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♥ Site recommended story ♥
New to The Canery is this exciting spanking and caning story by very special guest author Baddlad17. All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
Never Skip Pre-season Training by Baddlad17
It was a hot and sticky night; the recent weather had been very warm, sunny and oppressive.
Regardless it was Thursday night and with only a few weeks to go before the start of the new season, I had ordered the lads to report for the first pre–season training session.
I am the new coach of a semi–professional footy team. I used to be a player myself, but as I am now over the hill so to speak, I no longer play. I was still physically fit though. Standing six foot three I had been a goalkeeper, a position which had allowed me to play until I reached forty. Suddenly the strain on my body started to become noticeable. It could take me days to recover from a match, so after some soul searching, I decided it was time to hang up my boots and gloves and become a coach.
That had been two years ago, my passion for the game has not diminished, I left my club unsure what to do, then after a few months I made the decision to do my coaching badges. Once I had completed my training I returned to my old club as an assistant, now I had attained a new position as coach/ manager of Brent United, a small, semi-professional club in the heart of the country.
There were some good players on the books and lots of ability. The previous coach had allowed the team to slip a little, results towards the end of last season had not been good. The chairman and the board heartily sick of the slide dismissed the previous guy. I had been brought in to Smarten the team up and get them back on track. The chairman made it clear he expected results and it did not matter how I got them as long as I did. His words Any means necessary
rang in my ears.
Despite being weeks yet till the start of the new season, I wanted the lads to be as physically fit as possible and to be prepared for the onslaught once we got underway. I had rung every player personally earlier in the week, introduced myself and requested their presence at the training ground at six-thirty where I would present myself to every member of the squad and get to know them. I also made it clear I intended to put them through an intense session so I could assess their ability.
I ticked off the names of the lads as they entered the changing room and was a little concerned to note two missing. Ryan Connor was the team’s centre forward and an excellent finisher. He had scored twenty eight goals last season and was a pivotal member of the squad. Also absent was Tony Wilkinson, a central defender who had played for the club for three years. I asked the others if they had any idea where either player was, but no one seemed to know, or if they did they were not saying.
Regardless, I went through my introduction, spelling out to the team what was expected and what I would demand from them. Commitment, dedication, a willingness to work, reliability and to work as part of a team. I wanted no prima donnas in this squad. I sent them out on the field and we started the session, pushing the missing lads to the back of my mind, for now.
After training the lads arrived back in the changing room, hot and sweaty from their exertions, they stripped off and hit the showers. I was soon amongst them soaping up and rinsing off. This surprised them as it was not something the previous coach had done. But as I pointed out to them, we were all blokes together and I had nothing to hide from them. I also made it clear I expected honesty and openness from them.
As we dried off Steve Anders the team captain came up to me, Gaffer, I have just received a text from one of my mates. He is in The Bell tonight. I told him earlier that the team were training, so I would not be in the pub till much later. He said he was surprised to see Connor and Wilkinson having a beer in the garden. I am a bit pissed off with them, boss, and feel they have let the side down. Do you want to come with me and confront them?
Two of my best players had chosen to go to the pub rather than attend the first session of the season! I was more than pissed off with them, I was very angry. How dare they, I thought! I immediately thanked Steve for his offer and said I thought that would be a good idea, as I needed to speak to them as soon as possible.
I also pointed out to him that it was my intention to discipline them for missing training. Steve looked at me questioningly before informing me that punishing players for missing practice was something the previous coach had not bothered to do. Instead he had delegated it to the captain leaving him to give the lads concerned a bollocking. I could see that’s what had been going wrong and change was needed.
This was the reason I had been brought in, and before long the squad would learn a new era had begun. From now on things were going to be done my way or else! Wilkinson and Connor would be the first to discover the fate awaiting any player who screwed up on my watch. It would not be very pleasant but maybe it would get the message across that things were going to change, and quickly.
We drove the short distance to The Bell public house; on arriving Steve led me through to the back to confront the lads still sat in the beer garden, with two empty glasses in front of them and a third half full. Ryan and Tony stood up sheepishly as we approached, both a little apprehensive as they took in the angry expression on Steve’s face.
Don’t bother with any excuses. This is the new gaffer and he will be dealing with this. Over to you boss
.
I looked from one to the other as I took a seat on the bench opposite them. Tony Wilkinson was almost twenty-four years old. He stood six foot two with a crop of dark hair. His strong manly face sported two day stubble. I could tell he was trim and well-toned. Beside him sat twenty-year-old Ryan, He stood around five feet eleven with very dark hair and eyes, his long lashes enhanced them, making him appear very attractive. He looked a cheeky chappie who could get into mischief easily. I sensed this was Wilkinson’s idea, but both lads were adults and Connor would have to take the consequences.
Right you two, I will make this clear, here and now. I don’t give a shit if you are the best centre forward and central defender in the league. When I call a training session I demand you turn up, on time and be ready changed, into your strips to start. That is non-negotiable; I will only accept excuses if you are ill and I expect a phone call at least an hour beforehand. It is certainly not acceptable to miss training and come to the pub, that is for sure. So I am giving you both an option
. I cleared my throat and prepared to inform them of their options, You will both present yourselves at the club tomorrow evening for a special training session. In attendance will be just the four of us that is providing Steve can attend?
The team captain nodded his assent.
Right then, six pm sharp and don’t be late. If either of you fail to turn up or refuse to do exactly as you are told then I will be more than happy to terminate your contracts. After the session is over you will both receive a penalty award for missing tonight’s training. What that penalty is and how bad it becomes will depend on your attitude tomorrow, and how much effort I think you have put into it. The choice is yours. So can I expect you tomorrow night or not?
What do you mean by a penalty?
said Ryan who suddenly seemed to be concerned as to what was going to happen. I smiled at the lads before informing them that they would soon find out. They both reluctantly nodded their agreement at which point we left, informing them they had five minutes to drink up and get out of the bar or else.
As we left they began to swig down their ale, a little afraid of what might be in store for them. I had a feeling even the captain would be shocked at what I had in mind, but I had the backing of the club. The chairman had been clear: any means necessary.
My old gaffer at my first club had known how to keep order and how to discipline his players. I would be paying him a visit before going to the club tomorrow night. I had decided to take him up on his offer to let me have the tools of the trade. I reached round and gently rubbed my own arse as I thought back to those far-off days and those painful times in his little office. He had known how to deal with smart-arsed players. He had offered to show me how to use them and it was my intention to do so. These lads would smarten up sharp, or there would a lot of sore arses wandering around the changing room.
I left Bill Turner’s house with the tools just before five forty. He smiled and wished me luck as I packed them into my kit bag and headed off to the car. I could see him waving me off, a satisfied grin on his face. I entered the changing room just before six to find all three players waiting. I noted Connor and Wilkinson had changed ready to start, Steve had also put on his kit and was sat with the lads when I arrived.
I won’t keep you long lads. Steve take them out to the pitch and get them doing some warm up exercises. I want a strenuous session for these two, they need to burn off the calories from last night’s beer. I watched them head off before I went into the office and extracted two long slender canes. I ran my hand along the length of one feeling surprised how light it fell. My knob began to swell as I recalled the times this very rod had slashed across my own arse as a young player. Bill Turner was a hard taskmaster and he knew how to make a player perform. Placing the canes on the table I extracted the large rubber soled pump. How many times had that thing burned my backside in training? The smooth sole was very flexible, White fire the lads had called it. It certainly set your arse on fire, but it was no longer white, a kind of off grey colour and very old. How many arses had it burned over the years I did wonder?
It was over an hour later when we finally returned to the cool sanctuary of the changing room. Connor and Wilkinson were hot and sticky having sweated profusely doing punishment runs around the track, not to mention all the other exercises I had put them through. Steve Anders had joined them in some of the exercises, showing his commitment to me as captain.
Right lads that is the end of the session. You have now made up for missing last night’s training. However that is not the end of the matter. Years back when I was a player at my first club, the coach had a good way of dealing with any player who broke club rules, slacked or failed to attend training. He knew the best way to deal with athletic young men. Tell me lads, did either of your dads ever deal with you the ’old fashioned way
‘?
I watched a look of bewilderment cross their faces for a moment before Tony Wilkinson suddenly realised what I meant.
By old fashioned, do you mean did he leather me when I was growing up?
Yes, that is what I mean. Did either of you ever get a taste of the slipper, belt or even the cane?
Ryan looked bemused while Tony’s face displayed the expression of someone who was remembering a painful memory. Ryan’s response as I expected was a resounding no, but Tony proceeded to tell me he had been walloped with a belt till he was sixteen. Steve also seemed a little bemused, unsure where the conversation was going. I decided at this point to go for jugular.
Well lads, the penalty award I said you would receive is along the lines that your dads would have given you. And if you had gone to school at the same time as I did, your PE teacher and possibly headmaster would have given you if you had played truant from your lessons. What you did last night is the same as playing truant. So what I propose is to deal with you in the same way as my old coach and yes my PE Master dealt with me when I failed to turn up for training
.
What the fuck? You are not serious man, no way, no way
, Said Ryan,
You have a clear choice lads. Either you take what you deserve or you can leave now, never to return. And Steve, as of now corporal punishment will become part of the disciplinary procedures at this club. It is my intention to give every player the choice of taking cp or leaving the club. I am sure most of the squad would rather have a short sharp shock than face the sack, but it will be their own decision
.
I will give you lads five minutes to decide. At the end of those five minutes if you choose to take what is due I expect you to be standing outside my office. If you are not there I will assume you have chosen to leave and will proceed to deal with your dismissals for gross misconduct. Steve can you come along to the office as well? I want you to witness the punishments if they choose this route
.
As I walked off, I overheard Ryan and Tony arguing. I could tell that Wilkinson was prepared to go through with it, Connor was less so.
Five minutes later I opened the office door and was surprised to find all three of them standing outside. I looked on and smiled as I took in the sight of three young men still dressed in their kits from the training field, two of them would very shortly be bending over and I was going to savour it. I asked Steve to come in and I sensed his shock as he noticed the canes and the old plimsoll on my desk. I picked up the slipper and tapped it in my hand.
From the next training session Steve I will be using this on any player who fails to pull his weight in training or during a match. For more serious infractions I shall use one of these
.
I picked up a cane and slashed it through the air. Steve jumped in shock. I could tell though that the guy was a little excited at what was about to happen. Something that was obvious by the bulge at the front of his shorts.
I shouted for the lads to come in and smiled as they appeared hands behind their backs, heads down in a typical naughty schoolboy fashion. I put down the cane and picked up the large slipper once more.
Right then, as this is the first time I will go a little easier on you. I am awarding you six with the slipper, be aware that the slipper will normally be used for more minor offences and not pulling your weight. For missing training I would normally dish out twelve strokes of the cane. So think yourselves lucky. After you have had the slipper I will give you four each with the cane, just so you know what to expect. Is that clear?
They both nodded at me, I noted they both looked afraid. Looking across to the captain I could see an obvious bulge in his footy shorts as he savoured what was about to happen.
Right then, as you have been physically punished before I shall start with you Wilkinson. Stand in front of the desk and bend over, reach across, try to grip the far side
.
I watched as Tony stretched his six foot two frame across the desk, his muscular buttocks tightly encased in his footy shorts for my ministrations. I had one final shock for them though. I walked behind him and gripped onto the hem of his shorts and yanked them down clear of his buttocks exposing his naked arse cheeks, tightly framed by his jockstrap. I heard Ryan gasp and utter a swear word as I tapped the target before me with the large rubber soled pump.
Stepping back I raised my arm high before swinging the weapon down ensuring I flicked my wrist and followed through. As the first splatt of the plimsoll landed dead centre onto his left cheek, I heard the guy gasp and his head shot back as the pain exploded across his arse. I quickly landed the second onto the same spot and then a third at which point I heard Wilkinson groan. Stepping back I looked at the red inflamed left cheek. It looked sore. Taking aim I targeted the as yet untouched right buttock and proceeded to give him another three very hard swats. With each swat I got a grunt and could tell that after the last one had landed, he had felt it.
Up and stand to the side. Connor your turn.
Wilkinson stood up, giving his red arse cheeks a good rub as he did. I watched as Ryan reluctantly lowered himself across the desk. Once again I gripped the hem of the shorts and peeled them clear. Unlike Wilkinson’s hairy bum cheeks, Ryan’s backside was white and smooth. His cheeks presented a tempting target as I tapped the slipper on his left buttock. I glanced at Steve who looked to be in a high state of arousal. My own knob was swelling in the highly charged atmosphere pervading the room.
Connor struggled to take his punishment. He squealed after the first swat and stood up as the second one burned across his backside. I ordered him back down, threatening him with extras. Once back in position I cracked a third one which emitted a blood-curdling scream from his throat. The three strokes to his right buttock produced a similar response but somehow he managed to stay down. I doubted he would do so for his caning so I had a plan in my mind. I watched as he stood there in tears rubbing his burning arse. Placing the slipper on the table I picked up the cane and swished it.
Wilkinson
, I said tapping the cane in my hand. He resignedly bent back over the desk offering his already sore arse up for further treatment. I stepped back, took aim and cracked the cane hard across the middle of his backside. The response was immediate. A loud howl rang out and he shook violently across the desk. The following three strokes emitted further cries and yells as the cane cut into the already sore, inflamed flesh. After the last stroke which I had landed right on the crease, I allowed him to stand up and watched as the guy stood rubbing his very sore bottom. Despite his age he was clearly in tears and just could not let go of his bottom.
Connor.
I watched as the lad almost on the verge of crying bent over the desk. Anders and Wilkinson, I want you to grip onto Connor’s hands and hold him in place, I doubt he will stay down for this
.
Ryan began to plead as the lads gripped his arms, holding him across the desk. I tapped the cane on his red swollen cheeks before raising it high and cracking it dead centre. As predicted Ryan howled like a banshee. He struggled to free himself, but the lads kept a tight grip on him. I delivered the remaining strokes quickly. After each one he howled loudly. After the last stroke was delivered to the crease of his arse cheeks he screamed. It was obvious he had never been disciplined before. I nodded for the lads to let go and he was up immediately, dancing around the office gripping his buttocks tightly. After a couple of minutes he calmed down at which point I summoned both of them to stand in front of the desk.
Pull your shorts back up Connor. Now I hope you have both learned your lesson. Be warned if you wish to remain on the team this is what to expect if you fuck up
. I bent the rod before them as a warning. Now then, hit the showers, you are dismissed. Remember next week’s training starts at six-thirty on Thursday and I expect you ready to start then or else you know what will happen
.
I dismissed the lads and watched them go, rubbing their fiery arses. My knob was swollen solid and would require attention soon. I gave my cock a little rub and prepared to deal with it when I became aware that Steve was still stood there.
Need a hand there, gaffer?
The tent in his shorts made his intention clear. At a nod from me he was on his knees slipping down my shorts. He eagerly took my swollen manhood between his lips and began to blow me. As he did he pulled himself off, within a minute I had exploded into his mouth and he had spilled his seed onto the floor. I felt a wave of release as he swallowed my sperm down his throat, I jerked as the spasms of ecstasy surged through my body.
Once we had calmed down he stood up and wiped his cock clean with a piece of tissue.
I wanna feel that slipper on my arse, gaffer, and then that cane.
His meaning was clear. An hour later, once we made sure the block was completely empty, I gave Steve what he wanted, six hard slipper swats and six hard cane strokes. I lashed them hard across his naked arse cheeks. He took it well and gratefully thanked me. Once he had recovered we had a mutual masturbation session.
I had a feeling that this new job was going to turn out ok and I was looking forward tanning many other players’ arses in the near future. As for Steve, well we had both discovered something we enjoyed and many nights, long after the rest of the squad had left, I would deal with him and then we would have some fun. The future looked good and I had no doubt that before long the club would be back at the top.
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Story ©MMXIV by Baddlad17, and used here by very kind permission of the author.
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
__________________
Authors love your feedback! Please leave a comment. You can find the comments here, or by using the link at the top of the story.
Baddlad17’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here. Further great stories by Baddlad17 may be found at this external link.
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot corporal punishment and more in this brand new story by very special guest author David Stewart. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery. All the characters are 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
Mr Jones by David Stewart
David was 42 years of age and out of work due to redundancy. He was single and had some savings but was desperate to get any sort of work. He had signed on, and on the way home he treated himself to a coffee in his favourite cafe and was on his tablet when Mr Jones arrived.
“Hello David, long time no see! May I join you?”
David was glad of the company of this older family friend. He had always looked upon him as an uncle, even though they were not related.
“Yes, must be three months or more since we last met…think it was in Waitrose, was it not?”
David answered with a smile and said, “Oh and yes, I never called you did I?”
They both smiled and chat centred on the present and the unemployment issue.
“Yes I was fortunate, but being a teacher I suppose one expects to always be needed, but the young people of today have it hard. Have you had any luck searching?”
David explained how many applications and how few responses he’d had. There had been no interviews. He added how he would even take a cleaning job if offered one. That was where he was at.
“Tell you what I can do, assuming you are happy to do so, I need someone a few hours a week, a general handyman as I have an old house and big garden. I could give you £9 an hour and say 10 hrs work a week…what do you think?”
“Look, that’s very kind but you don’t need to do that.”
“Nonsense! I have just placed an advert in my local shop so I am seriously looking. And it’s cash in hand.”
They agreed to it and Mr Jones added, “However David, I expect the same approach as if we did not know each other, and you will be on time and work hard.”
David assured him there would be no issues and agreed to start the following day at 9am.
David turned up just before 9 and Mr Jones let him in and directed him to the first work in hand, which was grass cutting and weeding. David worked hard. The satisfactory arrangement carried on for some months, then came the winter. David started doing interior work, painting and general cleaning.
Over coffee he asked one day, “Mr Jones, the room right at the back, which is locked, may I ask what is inside?”
Mr Jones smiled and said, “Ah that is my, how shall we describe it, reminiscence of a past age and collection of memorabilia.“
“Of when you were a school teacher?”
After being assured it was, David asked, “May I see inside please?”
Mr Jones thought and said, “You can, but I keep my memorabilia private as some might think me odd for keeping a room like that.”
David was intrigued and after coffee followed Mr Jones up the stairs. The door was opened and inside was a schoolroom with 4 desks and chairs, two by two and a larger raised desk and chair with a blackboard over almost half the wall.
“Wow, how realistic,” whistled David, much to Mr Jones’s appreciation.
“Thank you, feel free to look around.”
David walked round, opened the desks and looked inside at the jotters, books, pencils, erasers and pencil sharpeners. He then headed to the teacher’s desk, upon which was the “Punishment Book.” He opened it and started to read through the punishments within. All had a date and the pupil’s name along with a reason and then what the punishment was, which varied between 2 and 6 of the cane. The canes were either junior or senior in description.
Moving through the book, he came to a date on the last page which said 23rd October 1983 – Charles Baxter – Lateness of lines and illegibility when delivered – 12 senior cane and 12 tawse. David was taken aback as this was only four days ago! He acted as if he had not noticed, but Mr Jones knew he had.
It was then David moved over to the cupboard. Within it were some jotters and pencils, and also on the right hand side there were several canes and several tawses, all hanging from hooks.
David blushed not only at what was there but also the fact his cock was pressing hard against his zip.
Mr Jones said “Feel free David, to take out anything you fancy.”
David felt the urge to take one of the canes out and swish it through the air a few times and then took a tawse out and examined the three thick heavy tails.
His mouth was dry and he returned these and closed the cupboard. “Impressive collection and some school room, Mr Jones.”
“Thank you and have you anything you want to ask me about what you have seen?”
“Well…You appear to have made an entry a few days ago in the punishment book . Is that correct?”
“Let’s just say that I have friends who like to revert to their schooldays and in general if you come in to this room you leave with a sore bum and hands.“
“Hands, Mr Jones?”
“Oh the tawse was used in Scotland and it was usually given on the hands, one palm on top of the other, like this. That way you could be sure they really felt the pain.”
“My, Mr Jones…I suppose I am the lucky one, having got to see the room and then leave in one piece?”
“If you choose to, yes.”
They locked up and had another coffee and David steered the conversation back to the school room and the recent punishment book entry.
“So can I ask please, I am not making judgements, but are you saying you cane and tawse other men upstairs and they willingly come here for that?”
Mr Jones went to a drawer and pulled out a magazine. He flicked to the back of the may and pointed out an advert – “Experienced Sir will cane and tawse and tutor errant boys and girls in his country school room.”
David smiled, “And do you get many responses?”
“It would surprise you, yes, and they pay for it. I earn a fair bit of extra income at £30 a visit.”
There was a pause and Mr Jones asked David if he had ever been caned at school.
David replied that he had, several times but he added he had never been tawsed.
“Would you like to be…today?”
David was flustered. Mr Jones said with confidence, “I saw the reaction down below so know it excited you and if I give you a taste then our secret is safe, as is my one.”
David knew he was blushing and almost capitulated by asking, “So what would you give me?”
Mr Jones smiled knowing he had won and said, “I would give your arse a good six of the best but before that I’d tawse your hands…six of the best…look David, we both know you want this…don’t we?…and it’s nothing to be ashamed of and if you want to forget about the entire room and conversation, I know I can trust you not to tell anyone.”
Fighting back his excitement David said, “I think it best, for us both, if we go back to your room Sir, and that way neither of us can say anything to anyone.”
“Good, so you are saying you want me to cane and tawse you?”
Looking and feeling awkward David replied, “Yes please, Sir.”
“OK, give me a few minutes then come up, knock on the door and wait to be invited in.“
David gave him 10 minutes then walked to the top far end of the house and as he knocked the door, feeling so nervous, he noticed it now said “Head Teacher” on the door.
“Enter!”
Upon entering he saw in front of him not Mr Jones but “Sir” dressed in his school gown and looking every part an authoritative teacher from David’s schooldays.
“So boy, you are here for a tawsing and caning! When I get the tawse, you will raise both hands, put one on top of the other and take the stroke. Without being told you will then change hands and raise again. You will not pull away and you will not take long between strokes. Now, hands up!”
David raised his hands and watched as Sir drew a long dark brown tawse from within his gown. It had three tails and it looked fierce.
Sir judged the distance and height of the hands, and drew back the tawse over his right shoulder and brought it down with a resounding WHAP as it landed on David’s outstretched palm, causing an intake of breath and the reaction of most to the tawse as he rubbed his hand furiously between his legs. He waited, then raised and changed hands and took the second agonising stroke which was just as sore. Sir looked impassively at him, and resumed play with another resounding WHAP as the leather did its work. David had never endured such pain to his hands, but still raised for the fourth, after which the remaining strokes felt less painful as his hands had numbed somewhat.
Sir smiled and said, “Taken well, boy. Now let us see how the cane feels.”
He went to the cupboard and drew a slender crook handled cane out. He whipped it about, which only made David more nervous, and his erection had long gone.
“Right, you will now undo your trousers and pull them down and then bend over that desk. You will hold tight and if you jump up, reach behind or otherwise fail to impress, you will get that stroke again and another stroke will be added. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
At least David had some idea what was to follow as he had been caned at school, but he was still dreading it. He undid his trousers, lowered them and bent over the desk. He seemed shocked when Sir hooked his thumbs into David’s boxers, whipped them down so that a bared bottom was on display. Sir stood back admiring the bared buttocks awaiting chastisement and then raised the cane high and whipped it down across the centre of his victim’s cheeks. A pleasing scream followed. The second stroke was below the first, and then the third landed above. David was desperately holding the end of the desk and when the fourth made impact he gasped and only just managed to stay bent over. The remaining two strokes were no less painful, but at least it was over. Mr Jones then told him to stand and embarrassed him by forbidding him to pull up his trousers and pants.
Sir quizzed, “Was the tawse painful?” He asked about the caning too, but this line of questioning caused David to show his appreciation, excitement and embarrassment as his cock sprung to attention.
Sir smiled, “A natural reaction for many who enjoy the school discipline scenario, which you obviously must have done. Well, did you?”
David feeling nervous and embarrassed could not deny it and said, “I think it was good, thank you Sir. , I have read about such things but never experienced a caning since school, I’d never had the tawse.”
“But when reading, I bet you wank off thinking of the teacher caning you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And what about the teacher that has just caned you? Do you ever fantasise about what he would do to you or make you do for him?”
“Sir…Sir this is so embarrassing for me to tell you…but…but…well in some of the stories I read the teacher will make the you suck him or he will wank you or…or well sometimes the teacher wants to bend you over and sort of, well, satisfy himself that way.”
Sir smiled and his own cock was straining with excitement.
“So, David are you saying you want to suck my penis, and then have me stick it inside that newly warmed arse of yours?”
David agreed, as did his cock. He nodded.
“Strip for me David.” David swiftly took all his clothes off. “On your knees and suck me!”
David knelt and then undid Sir’s zipper and sucked on the penis that almost slapped his face as it sprung out. Ten minutes later David was bent back over the same desk he had been chastised over and felt Sir press his penis against his lubricated entrance and slowly enter him. David’s fantasy was complete.
The alarm woke David. His hand was soon wanking his cock furiously as he recalled the dream about the family friend, the ex-teacher who for years had dominated his wanking sessions. Three hours later he had signed on. He headed for the cafe and just after he had sat down he heard a voice say, “Hello David, long time no see! May I join you?”
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Story © MMXXI by David Stewart
Story used here by very kind permission of the author
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All the characters are age of 18 or older.
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Another chance to read this explicit caning entertainment by Rod Cayenne. All the characters are 18 or older. Adults only!
I knew I was in big trouble as soon as Dad called me into his little office. He stood there with one of his many canes in his hands. I gulped with fear, for I had never been able to take his canings stoically. No, there were always tears, cries and desperate pleading and wriggling under the lash of the cane. I had hoped now that I’d turned eighteen, that the canes might be retired. It seemed not.
“Peter, you were sick in bed this morning. You hadn’t been drinking again, I hope?”
“No Dad. Sorry. It was nothing like that.”
“Good! Otherwise this beauty would be teaching you a lesson.”
I didn’t share his view of what constituted beauty. In fact, I would have classified that whippy cane as a beast! As one of those rare strict Methodists, I knew he didn’t like me touching alcohol.
“So, what did make you sick then, lad?”
I didn’t feel like lying. It wasn’t really in my nature. I thought it best to confess, so I pulled the blister pack of blue pills out of my leather jacket. I handed them to my father. I could tell that he thought they were drugs.
“It was these that made me sick Dad, they taste awful!”
He read the lettering out loud, “Vigorlon Penis Enlargement Pills! I don’t believe it! These things are just a con! I can’t believe that a son of mine was so stupid as to fall for one of these scams!”
I stood there embarrassed, and red-faced.
“I’m sorry Dad. It was just a whim when I bought them.”
“Over the internet, I suppose?”
I nodded.
“With your card?”
I nodded.
“You stupid boy! So this is what you waste your allowance on! You’ll probably have to cancel your debit card too. I wonder what else you’ve been looking at on the internet, you haven’t been looking at pornography?”
I couldn’t lie. My Methodist upbringing had taught me that lying was a most serious sin. Of course I’d been looking at porn.
Again, I nodded at Dad.
“Well, that’s good,” he laughed. “Most men do.”
I was amazed when he said that, so I just nodded again, this time with a little smile. I was even more amazed when he put the cane down on the desk and offered me a chair. He poured me a glass of water from his cut-glass decanter.
“Well, well, well,” he said eventually, “I really don’t know what to make of you, young Peter. You’re at a difficult age, aren’t you? Part man, part boy, I’d say. Maybe more boy.”
Once again, I found myself nodding in agreement. Experience had taught me never to argue with Dad once we were in his small home office. I drank the water nervously. It was refreshing, as I was still dehydrated after being sick. Things were looking good. He picked up the cane and placed it back in the brass umbrella stand, where it was kept along with several other rattans and a rather faded gents umbrella. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was too good to last, however.
“NOW LISTEN TO ME!” Suddenly, his tone became fierce. “I am quite insulted that you feel that the penis your mother and I gave you at birth isn’t big enough! The Lord moves in mysterious ways, you know.”
Here we go, I thought to myself. My bottom started to tingle.
“And! Let there be no doubt in your mind that I am very, very unhappy that you have spent money, the hard-earned allowance money I’ve given you, on this rubbish!”
He waved the strip of pills at me. Slowly, he popped each of the remaining blue tablets out of the blister pack. He counted the pills out loud. There were fifteen. I just knew where this was leading.
“Fifteen pills, fifteen strokes!” he announced. He reached behind him and selected a more severe rattan with a crook handle.
“But Dad, I’m eighteen now!”
“Good point, Peter. We’ll make it eighteen, then. Over the desk, trousers down!”
I wasn’t going to argue. I bent over submissively and the first cane stroke hit home. Oh, it was a hard one, for a first stroke. He was really angry, I could tell. He’d been hiding it well, but now the cane was letting him vent his full fury. That was reinforced by the second and third strokes which were straight out of the fires of Hell.
“Underpants down! Fifteen strokes on the bare for the fifteen pills.”
I wasn’t going to argue, as I lowered my pale blue Jockeys. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that it was a hundred pills I’d ordered!
Stroke four sliced into my naked flesh. I was gasping, close to hyperventilating. I cried out loudly. I knew that would amuse him. For a religious man, he had a streak of sadism. Yes, there was a lot of cruelty within him.
I took the fifth quietly, and then the sixth much the same. He moved things up a gear as the seventh was by far the hardest yet. By now I was squirming under the cane’s vicious caress. My bottom was writhing, first in one direction, then the other in a vain attempt to avoid the blows of the cane. Eight! Nine! Ten! I was counting them quietly under my breath, while silent salty tears streamed down my face. This was a hellish beating!
He stopped and grunted. Suddenly, his hands were feeling the cane ridges on my bottom. He’d never done that before, and it was so humiliating, especially as he barked at me to keep still. He changed canes.
“Number Two cane to finish off, Peter.”
In all my years, and through numerous beatings, I could never fathom out the significance of the numbering system of his canes. Perhaps there wasn’t one, and this was all part of a sadistic game? All I knew was that Number Two cane was named appropriately, as it hurt like shit.
“AARRGH!” I cried as the eleventh stroke slashed down, quickly followed by a twelfth, landing just below.
Dad laid thirteen and fourteen diagonally, which was agony. The final four strokes were aimed at the tops of my thighs, his speciality, and they stung like mad. Strangely, all I could think about was that I wouldn’t be wearing my Speedos down on the beach for a while!
I wasn’t crying heavily, but my face was covered in snot. Dad offered me a tissue. I’d been trying not to say thank you, as an act of defiance, but it just sort of slipped out. He grinned when I said it. At times like that I really hated him. My only consolation was that my mother and sister were out shopping, so my beating had been a private, man thing.
That evening, I was over at my friend Andrew’s house. Somehow the story of the day’s events came out. I’d been trying to hide it, as I knew my friend had an unhealthy interest in my beatings. He managed to worm every little detail out of me this time. Nonetheless, he asked if he could see the marks, almost as if he didn’t believe me.
“Pervert!” I accused.
“No, really, I just want to understand. Although I could put some cold cream on them, I’m sure my mum’s got some in the bathroom.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. Andrew traced each and every mark with his forefinger. I’d found the day pretty confusing all round. My head was far from clear. Maybe it was another side-effect of those blue pills?
Andrew came back from the bathroom with a jar of cream. Gently, he massaged it into my bottom. My cock suddenly burst into life! It was rock hard. We gazed into each others eyes and knew we were going to have to take things further. No erection pills would be required! This time he put his forefinger into the jar of cream and then shoved the finger up my arsehole. His lips caressed my cock. He worked that cock for all it was worth. I came heavily in his mouth.
We lay exhausted on his bed for a few tender minutes. I offered to reciprocate. He just laughed.
“Not likely, mate. I’m not sticking my todger in there. Those pills have dyed your tongue blue. They could be poisonous, you know. Chinese, were they? I don’t want a blue cock, you know!”
I was really turned on by then. I offered him anal instead. I wanted it myself, but was a little reluctant only because my arse was still sore after the caning (and despite the cold cream massage). Andrew couldn’t believe his luck. Fortunately, he had a condom, and with the help of the cold cream we were soon at it. He thrust and thrust into my willing, striped arse. The knobbing felt even better than his forefinger had. It wasn’t long before he shot his load. It had been a short fuck alright, but we were both satisfied.
We lay in each others arms again, gently petting. He whispered in my ear, “Could you sneak out one of your dad’s canes? I want to try it.”
It seemed a strange request at first. But as I laid there in the afterglow, it seemed to make sense eventually. After all, it was a caning that had brought us together and I knew just which cane to smuggle out. It would have to be Number Two.
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* IMPORTANT – DISCLAIMER *
This is a work of fiction. The author does not participate in substance abuse or condone it.
FURTHER DISCLAIMER: All characters and products appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All the characters are aged 18 or over.
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Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne
Comments always welcome – please use link at top of story
♥ Site recommended story ♥
A brand new short story by your host, Rod Cayenne. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery and is only suitable for adults!
By the time I was nineteen, I trekked around airfields and air shows around the country on my trusty old Triumph motorbike. The shows were spectacular, with an unmistakable and enticing sexual undercurrent. I used to love chatting to the other male planespotters. The fat ones, the thin ones, the married ones, the ones that still lived with their folks and the lonely old perverts. But in another league were the hunky aircrew at the shows. I’d hang around the metal barriers like a groupie hoping to catch the attention of a sexy pilot or navigator. I had a particular liking for the angular beauty of the Swedish planes and their dishy, dreamy Nordic pilots. They always gave a good display, in more ways than one!
Show day was inevitably a sweltering hot day. I could feel my skin burning under the punishing rays of the sun. Sweat poured off my brow and my armpits were on overdrive. I leant over the barrier and caught the lanky blonde pilot checking me out. I think. Well, I was certainly checking him out. It felt like mutual attraction. He took his Aviator shades off, walked over and stared at me with his piercing electric blue eyes. He had a gorgeous tan, and chiseled Viking looks. I couldn’t begin to guess his age, he had a few lines and the first signs of gentle crow’s feet around the corners of his eyes. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I, boy?” he asked me.
“Yes, you may have done. I love the Swedish planes.”
“And their pilots, too, unless I’m mistaken? Well, well. You are gay, I suppose?”
“A little, Sir.”
“A little? No-one is a little gay! And I bet you don’t have a little penis, eh, my boy?”
I blushed and stammered, “Oh, you know…”
“I know I like English cock,” he whispered, “Welsh cock, Scottish cock, Irish cock. Hot, throbbing United Kingdom cock. Come and see me in my hotel room tonight. Here are the details, go on, take it. You do have a car? The damned hotel’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’ve got a bike.”
“Aha, hence the leather trousers?”
“Err, yes.”
“Well, that’s very good. I like a bit of leather. Or a lot of leather,” he laughed. “Now, piss off! I’ll see you later.”
What an extraordinary guy with a strange bedside manner, I thought to myself as I walked away studying the hotel card he’d given me. He’d scribbled his name on it, Curt, Room 8. He was certainly curt with his words. So he liked a bit of English cock? I told myself I was going to get to fuck him, for sure. What a treat that would be!
I stayed on until the end of the show. It was good to see the Arrows again. Then back on my bike, I was able to overtake the stationary queues of sad family cars as I headed out to the country hotel.
I had to negotiate past a grim dragon of a receptionist. She stared at me scornfully through her horn-rimmed specs as I said, “I’m here to see Curt from the Flygvapnet.” She stared at the ceiling, and then at me. It was like I was asking for someone from an alien planet.
At last I was on the threshold. I rapped on the door. He opened it sharply. He was wearing only a hotel robe and his hair was still damp. He burped. He pulled me in and slammed the door shut. Here was a man who knew what he wanted, I told myself. His robe fell open, and I could see that he was blonde down there, too. “Suck it!” he ordered. I sank to my knees and soon had him hard as my tongue teased and tossed his uncircumcised cock. I wiggled my tongue in between his foreskin and his helmet. He groaned with pleasure and then pushed me down on the over-sized bed and rammed his stiff member down my throat. It hurt and I had to summon all my willpower not to gag several times. He was rough and dominant. I was surprised, and unsurprisingly, I was turned on by this beastly Viking of a man. He tasted great as he fucked my mouth urgently. Suddenly he told me to stop. “I don’t want to cum just yet,” he said. I was relieved as my throat was kind of sore.
“Now time for some leather fun, my boy,” he announced. I had visions of him in skintight gear, but it wasn’t to be. “Open that drawer,” he ordered. I walked over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. There, on top of the King James bible, laid a leather spanking strap. I’d seen something similar in a sleazy shop in Soho, London, but I was stunned. I knew it wasn’t my scene at all.
“You are a very naughty boy! One hundred lashes, for you, I think.”
He pulled my leather keks and sweaty pants down, baring my arse. I attempted to struggle. The leather strap cracked down like a thunderbolt on my soft teenage flesh. Ten, twenty, thirty, that fuckin’ thing ripped and tore my skin. In the event, it was nothing like a hundred, but I was lying face down on the bed, ashamed and fighting back salty tears.
“That was fun! Now, I think you English boys like the cane? It happens that I have a nice stick here.” It wasn’t a nice stick at all. It was a nasty stick. I suspect that it was a birch rod rather than a cane. It was short but demonic. He lashed my cheeks with it. I writhed and cried out at that first stroke. I bucked and gasped at the second. By the third I felt tears could not be far off. And then after eighteen manly strokes he dropped the cane. At last there was some relief as his tongue licked my weals and wounds gently. That was nice. I could feel his stiff rod pressing against me as he soothed the damage he had so lustily inflicted on me. God, that had hurt but my my own cock was now perky and rearing up for action. How I wanted to fuck him. And then I felt the unmistakable coldness of lubricant on my manhole as he got ready to board me and pilot me into the wild blue yonder. And he did. Sheesh, that man could fuck for Sweden.
We lay together on the bed afterwards. He offered me a malt, saying, “Mmm, this is the finest Scottish whisky, so hard to find and so very expensive in Sweden. Yet here they have it in all the shops and supermarkets. Strange. Only a small one though, I’m flying again in 18 hours.”
I’m ashamed to say I choked on the scotch, just like I had on his cock. It was strong stuff, just like the relentless beating he had given me.
“You will stay the night.”
“Well, I don’t know…”
“That was an order, not a request!” he laughed and slapped my thigh extra hard. A scorching red imprint of his palm and fingers was clearly visible. “Now be a good boy, and ride my cock good and hard, otherwise I’ll get my wicked friend Håkan to come over and thrash you as well!”
Much as I’d have liked a threesome, I really couldn’t face any more punishment, assuming Curt wasn’t playing a game with his threat. And I never did get to fuck him. But he did fuck me, fuck yes, he fucked me a lot and almost all night long. What with one thing and another my arse was really fucking sore on the bike saddle as I headed back to my digs, sober and randy in the early morning sunshine. I resolved to be a bit more careful in future. After all, I’d expected to be on top, but I ended up a very sore bottom. Still and all, back in my lonely room it was high time for some hand relief.
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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 or businesses, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Story © MMXXI by Rod Cayenne. All rights reserved.
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Comments welcome, please use the link at the top of the story.
♥ 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.”
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?
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Story text © MMXX by David Stewart
Story used here by very kind permission of the author
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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♥ Site recommended story ♥
Vintage spanking filth from your host, Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2016. All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
Spanked Over The Butcher’s Apron by Rod Cayenne
It was week four of my new job as one of the butcher’s boys. It was going well. I liked my uniform of white shirt, grey trousers and the traditional striped blue apron. At least I didn’t have to wear a straw boater hat like my boss, Mr. Smith, always did. I suspected he wore it to hide his rather generous bald patch. Anyway, a hat like that would cause havoc with my heavily-gelled spikey hair. Another thing I liked was that now and then I got to ride the shop bike to deliver fresh cuts to customers all over the town. What I didn’t like was dealing with difficult members of the public.
“Silly bitch!” I muttered as the troublesome customer left the premises.
“Joel! Apart from that being not a good time for your runny nose to be dripping into the ground beef, that was the lady of the manor! She expects to be treated with respect, and to be called Ma’am. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith, err Sir!”
“Sir, eh? I like that, young Joel. I like that a lot. Come and see Sir in his office after work, will you?”
“Err, yes, Mr. Smith. Sir! But how come she doesn’t send one of the servants to pick up her supplies?”
“Servants! Don’t make me laugh! She does engage domestics but they never last long. She’s too demanding. Even for the East Europeans. Anyways, she’s got a good eye for the best cuts, that one. Likes to choose everything herself. Now, on with your work please! Get mincing!” he laughed heartily and slapped my arse playfully as he went down the back of the shop, and then upstairs to his office.
It was soon five o’clock, closing time, and my fellow assistant, Robbie, wished me luck as he left. Disturbingly, he winked as he said it. I watched as he made his way past my rusty Ford Fiesta to the bus stop. He was quite a hunk, I thought to myself as I duly made my way up the creaking staircase to see the boss.
The less than hunky Mr Smith was sat in his tatty swivel chair facing the window when I entered. He turned around slowly to look disdainfully at me. I fidgeted as I gazed at his desk, trying to avoid eye contact in my usual shy way.
“Look at me, Joel! That’s better. My, what a handsome lad you are, to be sure. Now, you’ve been here a month, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith, Sir!”
“Mmmm. Now, on the whole you’re doing well. Very well. But I could do without you being cocky with the customers. Especially the rich ones! I can’t afford to lose even one customer. They deserve your respect. Times are hard, and there are rumours of a supermarket moving in. That means every single customer is precious. Our livelihoods, and your job, depend on treating them well. Now, look at the window. What does the gold lettering say?”
“Traditional Family Butchers, Sir.”
“Indeed. Traditional. Family. Two of my favourite words, son. Tradition. Family values. Respect. Decency. Tradition.”
“Err, yes.”
“Yes, and now I find your lack of respect for customers in general and for one of the town’s finest families absolutely appalling! I suggest a traditional remedy! A good, sound smacking!”
“Whaaat? You’re joking?”
“Oh, I’m not. Oh no. Not the sort of thing I joke about, at all. Oh no. And if you don’t want me to show you the door, you’ll get over here over my lap this instant!”
He grabbed my arm and I gave way. He hauled me over his lap, right over his blood-stained navy blue pinstripe apron. Urgh! He spanked me merrily over my thin grey trousers, it hurt like mad and then he made me drop my trousers. Then he spanked my skimpy pants like his life depended on it, and then OMG! He ordered me to remove my briefs. I was going to get some more on the bare! Slap after slap. He created merry hell. The fires of merry hell. At first it wasn’t so bad, but boy, did he have a thorough technique! His hand felt tough and leathery as it crashed rapidly into my young flesh. Every inch of my arse was deep burning red by the time he’d finished. What was worse was that he was obviously enjoying it, chuckling away while admonishing me. I think he had a boner, too. Unless there was a penknife or something in his apron pocket.
After a final fast round of slaps, he finished and grunted. His hands stayed in contact with my bare bottom, however. He started rubbing it better, which was really nice for a while but then his fingers strayed towards my arsehole. I flinched.
“Don’t be shy, young Joel. I know all about you! One of my friends told me he’d seen you down the gay sauna!”
“What gay sauna? What is a gay sauna even?”
“Don’t give me that! You know damn well the one I mean. Down by the station, down the big town.”
“OK but no, no, he must be mistaken!”
“Don’t lie to me boy! He told me about this tattoo!” he said as he lifted my shirt up further, revealing my wicked Chinese dragon ink. He traced the design with his finger. “Nice!” he said.
“Well, alright it was me. One of my friends works there, handing out the towels and taking the cash.”
“Really? A towel-folder, eh? What’s his name? Gideon?” he laughed, “I hear you’re a regular there, even wearing flip-flops like the old hands. Be careful not to be too regular there or you might bump into someone else you know. Me, for instance!”
“You! But you’re married!”
“True, true. But then so are a good half of the guys there! And they are always on the lookout for young, fresh chicken. Like you! Still I’m sure I can rely on you to keep my secret, just as you can rely on me to keep yours. Now be a good boy, get up and suck my cock for me!”
“What?!”
“Just do it, lad! You know you want to.”
Well as a young tart, how could I refuse? I unzipped his trousers, rummaged in his pants and found what I was looking for with no trouble! I slurped away at his engorged meaty column and he sighed contentedly. My tongue probed under his foreskin and teased around the piss slit.
“Good, good. I shall expect you to swallow, my boy.”
“Yes boss, err Sir. Of course. It’s the only way!”
“Indeed. Indeed.”
He grunted, sweated and moaned and then came suddenly, jets of hot spunk splattering inside my mouth. It tasted great, really great. No, I mean really, really great. You’ve no idea. I began to think I could develop a taste for old men’s sperm.
“Now, that’s better. I’m pleased to see you can be a good boy. But I’m warning you, any more nonsense and you’ll be feeling this!” With that he slapped a brown leather spanking strap down on his desk, right before my eyes.
“Shit!” I exclaimed.
“More like shit hot! Bespoke, made especially for me by my good saddler friend down the road. You wouldn’t believe how much it hurts! He’s bi too, by the way. And a regular down the sauna.”
I wondered whether his saddler friend was the one who had tipped him off about my frequent trips to the sauna. In truth, I was becoming rather addicted to the anonymous casual sex on offer there. I then wondered whether my colleague Robbie had felt Mr. Smith’s hand in anger, or even that leather strap? I rather thought he had, as that would have explained the wink. But I wondered if he’d ever sucked the boss’s cock? I hoped not as I felt Mr. Smith had taken rather a shine to me, all of a sudden. I had one final thought. Maybe a pay rise could be on the cards?
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Story © MMXVI by Rod Cayenne
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Comments welcome
♥ Site recommended story ♥
New to The Canery is this exciting caning story by very special guest author JOELSTRAP. All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
Going Up! by Joelstrap
“Going up!” said the electronic voice as I entered the lift.
I stood facing the doors as they closed, but in the mirror to one side I noticed him standing behind me. I could hardly help it, because he was well worth noticing. Student, perhaps, I thought; around six feet, build of an athlete. Indeed he was wearing shorts and open-neck shirt and carrying a wooden bat and a ball.
I eyed him surreptitiously. Soft, brown hair clustered thickly about his head and face and extended to his collar. Eyes of deep brown appeared to be taking an interest in my behind and that realisation caused a slight stirring down below for me.
I took in the well-muscled arms, sun-browned; the broad, flat chest, the nipples just showing proud through the thin fabric of a well-fitting shirt; the slim waist; the fact that his shorts were tight enough to reveal a manly bulge and, yes definitely, a swelling above it, reaching to the waistband. I took in too the long, firm legs and well-used trainers. I liked.
He seemed oblivious to the fact that I was watching him and was certainly focussed more on my bottom than on anything else. As I watched, he moved the bat to his right hand and swung it about, as if he was hitting something; then, before I had time to register what was going on, he swatted me across the buns with it.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, turning a furious face towards him.
He seemed untroubled.
“Sorry,” he said disarmingly. “I thought you might like it.”
“Well,” I admitted cautiously, “I suppose it was okay. But you…”
At this moment I was interrupted by a violent juddering of the floor and then the lift bumped to a halt, so that we both almost lost our footing.
“Oh, shit!” he said fiercely.
I picked up the emergency ’phone and spoke to the caretaker who assured me he’d see what he could do. In the meantime, we’d just have to wait.
“You were going to say that I shouldn’t be swatting complete strangers on the bum with my bat, weren’t you?” he suggested.
“Exactly. So why did you?” I asked.
“You’ve got such gorgeous buns, I couldn’t resist,” he replied with disconcerting openness. “Are you really annoyed?”
I decided to play along as I definitely wanted to get to know him a bit better.
“Not really,” I told him, sliding down to sit on the floor. “It was quite exciting.”
That got a reaction. His eyes shone.
“Yeh? You really liked it? You want more?”
His erection was straining at his shorts and his eyes were dancing. He raised his bat and cracked it against his palm.
“Have you swatted a guy before?” I asked him.
“No; but I’d like to!” He slammed the bat into his palm again and then adjusted the bulging fabric at the front of his shorts.
“Sit down,” I told him, “and tell me why you want to spank me.”
He dropped to the floor, a slightly disappointed look in his eyes. I didn’t think it would do him any harm to wait. I took the opportunity to deal with my own erection while he was getting himself settled in the corner of the lift.
“Dunno, really. I got dad’s belt across my arse when I was a kid, up to maybe about fourteen; but that’s all. I have these wild fantasies about tanning a guy’s bum though. Never had a chance to do it, worse luck,” he complained.
“But you think you’ve got a chance now?”
“Well, have I?”
“Maybe,” I replied, tantalising him. I loved to watch the expressions chase each other across his face; hope morphing into uncertainty and back to hope again. “Why did you swat me?”
“I told you. I just couldn’t resist your buns!”
I was frankly flattered. I was nearing thirty, but was proud of the fact that regular running and work-outs had kept my body firm and my buns taut. It was good that a kid at least ten years my junior found my buttocks such a turn-on.
“I could get you done for assault,” I said
“I know. You wouldn’t, would you?” he enquired and his eyes looked anxious.
“No,” I reassured him.
He looked decidedly relieved and then the fire rekindled in his eyes and he stroked the surface of his bat. He glanced up at me from under lowered eyelids.
“So, can I paddle you?” he asked eagerly.
I turned and moved on to all fours, presenting my buns to him.
“Oh, all right,” I told him. “Go on. But, careful at first, mind,” I warned, slightly concerned that in his excitement he might get carried away.
He came over, hefted the bat once or twice in his hand and then hit me squarely in the centre of my bottom. Even through my denims, I felt it. It was a good, firm, confident stroke. He repeated it several times, covering the surface of my behind and I flinched at each swat; they were hard enough to get my attention, but not too hard. It seemed he was a natural.
“On the bare?” he asked after a dozen strokes; and I could hear the tension in his voice.
“Okay.”
I stood up and slipped down my jeans and underpants and then knelt, offering him my unprotected buns. I felt his swats now all right. He varied the intensity and the pace of delivery so I wasn’t sure what to expect next; nor exactly where. He was good; my cock was straining.
The lift juddered.
“Fuck! It’s starting again,” he said.
I leapt swiftly to my feet, hastily yanking up pants and denims and buckling my belt. I only just made it as the lift came to a halt and the doors opened. The caretaker looked in.
“Okay, guys?”
“Fine,” I told him as we both got out. I turned to the boy.
“What’s your name?”
“Derek,” he said. “Me and mum moved in a couple of weeks ago; on the fourth floor. I’ve just started at college. Dad’s left us,” he ended rather disconsolately.
“I’m sorry. I’m Andy and I’m on the fourteenth floor.”
“The penthouse?” he asked, looking impressed.
“One below,” I said with a smile. “I’ve got a cane in my flat if you’d like to see it; maybe we could even have a go with it?”
“Oh, wow! Honest?”
“Come on,” I said. “We’ll take the stairs this time!”
It seemed like a good idea when I suggested it, considering the recent track-record of the lift; but I hadn’t allowed for our erections and progress was slow.
When we reached the fourteenth floor, I opened the door and ushered him in.
“Hey! This is a lot bigger than ours,” he marvelled, laying his bat and ball on a chair. He walked over to the big window and gazed for a moment at the panorama of the city spread beneath us. Then he turned to me.
“So, where is it then? The cane, I mean.”
“You’re impatient,” I told him with a grin. “Hang on.”
I opened a drawer and took out my cane.
He stared, wide-eyed.
“Wicked!”
“Never seen one before?” I asked.
He shook his head as I moved towards him.
He extended his hand and I raised the cane with lightning speed and cracked it sharply across his outstretched palm. He let out an offended yell and withdrew it smartly, nursing it under his arm. His face showed outrage and hurt.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he demanded angrily, looking disbelievingly at the red mark on his skin.
“Why did you hold out your hand?” I countered.
“To get the cane from you, of course,” he replied.
“Well, you got it, didn’t you?”
“You know bloody well that’s not what I meant!”
“I thought that’s what you came up here for,” I said. “So I could give you the cane.”
“So you could give me the cane?!” He looked scandalised.
“That’s right. That is why you came, isn’t it?”
“No, it fucking well isn’t. I thought I was going to give you the cane.”
“No! Fancy that now! Well, what a mix-up,” I said, trying hard not to smile at his confusion. “So,” I continued. “Am I to take it that you don’t want me to cane you?”
“Too right,” he answered at once.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, watching him closely.
He was eying the cane, uneasily and yet with curiosity.
“Sit down and have a feel of it,” I said.
He sat on the sofa and I handed him the cane.
“Get your hands on it and learn about it and I’ll make some coffee,” I told him.
When I returned with a couple of mugs, he was still arching the cane, feeling its lithe flexibility, its strong, slim power.
“You like?” I enquired gently.
“It’s cool. Bet it hurts like hell.”
I handed him a mug and he laid the cane on the coffee-table; but his eyes kept straying back to it, absorbing both its threat and its promise. He was still fully aroused; as was I.
“So, have you changed your mind? Would you like to try what it tastes like?” I asked.
He took a mouthful of coffee and then got up and walked over to the window and looked out for several seconds. At last he turned, his face slightly flushed.
“On my shorts?” he enquired shyly.
I had him!!
“At first,” I said.
He turned fully to me, eyes blinking rapidly.
“On the bare?” he asked softly, awe in his tone.
“Of course. How else?”
“It’ll hurt.”
“Yes.”
“Suppose it’s meant to.”
“Definitely. Not much point otherwise. That’s why it’s got to be on the bare,” I informed him.
“Yeh. I see that,” he replied.
“So, you up for it, Derek?”
He turned again to the window and I watched his profile as he fought his inner battle; one part of him wanting it; the other scared of the pain. But I knew which side would win! He looked at me and I could see the resolve on his handsome young features.
“Okay,” he told me, his voice admirably steady. “I’m up for it!”
I picked up the cane.
“Now, you do exactly as you’re told,” I informed him sternly. “Got that?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir!”
He stood very straight as he said it, like a soldier on parade. Boy, he was gorgeous. I took in the slim, athletic body, the tanned legs and arms, the strong neck, the generous mounds of his rump; and the throbbing bulge in his groin, which corresponded beautifully to what was happening between my own legs. He was standing stock-still, eyes to the front, the merest hint of a tremor in his hands betraying his excitement and apprehension. He was ready to obey.
I placed a dining-chair in front of him and told him to bend over the back of it. He complied instantly, presenting me with one of the most beautifully-formed pairs of buns I’d ever seen. They were stunning, fully-rounded, stretching the fabric of his shorts so every curve stood out. If ever a boy’s bottom was begging for the cane, this one was. For several seconds I was spell-bound, just gazing in admiration, seeing in my mind’s eye the neat tram-lines of the cane on the bare flesh; and the dark, thrilling place concealed between the muscular buttocks.
I had to adjust my jeans again as I took up position behind him and to one side. I touched the cane on his rump and saw his tense body quiver.
“Not too hard at first,” I told him. “Try to keep still and to keep quiet. You hear me, Derek?”
“Yes, sir.”
I raised the cane and gave him a firm stroke across the centre of his bottom; and was rewarded with a slight wince, but no sound.
I gave him a second one, a little lower, increasing the force slightly. Again a wince and the hint of breath drawn in sharply.
Just below it for number three, stoically taken. For the fourth I moved above the first and added a bit more zing. He flinched and gasped audibly; but he stayed down and there was no protest. I glanced beneath him and was pleased to see that his erection was as strong as ever. So was mine!
Five was given still higher; and then six on a diagonal across the first five. He jumped a bit at that one and a half-stifled yelp came from him. My cock jumped too with the excitement. I waited to see if he was going to get up; but he was good. He’d been told to stay down and down he stayed. I was beginning to feel some respect for this youngster.
“Stand!” I ordered.
He straightened up at once and his hands moved to his behind.
“Hands at your side, head up, eyes front!” I barked at him and he responded immediately. He was still fully aroused and the slight smile on his face suggested he was feeling pleased with himself at how he’d done so far. So far! But we’d see!
“Take off your trainers.”
He did so and resumed his position, standing to attention.
“Take off your shorts!”
Again he obeyed swiftly, baring his buttocks as he had nothing on underneath. He seemed untroubled by the long, thick cock which bounced enthusiastically when it was released from the constrictions of his shorts. Again he stood, erect and motionless, waiting.
I let him wait; and just watched. Slowly the signs of growing tension began to appear; a nervous twitching of his fingers; a delicate sheen of sweat on his face and arms; an increasingly frequent sideways glance to see what I was doing. I admired the faint red lines which my cane had left on those stunning buns and was pleased at their symmetry. I picked up the cane again and observed at once the dramatic increase in the tension of his body. He was holding himself ready now; for he knew that a sterner test faced him and that it was about to begin.
I went round in front of him and showed him the cane. He eyed it balefully, swallowed and then stared resolutely ahead. I really did have a lot of respect for this boy.
“Bend over!”
He bent dutifully over the chair and there were his buttocks presented and waiting, bare and vulnerable for the cane. I lashed the air and smiled as I saw him wince. I touched his firm behind with the rod and saw the tension rise so it seemed his young body was stretched like a violin-string. I would play the instrument with my cane and see what kind of music was produced.
I reached back and hit him fairly hard. His body jerked and a loud gasp escaped him. His glutes tightened, quivered and then slowly relaxed.
“Fuck!”
The expressive monosyllable came out like a bullet.
“Felt that, did you?” I enquired.
He sighed.
“Yes, sir!”
There was as much enthusiasm as there was resignation in his response.
“You’re remembering your orders to stay in position?”
“Yes, sir. I won’t move,” he answered with surprising confidence. We’d see!
Crack! I etched a second fiery line below the first and just for a moment his right foot lifted from the floor before being replaced. He took the strokes resolutely, uttering gasps, the occasional squeak, his body responding to the pain with flinches and tensed muscles; a bending of the knees and a half turn of his lower body as he processed the pain, but always coming back to position. I watched with delight the contorted features on the open young face as he dealt with his agony; and I observed closely how the proud cock sagged a bit and then at the eighth stroke suddenly began to rise again. By the time I’d completed the dozen he was fully erect. The boy ran true to form; he was as good as he looked.
“Stand!”
He obeyed, a little stiffly and stood to attention once more. There was a wetness in his eyes and a series of vivid welts on his bum; but his cock was up, his head was up and his self-confidence was sky-high. He’d done well; and he knew it; and he’d liked it!
I laid aside the cane and went in front of him again. I knelt at his feet and cupped his heavy, full balls in my right hand. He rose slightly on to the balls of his feet.
“Steady!” I told him; and I heard him breathe out and ease back so that his heels were on the floor again.
I touched the base of his penis with my tongue and licked carefully. From deep in his chest came a kind of moan as he sounded the base notes of male ecstasy.
“Going up!” I said as my tongue slid up the long, hard shaft. He was quivering on the brink and when I sent the end of my tongue across the straining, exposed tip of his penis, he came in a great surge of orgasmic power, releasing with his copious young spunk all the tensions and stresses of what he’d just endured. I glanced at the spreading damp patch on the front of my jeans and saw his gaze follow me.
“Looks like you came right to the top too,” he said with a shy smile.
“Maybe you’d like to come back in a day or two?” I suggested.
“Try to stop me!” he said eagerly.
“But don’t use the lift,” I warned him. I picked up my cane and showed it to him. “I’ve got another way of getting you up!”
“All the way to the penthouse?” he enquired with a broad grin.
“Oh, you won’t be stopping at the penthouse,” I told him. “You’ll be going right through the roof.”
And three days later, he did; and so did I!
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Story ©MMX by Joelstrap, and used here by very kind permission of the author.
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Please leave a comment by using the link at the top of the story.
Joelstrap’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here. Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link
♥ Site recommended story ♥
Red hot new spanking fiction by very special guest author Sukemnsee. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery! All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!
The Builders by Sukmnsee
Part One
I live in a newly built apartment in the early phase of a major housing project. The whole process is years behind the first mooted schedule of regeneration and some of that may well be the developers are riding the crest of appreciating property prices. As a result, for a while there has been lots of scenic view from the 3rd floor balcony but that is rapidly changing.
A large building development site is quite fascinating, my mind is drawn to how much expenditure happens in the project. The apartments when sold are big money but not as silly as some prices but how many apartments have to be sold to cover the costs. In phase 3 of the plan, there are 3 separate tower cranes, all at a cost to hire. There is no end of plant in use and at times it seems like a major construction workforce.
For months after demolition of earlier buildings, it just seemed that time was used playing with JCB earth movers, levelling ground, digging, excavating, reprofiling accompanied by multiple movements of lorries taking away subsoils to some depository and people paid just to wave a hosepipe in the street and at the wheels of trucks.
Then there was the piling. Little machines with big drills going deep as if drilling for oil and making holes, followed by men weaving rusting steel rods into a frame before concrete poured over. Eventually those same piles became visible with new movements as great retaining walls and feet of other foundations.
Now the main fabrication of the new tower blocks is taking place, one off to the left, one much farther and in the right then signs of new infill so that before long I will not see the first building in the project constructed or the traditional main road behind. The work is intense now with concrete, floors and more steel and frames to cast key building points in the addition of level after level. It still remains fascinating though as you see an array of men in white hard hats and bright yellow visibility wear, all having tasks to do. A hammer to be swung, a chain to pull on the concrete hopper dangling from the crane. All the gibbets used for securing men with safety harness clips so there is reduced risk of injury if they step too far, of mobile steps with gates to avoid unbalanced falling back. Bright yellow covered walkways, defined steps to change levels, no end of measures designed to improve safety.
I can lounge around watching the work all day when free time occurs or maybe download other entertainment as I enjoy the cosy warmth of good insulation and divest of most clothing, only getting up to refresh the hot tea.
It was one such afternoon that suddenly I heard a sharp rap at the apartment door. Who could this be, why no preliminary call on the video link intercomm. The door is not actually locked when I am at home but it is solid and shut so little prospect of disturbance. Was it a neighbour? If it was some sales call they would get an earful. I pulled on my tighty whities and went to the door, remembering an old memory of doing some random canvassing and a well known actor, recently deceased, answering his door to me in singlet and underpants and thinking why not, I am the intruder.
At the door were two builders, probably from the site opposite. One was about 40 and quite solid, the other was probably short of 30 and quite lean. The elder one said they needed to talk to me about the view from my lounge. I asked them into the lounge which is dominated by large windows and sliding door onto the small balcony. On the opposite wall there is a bed settee, usually just in use as sofa, and in the corner close to the windows but shaded by wall is the television with other furnishings around the walls.
As they stood there, the younger one commented that it was strange in a way that I could easily look at the window and see such a load of activity. I admitted that it was at times fascinating watching the range of activities, especially the long tortuous process of watching the crane operator ascending by a series of individual ladders, noting some days it was a vigorous climb yet others seemed a real weary process. Right now in the middle distance the footings were taking shape ready for some serious completion of floor levels which was already happening slightly to the left.
The older one interjected that if I could see so much detail, had I not thought that builders might be able to see into open, unshaded windows. I said that they would usually be too busy on their projects to be noticing. He replied there are times that they need to wait for delivery or that night security patrol makes loose comments about people in flats. I was a little shocked by the notion of viewing by night security as I had never noticed anyone patrolling the site.
The older one continued that it was noticed that this flat never drew the curtains that were there and so from time to time you have been watched. You spend a lot of time on the sofa more or less naked and obviously watching TV Video for some stimulation. Even now you are hardly dressed and it is daytime, perhaps you had an early finish.
The younger one piped up, saying that what he was alluding to was that he wanted to see your porn. The guy needs help and figures you could be good to let him watch for a while, get his blood flowing and his mind racing. But I see a simple screen, where is the video or is it a super smart TV?
I laughed, “sorry but it is a relatively simple TV with freeview built in, I stopped acquiring video years back when on line became so popular. I mainly use my iPad on the Tumblr app with occasionally following through to some video snippets or even longer films on You Tube. Mind you, you have just given me an idea, I could set up my projector against the blank wall and link into my lap top”
The elder one thought and declared projection would be better than trying to look at a small tablet but how about I start looking at the tablet while you get the projector set up
I handed over the iPad with the Tumblr app open while I took a few pictures off the wall to increase the potential projection area. Next I planned to move the table back into centre so that the projector would be well positioned. I never got that far. My elder man was disappointed.
“What the hell is all this crap, I haven’t seen a single fanny yet! Are you a bloody poofter, all you have got is loads of men with dicks and pervy smacking shots. That’s not what I want to see!”
He handed over the iPad to the younger builder who laughed.
“I suppose this stuff is quite kinky, cannot see you getting your rocks off to this”
He handed back the iPad back to me without closing the app so the image I saw was a guy of about his age, full frontal, in shape and pleasing to see. I wondered if there was any message or just accidental point of stoppage.
“Well, if that’s your attitude I won’t bother to set the projector or search some straight porn out”
“Too right”, said the older guy, “we’re off, waste of time this was!”
They headed off and I shut the door behind them, slowly getting angered at the effrontery of the guy for thinking he could invade my privacy and then be picky about what he found before I was ready. I went back to the sofa and calmed down by surfing the app until I was more inclined to get really excited, but I just stayed in the moment rather than finishing off.
Probably an hour had passed when there was another rap at the door. Was it the same guys again? I strode to the door not even bothering to put my pants back on. What did I care, whoever was calling without using the intercom was essentially invading my privacy. Then as I started to open the door, I thought what if it is a neighbour, so I opened the door slightly and put my head around.
“Don’t worry, I am on my own, he is working on that building by the main road”
It was the younger builder. I let him in. Surprisingly he was carrying a small tripod. He also had a back pack on. He strode on into the lounge.
“I just wanted to apologise for Harry’s behaviour. I was embarrassed how the situation developed and things he said. You must know we are not all the same. Perhaps I can make it up to you by posing for pictures”
As he was saying this he was emptying the back pack which had a tool belt, a yellow hard hat, a digital camera and a tape measure.
“You have some cheek! You sheepishly follow the other guy around as he behaves badly and finds my porn is not his liking. Then you presume you have me figured out and that if you dress up as a builder for a picture I am going to be easily satisfied”
This indignation that I suddenly put on took him by surprise.
“Oh! I thought you would like me in hard hat and boots. I know quite a few of the guys sneak looks at me in the showers. I got the idea from that brief moment I had your iPad as I switched to your likes and that is why I looked out a yellow hat”
I thought I had better not overdo my reaction as he looked quite sheepish and while I had burst his bubble, I certainly did not want to lose this developing opportunity. I just wanted to change the sense of control back to me. I looked at the iPad and switched to the likes, maybe he used Tumblr as well to know where to look so easily. Sure enough, a few pictures back was of a hunky guy, naked and excited wearing a yellow hard hat and a strategic little replica.
“It could be an idea to reproduce some of my likes, but perhaps while I nip to the bathroom for a few moments you had better look again. My tastes are varied and you could be exploring new ground”
I handed him the iPad once more and went into the bathroom for a thorough freshen up, if this led to anything I did not want to be found distasteful, assuming that is he could cope with me being a much older mam, old enough to be his father or better his uncle, definitely overweight and not exactly model material.
By the time I walked back into the lounge he had the tripod set up with the camera mounted and he just happened to be naked except for work boots and a yellow hard hat. What a lovely sight he was. He was well proportioned of average height and a light brown with just a hint of red or perhaps the better description is auburn smattering of hair between well developed chest muscles becoming a wispy trail down to a handful of pubic hair and a pleasant cock that had just enough foreskin nestling above a pair of egg sized testicles. From there his legs seemed just right. A man in condition but not overblown through excessive gym sessions. No wonder other guys stole glances at him. I scanned all this image in my head very swiftly and he may have been surprised to know how much I had already taken in.
I told him the first thing he needed to do was show me how the camera worked, assuming I was an absolute beginner. He joined me at the camera standing close to me explaining the functions which included a video function and a timer delay that was ideal for selfies as he termed the practice of capturing his own image. Having done that he walked back into the centre of the room and I noticed his rear view was just as pleasant as the front. He had enough shape to define his buttocks but they were neither flabby or bony. Being younger, they had no sag and were not hairy at all, though there was the beginnings of a hairy patch in the small of his back.
I told him that I was confident we could create some great builder as model pictures that he would like for himself and not just to be pleasing me, but that first, there were other things to deal with. I asked if he had seen some of my likes and he said most of it was all new to him. By this stage he had revealed his name was Archie, short form of Archibald with a second name of Bartholomew, names which had been in his family for generations. He commented that I had a lot of spanking pictures, with me confirming I was often a receiver with little tolerance but as the years rolled by I was becoming the spanker more often. The lad was sharp as he noted I said more often so perhaps I did still get spanked after all. I admitted that I did permit some people to spank me. I wondered why I was so open to him. I told him he knew what was to happen next given his bad behaviour earlier, a first instalment before other things he might have had in mind. He looked concerned and said he did not really know what he had to do. That provoked a sharper response as I told him to do was to take a spanking. I was a little fierce as he responded that he knew now that he would be spanked he just did not know how he should be positioned.
I moved one of the dining chairs into a nice central position then set up the video on camera to catch the scene with a two minute delay. Then I went and sat on the chair and told him to get himself over Uncle’s knee. Rather hesitatingly he came to my right hand side and leant over. He had quite long legs so I widened my legs a little to make a wider platform. He stretched over quite easily and placed his hands on the floor ahead of him. He also spread his legs a little. A lovely sight, his crack relaxed, his two buns shapely, the camera would have a great view. I wondered if he had done this before or was just intuitive. I palmed my hand around his buttocks getting the measure of them telling him that I would normally spank a young man in three stages, over trousers, over underpants and then on flesh. I was still rubbing my hand and I felt him widen his legs a little, probably finding this a little stimulating. I responded by letting the side of my hand move along his crack and as it got lower to define each buttock. I was still talking, telling that I would reflect the stages by not being too intense at first but that he would get to know when he was at third stage.
Suddenly I had raised my hand and planted a broad palm firmly on his right buttock. Not too intensely but it made him gasp from surprise. I continued a few more measured slaps, striking different parts with the hand deadening the shot and not rushing from the skin. It produced a few pinky marks. I stopped and rubbed him again, telling him I did not spend long punishing the thicker material of trousers.
My hand now came down rapidly with more intensity with more defined slaps. Some of them made him jerk a little and little noises of discomfort were heard. As I was slapping him I told him this stage was often more of a surprise in the change of intensity. I also told him that this was not his total punishment and we were looking forward to using the camera so that I would not get to the bare skin stage as such this time. With a flourish I landed a quick volley of meaningful spanks then told him to get up. He was not as quick to get up as he had laid down and as he stood he moved his legs a little adjusting to the discomfort and looking over his shoulder to see some initial redness. I got up and reset the camera.
I asked him if he had thought what sort of poses he wanted for the camera shots. He was a bit nonplussed. I asked did he just want a few straight poses or perhaps angles suggesting him working. He liked the idea of related shots. Firstly I had him wear his tool belt and had him stand on short steps, feet on different steps reaching up over his head as if nailing something. I rotated him and got several shots showing his musculature and his shapely bottom which although still pinky was not the main focus. Then I took a few full body shots, getting him to move the tool belt off centre so that next to the belt hung his own prized tool. I noticed that indeed had stirred and looked even more attractive as we worked. I then went into the kitchen and put some turmeric into water and bringing back a sponge I painted him a little to suggest the dust and dirt of his work. Those made excellent shots. Finally I got a few shots of him working on the floor. I loved the shot where he was kneeling on all floors scrubbing away at the floor, the angle suited his muscular body and whether he realised it or not, the view looking towards his anus revealed his testicles to hang in a defined and erotic manner. As I moved him to further poses my hand just had to be guiding him with pressure on his bottom, desperately resisting the notion to start exploring with fingers or just some serious slapping.
At this stage he was quite playful and he must have realised that I was enjoying his exposures. I told him I now wanted some simple full body shots and so he paraded with flexes of biceps and holding his chest firm and stomach in. I noticed his penis was fuller than it had been, highly attractive and such a temptation but it was still far from full extension or rigidity. I got active with the camera for a while then told him he knew there was one special shot he had come to recreate but he needed to take some action while I was just getting one more prop ready. I offered him the iPad but he said he could manage.
I came back into the room minutes later and he had succeeded. He was stood there with hands behind his neck proudly disporting his frontal view with a enticing rich erection jutting almost vertical and an appreciable size. His foreskin had been retracted and hardly visible as the skin was reused in the expanded area before his bulbous darker tip. I came forward and added my prop, a tiny yellow helmet jauntily astride his exposed glans, just like the initial picture seen except that toy would have been better crafted than my brief improvisation with cutting the top of the thumb of a rubber glove. They made excellent pictures and when I showed him on camera view he seemed pleased too.
I told him we had finished with the photo shoot but I noticed he was still erect. I fingered it carefully telling him that we could be patient and let it subside or we could look to provoke deflation by making it produce. He smiled and said that he was definitely still horny. I asked him what he wanted to do and he was unsure, not wanting to get too wild this first time but leave some things for another visit. That was enough and I took a firm grip of his erection and tugged him across the room, with no resistance, so that I was seated at one end of the sofa before pulling him much closer and flicking off the little cap, I placed my lips over his engorged glans and he fell forward using his arms to steady himself on the top of the sofa although he made no effort to stop what I had started. I had quite fancied leaving the cap in place at first but being unsure how secure this quick makeshift prop would hold in place I had not wished to inadvertently swallow it. I would of course ensure there was a future better quality mini helmet for a helmet but for now I had an unvarnished tool ready for me to work on.
I continued to work on his erect phallus using the tip of my tongue to tease all of the glans and the rim while just gently fingering the lower part of his shaft and cupping the definition of his testicles. This worked as I expected as he was soon leaking precum, the sticky transparent natural lubricant. I considered to myself that his willing acceptance suggested this was not the first time he had quality fellatio and had probably had it from a male as well.
Without breaking contact, I shuffled so that I was more lying on the sofa and that he could also lie across my head and start a more defined motion. I know many people struggle with deep throating but with my experience I knew I could cope without too much gag reflex. This also gave me a chance to cup his firm glutes with an odd slap added as he now pumped into me. If there were to be future sessions I would mould his actions but if he was at all typical of many heterosexual males I had enjoyed, his sense of control and thrusting would keep him satisfied and less self conscious.
After maybe ten minutes my jaw was starting to ache but I could also feel his bodily reaction was becoming fevered and frenetic as he drew close to his orgasm. He suddenly yanked his penis free of my mouth and then almost simultaneously pumped ribbon after ribbon of white spunk all over my face. I let him finish then grasped his tip again back into his mouth to clean up. Very quickly he had that great sensitivity and started to pull away and it was obvious I had caused deflation. To my surprise he then planted a definite kiss on my mouth, not rushing or being squeamish about my sticky face, telling me that was helluva blowjob. He then pulled away telling me he was cleaning himself up in my bathroom to which I consented, telling him to grab a clean towel from the hall cupboard. Meanwhile I slowly washed my own face in the kitchen sink and draped a dressing gown on me.
Several minutes later, he emerged and packed up the tripod and camera and then dressed himself. He was quite natural and not wildly embarrassed and as Archie left he told me had had a great session on many counts and he would let me see the pictures he keeps sometime soon. He quietly left and I laid back and relished my recent experience.
Part Two
Archie called again the following Tuesday afternoon, using the video link intercom to request access. It was only about 15 minutes after I had returned home, an earlier finish, so potentially he had been keeping an eye out for me returning home.
Once he was inside, being careful to take off work boots and leave them in the hallway, seated and accepting a glass of water, he began his conversation, which he had indicated was to be of a short duration.
Firstly he thanked me profusely for last week. He had enjoyed it even above his expectations. He quickly apologised once more about Harry and said that Harry would have had no idea that there had been any follow up and he should be unlikely to find out unless, he left the phrase unfinished and said the pictures and videos had turned out well and he would shortly send them across to me electronically.
He was quiet then for a moment, perhaps he was formulating how to ask for a further session.
I let him be still but then asked what problem had arisen as I could see something in his body language.
He smiled briefly and admitted there was a slight problem about Kipling. I was surprised as my first thought was of the classic writer, Rudyard Kipling, and had no idea he was talking of a younger builder on the site. When he said that was the young man’s first name and not surname as that seemed unusual, I did say is he a good puppy, as it was more likely to be a contemporary name for a dog.
After some hesitancy, he explained that Kipling had sought him out and had a private conversation, he did not really know him before that. The problem had been with the work camera that he had used. Despite his best efforts, he had not managed to clear all the card memory or built in cache and this young man had used the camera and managed to find evidence.
I asked what he thought had been found and it was three or four modelling shots and a section, strangely not whole, of some video of Archie being spanked.
I immediately asked if the boy, why I made him sound much younger was a mystery, was trying to blackmail Archie and demanding any money.
Archie said he had not immediately looked at it as blackmail but he was aware that the evidence could be reported to site management and that would start some embarrassing enquiries, not the least of which was that he had not
officially clocked off the site even though at the time he had visited, his section was delayed awaiting deliveries that had been forecasted to be at least 90 minutes late and had profited from the time while others he knew had lost money gambling in card games. He had clocked off this time, he did not like to make mistakes repeatedly.
I asked if it was not money, what was it that Kipling was looking for as I could tell this was unfinished business.
Archie said that perhaps luckily that the imagery seen had made Kipling horny and although he was only almost 21 years old, he had seen extensive Male porn and did find that spanking and more did get him excited. And so basically he was demanding to be included when we held a next session when at least one person present would be spanked deeply. He wanted to be an onlooker. Archie did think however that he was being bold and had no tangible experience but was maximising this sudden opportunity.
I smiled to myself as the television series called The Apprentice was now showing and it almost sounded like a line from the boss before the final discussions and raking over task failures.
I decided to put him to the test. I told Archie to contact him and we could have some activity tonight when they had finished work. Archie tried calling him by mobile phone which was unanswered. I was not surprised as if this Kipling boy was active on the building site, then would it compromise safety to be making calls and having distractions. Archie made ready to physically return to the site but then the phone rang and the call was returned. Kipling apologised he was busy and needed time to reach a place to make a call, I could hear this as Archie had the phone in speaker mode. Archie told him I had made an offer for straight after work. Kipling said he could not do that as he planned to meet up with friends, I told Archie it was no issue except that it would probably be at least three weeks before any new opportunity and the call was appropriately ended.
After Archie had set the phone down, I said to him five minutes and he was puzzled as I did nothing more to explain, we talked instead about the model photos taken and I was probing his imagination as to what future poses would be ideal.
His phone rang again, he answered it to Kipling. I looked at my watch and pronounced 4 minutes and 19 seconds. The meeting for this evening was on after all as Kipling had advised friends he had to attend elsewhere. After finishing the call Archie had smiled as he commented that I had every expectation of this swift response. I sent him on the way and said I would expect to meet them both within 30 minutes of the site shift ending, allowing them enough time to freshen up.
Two hours later, both young men were on the way up to me. Before Archie had left he had handed over to me his own digital camera for me to get familiar with in case I wanted to take any photos in the forthcoming session and I hoped I was now quite proficient. They came into the flat and slipped the door catch behind them and on into the lounge. Kipling was of a similar height to Archie with quite dark colouring and pronounced eyebrows on a fairly handsome face. His chest was perhaps slimmer but like many of the younger men of our time, his diet had already led to his hips being fuller and his body had the beginnings of a pear shaping. He also had those sloppy grey tracksuit trousers that are contemporary in comparison with the smart denim that was the choice of Archie. Both of them had removed socks and boots soon after entering as I had arranged with Archie. He had also put their outer jackets away as well so they were already comfortable in the lounge. For the moment I was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, also barefoot but within slippers.
I asked the two of them to seat side by side on the sofa and moved to sit on a simple dining chair which I placed so that I was facing them. I put on a stern face. I addressed Kipling, all the time wondering if it was abbreviated to Kip with his friends and trying to unlink a historical advertising slogan that put the words exceedingly fanciful into my brain. I told him I understood that he had made a discovery that meant he had something to report to me about Archie. This opened his tongue considerably.
“Well Sir, you see it is like this. Archie here is done bad. He has acted all perverted and I got to know about it and he is not even ashamed, he just looked me in the face when I told him and he didn’t say sorry and anyhows not only has he done these things but he musta bin using the camera without the gaffer knowing and just think what would happen if the guv’nor saw what I seen and as I had the camera in my ‘and I don’t wanna get no blame for nuffink as I wasn’t here when those pictures were took and anyway where did he get a yellow helmet”
This was certainly a torrent of words and I had cringed at the grammatical errors in his expression apart from any incongruity in that which had revealed. I picked up on some of his phrasing as I told him that he had given me insufficient detail as to what I could see and as yet had no idea what was in comparison like this. I told him I wanted a slow and measured account of what he knew or had found irrespective of any attribution of blame or consideration of consequence. These long words were troubling him so I told him that I heard he mentioned a camera so he could tell me the whole story one sentence at a time and if necessary I would ask him further questions as he went along.
“Well it was the camera what did it.”
I asked him to tell me about the camera, what sort of camera, what does it look like, to whom does the camera belong, where is it stored, why would he have access to the camera and to remember that a camera was an object and that it could not do anything of its own accord, let alone what I eventually hoped to understand was meant by it. He thought for a few minutes, looking rather perplexed. I told him and Archie to go into the hallway for a moment so that Archie could coach him on the best way to start his account. This delighted Archie who had been doing his utmost to suppress his smirks about the conversation so far.
They returned after almost ten minutes during which I could overhear Archie painstakingly trying to get Kipling to speak in a more structured order including things I would like to know and trying to soften some of the errors he was wont to make.
Once seated, Kipling tried for an improved version.
“My job, my role.. “
There had been a flash of eye contact between the two leading to role being proferred and Archie was trying to increase his lexicon. As he said the word however it sounded far more of a roll as he stressed the letter l.
“Is as a general assistant to the site foreman team although I am being, taught, mentored, in some construction skills, so I do some real work and don’t just ponce around the office… I mean my role is not just being at a desk and I am also studying City and Guilds for the trade. One of the many things I do is capture progress on the site and file a record as well as write up the risk assessments for any new way of working. I use the camera quite a lot as I download the pictures for each project within the bigger phases. So, there I was, taking my recent pictures of the foundations for the gym and health club facility that is part of the development and using the stick, the USB device, to transfer files.
I got my photos easily enough but on the screen there is a measuring icon for the capacity of the camera and it was still showing a lot of megabytes, so I switched to the data manager to access the device directly and it was then I found images that were not expected.
There were photos from inside of an apartment of a man that was basically naked and it was not accidental, he seemed to be wanting to be taken by the camera. It looked like he was a builder for real as there were muscles as well as gear.
Then I also found a video fragment that shows the same person spread over a man on a chair getting his bare bottom spanked but I could not get any sound through the desktop but his bottom was right pink just before he stood up. I looked at the other photos of the builder fella then I realised it was Archie here who was the builder and I was shocked. But I don’t know why he wasn’t screaming the place down with the spanking he got. So anyway, I approached him in secret after work and told him I had the pictures and he didn’t lie at all about the fact it was him but he said the pictures were meant to be private.
Then the next day he asked to see what was in the little video and I showed him so there was no use denying what he had done. He said he would have to tell the other person about the discovery and this has led to us both being here now.”
I had listened for a while and decided to now ask Archie to add to the account especially if there was information I needed to know. He confirmed he had been told about the images being found, that they had been left on the camera and that he was sorry. There was only a small portion of video on Kipling’s phone but it was enough to know he had been rumbled.
I asked him why he had chosen to have Kipling now involved and he confirmed there were more conversations following the discovery and that Kipling would get pleasure from seeing that I am not keeping it secret any longer. I told him that I would find out more about these later conversations but first there was a pressing need to start dealing with him for his crass stupidity in leaving behind evidence on the camera. I told them both to stand up. Firstly I positioned Kipling off to the side looking down towards the chair as the camera had done previously. Then I sat on the chair and told Archie to assume the position and he laid himself across my lap, this time in his jeans.
I laid several spanks of my hand across a wide area of his buttocks to get some blood circulating then started to focus attention in certain spots till he registered attention by wriggling. While seeming to be focused on spanking Archie, my eyes often used peripheral vision and I noticed that while watching what was going on, Kipling had several times felt his own crotch through the tracksuit material which was now bulging with definition so he was obviously finding the developing scenario exciting.
I told Archie to stand and to completely remove his jeans. This revealed that he was wearing bright yellow briefs. I asked Kipling at this point why he had been concerned that in the photos Archie had been wearing a yellow helmet and he responded that the usual site colour was white and that yellow helmets were issued for tasks. The most common of these was when any spraying jobs were required and the builder was wearing a full white coverall and needed the yellow helmet to stand out for safety awareness. I thought to myself that with the adaptation we had used that Archie had definitely stood out in my awareness.
In getting Archie to return over my knees, I commented that already there was some light pink visible on the flesh outside the cover of the briefs. More was to follow. I also at this point told Kipling I expected him to be watching intently with no distraction and so he should place his hands on his head.
I recommenced the spanking and with the thick jeans now removed my palm made significantly more impact. It was not long before he was squirming under many of the smacks of my hand. As this was a long phase I would vary the intensity and frequency and focus at times in one small area rather than routinely cover all areas. This might seem random variance but he did react quite a lot when I took the intensity right down but then built up to a fierce crescendo all on one place and the areas outside of the briefs were a much darker pink now and under the thin stretched vivid fabric there would not be too much variation. I told him to stand once more and to remove his briefs. He did as I asked and waited for further command.
I also told Kipling that he should now get naked as Archie was naked. He started to offer resistance and said he would be embarrassed. I reminded him that as there were only three of us present that it would be no problem. I, for one, had been amongst no end of naked men of all shapes and sizes and seeing a different body in the room was not going to give me concern. Despite the fact I was no Adonis, I was frequently naked in the company of others. I added for good measure that it was also no issue if it would be obvious if Kipling was showing excitement or even a full erection so it was time he removed those clothes swiftly or face a consequence. His face went bright red at this news and while muttering he did comply and once he had shed the last item I reminded him I expected his hands on his head once more.
When he had done this I took a swift glance at his body. His chest was slimmer than Archie and although had some definition was not as sculpted as Archie. There were the beginnings of a paunch in the lower belly that he would do well to contain. His thighs were quite wide but the lower leg muscles seemed quite normal. Although not having much general body hair, he had a thick dense patch of black pubic hair from which it was hard to define his testicles as they looked small and tight, on the contrary though and connected was that he was close to full erection, quite perpendicular and surprisingly light coloured flesh protruding with considerable length yet seemingly very slim in girth. As he was in erection mode, his glans was evident but I suspected that he did have a foreskin.
I turned back to Archie and his fine form and asked why he had wanted to have Kipling here watching him being spanked and to see whatever else might happen in this time in the apartment. He said that it was not so much wanted, though he did not mind being watched after all, but that Kipling had demanded that he be involved if Archie was to have another session. I queried why there could be any justification for Kipling being in a position to make demands. He replied that Kipling could easily report finding the images and question his use of paid time with the management and he would be in some trouble. This did not need to happen if Archie had managed to get Kipling involved in Archie getting a private punishment like today. I probed a little further as I told Archie to get back over my knee but from the other side so that he was now facing Kipling and when I resumed the spanking I would even out the impacts on both of his shapely mounds. Once in position, I was just caressing his bottom, letting him know he was in position while I asked to continue the conversation. I asked him why he thought Kipling wanted to watch this, was it about being with the naked body of Archie because surely he could get his fill of that seeing him any days strutting around the works showers or was there something more. Archie said that Kipling had mentioned that he had found some exciting spanking scenes when surfing the internet for porn but had no real experience. I commented that this could explain why even now that Kipling was showing excitement as he watched Archie getting his bare bottom spanked. I also said that there was blackmail going on but Archie was quick to state no money was involved.
I now started spanking Archie in earnest and more than likely it already felt more severe than our previous session. Some of the slaps produced definite grunts of discomfort and at this time I called Kipling to watch his face, to know that he was being dealt with for his utter carelessness and every other thing he had done wrong in the process. I reminded Kipling more than once to keep his hands to his head when they started to stray towards his groin and it was obvious that he was very excited as the erection had firmed and was adhering far closer to his stomach. After a while when Archie had been wriggling a lot, I told him to stand up. I pointed out the state of Kipling and asked Archie to test how rigid it was. Kipling said no but Archie did as I asked and grasped it firstly then yanked it down like a lever on a gaming machine to then watch it spring back firmly to the stomach. Kipling was embarrassed and very red in the face whereas Archie was just plain mischievous. He asked for the right hand of Kipling and made him feel his reddened bottom to get an idea how much it was on fire. I then told Archie to resume the original position which he did.
I continued to spank him rhythmically and as he wriggled all the more my free hand went under to hold him more still by his joystick and then to manipulate it into a level of response. Archie was sometimes making little yelps but was taking it well overall. He certainly had a very red bottom in places. At times I also was conscious that we were putting on a show for Kipling so I would pull the erection from underneath him to protrude beyond the cheeks while still smacking away. I eventually called a halt and told Archie to stand which he did after some rapid flexing leg movements as if that would ease some of the throbbing pain.
I turned toward Kipling and told him he was allowed to let his hands down before saying that I had a dim view of blackmail and although there was no money involved, there was coercion and threat of consequence so it was still reprehensible. This was why he must now get over my knee for his spanking and more. He protested of course that he was here to watch Archie, that he had never been spanked, that he could not take it like Archie can and several more excuses until he ran dry and realised I was waiting and there was nothing he could do but to place himself over my knees. At this point I quietly whispered to Archie to take some good photographs and in a louder tone I told Kipling that I was not cruel, that I would make allowance for no trousers or pants for stages, that he was inexperienced but that it was definitely time for him to receive a spanked bottom. I also told him that over the next several minutes I would want him to think of at least three wrong things he had done in the last month, apart from the pressure put on Archie which had caused the spankings of today.
As I had done with Archie in the first session, I spanked him progressively and not too severely but enough to cause a definite change in skin colour and he was nowhere near as accepting as he wriggled and groaned from the start. I reminded him that this was but nothing to what he had seen happen to Archie and that I fully expected him to man up and take his punishment better. I think he did try to suppress some noise but he was not coping too well.
The first thing he admitted to doing wrong was not helping enough at home with housework and laundry. He was supposed to separate and sort his laundry but frequently left it in a big mound for his mother to gather and nearly always waited for her to do the ironing instead of helping out.
He preferred to spend time playing games on his computer in his room rather than spending more time with his nine years younger brother who wanted to learn from Kipling.
He spent at least an hour each night surfing porn and masturbating before going to sleep and had started adding lubes and toys for some variety and pleasure. He had a special lockable chest under his bed so stuff would not be seen.
While he had been telling me all of this I had been mainly caressing his reddened bottom without resistance but once he mentioned the porn my fingers had soon reached under and with the slightest of manipulation he was firmly erect again. I tugged awkwardly to make his shaft visible from the rear, being stiffened it wanted to point down more than right back and pointed it out to Archie, that watching a spanking and even being spanked and thinking about spanking was obviously making Kipling quite horny. Kipling’s face was really red as I did this and especially when I had Archie tease his glans with fingertips lightly. He was oozing precum so swiftly.
I let go and thanked him for being honest, I let his erection take a more natural position underside and just kept my palm resting over his lower stalk and gripped his testicles with light thumb pressure. For being honest I was reducing his slippering to eight strokes. As I said this I slipped off my right slipper and taking it my right hand brought it crashing down on his right buttock. The shock and sudden impact made him yelp as the second swipe came down pitched towards the left. I called Archie over and told him to kneel alongside with his bottom raised so I could reach him just as easily. He did this well and was just at an angle to the forward right so that all I had to do was change direction to make impact. I brought another one down on Kipling’s right buttock and as he tensed expecting another, I landed three rapid swipes on Archie whose buttock coloured swiftly but he had made no noise. I brought a fourth down on Kipling who squealed before again applying three more on Archie, deepening the redness. Then I took Kipling by surprise by bringing two rapidly down on his now very red right buttock and I could feel him trying to wrench away except my left hand had enough grasp to lessen his effort. As he calmed he heard Archie absorb six more consecutive swipes with hardly a grunt before I finished Kipling off with one hard swipe on the left and one planted on the crown.
I told them both to stand and observe my hard work on each of them. They gingerly got up and did as asked. I told them to stand side by side facing the patio window so that I could sit back and enjoy my handiwork. Kipling started to protest he would be seen from the building site but I reminded him it was closed. So I sat back looking at the rears, reddened indeed, of two young men, both attractive but Archie so better to behold.
Just then there was a knock on the door in the hallway. I answered to a man I did not know, quite attractive but probably past 30 years old. He explained his name was Gavin and they lived above me but although it seemed the soundproofing in this block was good as he hardly ever heard noise, and in fact I too had never registered noises from above or below, it had disturbed him as he heard noise and wondered if I had any problems. I told him the plumbing was working fine and asked if it was kitchen chopping or something. He said it was almost like hearing a carpet being beaten. I said I merely had a good rug which I vacuumed so it could not have been that and he looked puzzled. I invited him in to set his mind at rest and we swiftly toured the apartment. If he noticed the boys by the wall he made no mention and just apologised for disturbing me. I told him that was no problem and now we had met we should do a coffee sometime. He said Neil was shortly due home and if I provided coffee in about an hour, he would bring sustenance. I accepted and said that would be ideal.
On returning to the boys, Kipling was agitated. He wondered if they had been seen but I said surely not as nothing had been said. He had been interested in the kitchen and the carpet, he may not have even registered the decor. I said anyway that it was enough of the view as it is time to treat Archie. I asked Archie to lay back on the sofa and watched his fine form. I told Kipling to stick with me as we went to kneel by the sofa so that I reached over and started to pleasure Archie in his proud manliness which had started to stiffen while he lay and realised my intent. I asked Kipling to help but he spluttered that he had not done anything like this before. I told him he would soon learn to give and receive pleasure if he followed what I said. I got him to initially focus on licking the length of the underside of the enlarged shaft, just to appreciate the dimension and the texture while I worked the other side and frequently teased the glans tip with a rigid tongue so that Archie was a fountain of precum. Slowly I got Kipling into feeling the shape and looseness of the testicles and eventually got him to hold one ball within the sack in his mouth before returning to the work on shaft. After the initial resistance he was quite a swift learner and did not object as Archie tussled our heads in his pleasure. At one point I pushed the glans over as Kipling rose the shaft and he got his first full glans on his tongue. I kept him there and coached him as he started to naturally fall into fully taking the whole shaft deep down before gagging slightly. I encouraged him back up and got him to focus on stimulating the upper half until full absorption became more natural. Meanwhile Archie was responding with a more defined thrust.
As soon as Kipling was working unaided unwittingly, I dove to the floor and set to work on his slightly dormant erection that sprung into life. I am pretty sure that was the first successful blowjob he had ever received as he was writhing in delight in moments and expressing his own satisfaction by going deeply down on Archie. Archie could recognise this and also started to stimulate Kipling by caressing his neck and ears. Poor Kipling. He was being initiated by two who knew how to get him high and he was in a frenzy making all manner of little squeals. Archie knew he was now close to cumming and with resistance pulled out of the boy’s mouth and took himself over the edge painting the whole upper body with his white liquid ribbons. The feel of the warm liquid on his face produced another gasp and then Kipling had no control over his own geyser which erupted in wave after wave even after I had pulled my face away. He had gotten so excited his breath was in short gasps and he seemed momentarily distant before Archie pulled him up to standing and gave him a big hug with sincere congratulations. He then led him off to the shower for a good but slow clean up, making that first assisted shower experience highly pleasurable.
Eventually they came back into lounge, naked but refreshed and dry. Kipling wanted to get dressed and be away but Archie was quite happy in natural state. I agreed and got full contact details from Kipling as I had future plans for him. He left on good terms and I returned to the lounge where Archie and I began over a couple of beers to discuss further modelling ideas. Time passed and Archie was fully relaxed and delightful in personality.
The door knocked once more and I realised it must be Gavin and Neil. No time to prepare so must just brazen it out. I asked Archie to put some water on to boil so we could make coffee and then I answered the door. It was Gavin and Neil but Gavin looked like he had spent the last hour grooming, he looked so fresh and years younger already with his hair tidied. Neil was obviously several years younger and quite fresh in the face, a little stockier than Gavin and much more of a blonde complexion but an endearing smile as they entered. I sat them down and called to Archie that we needed coffee for four now. Neil had been carrying a plate within a bag and made for the kitchen area to then see Archie facing the cabinets. He called back to Gavin that this was the best place for coffee in town and to get ready to enjoy. He left the kitchen area with a grin and came to sit down. Archie being swift on the uptake was unperturbed and so continued the preparation before entering carrying the tray. On seeing him enter Gavin was open mouthed in amazement before Neil made a comment that if his mouth stayed open any longer it would need filling with a throat massage. Neil also laughed and said that they were no longer the only pair in the block and asked Archie, calling him fella briefly as introductions had not yet been made, to do a twirl to excite Gavin. Gavin smiled broadly and was obviously not advising Neil at this time that he had already had a brief preview earlier and added that they were not the only pair of specialists after all.
I interjected gently to say that Archie and I were not a couple but that he was a very welcome visitor and completed the introductions properly. Archie remained unabashed and I was not yet convinced if his sexuality was fluid, defined or just that he was a blatant exhibitionist soaking up the obvious lustful attention of the three of us. Archie knowing he had the pair captivated insisted on telling the whole story of happenings to date and Neil was incredulous to hear what we had done with Kipling just a short time earlier and said he would have to find opportunity to deal with him before too long. They had been also surprised at the possibility of being closely observed from security but then Neil commented that next time he was giving Gavin his recompense that it would be in full view of the patio. I joked that I was no good at climbing on balconies so I would prefer a spectator seat in the lounge. Neil quipped straight back that if I was given a seat in the lounge then Archie would be required to be in suitable position over my lap and that we could work on funky rhythms. Archie laughed and asked how we intended to place Kipling and Neil stated that he would give that certain consideration.
All too soon a couple of hours had passed and Archie announced that he should leave, Neil made a big sign of disappointment as he commented that despite Archie being ever attentive and teasingly close to his head at times that Archie was leaving without any milking. Archie responded that he was happy to be considered a stud but that Neil would just have to wait till I fixed up a future session and then, if he behaved suitably, he might just be rewarded. Just before he left though, Gavin asked him to wait a few moments while he made a couple of telephone calls and the outcome was we all had an invitation to an evening with a long standing set of friends at their country place for the following Friday evening and Archie accepted for us all leaving me quite flabbergasted at the pace of events but not at all disappointed. Archie left swiftly followed by Gavin and Neil and I was left to reflect on another eventful and highly enjoyable day with the prospect of photos to come from the first day and the ones that I had Archie take today while I was dealing with Kipling, potentially a little insurance in case he got leary about todays session though if I had read him right he was surely going to be up for our country visit the following Friday.
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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.
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Story © MMXX by Sukemnsee and used here by very kind permission of the author. All rights reserved.
Comments welcome, please use link at top of the story.
♥ Site recommended story ♥
A hot tale from your host, Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2016. All the characters are aged 18 or over. Strictly adults only!
It was week four of my new job as one of the butcher’s boys. It was going well. I liked my uniform of white shirt, grey trousers and the traditional striped blue apron. At least I didn’t have to wear a straw boater hat like my boss, Mr. Smith, always did. I suspected he wore it to hide his rather generous bald patch. Anyway, a hat like that would cause havoc with my heavily-gelled spikey hair. Another thing I liked was that now and then I got to ride the shop bike to deliver fresh cuts to customers all over the town. What I didn’t like was dealing with difficult members of the public.
“Silly bitch!” I muttered as the troublesome customer left the premises.
“Joel! Apart from that being not a good time for your runny nose to be dripping into the ground beef, that was the lady of the manor! She expects to be treated with respect, and to be called Ma’am. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith, err Sir!”
“Sir, eh? I like that, young Joel. I like that a lot. Come and see Sir in his office after work, will you?”
“Err, yes, Mr. Smith. Sir! But how come she doesn’t send one of the servants to pick up her supplies?”
“Servants! Don’t make me laugh! She does engage domestics but they never last long. She’s too demanding. Even for the East Europeans. Anyways, she’s got a good eye for the best cuts, that one. Likes to choose everything herself. Now, on with your work please! Get mincing!” he laughed heartily and slapped my arse playfully as he went down the back of the shop, and then upstairs to his office.
It was soon five o’clock, closing time, and my fellow assistant, Robbie, wished me luck as he left. Disturbingly, he winked as he said it. I watched as he made his way past my rusty Ford Fiesta to the bus stop. He was quite a hunk, I thought to myself as I duly made my way up the creaking staircase to see the boss.
The less than hunky Mr Smith was sat in his tatty swivel chair facing the window when I entered. He turned around slowly to look disdainfully at me. I fidgeted as I gazed at his desk, trying to avoid eye contact in my usual shy way.
“Look at me, Joel! That’s better. My, what a handsome lad you are, to be sure. Now, you’ve been here a month, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith, Sir!”
“Mmmm. Now, on the whole you’re doing well. Very well. But I could do without you being cocky with the customers. Especially the rich ones! I can’t afford to lose even one customer. They deserve your respect. Times are hard, and there are rumours of a supermarket moving in. That means every single customer is precious. Our livelihoods, and your job, depend on treating them well. Now, look at the window. What does the gold lettering say?”
“Traditional Family Butchers, Sir.”
“Indeed. Traditional. Family. Two of my favourite words, son. Tradition. Family values. Respect. Decency. Tradition.”
“Err, yes.”
“Yes, and now I find your lack of respect for customers in general and for one of the town’s finest families absolutely appalling! I suggest a traditional remedy! A good, sound smacking!”
“Whaaat? You’re joking?”
“Oh, I’m not. Oh no. Not the sort of thing I joke about, at all. Oh no. And if you don’t want me to show you the door, you’ll get over here over my lap this instant!”
He grabbed my arm and I gave way. He hauled me over his lap, right over his blood-stained navy blue pinstripe apron. Urgh! He spanked me merrily over my thin grey trousers, it hurt like mad and then he made me drop my trousers. Then he spanked my skimpy pants like his life depended on it, and then OMG! He ordered me to remove my briefs. I was going to get some more on the bare! Slap after slap. He created merry hell. The fires of merry hell. At first it wasn’t so bad, but boy, did he have a thorough technique! His hand felt tough and leathery as it crashed rapidly into my young flesh. Every inch of my arse was deep burning red by the time he’d finished. What was worse was that he was obviously enjoying it, chuckling away while admonishing me. I think he had a boner, too. Unless there was a penknife or something in his apron pocket.
After a final fast round of slaps, he finished and grunted. His hands stayed in contact with my bare bottom, however. He started rubbing it better, which was really nice for a while but then his fingers strayed towards my arsehole. I flinched.
“Don’t be shy, young Joel. I know all about you! One of my friends told me he’d seen you down the gay sauna!”
“What gay sauna? What is a gay sauna even?”
“Don’t give me that! You know damn well the one I mean. Down by the station, down the big town.”
“OK but no, no, he must be mistaken!”
“Don’t lie to me boy! He told me about this tattoo!” he said as he lifted my shirt up further, revealing my wicked Chinese dragon ink. He traced the design with his finger. “Nice!” he said.
“Well, alright it was me. One of my friends works there, handing out the towels and taking the cash.”
“Really? A towel-folder, eh? What’s his name? Gideon?” he laughed, “I hear you’re a regular there, even wearing flip-flops like the old hands. Be careful not to be too regular there or you might bump into someone else you know. Me, for instance!”
“You! But you’re married!”
“True, true. But then so are a good half of the guys there! And they are always on the lookout for young, fresh chicken. Like you! Still I’m sure I can rely on you to keep my secret, just as you can rely on me to keep yours. Now be a good boy, get up and suck my cock for me!”
“What?!”
“Just do it, lad! You know you want to.”
Well as a young tart, how could I refuse? I unzipped his trousers, rummaged in his pants and found what I was looking for with no trouble! I slurped away at his engorged meaty column and he sighed contentedly. My tongue probed under his foreskin and teased around the piss slit.
“Good, good. I shall expect you to swallow, my boy.”
“Yes boss, err Sir. Of course. It’s the only way!”
“Indeed. Indeed.”
He grunted, sweated and moaned and then came suddenly, jets of hot spunk splattering inside my mouth. It tasted great, really great. No, I mean really, really great. You’ve no idea. I began to think I could develop a taste for old men’s sperm.
“Now, that’s better. I’m pleased to see you can be a good boy. But I’m warning you, any more nonsense and you’ll be feeling this!” With that he slapped a brown leather spanking strap down on his desk, right before my eyes.
“Shit!” I exclaimed.
“More like shit hot! Bespoke, made especially for me by my good saddler friend down the road. You wouldn’t believe how much it hurts! He’s bi too, by the way. And a regular down the sauna.”
I wondered whether his saddler friend was the one who had tipped him off about my frequent trips to the sauna. In truth, I was becoming rather addicted to the anonymous casual sex on offer there. I then wondered whether my colleague Robbie had felt Mr. Smith’s hand in anger, or even that leather strap? I rather thought he had, as that would have explained the wink. But I wondered if he’d ever sucked the boss’s cock? I hoped not as I felt Mr. Smith had taken rather a shine to me, all of a sudden. I had one final thought. Maybe a pay rise could be on the cards?
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Story © MMXVI by Rod Cayenne
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D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Comments welcome
Explicit fiction entertainment by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2013. Adults only.
I knew I was in big trouble as soon as Dad called me into his little office. He stood there with one of his many canes in his hands. I gulped with fear, for I had never been able to take his canings stoically. No, there were always tears, cries and desperate pleading and wriggling under the lash of the cane. I had hoped now that I’d turned eighteen, that the canes might be retired. It seemed not.
“Peter, you were sick in bed this morning. You hadn’t been drinking again, I hope?”
“No Dad. Sorry. It was nothing like that.”
“Good! Otherwise this beauty would be teaching you a lesson.”
I didn’t share his view of what constituted beauty. In fact, I would have classified that whippy cane as a beast! As one of those rare strict Methodists, I knew he didn’t like me touching alcohol.
“So, what did make you sick then, lad?”
I didn’t feel like lying. It wasn’t really in my nature. I thought it best to confess, so I pulled the blister pack of blue pills out of my leather jacket. I handed them to my father. I could tell that he thought they were drugs.
“It was these that made me sick Dad, they taste awful!”
He read the lettering out loud, “Vigorlon Penis Enlargement Pills! I don’t believe it! These things are just a con! I can’t believe that a son of mine was so stupid as to fall for one of these scams!”
I stood there embarrassed, and red-faced.
“I’m sorry Dad. It was just a whim when I bought them.”
“Over the internet, I suppose?”
I nodded.
“With your card?”
I nodded.
“You stupid boy! So this is what you waste your allowance on! You’ll probably have to cancel your debit card too. I wonder what else you’ve been looking at on the internet, you haven’t been looking at pornography?”
I couldn’t lie. My Methodist upbringing had taught me that lying was a most serious sin. Of course I’d been looking at porn.
Again, I nodded at Dad.
“Well, that’s good,” he laughed. “Most men do.”
I was amazed when he said that, so I just nodded again, this time with a little smile. I was even more amazed when he put the cane down on the desk and offered me a chair. He poured me a glass of water from his cut-glass decanter.
“Well, well, well,” he said eventually, “I really don’t know what to make of you, young Peter. You’re at a difficult age, aren’t you? Part man, part boy, I’d say. Maybe more boy.”
Once again, I found myself nodding in agreement. Experience had taught me never to argue with Dad once we were in his small home office. I drank the water nervously. It was refreshing, as I was still dehydrated after being sick. Things were looking good. He picked up the cane and placed it back in the brass umbrella stand, where it was kept along with several other rattans and a rather faded gents umbrella. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was too good to last, however.
“NOW LISTEN TO ME!” Suddenly, his tone became fierce. “I am quite insulted that you feel that the penis your mother and I gave you at birth isn’t big enough! The Lord moves in mysterious ways, you know.”
Here we go, I thought to myself. My bottom started to tingle.
“And! Let there be no doubt in your mind that I am very, very unhappy that you have spent money, the hard-earned allowance money I’ve given you, on this rubbish!”
He waved the strip of pills at me. Slowly, he popped each of the remaining blue tablets out of the blister pack. He counted the pills out loud. There were fifteen. I just knew where this was leading.
“Fifteen pills, fifteen strokes!” he announced. He reached behind him and selected a more severe rattan with a crook handle.
“But Dad, I’m eighteen now!”
“Good point, Peter. We’ll make it eighteen, then. Over the desk, trousers down!”
I wasn’t going to argue. I bent over submissively and the first cane stroke hit home. Oh, it was a hard one, for a first stroke. He was really angry, I could tell. He’d been hiding it well, but now the cane was letting him vent his full fury. That was reinforced by the second and third strokes which were straight out of the fires of Hell.
“Underpants down! Fifteen strokes on the bare for the fifteen pills.”
I wasn’t going to argue, as I lowered my pale blue Jockeys. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that it was a hundred pills I’d ordered!
Stroke four sliced into my naked flesh. I was gasping, close to hyperventilating. I cried out loudly. I knew that would amuse him. For a religious man, he had a streak of sadism. Yes, there was a lot of cruelty within him.
I took the fifth quietly, and then the sixth much the same. He moved things up a gear as the seventh was by far the hardest yet. By now I was squirming under the cane’s vicious caress. My bottom was writhing, first in one direction, then the other in a vain attempt to avoid the blows of the cane. Eight! Nine! Ten! I was counting them quietly under my breath, while silent salty tears streamed down my face. This was a hellish beating!
He stopped and grunted. Suddenly, his hands were feeling the cane ridges on my bottom. He’d never done that before, and it was so humiliating, especially as he barked at me to keep still. He changed canes.
“Number Two cane to finish off, Peter.”
In all my years, and through numerous beatings, I could never fathom out the significance of the numbering system of his canes. Perhaps there wasn’t one, and this was all part of a sadistic game? All I knew was that Number Two cane was named appropriately, as it hurt like shit.
“AARRGH!” I cried as the eleventh stroke slashed down, quickly followed by a twelfth, landing just below.
Dad laid thirteen and fourteen diagonally, which was agony. The final four strokes were aimed at the tops of my thighs, his speciality, and they stung like mad. Strangely, all I could think about was that I wouldn’t be wearing my Speedos down on the beach for a while!
I wasn’t crying heavily, but my face was covered in snot. Dad offered me a tissue. I’d been trying not to say thank you, as an act of defiance, but it just sort of slipped out. He grinned when I said it. At times like that I really hated him. My only consolation was that my mother and sister were out shopping, so my beating had been a private, man thing.
That evening, I was over at my friend Andrew’s house. Somehow the story of the day’s events came out. I’d been trying to hide it, as I knew my friend had an unhealthy interest in my beatings. He managed to worm every little detail out of me this time. Nonetheless, he asked if he could see the marks, almost as if he didn’t believe me.
“Pervert!” I accused.
“No, really, I just want to understand. Although I could put some cold cream on them, I’m sure my mum’s got some in the bathroom.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. Andrew traced each and every mark with his forefinger. I’d found the day pretty confusing all round. My head was far from clear. Maybe it was another side-effect of those blue pills?
Andrew came back from the bathroom with a jar of cream. Gently, he massaged it into my bottom. My cock suddenly burst into life! It was rock hard. We gazed into each others eyes and knew we were going to have to take things further. No erection pills would be required! This time he put his forefinger into the jar of cream and then shoved the finger up my arsehole. His lips caressed my cock. He worked that cock for all it was worth. I came heavily in his mouth.
We lay exhausted on his bed for a few tender minutes. I offered to reciprocate. He just laughed.
“Not likely, mate. I’m not sticking my todger in there. Those pills have dyed your tongue blue. They could be poisonous, you know. Chinese, were they? I don’t want a blue cock, you know!”
I was really turned on by then. I offered him anal instead. I wanted it myself, but was a little reluctant only because my arse was still sore after the caning (and despite the cold cream massage). Andrew couldn’t believe his luck. Fortunately, he had a condom, and with the help of the cold cream we were soon at it. He thrust and thrust into my willing, striped arse. The knobbing felt even better than his forefinger had. It wasn’t long before he shot his load. It had been a short fuck alright, but we were both satisfied.
We lay in each others arms again, gently petting. He whispered in my ear, “Could you sneak out one of your dad’s canes? I want to try it.”
It seemed a strange request at first. But as I laid there in the afterglow, it seemed to make sense eventually. After all, it was a caning that had brought us together and I knew just which cane to smuggle out. It would have to be Number Two.
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* IMPORTANT – DISCLAIMER *
This is a work of fiction. The author does not participate in substance abuse or condone it.
FURTHER DISCLAIMER: All characters and products appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Story © 2013 by Rod Cayenne
Comments always welcome – please use link at top of story