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!”
“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.”
“Yes, Rosie! Sarge here knows all about it.”
“But Sarge, it was research!”
“Research, my arse!”
“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.
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
* 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.
♥ 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.”
“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.
Erotica by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012.
The two ladies were enjoying a pot of Darjeeling tea together. Only the finest china was appropriate for such an occasion. They sat at the kitchen table sharing chocolate biscuits and tittle-tattle.
“Look at this!” said Brenda producing a laptop. “It’s a computer! I’m on the internet now!” She booted the machine up and was soon showing her friend Audrey family snaps and websites on knitting and ballroom dancing. “It was a present from my nephew Tony, he’s a such a good boy. He’s got a top job in computing.”
“It’s impressive, Brenda,” said Audrey admiring the silver machine. “But aren’t there a lot of dangers with these things, people stealing your identity, stalkers and pornography?”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Audrey. There is a lot of pornography, yes, but let’s be honest, everyone likes to look don’t they?”
Audrey spat out her tea in disbelief, “Brenda, I can’t believe you just said that! Bless my soul!”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, you old fraud! Look at these for example.”
There were pictures of handsome men with proud erections, gorgeous bottoms and muscled physiques.
“Oooh! Well yes, bless me, I can see the attraction, I suppose. Couldn’t we be arrested for looking at this?”
“By a hunky young copper, I suppose? No, don’t be ridiculous, everyone looks at this sort of thing these days.”
“They do? My, my, what a sheltered life I’ve lived!”
“I’m looking for a toy boy online. After all, there’s more to life than tea and knitting.”
“Yes, one I can mother, pamper and spoil. And spank his bottom when he’s bad. A man in his 30s I should think.”
“I especially fancy the idea of the bottom smacking, actually. It seems a lot of younger men are looking for a strict maiden aunt figure.”
“Gosh Brenda, I’m seeing you in a new light.”
“Yes I feel quite liberated!”
“Well don’t go burning your bra just yet!”
“No I’ll do that when I’ve found my naughty boy online.”
“I used to use the cane at school, you know…”
“Well, no I didn’t know. Come on then, tell me more.”
“Well perhaps it would be best if I brought my canes around. I kept a few as souvenirs when abolition came along. Now you mention it, I’d quite like a toyboy to thrash as well.”
“Well, when I said you were a fraud I hadn’t expected such a rapid confession.”
“Must be the cane. It always seems to get to the bottom of things!”
“Yes, don’t remind me. I used to be on the receiving end.”
“Why am I not surprised? You have always been a naughty girl, Brenda. I’ll go and fetch the canes, then we can talk about luring us some toyboy action.”
A few months later, Brenda is thrashing her thirty-something boyfriend with a harsh, thick leather strap.
“Twenty! That’s it for now. Now lick my boots! That’s it. Nice aren’t they?”
“Oh yes, I love them!”
“Of course you do! Now lick me out!”
“That’s it! Good boy!”
“Now, how about a surprise?” Brenda asked, staring at the clock.
“Mmm, yes please!”
“How about an appointment with the headmistress and her cane?”
“Ooh yes, beat me with the cane!”
“Well, that’s the surprise! I’m not the headmistress. My friend Audrey is! It’s just coming up to 12 – she’ll be here in a minute. Go downstairs and wait by the front door. Don’t bother to get dressed. She only canes bare bottoms!”
Soon Audrey drew up the drive in her old Beetle. She was dressed in a tweed suit, but with shiny white Mary Quant-style boots. She looked a good ten years younger than usual, the blue rinse gone and her hair dyed blonde and swept up in a bun. She walked over to the passenger side, opened the door and retrieved a long bag.
“Ah, you must be Wayne,” she said as he timidly opened the front door, hiding his nudity behind it. “Gosh, what a red bottom you have. It’ll be black and blue by the time I’ve finished with it!”
“Audrey. How nice of you to drop in. I’m afraid young Wayne here says he deserves an appointment with the cane. Can you oblige by some chance?”
“Oh, I suppose so. It’s dreadfully inconvenient though. I should be out walking the dog. He’ll have to convince me that he’s fully deserving of my attention.”
“That won’t be necessary Audrey. I can give you a full report. Wayne is a wanker. He plays with himself incessantly. He has a boot fetish and licks my boots when I am not around. He also has a crafty cigarette despite my clear decision that he should give up.”
“I see, he sounds thoroughly disobedient. Wayne, take this bag upstairs and empty the contents on to your bed! Hurry up lad!”
“Gosh this is fun Audrey! How long since you caned in anger?”
“Not that long actually, my dear. I had a neighbour who liked a touch now and then.”
“Oh Aud! You really are a dark horse, aren’t you? Anyway, there’s a naughty boy waiting upstairs. Can I watch?”
“Of course, darling!”
“Good. Thank you. I do so like to watch!”
Upstairs young Wayne emptied the bag as instructed. He could only gulp as half a dozen canes and a solitary riding crop dropped onto the floral quilt.
“Well Wayne! What do you think to those? Have you had the cane before?”
“Let’s make up for lost time then. I will give you thirteen strokes. Brenda will watch. Bend over the bed.”
Wayne was wondering if there was any significance to the number thirteen when suddenly the first stroke of the cane whipped down. He couldn’t believe how much it hurt! He wanted to swear out loud but before he could, a second stroke lashed down. Brenda clapped her hands with joy.
“Oh yes! This is great!” exclaimed Audrey as she cracked a harsh third stroke down on Wayne’s peachy naked cheeks. “I’ll have to borrow him from you Brenda!”
WHACK! A fourth one landed on Wayne’s red bottom. The two ladies laughed simultaneously. Wayne didn’t feel like laughing. Instead he grimaced and offered his bottom up for another stroke.
WHAACK! He didn’t have long to wait for the fifth. The burn was intense and all-consuming.
“Do it harder, Audrey, he can take it!”
WHAAAACK! Brenda was right. He could take it alright. He offered himself up for more and more.
Wayne was a tough fellow who could take a lot of whipping. Audrey changed canes.
“Last four now Wayne. Take them like a man, not a wanker!”
“Well, you were a bit noisy there Wayne, but I’ll forgive you just this once. What do you say – shall I give Brenda thirteen strokes as well?”
Story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Comments from the original 2012 post are here
Who’s at home masturbating? Who’s at home looking at porn? Who’s hoping to get caught? Will your underwear be pulled down roughly, so that a thrashing may be applied? Cane, slipper or strap? You know very well that there’s something you should be doing. The garden. Some decorating. Giving the dog another walk. Your college work. But the lure of the filth on the net is too strong. You are playing a dangerous game. It’ll end in tears. Naughty, naughty! Ouch!
Text © Rod Cayenne, 2012
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot caning fiction by Rod Cayenne, originally in two parts but published as a complete story for the first time. Erotica for over 18s only!
“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.”
“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.
“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.
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…”
“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…”
“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!”
“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.
“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!”
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!”
“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! “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.
“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.
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2011. Adults only! This is the final part of the story, for now at least!
Roxy, the girl from the fetish sex shop, had enjoyed watching PC Tim caning his friend Charles.
She was turned on, in short. Looking around the room, she had seen the “Bum Chum” leather strap. She insisted on using it on both Tim and Charles.
Charles had felt it before of course, courtesy of his policeman friend. But Tim hadn’t been thrashed for a long time and frankly found the strapping very hard to take. With each blow, Roxy’s glee was apparent. She shouted at Tim that he was a wimp and a girl, as the “Bum Chum” leather strap thrashed down.
Afterwards the three of them were lying naked in Tim’s double bed. Tim and Charles had been telling Roxy about how the thrashing of Ben for speeding had led to all sorts of sexy and disciplinary games, especially with Superintendent Sara Llewelyn.
“I can’t believe I have fallen in with such a bunch of perverts,” she laughed.
“That’s good coming from a sex worker!” PC Johnson replied jokingly.
“I’d like to meet Sara,” said Roxy, thoughtfully. “Do you think she’d take the cane from me?”
“Unlikely, I’d say,” said PC Johnson. “She’s pretty dom. Like so many of my colleagues! What do you think, Charles?”
“Hard to say. She’s full of surprises. I think she and Ben have become quite close. I think you should ask her Tim. If it’s a yes, I’d like to be in the audience!”
“Mmmmm, me too. I must say, I’d like to see her taken down a peg or two. Or a stripe or two. I’ll ask her tonight. Oh yes, I’d certainly like to watch as well…”
“Well if you can arrange it, of course you two pervs can watch. No wanking though!”
And so it was that Roxy and Sara got to meet. Sara had been intrigued when Tim told her about Roxy’s wish. Sara had drawn the line at having an audience though. Especially when one of them was from the junior ranks. At least the two guys could have a wank together…
Roxy gazed into Sara’s eyes.
“So Sara, I hear you have been getting your kicks from caning Ben and Charles. Abusing your position of trust and duty of care. Screwing around as well. Well, I am here to correct your behaviour. You will remove your uniform now!”
Soon Sara was stripped to her bra and panties.
She was unaccustomed to being ordered around, but it felt good to abandon control.
“Bend over!” Roxy ordered. Sara did as she was told only to find Roxy’s hands immediately groping her bottom. Roxy rubbed the cheeks gently for a while, then vigorously, and then delivered a resounding SLAP!
“What a naughty girl you’ve been Sara. I do believe you have been trifling with my friend Tim. That’s PC Johnson to you, of course! And then you have been hanging around with that creepy Charles! And beating his stepson! I think we’ll start with twelve of the best, don’t you?”
“Yes, Roxy. I deserve it”.
“Yes, you certainly do.”
Roxy picked up the cane. It was a beauty. With a beastly bite. She swished it around. The sound was thrilling. She put the cane down and started to strip off her own clothes until she too was just in bra and panties.
“Exceptionally bad behaviour, I’d say. Twelve very hard strokes. On a naked bottom. Get those knickers down for me!”
Once again, Roxy’s wandering hands massaged the bottom on offer to her. Her fingers strayed towards Sara’s arsehole.
“I hear your fingers have been inserted into Ben’s rectum. I think that may require additional punishment from my cane.”
“Yes, Roxy. I shouldn’t have done it, of course.”
“Of course you shouldn’t have! Don’t you think the poor boy was humiliated enough by having his arse thrashed by three different adults?”
“He’s hardly a boy. He’s 23 and all man!”
“And what do you mean by that, Sara?”
“I’ll give you nothing!”
And with that the cane swept down with a SWISH CRACK!
Sara had never been on the receiving end before. It was hell!
Roxy was enjoying this. Sara was not. She couldn’t understand how some people were turned on by being caned. She felt sick.
The caning was relentless. Her arse throbbed and throbbed. The sting was unbearable.
“Arrrgh. No more!”
“Shut up you cruel bitch!” Roxy admonished with a certain hypocrisy.
“Aaaarrrggh. PLEASE! No more!”
SWISH CRACK! SWISH CRACK!
Sara was sobbing and howling. She’d had no idea how much the cane could hurt. She felt guilty about the way she had abused Ben.
“I’m so sorry Roxy. I’ll never lay another finger on Ben.”
“And what about Charles and Tim? They are not your playthings any more either. Do I make myself clear?”
“And this anal fingering business is just disgusting. Whatever were you thinking of?”
“Oh that’s nothing. I think guys enjoy that sort of thing”.
“Well, let’s see if you enjoy that sort of thing, shall we?”
With that, Roxy wiped her finger on Sara’s moist cunt. Roxy then shoved her finger up Sara’s arsehole. Sara was suspiciously quiet. It felt good. It felt even better as Roxy moved her finger around and around and in and out!
“Six more with the cane!” Roxy announced suddenly. Somehow that would feel less good…
Story © Rod Cayenne, 2011
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2011. Adults only!
“What’s the matter, not expecting me?”
“Er no, not really. My stepdad’s not here”.
“Oh well, never mind. You going to let me in then, sonny?”
“Oh yes, of course, come right in”.
“So, Ben have you been behaving yourself?”
“Make yourself comfortable, Superintendent. I’ve certainly been trying to behave better. You know, those canings certainly made me focus. All the same, I don’t think that it’s fair that I endured those three thrashings when Wayne and Barry got off with fines and driving bans.”
“Life’s not fair, Ben. In the police you see all sorts of horrifying and unfair things. I’m not here to discuss your friends. But for what it’s worth, we are keeping a good eye on them and if they step out of line again they will get a nasty, nasty shock! All the same, you do seem to have a bit of a chip on your shoulder about it.”
“So would you, if you’d had 90 strokes of the cane!”
“See what I mean! You need to lose that grudge and that attitude, don’t you Ben? Fetch both of the canes!”
“Oh no!” Ben’s face flushed and he was on the verge of tears, “I didn’t mean it!”
“Oh yes you did! Now listen to me, Ben. You are a handsome young man. Foolish but handsome. I’m going to give you a caning as a reminder and if you take it well, then I suggest we go and celebrate in your bed. How does that sound?”
“Errrr sounds great, thank you, thank you! I’ll go and get the canes, thanks!”
He rushed upstairs and got the canes from the cupboard. The Superintendent was hot stuff but even he couldn’t believe he was so keen. This could make all the suffering worthwhile!
“Good boy. You can call me Sara. Now get all those clothes off. Except for your left sock.”
What’s with the sock thing again? Ben was puzzled. He wasn’t going to spoil things by asking though!
“OK Ben. Looking good. Nice and stiff, I see.”
She grabbed the stiff cock and pumped it a few times.
“Actually Ben, I’ve changed my mind. I think we’ll stick to Superintendent while the cane is in action,” her voice hardened as she flexed the canes. “Is that clear?”
“Er yes, Superintendent!”
“OK then Ben. Just a gentle reminder. Just twelve with this junior cane, I think,” she smiled sweetly.
Ben sighed with relief but it was short-lived as she then laughed and said, “And twelve with the senior to finish off!”
Ben wondered if she was some sort of psycho and whether entertaining her more than absolutely necessary was wise. The die was cast however, and all he could do was bend over the arm of the sofa. He thrust his arse upwards ready for the first stroke, not sure whether he was dreading or craving it.
The cane struck his bare cheeks. He squealed. He’d forgotten how much the cane stung.
She was hitting hard. Her panties were getting moist and she was looking forward to a romp in bed with Ben. She had come to admire his body. She had come to beat the hell out of it.
Meanwhile a little further down the road Ben’s stepfather Charles was lying in bed with PC Tim Johnson. Tim was wearing only a black police vest. Charles was as naked as the day he was born.
“Ah, that’ll be Roxy!”
“Who the fuck is Roxy?” asked Charles, somewhat alarmed.
“The girl with the sexy arse from the fetish shop. I gave her a key. She’s delivering a couple of canes. For your bottom! I promised her she could watch.”
Story and photo © Rod Cayenne, 2011
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Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from the happy days of 2011. All of the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
A fortnight had passed since 23-year-old Ben’s thrashing by PC Tim Johnson. Ben was staring out of the window, awaiting the return of his tormentor. He scratched his arse idly. The thrashing had been hell. It had been the worst thing he had ever experienced. More than that, though, it had been thoroughly exciting. Now he faced the second half of his punishment. His stepfather, Charles, had been teasing him mercilessly for the last couple of days.
Ben’s humiliation would be worse this time, as the audience would be larger. PC Johnson would be bringing the Superintendent with him. The Superintendent had agreed to the waiving of all charges if Ben agreed to the 60 strokes of the cane. A police patrol car pulled up outside the house. Ben felt sure some of the neighbours might be in on the secret. But then, he always was a little paranoid. His heart sunk further as PC Johnson and a leggy female police officer got out of the car. Only then did the awful truth dawn on him. The female was the Superintendent!
“Let them in boy,” Charles said to his stepson.
Introductions were made and Superintendent Llewelyn could hardly hide her glee about what she was about to see. She quickly took command of the situation. “Ben I am here because I have agreed to you escaping proceedings if you take 60 strokes of the cane on your naked buttocks. Fetch the cane now and don’t keep me waiting!”
“Bring both the canes, son” stepfather Charles added. “They are hanging in my wardrobe. Hurry up unless you want extras!”
Ben ran up the stairs. He could hear laughter from downstairs. Nervously, he opened the wardrobe and found the canes waiting for him. He quickly took them downstairs as he certainly didn’t want extras. He was keen to get the remaining 30 strokes over and done with.
The Superintendent spoke, “Ben, you will take 30 strokes today, and 30 more in a fortnight.”
“But I’ve already had 30 strokes. Two weeks ago!”
“Well, that maybe so but I didn’t see them did I? I have to witness all 60 strokes. Think yourself lucky you are getting off so lightly. If you’ve really had some strokes before, you can regard them as a warm-up.” Tim and Charles chuckled out loud.
“SHUT UP! Unless you want to go down to the station, perhaps?”
“No, it’s OK.”
“Good. That’s better. I like an obedient boy!”
Tim held the door open as Charles brought in one of the tall stools from the breakfast bar. The Superintendent was playing with the canes, swishing and flexing them. Ben was almost crying. His sentence had been increased by 30 strokes and now he was worried that he would be caned by the the female.
“Over the stool” she commanded. She unbelted his jeans and pulled them right down. Roughly she yanked his briefs down too. All was revealed to her. The naked arse and a semi-erect cock. She gently rubbed the naked cheeks, then a rapid SMACK – SMACK – SMACK as she spanked them unexpectedly. Ben’s shame was complete, and his penis stiffened further.
“PC Johnson will do the honours. Tim, I want all 30 strokes to be with this junior cane. It won’t mark as much as the senior, which is to be regretted, but the sting should be much worse.” She smiled sadistically. “I want all 30 strokes delivered quickly without a break. The pain should build up nicely for young Ben here. Ben, I want no nonsense from you. You are to hang onto the bottom rung of the stool. Is that clear?”
“Yes Superintendent,” Ben said submissively.
One – Two – Three. Ben was already yelping.
Four – Five – Six. He was grunting and sighing. He was bucking and kicking, too.
“Ben – that’s enough of that behaviour! You will be still under the cane or else. I am thinking extras already,” she laughed.
“No, I’m sorry I will behave,” Ben assured her.
Seven – Eight – Nine – Ten – Eleven – Twelve – “AAARRRGGGHHH” shouted Ben.
“Last warning Ben! Are you sure you’ve had the cane before? You are acting like a little child. Carry on Tim, make them hard ones.”
PC Johnston resumed the caning with renewed gusto. He had a big grin as he slashed the cane down on the naked bottom before him. Thirteen. Charles was also looking happy and lusting after both Superintendent Llewelyn and Tim. How horny they looked in their black uniforms. Fourteen – Fifteen – Sixteen – Seventeen – Eighteen – Nineteen – Twenty.
“Last ten now Ben. I am really enjoying this. Make them extra hard Tim!”
Ben couldn’t believe she was asking for the strokes to be even harder. What a bitch, he thought.
21 – 22 – 23. Ben was gasping now. She was right, the junior cane stung much more intensely. 24 – 25 – 26. “OWWWWW!”
27 and 28 were the hardest yet and 29 and 30 were sliced into him as cross strokes. He was crying heavily.
“Very good, Ben. Bit of a tough nut aren’t you?” she said winking at Tim and Charles. “More of the same in a fortnight then. I will then decide if you’ve had sufficient punishment to waive all the charges. Now let us have a good look at that bottom of yours. Ah. A bit of a mess isn’t it?”
Ben was crying but still bent over the stool. His agony was being prolonged. Another 30 strokes and then she might think he needs some more! This was terrible.
Ben was further humiliated as Superintendent Llewelyn thrust her middle finger right up his arsehole. A minute or so later, stepfather Charles couldn’t resist doing the same. Tim was a little more reserved but indulged in a good feel of the hot fleshy buttocks that he had enjoyed thrashing minutes before.
Content © Rod Cayenne, 2011