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Hot fiction by Rod Cayenne
I was eighteen at the time. I’d dropped out of school and straight into some warehouse work, which I really enjoyed. I was still living with my parents, as I was saving up with a view to renting a place with a friend. They were away on holiday, so I had promised to look after the place and keep the garden tidy. In fact, I was in the conservatory looking at the long grass as I played idly with my stiff penis that morning. I pulled my foreskin back and teased the glans with my fingertips.
I hadn’t expected to be scared shitless by a family friend, but that’s exactly what happened. My parents had asked Mr Atkinson to keep an eye on me while they were away. He had been a teacher at my school, but I was never in his class. My main contact with him had been at the after school Chess Club that he ran. I was a fair to middling player, but with his avuncular encouragement, I’d improved my game considerably. He had a bit of a reputation for strictness, but for being firm but fair. A few of my contemporaries had been slippered by him. Apparently, an appointment with his punishment plimsoll was not easily forgotten.
Anyway, that day he must have slipped into the garden, and catching me at it, he had banged on the glass of the conservatory. I nearly leapt out of my skin! I hurriedly shoved my stiff member back into my pants and went to let him in.
“Just what do you think you are doing, Justin?” he asked. Well, it was obvious what I’d been doing. I’d been masturbating. I thought in those days, the ’80s, that everyone accepted that it was a normal and healthy thing to be doing. Not Mr Atkinson, though! He was really pissed off with me. I’d never heard him shout so much, and he was shaking with rage.
“You dirty, dirty boy. If I’d caught you doing that at school, you’d have tasted my slipper or the head’s cane! Shouldn’t you be mowing the grass anyway?”
I nodded with embarrassment. How I wished my parents hadn’t encouraged him to pop around to make sure all was well. My parents! Suddenly, it dawned on me that he might tell them. I had to beg him not to.
“Yes, Rob and Dawn wouldn’t be best pleased would they? Such depravity! If you really can’t control your urges Justin, you should do it in private behind a locked door. Surely your father must have warned you about this sort of thing?”
“Actually, no. He was too embarrassed to ever talk to me about it.”
“That no excuse but it explains a lot. And I suppose he never smacked you?”
“No, not really. Neither did you, Sir.” It seemed like a good moment to use his old title.
“No indeed, but I rather wish I had done now. Would have sorted you out. Just what you needed.”
Rather foolishly, I nodded, adding, “It’s not too late.”
He looked at me strangely. For I had spoken an unspoken truth. At eighteen, I was very much still the schoolboy to his teacher figure. He shook his head. Then after a short silence, he shook it again. “Come with me!” he demanded.
I locked up, placing the keys in a pocket of my Wranglers and I followed him up the footpath, rather like an obedient dog. He lived up the far end of our road. On his own.
“In!” he ordered as we reached the threshold. His place was vaguely familiar, for it had a similar floor plan and feel to our family home.
“Sit down a minute,” he said, as he disappeared upstairs. I sat down on the grubby orange dralon sofa. I was sweating profusely, worried sick. He soon came downstairs, carrying a dirty white plimsoll and a crook-handled cane.
“Oh, not a smacking then?” I asked naively.
“I hardly think so, Justin. Your have earnt something a little harsher, I feel. Don’t you?”
“Well, couldn’t you just smack me on the bare? There’s no need for those barbaric things.”
“Don’t worry, Justin. Your punishment will be on your bare bottom. But I think a hard thrashing with this cane is what is warranted. The slipper’s not going to teach you to keep your penis in your jeans, is it?” he said, throwing the plimsoll down on the deep pile carpet.
“Oh, Mr Atkinson!”
“Jeans and underwear down please. Bend over this pouffe.”
Submissively I did as I was told. My arse seemed like it was on offer, raised provocatively on the brown leatherette. I felt quite exposed and almost giddy with fear, or was it excitement? At that particular moment I felt as if I was fulfilling some destiny. It was as if my arse had always been meant to be chastised by him.
With an almighty crack the first stroke landed. I’d never felt pain like it, and immediately cried out. He laughed at me, which made me feel about one foot tall.
“Just what you need, Justin. We’ll have to make it twelve if you don’t want me to tell your parents what you were up to.”
I groaned. A dozen seemed an awful lot. I wasn’t sure I could stand the pain. In fact, I was sure I couldn’t. Just then the second stroke cracked down. It was even worse than the first one. I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, but this was going to be a difficult situation from which to emerge with any dignity intact.
The third swished down, and then another. And another. And another. Halfway! Halfway to hell, it seemed.
He stopped. I could hear him swishing the cane through the air. He was enjoying this, I felt sure. What a bastard…
“You know, Justin, you have a very caneable backside! What a shame your father never took a stick to it. I could lend him one, I suppose.”
I choked with shock. Surely he was joking? My thoughts were interrupted by the seventh stroke, which demanded my full attention. Shit, it did. My poor fucking arse!
“Yes, Justin. He can borrow this very cane!”
“I thought you weren’t going to tell him?” I asked, in a panic.
“Shut up boy and take your medicine like a man,” he admonished. All the medicine in the world wouldn’t have convinced me that I wasn’t a very sick patient by that stage! My arse felt like it was being ripped apart as the eighth and ninth strokes landed painfully.
The tenth stroke wasn’t so bad, but I think he was playing games with me as the last two were incredibly intense, red-hot and sheer agony.
I started to recover my composure a little, though I remained bent over submissively. His hands were feeling my buttocks, and then he probed around my crack. It was a nice sensation. Chess Club was never like this.
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.
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Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The story so far: Aunt Belle has had to cane her 19 year-old nephew Tim for insulting her. He had suggested that her leopard print clothing was inappropriate for her age.
Part 1 is here
Now read on for Part 2:
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 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 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!
He had taken the strokes comparatively well, and he had 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.”
“Yes really, Belle. I’m a very naughty boy!”
“You certainly are, you certainly are.”
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne
The two nineteen-year-olds were sat on the bed listening to records. They were chatting noisily as the 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 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!”
“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 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.
Swish-Crack! The whippy cane made first contact with the nineteen year-old’s bottom. It stung but it wasn’t too bad.
Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack! Swish-Crack!
Tim was gasping and squirming now 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 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, and of course, he had to masturbate.
story © 2012 by Rod Cayenne
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Part 2 is here
Explicit true story by David Stewart
I’ve always felt that I wanted to be spanked, and I’m not sure why.
It was always ladies I fantasised about until I was about 22, when I made a friend who would introduce me to the world of adult discipline.
To set the scene here, I was a young police officer. I met John, who was 59 and a retired teacher (or so he told me). I had been schooled in Scotland and he had taught on both sides of the border. I met him as a result of a call to assist with some children that were causing a nuisance. We had a chat over coffee about ‘the kids of today’ and so on. Over a few visits the story was always the same, about people lacking discipline nowadays and eventually I guess we both learnt that each other was more than interested in the topic. He did ask me if I was disciplined at home and in school, and did I think I was better for it. In hindsight, nowadays he would be called a pervert, but there you are and remember this was the late ’70s.
He made an unusual comment one visit, asking, “Do you ever miss the way a spanked bottom or tawsed hands dealt with an issue and then it was over?” I answered, “I suppose so, in a strange way.”
As I left that night John made his move and said, “You know David, if you ever felt the need to revisit those days of a spanked bottom, then you only need ask me to do it for you.”
Well I left, and I gave my cock a thorough workout later that day. The following day I called him and spoke nervously about the comment. Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself if I got it wrong, I asked, “What did you mean last night when I left, about if I ever felt the need or something?”
“David, I know some adults still miss that old fashioned spanking thing and as a friend if you felt you needed it, then I would do it for you.” It was a s simple as that, but it had taken about six visits before he asked. I said that I thought I did and he said, “Well if you do David, bring your PE kit to change into and we will see to it!”
Two days later I turned up in uniform along with a bag with shorts and vest in it, and we had a coffee. “Did you bring anything with you today, David?”, he asked. Nervously I showed him the plastic bag and then its contents. John then went on to try to relax me, which was impossible. He told me he had friends who he spanked, and not to think I was unusual in any way.
Eventually he said something about “So should we go and deal with you then?” We stood and went to what was a small study. It had a desk with leather chair, a hard-backed chair in the corner, and a small cupboard on one wall.
“So how should I deal with you, David?”
I said, “Just like my father would, Sir.” There had been no request to call him Sir, it just felt right.
“I will leave you to change then into your shorts and vest.”
When he returned some five minutes later I was stood there with an erection in my PE shorts. He smiled and pulled the hard-backed chair out, told me to go over his lap and then he spanked me over my shorts for a while. I left that night disappointed, to be honest.
The next time I visited, we chatted about it. I had brought my kit again. He asked me how it had been. I suddenly blurted out that “It was not quite as I expected.” Asked why, I said, “Well I was always spanked on the bare bum and it always really stung. I always felt as if I had been punished then.”
John looked at me, smiled, and said “Ah David, so you want a proper spanking do you, pants down, over my knee and one that teaches you a lesson?”
“Well yes, Sir,” I stuttered. “It’s just that I always thought spankings should be like that.”
As a result, a few minutes later I was at John’s side and having my shorts and pants pulled down. This caused my erection to stick out (and be ignored by John). I was then pulled over and I got the hardest spanking I could remember. I recall yelling out “Oh Sir, I am so sorry!”
After the spanking, I was made to stand in the corner, bottom bare and hands on head. That was the way it went for a few months until one day I turned up without my kit. Over coffee we were chatting about spanking and I said, “It makes me regret forgetting my kit today.” John smiled and said, “Well David, I think, if you don’t mind, and as I have seen most of you anyway, we can do without the PE kit from now on, if you want.”
We went up to the study and John for the first time stood watching me and said “Right David I want all your clothes off today.” I was soon stood naked and erect as he gazed at me. “Does it excite you that I am going to spank you David?”
“Do you usually have a wank afterwards, thinking of me spanking you?”
“Yes, usually Sir!”
He moved closer to me. “Do you ever think of me touching your cock David, or does that thought never enter your head?”
“I do Sir, sometimes.”
His hand started to move towards my cock. He touched it and it stood even more erect. He pulled back and then had me over his knee, spanking that erection out of me. It was a harder than usual spanking and I nearly cried. Afterwards he put his hand between my cheeks and made me erect again. So it was that I was wanked for the first time by another guy. That became the norm and I would visit for a spanking at least twice a week and I started to visit him on my days off. It was only a short while before I started to wank him off as well.
After about six months he re-introduced me to the tawse. In doing so, he revealed his love of tawsing. The norm then became for me to have to take six of the tawse along with any spanking. Normally, this was after the spanking, as he liked my hands to be warm when I touched him. After a tawsing, they were really hot!
It was a year before I got caned and I was warned how sore that experience would be. We had discussed it before, but I was still rather unaware of the pain a cane could cause. I recall being told that the cane would be applied next time I came and to make an appointment on a day off. He promised me a real ‘six of the best’ and I got that, for sure.
It was six days later. I visited him nervously. This time, John was very different. “Come in boy!” was his command and I was taken directly to his study. A a cane lay on the desk. He lectured me and told me I was to be caned, six strokes and if I stood up or touched my bottom that stroke would not count and he would add another.
Naked, I stood waiting and Sir said to me in a softer tone, “Now remember David, you asked for this and I need to give you it as I would if it were a real punishment. It is going to hurt like nothing you have experienced before, but I have explained all that already, haven’t I?”
“Yes Sir”, I said.
“And you still want to find out what a real caning is like?”
“Yes Sir, please Sir.”
His attitude changed suddenly, “Right boy! Over the desk, and grip the far side.”
The cane was tapped a few times before it thrashed down. The sound felt delayed, as if it came after the hit . There was a distinct moment when I felt nothing, but then a fearsome pain cut through me! I stood up and grabbed my bum, only to hear a very unsympathetic, “Get down boy! I expected better!”
The next stroke elicited a real yell from me followed by a third then a fourth which both did the same. It was true agony and I had to wait for the fifth stroke. The sixth cut deep into my cheeks and then Sir spoke, “Now you have to be given the first stroke again and then one extra. Are you ready boy?”
“Sir, please no more! I’m so sore!”, I whined.
“You wanted a real caning, now take the last two like a man, David!”
Almost immediately the cane delivered the penultimate stroke, followed shortly by the eighth, final stroke. In tears, I stood up and Sir cuddled me, and then made me stand in the corner. After a while the flames of pain diminished. He led me to the bedroom where he undressed and we got into bed. In the end, I stayed the whole night after being taken out for a curry.
Our relationship lasted for over six years and during that time my bottom was constantly spanked and caned. My hands were tawsed so often that I lost count! It was the only time I have had a long relationship with another guy. Believe it or not, the reason we stopped was because by then I’d met my wife. The marks were too conspicuous to have. She became my chastiser. I have however, always retained a desire to be spanked by another older guy and especially to be hand tawsed by one. I have met a few guys who can tawse school-style and are happy to spank a naughty lad like me.
So that’s the true account of how I came to be into spanking.
Text © David Stewart 2012, used here by very kind permission
picture © by Jonathan, used by very kind permission
I hope you’re going to comment on this one
Explicit erotica by new guest author David Stewart
picture by Jonathan
David was a 53-year old married man. Life was good, he thought as he walked to his next call. He was an insurance estimator and the company and pay were to his liking. 28 years he had been in this game and with the same company. He was one of their top assessors.
Mr Hampton answered the door. He smiled and politely offered a cup of coffee. This was accepted by David and they sat down to discuss the claim.
The claim was for a break-in at the house and the claim was not for the little that was stolen, but for the significant damage caused.
The entry had been through the kitchen back door. All other doors had been locked with a security lock, top and bottom. Unfortunately the doors all had glass panels and these were wrecked in the process of entering each room. The damage was still evident and Mr Hampton was obviously still very annoyed.
“Pure vandalism!” he almost shouted in anger, as he showed David around. “These little brats should get proper jobs and earn their money instead of trying to rob those of us that have worked every day of their lives.”
Mr Hampton was in his late sixties and had recently retired from a senior management position with a manufacturer.
They went to each room and David, even though experienced, was amazed at the vandalism that had taken place. Valuable vases and ornaments smashed, pictures slashed and in the dining room a long oak table worth £12,000 had been scratched deliberately with gang insignia.
Mr Hampton was making regular comments in each room about the youth of today and so on. After a long time they sat down to discuss the claim over another coffee.
“Have the police any ideas?” asked David.
“Bloody police…no none and with today’s police I don’t expect them to either. Bloody civilian officer, one of these community bobbies arrived and knew bugger all. If I could get my hands on them I would show them a thing or two.”
“You know David, you are a bit older, don’t you remember the police of yesterday that you were scared of? The school teacher, your parents? They had authority and woe betide you if you did anything wrong. I remember telling my father that I had been caned at school and I ended up over his knee getting another warming. That taught me…oh but not today. ”
David continued his questionnaire and could not help thinking that the powerful Mr Hampton probably would still be capable of dealing with the people responsible. The thought had him slightly nervous and there was a stirring in his loins.
“Don’t you agree?” Mr Hampton asked, and brought David back to reality.
“Sorry, what?” he asked.
“Well don’t you agree that discipline in the old days was tough but kept us in line.”
“Yes totally Mr Hampton, it did me and obviously you.”
“May I ask how were your parents discipline wise. Did they spank you when you were naughty?”
“Eh? Well yes, I always knew I could go so far then it was a stern look and ‘Get to your room’!”
“And at school were you caned?”
“No. The cane was not used. I was schooled in Scotland and they used a tawse, a kind of leather belt on the hands.”
“Ah yes, I have seen these. I bet that stung?”
“Yes, but I also suspect it was better than the cane, Mr Hampton.”
A conversation then started about caning and discipline in general and it was almost 2 hours after his arrival when the forms were completed.
All during this Mr Hampton had pressed about school and parental discipline and as they finished Mr Hampton asked: “Would you like to see one of the school canes we were thrashed with, just so you can imagine what the difference would be like?”
“Well, eh, yes, thank you.”
“Well, follow me, David,” Mr Hampton said rather firmly. And David submissively followed to what was a study on the top floor.
“The little blighters did not come in here, or if they did were too scared to damage it. He opened a drawer and took out a very old looking crook-handled cane, which he swished a few times and offered to David.
David took hold and was well aware he was becoming excited and turned slightly to the side to hide this. “I have to ask how you have this, Sir?” Mr Hampton smiled and said “Just call it a hobby, shall we?” He produced a tawse from the same drawer and David eyed this. It was certainly authentic looking and after handling it, David returned it.
As he did so Mr Hampton lowered his eyes and David blushed as he said to him “I hope I am not embarrassing you with these and causing you any concerns, David?”
It was a question to which David could only answer “No, not at all, Sir.”
“You see it was common practice when waiting in line to be thrashed at school for the boys to become almost excited…funny that?”
As they went back to the lounge to pick up his paperwork, Mr Hampton said “Now David, think me out of order but you were getting excited up there and I hope it was not embarrassing for you. I understand. Did you get excited all those years ago?”
“Eh? Yes, I mean no, well yes, sometimes.”
“And were you thinking back to these days David, when you were in my study? Tell me David how were you chastised in the house, if you don’t mind? Shall I pour us a glass of Madeira? Those ill-behaved louts did not ruin it.”
Over the glass David explained that he was brought up by an aunt and uncle. Usually his uncle would send him to his room and make him wait for up to an hour. He would then come in make him strip to his pants before lecturing him. Then he would take David’s pants down, put him over his lap and spank him long and hard. The worst part was the waiting, then the lecture. David almost wished the lecture would stop and he would get on with it. It was either his hand or sometimes a belt that was used. At school it was the tawse on hands and that was always hellish.
“Do you ever miss that?” asked Mr Hampton, obviously enjoying the conversation.
“What do you mean miss it?”
“Well, the finality of it. The fact that once it was over, you all spoke again, etc. Rather than falling out at home or work and being in their bad books? Imagine if when you were naughty nowadays, it was a walk to the boss and a spanking sorted it out. What a marvellous world.”
David made to leave and Mr Hampton shook his hand tightly and as he left said, “Now David if you ever feel the desire to go back a few years then I will be happy to take you there.”
“Pardon?” said David and immediately felt foolish.
Still holding his hands he replied “If you ever feel the need, like so many other adults do, to be returned to days gone past for some family-style discipline, then come to me and I will provide it.”
David was rock hard at this talk but left the house and walked towards his car. However, he did an immediate about turn. Mr Hampton opened the door and said, “That was quick!” and invited him back in.
“Oh, have you forgotten something David?” Mr Hampton smiled.
They both knew what was happening but Mr Hampton was playing.
“Eh? No, not forgotten Mr Hampton, rather remembered. You were offering me something, if I ever felt the need Sir.”
“Ah, that yes, I was offering you a darn good thrashing. I was offering to give you a repeat of what your Uncle or Head Teacher did and I’ll even let you taste my cane lad!”
David adopted a very submissive role and blushed as he said, “Yes Sir. I thought that was the offer and that is why I have returned.”
“Well David, let there be no mistake here, I can and do provide this for several adults, but I do so in the old fashioned way and deliver real and painful lessons. Are you sure that is what you want?”
“Very well lad. Go up to my study and wait for me.”
For David, it was like all those years ago. His stomach started to churn as he climbed the stairs, entered the study and waited.
The sound of footfall on the stairs was followed by Mr Hampton entering the room and pulling a chair into the centre of the room.
“Right! David you can remove your clothing, down to your pants please.”
David did so robot fashion and soon stood naked except for his pants. They were not doing anything to hide his obvious erection.
Mr Hampton stood watching him and then went round to the drawer and took out his cane and tawse. The erection got harder and even more obvious.
“I am going to put you over my knees and spank your bottom, then I will give you a taste of my cane, but first we need to get rid of that offensive erection, lad. Raise your hands palm up. After each stroke raise again and change over palms.”
David did as he was told and the tawse was raised over Mr Hampton’s right shoulder. It then came down fast to hit David’s palms. He let out a cry but changed hands and took a second strike. His hands were on fire and his erection went.
Mr Hampton laughed and said, “Never fails lad, never fails!” He sat down and called David over and started to lecture him on behaviour, discipline and what was about to happen.
Nervously David felt as though he were back in front of his uncle and almost wanted to shout, “Please Mr Hampton, just get it over with.” Mr Hampton pulled David’s pants down before pulling him over his lap. He started to spank submissive David forcefully with regular smacks that brought forth yelps and cries.
The spanking lasted for who knows how long but certainly longer than David felt he needed! When he stood he immediately rubbed his burning rear.
Mr Hampton picked up the cane and handed it to David. “Now David, ask me to cane you when you are ready. It will be six of the best like at my school. It will hurt and I will make it hurt. If you stand during it I will add a stroke and give the stroke again. That means if you stand once then the six becomes eight. Stand twice then it becomes ten. We can go on all day so best grab the desk, bite your lip and take the sixer. Do you understand me?”
“So now I will leave you to think and when I come back either ask for the cane or you can put it down and we will leave it as it is…for today.” Saying that he turned and left.
It was 10 minutes later that Mr Hampton returned. David was still naked and still holding the cane. In that 10 minutes the pain from the spanking had diminished and his palms were not so burning. His erection had returned and one could have hung the cane on it. Mr Hampton noticed this of course, but only asked, “So David, what is it to be?”
David handed the cane to him saying, “Will you cane me please, Sir?”
“Right lad, get over that desk, grab the far side and hold on. This will be more painful than you can ever imagine. But you deserve this.”
He took aim, tapped the nervous rear a few times then swung hard and accurately. The cane landed on both cheeks. David grabbed tight and wailed high!
The second stroke was a minute later and caused a similar reaction. The third and then fourth were similar but exceeded the pain of the first two. The fifth stroke was almost unbearable and the final stroke cut deep, crossing the previous strokes.
David was told to stay where he was. He saw Mr Hampton return the cane and tawse to the drawer. He then came behind David and started to rub his welted bottom and soon the erection returned.
“Such a naughty boy David, but do you feel better for that?”
“There is one advantage in an adult getting a thrashing…” His hands went between David’s legs and took hold of the cock. “And that is after a thrashing the boy gets some reward…would you like to be rewarded David?”
David opened his legs wider and said breathlessly “Yes Sir, I would.”
Mr Hampton left the room and returned with some tissues and holding these proceeded to wank David’s cock slowly and deliberately, all the time telling him what he would do next time he visited. How he would cane him more, spank him longer, tawse him properly and all this caused David to explode into the tissue, more heavily than he could ever remember doing in the past.
As David left the home of his new friend he was told, “Now remember lad. My study is always open.”
David smiled, said, “Thank you Sir” and added, “I will see you again soon.”
Sir smiled and closed the door.
Story © 2012 by David Stewart, used here by kind permission
Photo © 2012 by Jonathan, used here by kind permission
Taking A Break by Vickie Shan
Report to my study
You won’t be needing those
Bare bottom, I’m afraid
Get them off
Call me Sir
That’s no excuse
Get back down
You’ll be sorry
We need to talk
You asked for it
I hope you’ve learnt your lesson
Stick it out
Double next time
Did I ask for your opinion?
Thank me after each one
Less of your cheek
Do you want some more then?
Fetch the cane
I wasn’t born yesterday
Touch your toes
Six of the best
posted by Rod Cayenne, © 2012
Illustration by Vickie Shan
Part 2 is here