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A hot new spanking and caning story by very special guest author JOELSTRAP. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery! All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!!
A Celebratory Caning by Joelstrap
“Oh, ya beauty! That’s perfect!” yelped Ed enthusiastically.
“Yow! You stupid bugger!” I yelped angrily as I jumped in fright at his sudden exclamation, and hot coffee slopped on to my bare leg.
“What’s up with you?” demanded Ed.
“Flaming hot coffee!” I retorted, scrubbing at my leg. “Can’t you keep calm?”
“Sorry, Luke, but I’ve just seen the perfect guy to have at your eighteenth birthday bash.”
“Where?” I asked, looking round as if he might materialise from thin air in Ed’s bedroom.
“Not here, you ass! In this magazine. It’s an advert.”
“Let me see then.”
I reached for the magazine, but Ed yanked it back out of my reach, shaking his head and telling me, “Uh-uh! Keep your paws off. It’s to be a surprise.”
“Is it a male stripper?” I enquired eagerly.
“Never you mind.”
I leapt on Ed and struggled to get a hold of the magazine, and soon we were rolling around on the carpet in an exciting fight, first one of us, then the other achieving dominance. Eventually Ed got me pinned on my front while he sat astride my waist and held one arm twisted hard, up between my shoulders.
I felt him moving and then half turning, his left hand keeping a firm hold of my wrist. Next moment he slammed one of his trainers hard into my right buttock and as I let out a squeal of pain, he delivered a similar stroke to the other side.
“You hit me with that again and I’ll………”
The trainer fell hard and fast, alternating buttocks, and I broke off, gasping and yelping in pain.
“You bastard! That’s bloody sore! Ed! Stop it! Please!”
He delivered another dozen, aiming mercilessly at my lower rump so that part of the sole of his shoe got the bare skin below the hem of my shorts and made me yowl even more furiously.
“Give in now?”
I could see that he had his trainer raised high. I capitulated.
He stood up and I rolled over and also stood, rubbing at my outraged bottom.
“That was fucking sore!” I objected resentfully.
“But you liked it,” observed Ed trenchantly, nodding at the considerable bulge in the front of my shorts.
“That’s from having a sexy bugger like you sitting on me,” I replied.
“Balls!” returned Ed. “You got spanked and you loved it.”
I was about to argue, but part of me rather suspected that he was right. Painful though it had been, being spanked hard with Ed’s trainer had been surprisingly arousing.
I pulled down my shorts and briefs and looked at my behind in the wardrobe-mirror; and gave a low whistle when I saw that it was dark-red. I turned towards Ed and flicked my towering erection with my thumb.
“Okay,” I said, “whether it was your sexy body or your brutal spanking, this is your doing – so you see to it, Ed!”
Ed came and stood right in front of me and slid a hand into my hair while moving the other round my waist. Pulling me hard against him, so that I could feel his own erection, he kissed me as only Ed could; with a passion and intensity which burst asunder the gates of pleasure and sent me soaring into realms of ineffable delight. Still kissing me, his eager tongue swooping and probing restlessly, he slid his hand from my waist, grasped my penis firmly and began to work it skilfully until I exploded in a powerful series of high-flying spurts.
“That do you?” enquired Ed, withdrawing his mouth from mine and giving my balls a squeeze.
“Oh, yeh!” I panted.
“Good. Now you’re gonna be a good boy and let me organise your surprise without interfering. Okay, Luke?”
He still had his hand on my balls and I was aware of a slight pressure as he looked straight into my eyes.
“Okay,” I agreed.
My eighteenth birthday had actually been a couple of days earlier, but Ed had decided that the party would be after the exams were over and then I and everyone else could enjoy it without any pressure. It meant that I still had almost a fortnight to wait, but I approved the idea of getting the exams behind us once and for all; and school behind us as well, for that matter. A long summer beckoned before we went up to college in the autumn. In any case, my parents had already allowed me to have a big party on the weekend after my birthday, where family, relations, friends and acquaintances had all been present. The party organised by Ed was to be just for our gay male friends and would be a much smaller affair; but for all that I looked forward to it enthusiastically.
Ed was the fourth boyfriend I’d had since I was fifteen, but the first three had really just been adolescent exploring and hadn’t lasted long. My relationship with Ed was different. It was powerfully physical, naturally, but we also connected on other levels, and could be perfectly content just to be together. One of our favourite ways of studying was for Ed to sit at one end of the sofa with me lying face-down across his lap, my genitals comfortably settled between his legs, my book propped against a cushion. Ed’s book would rest on my bottom and his hand on my waist.
I’d liked Ed from the moment I saw him at the gym. He stood about five foot ten, slim and athletic with a beautifully-proportioned body. Dark eyes gazed confidently from an open face; but his crowning-glory was the mass of tightly-frizzed hair which formed a huge ball around his head. It made him stand out in any crowd; and made me secretly thrilled that this stunning specimen of young manhood was mine.
In spite of all my efforts, Ed refused to tell me what the surprise was and he even threatened on a couple of occasions to take his trainer to my behind again if I didn’t stop probing. Curiously, I felt rather disappointed that he didn’t carry out this threat. I did some pondering on the matter but as the exam-pressure increased, I put it to the back of my mind; and once that pressure was over, excitement about the party itself was my dominant feeling.
On the evening of the party, I showered and put on a pair of pale-blue jeans which I had to wriggle into; but they showed off my bottom superbly. I wore a short-sleeved, close-fitting shirt, open at the neck; and of course my trainers. Glancing in the mirror, I decided that I looked pretty sexy and desirable and Ed wouldn’t be disappointed in me. He came past to collect me and we went together to the big basement beneath the detached house of one of our friends, who was lucky enough to have wealthy parents. By the time we arrived, the large room was already well-filled with young guys drinking and chatting and socialising happily with each other. I was swiftly absorbed into the group.
We ate, we drank, we danced, we sang, we flirted; and then Ed called everyone together and proposed a toast to me. He then motioned us all to sit down and I waited expectantly to see what the surprise was to be. He went to the door and exited the room, returning a minute or so later with a young man who was wearing a long, black coat and carrying a large bag. The young man stood a couple of inches under six feet, with a well-proportioned body, and had very short, black hair and an equally-short growth of hair along his upper-lip and round his chin. His skin was dark and his eyes a deep blue. There was a slight air of brutality about him as well as an almost visible sheen of animal sexuality. I was pretty sure that he was going to do a strip-act and gradually reveal a very attractive body for our entertainment.
I was wrong.
Ed turned the music down very low and then the young man slowly unbuttoned his coat and suddenly threw it off with a flourish to reveal that underneath he was attired in a neat suit, over which was a black academic-gown. He sat on a chair which Ed produced and then looked at me.
Come here, boy!” he commanded.
Only too willingly, I got to my feet and went and stood in front of him. He was gorgeous and the trousers of his suit were close-fitting enough to show that he was well-endowed and appeared to be somewhat aroused. Being so close to him, I certainly was, and felt myself going slightly red as I realised that my tight denims made any concealment of my condition impossible. His eyes swept over me appraisingly and he nodded to himself. I was sure that he was stripping me naked in his head.
“Hands behind you!”
His authority was easy and natural and I obeyed without hesitation.
“Your friends felt that the more traditional ways of marking a boy’s eighteenth birthday, such as giving him ‘bumps’, or throwing him in a bath of cold water, were a bit too commonplace; and they thought that someone as unusual and special as you deserved something a little different. That’s why I’m here.”
He paused and reached into his bag again and pulled out a cane. I stared, as from behind me I heard several sharp intakes of breath. He bent the limber rod into a long, smooth arc and then suddenly slashed it down hard so that the air winced. Fuck! muttered a voice from among the watching guys.
“You’re gonna cane me, instead of giving me bumps?” I asked uneasily.
“Eighteen strokes of the cane,” said the young man, flexing the rod menacingly, “but you can save your arse.”
“Oh yeh? How?”
“I’m going to ask you eighteen questions and if you can get at least ten of them right, I won’t cane you.”
“So, if I get ten right, I get nothing?”
“Yes; and if you get fewer than ten right, you get eighteen!”
“And this is supposed to be fun?”
“Course it is,” interjected Ed with a grin. “We’re all having a great time!”
“Right,” said the young man, taking a pad from his bag, “first question: if you get up on to a horse from the left-hand side, where do you get down from?”
“Huh? I dunno. I mean, from the right?” I hazarded.
“Wrong,” said the young man. “The correct answer is ‘a duck’.”
“You get down from a duck, dumbo,” called a voice from behind me; and I groaned as understanding dawned.
“If you’re heading towards the pub and you meet seven guys with their girlfriends and four guys with their boyfriends and two guys with dogs, how many are heading for the pub?”
“Er….twenty-six,” I answered.
The young guy shook his head.
“Just one,” he said.
“But you said……..”
I stopped as I realised how I’d fallen into the trap.
The questions continued and, now that I realised what kind of questions they were, I began to do better; but I still had only nine right as he approached the final question.
“Come on, sir; make it a stinker,” called Billy from the back of the room. “I want to see him getting the cane.”
There was a sudden outburst of comments, which appeared to agree with Billy.
“Huh! With mates like you lot, who needs enemies?” I muttered.
“This is the one that decides,” said the young man, showing me his lithe cane. “Get this one right and your bum’s safe; get it wrong and you’ll be bending over for this.”
“Just get on with it!”
“What goes up a chimney down but doesn’t go down a chimney up?”
My brain raced but produced no results. I glanced around at the listening guys, but all the faces seemed to be blank. I tried again, but the question didn’t even appear to make sense. I was aware of a rising tide of comments from the watching boys.
“He doesn’t know!”
“He’s gonna get caned!”
“His arse is mince!”
“Well?” demanded the young man.
I shook my head despairingly: “I don’t know.”
“An umbrella,” he said.
The young man stood up and whipped his cane warningly.
“Eighteen strokes, boy,” he announced. “Bend over with your hands on the chair.”
Cheers and jeers from the watching boys greeted the sight of my bottom, snugly encased in my very tight jeans, bent over and presented for the cane. He did one or two practice-strokes behind me, making me flinch as I heard the cane whine; and then I felt the rod tapping my behind as if selecting just where to hit me. A few seconds later the cane cracked across my seat with a sharp sting. I liked it.
“One,” chorused the watching boys eagerly; and I gave my bottom a wiggle to entertain them.
He gave me six like that and the most pain I was experiencing was in my desperately-straining penis as it fought in vain to burst free from my denims. The seventh was noticeably harder and I gasped aloud and clenched my glutes.
“That’s better,” called out Ed. “He felt that one.”
The young man continued to wield the cane until he’d delivered twelve strokes. That second six was harder to take, but I was still fully aroused and was relishing the challenge of the sting.
“Go on; hit him harder,” shouted Liam.
The young man rapped my waiting buttocks a few times and then whipped the lithe cane hard across the lower half, delivering a fierce sting which made me yelp as I squirmed.
“Oh, yeh! That’s got him dancing. Again!”
The young man obliged. He employed similar force with the subsequent few strokes and the boys continued the count to seventeen, while I did a bit of writhing as I processed the burn.
“Last one,” observed the young man.
“Go for it, sir!” yelled a voice enthusiastically. “Hard!”
Several other voices took up the chant and I felt the cane probing my behind once more as the repeated “hard; hard; hard” filled the air. I tensed myself and took a firm grip of the chair. I was still semi-aroused and to my surprise as I readied myself for what I was sure would be a real scorcher, I could feel my resilient cock rising further.
It was a hard one; not only harder than any of the preceding strokes, but delivered on that sensitive area where my lower bottom merged into the top of my legs. I squealed as a vicious blast of fire incised my behind, and clenched my buttocks desperately until the ferocious burn eased.
“Eighteen!” yelled the watching boys.
Ed came forward and pulled me upright and round to face the guys. When he called out, “Hip…hip…” the resultant “hooray” threatened to bring down the ceiling. I bowed theatrically and the cheers increased in volume.
Ed kissed me passionately, which brought still more cheers; and then he stopped and led the assembled party in a rousing and deafening rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to you’ before turning to the young man.
“Thanks mate,” he said. “That was brilliant; better than I ever hoped for. The guys loved it! I think you’ll be back at a few more eighteenths among this lot in the next few months.”
“What about me?” I demanded. “It’s my birthday but I got caned fucking hard.”
“Balls! The only really hard one was the last one; and you took it brilliantly,” the young man informed me.
“It bloody well hurt!”
“He loved it,” asserted Ed confidently. “Look at him! The randy bugger’s nearly splitting his jeans open at the front!”
I felt my face burning as a red tide rose swiftly from my neck to the roots of my hair. Ed grinned.
“Now apologise to Sir for being an obscene young brute; and say thank you politely to him for taking the trouble to cane you so effectively, Luke,” he commanded.
“I’m sorry for my obscene display, sir,” I said dutifully, “and I’m truly grateful that you caned me and gave me a birthday that I’ll never forget.”
I extended my hand and he shook it warmly before turning to pick up his things and put on his coat once again. Ed persuaded him to stay for a drink and some food and he mingled with the other party-goers, doubtless getting himself a few more offers of work at forthcoming birthdays. Later, he approached me and piloted me into a quiet corner.
“Enjoying your birthday?” he asked.
“You bet! It’s been great; and you were the icing on the cake. It’s the last thing I expected and it was just so different.”
“Arse still sore?” he asked, reaching round and giving my buttocks a slow rub, which made violent things happen in the front of my jeans.
“Fuck, yeh; but I’m not complaining,” I panted.
He looked steadily into my eyes for several seconds and then, “no, I didn’t think you were,” he replied.
I spent that night at Ed’s house, and it didn’t matter that he only had a single bed in his room, because you couldn’t have got a sheet of tracing-paper between us until morning.
After a shower, I was soon dressed and sat on the window-ledge to wait for Ed to return from his turn in the bathroom. I relived in my head the party of the night before and as I remembered each detail of the caning, my penis swelled swiftly. I gave my buttocks a caress and then paused. It felt as if there was something in the back-pocket of my jeans. I reached in and pulled out a small card, which turned out to be a business-card from the young guy who had played the part of the master the previous evening. What made me stop and then plunge a hand into the front of my denims to rearrange things was what he had scrawled on it: Punishment still due for your obscene display yesterday. Call me to arrange to come to my house for a hard caning. James.
Ed entered the bedroom.
“What are you doing with your hand in your pants, you randy bastard?” he demanded. “I thought I’d milked you dry earlier.”
Wordlessly, I handed him the card and as he read it his eyebrows rose.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think it’s gonna take a lot more than one hard caning to cure you of being an obscenely randy bugger,” he opined.
“Bastard! I meant, do you think I should go?”
“Of course you have to go. He’s not asking you; he’s bloody well telling you! Go on; give him a call.”
I pulled out my mobile and called the number.
“Er….hi! It’s Luke; the birthday-boy.”
“Luke! Great to hear from you, boy! Saturday morning at ten o’clock for your caning?”
“Er, well, I…….”
“Great. 23, Bigcox Rise. See you then. Bye!”
“But I….The bastard’s rung off!”
“What did he say?” asked Ed; and I told him.
“Great. Best write the address down in case you forget. He’d probably give you an extra six if you needed to call him to say you were lost.”
“But I don’t know if I want to be caned!”
“Who the fuck cares? You’re a randy bugger and you need a good beating to teach you not to be obscene in public. It doesn’t matter if you want it or not. You’re getting it!”
“It’s all very well for you! Your arse isn’t in the firing-line,” I objected.
“It’s okay. I’ll come with you.”
“How’s that gonna help?”
“I’ll make sure you don’t chicken out.”
“Gee, thanks for nothing!”
“And if he turns out to be an axe-murderer, I’ll be there to call the police.”
“That’s a big comfort,” I retorted sarcastically.
“Anyway, I don’t think he is. There were some guys to email for references when I contacted him, and they told me he was very reliable and good value. And he was. Worth every penny.”
“Oh good! I’m so glad that seeing me getting my bum caned was worth paying for.”
“It was! You got an arse to die for; and you looked absolutely unbelievable when you were getting thrashed. All the guys envied me like crazy, because you were mine,” said Ed complacently.
Ed and I stood on the doorstep of James’ house at ten o’clock on Saturday morning and he opened the door to us himself.
“Just came along to make sure Luke was here on time,” said Ed with a broad smile. “The sexy bugger can’t wait to get his bare arse caned.”
“I never said that!” I objected fiercely.
“Don’t listen to him,” advised Ed. “I know what he wants and I think that you do too. He’s a bit mixed up himself, but just be firm with him, beat him good and hard, and he’ll love it.”
“Would you stop interf………”
“Thanks, Ed,” said James. “Could you come back for him in an hour? In you come, Luke.”
Ed nodded and walked off down the path and James closed the door behind me.
“No way did I ever say that I’d love to be caned,” I began.
James laid a hand across my mouth and, “Sssh! I’m in charge here. You just hold your tongue and do as you’re told.”
This display of mastery brought my cock up to full length and James noticed.
“You really do want it, don’t you?” he said. “Well, don’t worry; you’re gonna get it.”
I followed him into a small room with a desk and a couple of chairs and little else. He opened a wall-cupboard, took out a cane, and arched it before my eyes.
“Know what I’m going to do with this, Luke?”
“Spot on! Strip!”
“Everything off, Luke.”
“But you can’t……..”
“Longer I have to wait, the harder I beat you, Luke.”
I stared at him, but he just continued to arch the lithe cane menacingly and to look straight into my face. I submitted to his authority and stripped naked, making no attempt to conceal my throbbing erection. If he wanted to see me in all my aroused young manhood, then see me he would. He gave an appreciative whistle.
“Very impressive, Luke. You’ve certainly shown that you can get it up; now let’s see if I can get it to go down. Bend over that chair, hands on the sides, head touching the seat, knees locked, feet wide apart.”
I complied and he complimented me on my obedience.
“Stay in position until I tell you that you can move,” he instructed.
“I’m not promising I can do that,” I said.
“Luke, listen to me, boy! I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m telling you. And I’m not wanting a promise that you’ll do as I tell you; I’m simply expecting you to obey.”
“And if you don’t obey me, Luke, I’ll have to punish you; and you won’t like that. Do you understand me, boy?”
His dominance made my pulsating organ strain for a few extra millimetres of length and I gasped, yes, sir. The cane rapped my behind and I tensed in readiness. A few seconds later he hit me hard. The limber rod lashed across the centre of my globes, incising a blazing line of fiery heat which made me buck and utter a barely-stifled yelp.
“Your head came up and your knees didn’t stay locked,” observed James. “You’re getting that one again.”
“How the hell can I………oooow!”
The cane whipped me viciously hard low on my buttocks and I writhed with the searing pain.
“No,” said James. “Head, knees and this time your right foot moved as well. First stroke coming again.”
I swore furiously at him under my breath and got a grip on my body only just in time before his cane lacerated my rump with a third merciless stroke. With grim determination, I kept my head down, both feet steady and my knees locked.
“Good; you’re learning to be obedient. Second stroke coming up.”
My penis, which had gone into temporary retreat, roared back into life and I stiffened my will in response. Yes, this was going to hurt like hell, but I was going to take it; and if he wanted my hands still, my feet still, my head down and my knees locked, then that’s what he’d bloody well get!
For the next three strokes, I duly delivered. James ran his hand over my throbbing rear and then slid it through between my legs from behind and grasped my fully-hard penis. He moved his hand up my shaft and I thought that I was going to cum. For a moment he stopped and then passed his palm across my glans. I felt that I was on the brink. He withdrew his hand and held it before my face.
“Lick,” he instructed and I obediently licked his palm.
“What did you taste?”
“Did I say that you could cum?”
“I didn’t cum!”
“Answer the question, boy!”
“Right; and if you do, I’ll go right back to the beginning. Do you hear me, boy?”
The cane slid over my buttocks repeatedly and I readied myself; and then he held it, just touching my skin for several interminable seconds before hitting me very hard. I yelped but I held position, grimly fighting the urge to move while the searing burn rose to its apogee and then gradually eased.
“Last one; unless you break position, or cum. Are you going to break position, boy?”
“Are you going to cum, boy?”
He held the cane against my behind again for what felt like an eternity and then suddenly drove it hard and accurately into the tender flesh at the very base of my globes. Pain like a serrated knife being ripped through my flesh exploded ferociously and I felt scalding tears sliding down my face as I fought desperately to stay in position. There was no danger of cumming, as my cock had retreated to half-length; and I succeeded in complying with the order to remain still. I was panting, a sheen of sweat on my body, a tremor in my behind and legs; but I’d taken it.
I obeyed slowly, flinching as even the action of straightening my body caused spasms of fresh pain in my buttocks. I closed my eyes and pressed my hands very carefully to my bottom, feeling the raised welts on the flesh, wondering at the heat from the thrashed skin; and slowly but steadily, I felt my penis rise. Within a short time I was at full arousal. I opened my eyes and looked at James. He smiled at me.
“Happy?” he enquired.
I hesitated and then admitted shyly, “That was the most hellishly painful thing I’ve ever felt in my life, and although it maybe sounds crazy, it was also the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced. Yes, I am happy. In fact I feel fantastic. I honestly do!”
“You’ll be back for more?”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but yeh, I’ll be back for more. I don’t know why; but I just feel that I need it.”
James sat down and I stood in front of him as he quizzed me about my life and my plans and about Ed. He didn’t ask me to sit down, possibly because he knew that I’d decline the invitation! When the bell rang indicating Ed’s return, I was still hard as a rock and savouring the pulsing glow in my behind. Ed whistled when he saw my beaten rump and then, without being invited, sat on a chair and told me to bend over his lap. I obeyed at once and he stroked, caressed and tenderly smoothed my cane-weals with his finger-pads and his palms before reaching beneath me with one hand and working confidently at my still-straining cock. I gasped as I felt myself swiftly approaching orgasm and a few seconds later my balls pumped out a powerful series of spurts of my boy-cream while I moaned my delight at the long-delayed release.
“You think he’ll be wanting more in future?” asked Ed.
“He’s already told me he does,” replied James.
“That’s good. I’ll make sure he comes when he needs to. How often do you think?”
“To start with once a fortnight, but maybe increasing to once a week, depending how he’s doing. I’ll let you know.”
“Hey! Don’t I get a say in……..” I began.
“No!” said James and Ed simultaneously.
I fell silent and found that I felt no resentment. My arse was already Ed’s, so maybe it was right that it should also, with Ed’s agreement, be James’ too from time to time.
“I think he’s enjoyed his birthday,” remarked Ed, “and the great thing about having you at his party is that he got a present that just keeps on giving. He’s very grateful.”
I said nothing, since I had no argument with what Ed had just asserted. I relaxed, face-down across his knees, savouring the gentle caress of his right hand on my beaten rump; and the light but infinitely erotic pressure of his other hand where it rested at my waist.
Yes, I told myself happily, it’s the best birthday I could ever have wished for.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Story ©MMXXI by Joelstrap, used here by very kind permission. Please leave a comment here or 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