep into his already battered rump.  He was told to stand and Amanda took his place.

David then watched as Sir landed 12 more painful strokes on Amanda’s rear.  The atmosphere was electric and after the dozen strokes Sir said, “Now Amanda, thank David properly!”

She almost seemed to slide over and took David onto the bed where she sat astride him. He slipped into her over-moist pussy, with Sir watching avidly.  David found it all amazing.  He had difficulty holding back, but did so as he thought he knew what was to come as a finale.

Amanda jumped off David and Sir bent her over and pounded away at her cheeks, screwing her to delirium.  Then David was ordered back over the edge of the bed and Amanda gave him a further dozen of the cane before they heard the familiar sound of a condom wrapper being torn open.  A squelch of lube followed and Amanda stood watching and smiling.  David felt Sir push rather gently at his bum hole.  Slowly but surely Sir eased his manly cock inside David.  Amanda laughed and said, “Screw him darling, screw him hard!”

Of course Sir didn’t need telling, as he always screwed hard.  Just as he was coming Amanda gave David a hand, jacking him off explosively.

Afterwards the three of them showered together and had some more wine before promisingthemselves that they would schedule a repeat session.  It never happened in fact, but perhaps a one-off was best for all concerned?

______________)

 Story text © MMXX by David Stewart

Story used here by very kind permission of the author

______________

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.

_______________

I hope you’re going to comment on this one – please use link at top of story

__________________

The Perils Of Piracy Parts 1 and 2 (F/M and M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot caning fiction by Rod Cayenne. All the characters are aged 18 or over.  This erotica is for ADULTS only!

Part One:

“Well lads, this is very serious.  Radio piracy is an offence under the Marine Broadcasting Offences Act, 1967.  You could all be going down for this!”

The three 21-year-olds surveyed their surroundings.  Their poky little studio with the twin turntables, and a pile of 45s.  The pegboard on the walls, with egg boxes to provide some acoustic insulation.  A valve amplifier and a rudimentary transmitter.

Sergeant Westlea and his two constables examined the pirate treasure with some disdain.  The Sergeant picked up a Deep Purple single and snapped it in half.

“Oops!  Well, that’s forever hushed!” laughed the Sergeant.  “Fortunately for you three, I am under strict instructions not to arrest you straight away.  If you know what’s good for you, you will accompany us to the police station where the Chief Superintendent wishes to interview you.   Why he is so interested in small fry like you, I have no idea.  The van’s outside, I suggest you all get in it before I change my mind and cuff the lot of you.”

Soon Bill, James and Hugh found themselves in the plush surroundings of the office of Chief Superintendent Walker.  All three were sat in front of his large oak desk.  He was reading the case file silently.  Now and then, he would look over his half-moon spectacles, gazing at the three miscreants.  He puffed on a large Churchillian cigar.

“Well, gentlemen.  It’s taken us three years to track you down.  You have led us a merry dance.  A dance to the music of time, you might say!  During this time, I have listened to your station a lot on my trusty Roberts.  I must say I have enjoyed a lot of your output.  Particularly that Cream bootleg you keep playing.”

To the three friends, this was the first sign of any relief from their predicament.

“I have studied the case file, and I must warn you that a judge might impose custodial sentences.  This is really a most, most grave offence in terms of the law.  However, here at the station, we tend to view this as a less serious offence.  I see from our research that you are all ex-pupils of St. Stephens…”

“Yes Sir!” said James, who was evidently the leader of the pirate gang.

“So am I,” laughed the Chief Superintendent.  “Not strangers to the cane then, lads?”

All three shook their heads.

“Mmmm.  Just as I suspected.  Now, listen to me!  As a prefect I used to cane naughty lads such as yourselves, back then.  It seems to me that an unofficial caning could be just what you lads need, instead of a spell in prison.  Something to wake your ideas up!  Well, lads?”

James spoke up, “If you’re suggesting we take a caning, I’m sure all three of us would be happy to accept that, Sir!”  The other two nodded enthusiastically.

James was thinking how much he hated the cane.  In the past, Bill hadn’t found the cane too bad if he felt he’d deserved it.  Hugh however, had a masochistic streak and loved being caned.  The Chief Superintendent was also very fond of the cane…

“Good.  Some common sense from you three at last.  I was thinking of six of the best.  Six strokes for each one of the years you evaded us.”

The lads gasped.  Eighteen strokes each!

“Don’t worry lads.  I was thinking of three sessions of six strokes each, say a week apart.  Just to drive the lesson home.  On the bare, of course.”

James spoke up again, “Of course.  Yes Sir, that seems very reasonable in the circumstances.”

“Now there is one problem.  My right arm is recovering from an injury sustained just recently.  I can’t cane you myself, although I feel I must witness your punishments.  Which leaves me with a couple of alternatives.  I could ask Sergeant Westlea…”

“We don’t like him, Sir.  He deliberately snapped one of our records!”

“Not the Cream bootleg, I hope!” exclaimed the Chief Superintendent.

“No, no it was a 45 of ‘Hush’ by Deep Purple,” said Bill.

“One of my favourites!” said the Chief, shaking his head.  “Well, I can’t trust the brute not to snap my cane then, can I?  It’s my last one.  Which brings me to the other alternative.  Mrs Walker!”

“Your wife, Sir?”

“Yes, my wife.  She’s an experienced caner.  Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, Sir.  Not really, but bare bottom Sir?” asked James.

“Good point, boy.  I’ll have to ask her how she feels about that.  She might want you to keep your underwear on.  In which case, perhaps more strokes might be appropriate.”

“Oh, Sir!” said James, the one who feared the cane the most.

“Well, Gents.  Maybe we’ll leave it at six each session.  I’m a reasonable man and Mrs Walker will see reason too.  It will hurt you, but it won’t kill you.  Have we got a deal?  Smith?”

James nodded, “Yes Sir, thank you.”

“Williams?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Prentice?”

“Yes, yes thank you.”

“Very good.  I want you all to call around to my house on Friday evening.  Well after ‘The Archers’.  Say eight o’clock.  Here’s the address.”

The three lads trooped out of the station with mixed feelings.  They passed Sergeant Westlea, who looked astonished to see them walking free without so much as a caution.

Back in the office, the Chief Superintendent leant back in his leather chair.  Yes, this would be a most gratifying spectacle.  Three naked, prime rumps being caned by his disciplinarian wife.  Something for the weekend!  In bed that night he shared his wicked plan with his wife.  She mounted him eagerly and came heavily as he described his plans in detail.

“Well Charles, you have really excelled yourself this time.  I’m almost tempted to cane you now as a reward!”

“Thank you darling, but don’t you think you’d be better off resting and waiting for the weekend?”

“Well no, my arm’s not the one that’s weak at the moment is it?  Be a dear and fetch the cane…”

Despite the hot lovemaking he had just enjoyed, Charles Walker was regretting mentioning his plan.  His wife switched on the bedside lamp and took the cane from him.

“Eighteen strokes, I think!  Seems appropriate.  Unless you’d prefer twenty-one?”

“Oh, Lynn, surely that’s too many?”

“Well, let me have a look at your bottom.  Hmmmm.  No signs of recent caning or trauma.  Arse is looking meatier than ever.  Too many trips to the canteen at work, I’d say.  Eighteen!”

Charles placed a couple of pillows in the middle of the bed, and bent submissively over them.  His wife could hardly contain her delight.  How she loved caning this all-powerful copper!

CRACK! The first hard stroke from the whippy cane lashed down on the chunky, hairy cheeks.

CRACK! The second stroke was just as hard.

CRACK!  She wasn’t playing as a third fiery stroke hit him just above the crease.

CRACK!  Indeed, this was no love caning.  This was punishment!

CRACK!  The whippy, crook-handled cane bit into his bottom again.

CRAAACK!  A harder stroke caused him to gasp.

CRACK!  A satisfying sharp stroke.

CRACK!

“AAARGH!”  Charles could no longer contain his pain.

CRAACK!  His sadistic wife chuckled as the cane lashed down again.

CRACK! CRACK!  She was truly in her stride now.

“OWWWWW!”

He felt his cock springing to life again.  What magic the cane worked!

CRAAAACK!  The cane broke clean in half!

“SHIT!” they both cried.

“What are we going to do now?  We’ve got your boys coming on Friday and nothing to cane them with,” Lynn sighed.

“I know, I know.  It’s so hard to find a decent cane these days.  Those canes from school were top quality.  I’ll have to get the lads at work to find me a supplier.”

“Well, you don’t have long, Charles.  Don’t fail me or it will be very bad news for you!  How about Soho?  Or a whorehouse?”

“No, I don’t think so, love,” he got up from his submissive position, semi-erect, “the school might be a better bet.  They still use the cane at St Stephens…”

Part two:

“Where the hell have you been?” asked Chief Superintendent Walker.

Sergeant Westlea threw two whippy, crook-handled canes down onto the Chief’s oak desk.

“I’ve been at your old school.  I had a devil of a job persuading the headmaster to part with these canes, although he had at least two dozen in stock.”

“Why was he so reluctant to give you them?  I’d have expected him to have responded favourably to our unofficial law and order campaign.”

“Well, it was my fault in a way.  I let slip that there was no caning at my secondary school. So then he said he was only happy to hand over the canes to someone who knew what the cane was like…”

“Carry on, Sergeant.”

“Well, it was difficult Sir.  I didn’t want to disappoint you by returning empty-handed.  So I suggested he gave me a few strokes there and then.”

“You did what?”

“I took six of the best, Sir.  So that you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“I do Sir!  My arse is throbbing like mad.”

“He caned a uniformed officer?”

“Not exactly uniformed, Sir!  I had it bare bottom!”

“Well, it’s the only way…”

“Yes, that’s what he said too, Sir.  Must be a Saint Stephens thing.”

“Quite so, quite so.”

“I’m really sore!”

“Of course you are!  Still, it’s no more than you deserve.  I’ve been disappointed in your behaviour lately, Westlea.  Snapping that record at the pirate station was the last straw!”

“But Sir, those hippy lads have broken the law.  They ought to be banged up and have all their equipment and records confiscated.”

“No, no.  You’re wrong on two counts there, Westlea.  I am the law around here, and I have decided that the offence was not too serious.  The lads will be caned instead, but not here.  You will replace the record you destroyed, is that clear?”

“But Sir, it’s not fair!”

“The law never is fair, Westlea.  You have a lot to learn.  I’ll be taking you under my wing, so that I can keep an eye on you.  Now about these canes…”

“Yes, Sir?”

“One will remain here at the station.  For unofficial punishments and to keep delinquent constables and sergeants in line.  The other will go to my house, as that’s where those boys will be thrashed.   Now, we seem to have a junior and a senior cane here.  Which was used on you?”

“I’m not sure, Sir.”

“Only one way to find out then.  Show me the marks!”

“Sir?”

“Bare your bottom for me, Westlea.  Hurry up, unless you want another dose?”

The Sergeant undid his thick black leather belt, and let his trousers fall to the ground.  His white Jockeys followed.

“Wow!  Those look bad, Westlea!”

“They certainly hurt badly, Sir!”

“I’m not sure that they were done with either of these canes.”

“Well, I couldn’t really see, Sir.  I was bent over his caning stool, at the time.  Do you think I should have him for assault or GBH?”

“No, that wouldn’t be advisable.  Just think what the press could make of it.”

“Yes, you’re right of course, Sir.”

“Yes I am.  Now keep still a moment.  I need to check those ridges.”

And so it was that Sergeant Westlea had his naked bottom felt all over by Charles the Chief Superintendent.

“Oh, Sir!”

“Shut up, Westlea.  You’ll live.  Now, pull your trousers up.  Tomorrow you will go to the record shop and order a replacement copy of that record.  Here are the details.  No messing about now.  You will give the record to me.  Don’t let me down or it’ll be the cane for you!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Their relationship had changed forever.

________________)

(________________

“Where the hell have you been?” Lynn demanded as Charles came through the front door, cane in hand.

“Getting this cane, of course!”

“Those boys will be here in less than an hour.  I’ve hardly got time to fit your caning in first!”

“Eh?”

“We are going to redo your eighteen strokes before the boys get here.  After all, I need some practice with this new cane.  Into the front room, now!”

Charles was glad he’d chosen the junior cane to bring home.  It would sting like the blazes, but neither he nor the radio pirates would be badly bruised.  However, the police staff back at the station might benefit from the biting caress of the senior cane!

In the front room, Lynn had arranged the room around a chair for her victims to bend over.  She pointed at the chair with her cane and Charles meekly climbed onto it, lowering his uniform trousers and pants ready for a serious thrashing.  Once again, his meaty, hairy cheeks were offered submissively to his wife.

SWISH-CRACK!  It hurt, it really hurt!

SWISH-CRACK!  It was a damn fine cane.

SWISH-CRACK!  She smiled.

SWISH-CRACK!  He grimaced.

SWISH-CRACK!  It stung like only a cane could.

SWISH-CRACK!  She was loving every minute.

“Let’s stop for a minute, Charles.  Tell me a little bit more about these boys.”

“Well, they’re all 21-year-olds.  One of them’s a bit tubby, but should be a nice target for your cane.  I want to watch, of course.”

“Do I know any of them, or their parents?”

“No, I don’t think so.  They all arrived as the town and school expanded.  All from down the road in London, I think.  All ex-GLC pupils.  All no strangers to the cane, at least when they were at St. Stephens.”

“This is only a junior cane, though Charles.  I was hoping for something a bit firmer.”

“Yes, sorry, Westlea let me down a bit.  I’ll have to visit the school again myself.  And not just for old times sake.”

“Bend it a bit more Charles.  These will be extra hard ones.”

SWISH-CRACK!  She wasn’t joking!

SWISH-CRACK!  That cane could pack quite a punch, even for a junior.

SWISH-CRACK!  “Aaargh!”  Suddenly Charles had found his voice.

SWISH-CRACK!  “Owww!”

SWISH-CRACK!  “Shut up, Charles.  Unless you want extras?”

SWISH-CRACK!  He was silent, but his bottom was stinging terribly.

She left for the kitchen.  She poured herself a glass of milk.  This was thirsty work!  Charles remained bent over submissively, allowing his hands to comfort his bottom briefly while Lynn was out of the room.

“Get those hands off there!” she ordered as she arrived back in the room.  She placed the tumbler of milk on the sideboard.

“Six left!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!  “AAAARGH!”

SWISH-CRACK!  “OWWW!”

“That was fun!” she announced.  “I wish those lads would hurry up.  You’d better get up and pull your trousers back on.  You are keeping your uniform on for the main event, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, darling.  I am the semi-official witness.”

“And a very naughty boy, too!” she added, pointing the stick at him.  “You might be getting some more later.  I’m really in the mood this evening!”

Charles rubbed his bottom nervously.  His wife was so sexy when she was like this.  His first erection of the evening was straining in his trousers.

_________________)

Story © MMXII 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 businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

(___________

___________)

Comments welcome, please use the link at the top of the first part of the story…

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.

______________)

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

______________

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.”

______________

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

Blue Light Brigade (M/F, F/M) repeat

Erotic entertainment by Rod Cayenne, not to be confused with earlier story “Blue Rinse Brigade”

They were just off duty, though still in uniform. In the secluded part of the pub garden, they were enjoying a drink together, watching the boaters on the river. “This is good stuff, Sarge!” said WPC Rose Hill as she puffed on the spliff.

“Yes, young Rosie, it certainly is the finest in the city. There’s a dealer in my block,” Sergeant Jon Radcliffe replied. “Of course, I should really bust him, but he’s a mate, really. A really nice guy. He sees that I am looked after.”

“With dope I suppose?”

“Yes,” said the sergeant, “And a pound or two of flesh.” It was his turn to have a draw on the dope.

“Flesh? You mean like a hooker?”

“Not exactly, Rosie. I like a bit of bottom spanking, and he provides me with a willing victim now and then.” Obviously the dope had loosened the sergeant’s tongue and inhibitions.

“Oh, I had no idea. You shouldn’t really be telling me all this, should you? Although a lot of us cops are into S&M.”

“Yes, indeed. Most of us, I’d say. You definitely are, Rosie!”

“Sarge?”

“I’ve seen the log of your internet usage. Clearing the cache isn’t enough, you know. You really shouldn’t be looking at that sort of thing. Especially at work. I’ve seen it all on your log – spanking, caning, paddling, bare bottoms and cheeks galore.”

“Oh, Sarge!”

“Yes, Rosie! Sarge here knows all about it.”

“But Sarge, it was research!”

“Research, my arse!”

“Oh, Sarge!”

“Yes, you’ve been a very naughty and very stupid lass, haven’t you Rosie?”

“Yes, I suppose I have.”

“Yes, there’s no supposing about it at all. Now, I can be forgiving. How about you come back to my flat so that we can conduct some in-depth research together?”

“Have I got much choice?”

“No, not really,” he said puffing on the oversize spliff, “I think you know that you really do need to come back with me.”

“But what about my mum?”

“Well, you can’t bring her as well!” cackled the sergeant, as swirls of smoke engulfed the pair of them.

“No, I didn’t mean that, silly! I meant, what am I going to tell her?”

“Just tell her you’re on a hot date with your boss. It’s the truth, after all. Tell her not to wait up.” He winked at Rose as she picked up her mobile.

Strangely, she repeated his words verbatim to her mother. Now it was Rose’s turn to wink at him.

They walked hand in hand back to his flat. She trusted him implicitly, although she was sure she was going to get a very sore bottom very soon. Yes, she was sure about that alright. She was almost looking forward to it!

Back at the flat, the coffee was freshly ground and almost intoxicating. There was no messing about with Sergeant Jon. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted her bottom, and he had carefully engineered the whole evening around his kink. Already her trousers were at half mast.

“Knickers down, Rose.”

She started to protest, but he reminded her that she had been viewing bared bottoms in police time. She felt that she had to oblige and so she slipped down the delicate white lace panties.

“Oh yes! Very nice indeed. What a delightful bottom you have, young Rose.”

Her hands covered her front, but her bottom was exposed. The pretense was over. She knew what she had to do. She draped herself over his lap. Beneath her, his cock began to stir. He raised his right hand and slapped it down on her bare bottom. Not too hard, but not terribly gently either. She gasped audibly, and then his hand slapped down again and again.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

They were both enjoying it. She wriggled like a minx on his lap, while his sadistic urges were making him stiffer by the second. His hand smacked down again and again on her beautiful bottom, which was turning redder and redder. It was most satisfying, and he continued for a while longer. Then suddenly he pushed her off his lap, saying, “I think perhaps sterner measures are called for!”

He headed into his bedroom, and came back with a black leather studded strap.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “It looks fierce but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

He showed her it. Across the front the word POLICE had been embossed.

“That’s never official issue, Jon!” she exclaimed.

“No, it’s not. I just had that added as a customisation. I was thinking of having E II R stamped on it as well. Some of my spankees really like the thought that it’s a police punishment strap.”

“That’s a laugh, isn’t it?” she smiled. “They must be pretty naive.”

“Yes, indeed. Almost as naive as you have been with your less than secret surfing habits. Over my lap again!”

He gave her about thirty stinging strokes with the leather. It was a warm, caressing pain that she felt as it hit home relentlessly. There was a delightful crack each time it landed. By the end she was quite sore, but also quite turned on.

“Take my trousers off!” he ordered. Slowly, she unbuckled his thick leather belt, and gently unzipped him. His genuine police-issue trousers fell to the ground.

“Now get my pants off!” he commanded. She edged them down, revealing his proud erection.

“You can give that a bloody good suck in a minute, but first there’s something else I need from the bedroom.”

He returned with a crook-handled rattan school cane. He whipped it through the air, with a broad grin on his face.

Rose was stood in front of him, gently rubbing her soundly spanked bottom. She couldn’t manage a grin at all. In fact, she looked quite crushed and crestfallen.

“Oh Jon, I don’t think I can take any more, my bottom’s really sore now! Not the cane. Please.”

“Now who’s being silly?” he asked, “This is for my bottom. The cane is for men. Real men and naughty boys like me! Are you going to cane me then, Rose?”

“Oh yes! Thank God. Yes please!”

“Good lass. Thank you. I deserve it. I’ve been a very naughty boy. I’ll just bend over the dining table for you. Don’t hold back now, I can take a lot!”

SWISH-CRACK! The first stroke landed with venom, and how Rose smiled as the red stripe appeared on his hairy, naked bottom. She was going to enjoy this!  It was revenge for her own still smarting, chastised bottom.

SWISH-CRACK! The second stroke was harder, for little did the sergeant know, Rose was an experienced caner. She had enjoyed an outrageous affair with a female flatmate who had introduced her to the delights of the rattan rod. Right then, she didn’t want to disabuse the sergeant of his notion that the cane was for males only.

SWISH-CRACK! She was going for gold alright!

SWISH-CRACK! She desperately wanted to hurt and punish him.

SWISH-CRACK! This was such a turn-on for her.

SWISH-CRACK! Six strokes had been delivered but she sensed that he wanted more, and could take them.

SWISH-CRACK! His bottom seemed almost defiant as the marks of the cane seemed to fade fast, as if by magic.

In the end, he did take a lot. 24 strokes on his bared bottom. Rose didn’t hold back at all. She relished every whippy stroke that she inflicted. His meaty, male arse was made for the cane. She’d caned him hard. Harder than she’d intended. Towards the end of his beating, the marks left by the cane strokes had become more prominent and persistent. She took the opportunity to feel the damage. And afterwards, she did suck his stiff cock as though her life depended on it. They ended up in bed, and were married a year later. At least half the station attended the reception at the Police Club.

________________)

Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne

Comments welcome

* IMPORTANT – DISCLAIMER *

This is a work of fiction.  The author does not participate in substance abuse or condone it.

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

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