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A brand new caning story by your host, Rod Cayenne. With thanks to Jim for ideas and inspiration. All the characters are age 18 or older. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery and is only suitable for adults!
The Boomerang Son by Rod Cayenne
It was July, and it looked like it was going to be another white hot day. Bruce Smith and his son Darren were sat at the kitchen table enjoying a leisurely morning coffee. Stirring the sugar in his mug, father announced, “Now son, there’s a potentially awkward subject we must discuss.”
“What’s that then, Dad?”
“As you know, I have standards. I like to run a tight ship, as it were.”
“Of course, Dad.”
“In fact, since you moved out, I like to think the house has been extra clean and tidy.”
“Yes, it does have that look. A certain sparkle. You’ve worked hard on the place.”
“Exactly! Thank you. Although having Mrs. Prentice pop in now and then to clean has been a big help. The place benefits from a woman’s touch. Now, if you are going to move back in, I expect all of my old standards and rules to be reinstated.”
“Don’t be coy, son. I’m talking about your old friend, the cane. If we are to get along, the cane will be back for possible use.”
“What? Dad, you can’t mean…”
“Indeed I do. I cannot abide mess and untidiness. The bathroom and kitchen in particular must be spotless at all times. Your bedroom will also be tidy and presentable, is that clear?”
“Also your behaviour must be respectful to me, and indeed to Mrs. Prentice, should your paths ever cross. There will be no rudeness and surliness. I shall ask Mrs. Prentice to let me know of any problems. I have already shown her my new cane. Believe it or not, she’d never seen one before. Must have led a sheltered life. Just to be clear, that new cane of mine is to help me reinforce standards and discipline.”
“Wait, Dad! A new cane? What was wrong with the old one?”
“Yes, a brand new one. Whippy and pliable. But I didn’t throw the old one away. If you must know, I gave it away to Mr. and Mrs. Nugent, across the road.”
“Oh ho! So young Terry will be getting his arse whipped then?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what they told me they wanted it for, although I have my doubts. And watch your tongue, that’s the sort of language that will land you in hot water, Darren.”
“Just remember, I am in charge here. Just so we’re clear.”
“Oh, Dad! That’s clear alright.”
“The cane will be used only if necessary. It would be better for you and for me if you didn’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, Dad. Understood. Indeed. Can I see it?”
“The new cane. May I see it please?”
“Why? Why do you want to see it?”
“I just want to know what I may be in for.”
“Well, that’s not really necessary, son.”
“Come on Dad, you’ve shown it to Mrs. Prentice already. Was that really necessary? Why can’t I see it?”
“Oh alright, if you must. Perhaps it will help to see the deterrent! I’ll go and fetch it.”
Dad made his way up to the master bedroom. He unlocked the wardrobe. He kept it locked at all times as it hid his collection of uniforms which included police, traffic warden, security guard, Roman toga, schoolboy, and french maid outfits. He wouldn’t want Darren or Mrs. Prentice finding them. Not in a million years! And there, hanging in among the exotic clothes were two canes. A cane and a spare. The latter in case the cane ever broke. He had been keeping quiet about the spare one, but on reflection decided to tell Darren about it. He carefully took down a cane from the rail and made his way downstairs.
In the kitchen, Darren was waiting nervously. He was beginning to regret asking to see the cane. What if his father decided to use it there and then on some pretext or other? It didn’t bear thinking about!
“Here it is then,” father said as he placed the cane on the kitchen table, “Actually, I’ve got a spare too. In the unlikely event of a breakage.”
Darren didn’t like the sound of that. His dad could cane hard that was for sure, but breaking the cane? Surely he wouldn’t cause that to happen? Past paternal canings were something Darren would never forget. He had thought his caning days were over but today he had discovered otherwise. He felt sure that eventually he’d disappoint his father who would find some fault or other. Darren picked up the cane from the table. The stick was as light as a feather. He scythed it through the air, noticing the whippy sound as he did so. “Gee, it’s a real beast, Dad. But, surely, is this caning business really necessary?”
“That’s entirely up to you.”
Darren gulped. His mind was racing. Could he find somewhere else to live? Somewhere without the omnipresent threat of a caning? “Oh, Dad, no.”
“Well, yes. I can see you’re worried. You needn’t be. I’m a fair man, as you know. You just need to behave considerately and respectfully. Otherwise, it will be a hard bare bottom caning.”
Darren snapped, “Not a bare arse fucking caning! Not bare! No way! Come on Dad, I’m 23!” Darren banged his fist angrily on the wooden table.
“That’s enough Darren! That’s two swear words in just one sentence! Whatever’s the matter with you?”
“Think yourself very lucky that I don’t believe in caning for swearing.”
“Yes, thanks Dad. Ugh. I’m very sorry. I over-reacted.”
“Yes, but I suppose the bare-bottom business was a shock?”
“It was. Although I suppose it makes sense, after all, that’s the way you’ve always done things. I feel really bad about swearing at you, though, really bad.”
“Well, that’s good. Everyone swears. Although I don’t encourage it. I could cane you for swearing if that would help.”
“No, Dad. We should stick to your rules. Really.”
“OK, son. Let’s leave it there. I’ll put the cane away if you’re sure?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m sure. Thanks.”
For the rest of the day, Darren was troubled. He thought about that cane a lot. He knew he was doomed to feel it used in anger, at some point. He also knew that he shouldn’t have sworn at his father.
Funnily enough, his father was also troubled. He felt he shouldn’t have shown his son the cane at all. He should have left it locked in his wardrobe along with his secrets.
By the end of the week, Darren had moved back into his father’s house. The son’s small bedroom was adequate, although boxes waiting to be unpacked were piled high in one of the corners of the room.
“All settled then, son?” Father asked, “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Dad. It’s good for me too,” said Darren, who was lying on the single bed. “I’m very grateful that you’ve let me move back in. There is just one thing, though. I still feel terrible about swearing at you the other day.”
“Ha! No. Really, is that so? Been brooding about it, have you?”
“Yes, a bit. Well, actually a lot.”
“Let’s solve the problem then. I’ll go and get the cane and we’ll clear the air.”
Both men knew this was what was required. Dad disappeared into his bedroom. Unlocking the wardrobe, he chose one of the two canes. He had purchased canes that would sting and bring pain and contrition but not leave too many bruises. A stinging lesson was all that was needed.
Back in his bedroom, Darren was unzipping his jeans. With a bit of luck, he felt, perhaps his father would let him keep his underpants on. However, his luck soon ran out as his father returned, cane in hand and immediately pointed it at the briefs, demanding, “Those must come down too.”
So, reluctantly, Darren slid his underpants off too. He bent over the end of the bed, again as indicated by the cane that his father was using as a pointer. How embarrassed Darren felt as he bent over, revealing his naked cheeks and also, much to his shame, his crack and hole.
“Very well then,” said father, “Six of the best, I think. Let this be a lesson to you.”
Darren hadn’t expected six strokes! Three or four would have been ample to drive the lesson home. Briefly, he considered arguing or plea bargaining. However, the steely determination on his father’s bearded face made him think such attempts at clemency would be in vain.
The first stroke landed abruptly. It hurt a great deal. A great deal more than Darren had anticipated. “No swearing!” shouted his father.
The second followed rapidly, a bit lower. Again his father felt the need to admonish as well as beat, “Discipline!”
The third bought new waves of pain. “RESPECT!”
The fourth was a killer blow landing somewhere in among the marks and havoc of the previous three, “Self Control.”
“Godliness!” added father as ungodly pain shot right through Darren’s submissive body.
“Phew! Now, that’s what I call a good cane!” said father, examining the beautiful crook-handled rod. “Yes, really good.”
“I can attest to that!” said Darren, rubbing his scorched bottom and in some distress. “That thing’s a killer, Dad!”
“Well, you’d better learn to behave then. Pull up your pants and make yourself decent.”
The fresh, new cane had indeed caused havoc on the young man’s bottom. The modest purchase cost had been worthwhile. There was plenty more action in that cane. It had barely scratched the surface of potential usage, as it were. As it was, the cane lay dormant for a good couple of months, to the surprise of both father and son. In part, this was due to some guilty feelings from the father who felt perhaps he had gone too far.
Unfortunately for Darren, a clash with Mrs. Prentice was to lead to fresh trouble. His father was away visiting old friends and Darren was lying in bed mid-morning. He hadn’t heard Mrs. Prentice arrive but the tell-tale sound of the vacuum cleaner did eventually alert the lad to her presence. Over an hour later, he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
“Go away!” Darren said, “I’m in bed.” The cleaner knocked on the door once more, and Darren ignored her. After a few seconds, Mrs. Prentice slowly opened the door, pulling the hoover in with her.
“I’m sorry Darren, but your father has instructed me to clean the whole house, including your room. I’ve cleaned up after what looks like a party and put the empty bottles in the recycling.”
“It wasn’t a party. I just had some friends around, alright? Now, just skip cleaning my room. Go away. I’ve got a headache.”
“I’m sorry Darren. I’ve done everywhere else. Your room is the last place left to clean. You can stay in bed, while I hoover and dust around if you like.”
“You’re not listening, are you? Go away. Right now.”
“Darren, I heard you of course, but I work for your father, not you. Just five minutes while I do a quick clean. You can stay in bed if you want to.” Mrs. Prentice suspected that the lad was naked under the bedcovers.
“Just go away! Like I told you. Fuck off!”
“Darren! How rude! Now, that was totally uncalled for. Just you wait until I tell your father.” She blushed as she left the room, pulling the hoover behind her.
Darren sighed quietly. His head was throbbing with a rampant hangover. Only later, when he finally got out of bed, did he reflect on his behaviour. Perhaps he’d gone too far? After all, Mrs. Prentice was generally a sweetie and most obliging.
Mr. Smith soon returned from his break. Wearily, he dropped his weekend bag in the hall and called Darren down. “Ah, there you are. Dozing again, I suppose? Now, make me a cuppa, will you? There’s something we need to discuss. Actually, make it two cups as Mrs. Prentice will be here shortly.”
“Yes, her. I heard about the impromptu party she had to tidy up after. And that you told her to F Off! I’m not having that, Darren, not at all! Mrs. Prentice was minded to resign as my cleaner. The only way I could persuade her to stay on was when I told her you would be caned and caned hard.”
“Yes. And to make sure it doesn’t happen again, she will witness your caning. That’s why she’s coming around right now.”
“Yes, it’s only fair. Now stay here while I fetch the cane.”
Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Mrs. Prentice. And because his father was upstairs, Darren had to let her in. In she strode. She had made much more than a bit of an effort, Darren noticed. Gone were the frumpy cleaner clothes. Instead, she was wearing a shiny silk top and black pencil skirt, with sexy stockings and heels. Suddenly she was looking a lot younger, and a lot more attractive. She took a lipstick out of her bag and proceeded to touch up her lips in the tarty red shade.
“Well, Darren, how are you?”
“Err, fine thanks. I think. I’ve made you a cup of tea. Here you are.”
“Thank you. That’s thoughtful. Well, this is an awkward occasion, Darren.”
“Yes. I think I’ll find it a bit uncomfortable.”
“Yes, you certainly will.”
“Do you really have to watch?”
“Well, your father has invited me. It would be rude not to. Besides, I’m looking forward to it. Seeing you learn a lesson in your manners and how to speak to a lady.”
Darren so wanted to call her a sadistic bitch, but didn’t dare say anything. Besides, his father could be heard coming down the stairs.
“Ah, Mrs.Prentice! So good of you to drop by.”
“My pleasure, I’m sure. I see that you’ve got your cane there.”
“Oh yes! And I’m going to give it to Darren if you know what I mean. Bend over, Darren. Trousers down now.”
The lad unzipped his jeans and allowed them to fall.
“Nice clean underpants,” she commented.
“Perhaps you’d care to pull them down for Darren, Mrs. Prentice?”
Darren was doing his damnedest to fight back tears. A bared bottom would only add to his humiliation. But there was no turning back, as she acted on the suggestion. He felt the cleaner’s warm hands grab the elastic of his briefs, sliding the garment down, right to his feet.
“It’s a nice boyish bottom, too. You are going to cane it good and hard, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. There’s no other way, of course. Now, brace yourself, Darren.”
He tapped the cane a few times on his son’s rump. He then withdrew it and thrashed down hard, but was holding back just a little so as not to alarm Mrs. Prentice too much. Despite this, Darren’s body jerked forward from the force of the blow. The fiery caress swept pain all over. Darren fidgeted a little, though still in position and waiting for the next stroke. It arrived quickly, emphasising that his father meant business. Shortly after came the third stroke. It seemed to possess additional spite and venom. Pain throbbed through the lad’s body and he gasped and sighed deeply. The fourth stroke arrived all too soon, bisecting a previous blow, effectively doubling the pain. The hurt was more than tangible. Darren clenched his teeth in a vain attempt to process and cope with the pain. And yet, the fifth stroke was worse still. Mrs. Prentice couldn’t fail to observe how Darren’s beautiful bottom was striped and bruised all over. She almost felt sorry for the lad, although she was finding the beating most stimulating. Her silky panties were moist from excitement. There was no doubt that she regretted that there was just one more stroke to be delivered. Father thrashed his last blow with renewed determination, and a loud crack echoed around the room. He dropped the cane down on the sofa. It had been a beating to remember for all three of them.
Slowly, Darren rose. He wanted to cry, but somehow couldn’t manage it. He pulled his briefs up, and then his jeans. He shot a look of irritation in Mrs. Prentice’s direction.
“Go to your room Darren, and make sure that it’s cleaned properly. You know where the hoover’s kept. I will be inspecting your work later, and you can expect more of the cane if you disappoint me with your efforts.”
Darren nodded and said only, “Sorry.” He made his way upstairs.
Mrs. Prentice whispered in her employer’s ear, “Let’s leave him alone here. Come back to mine, and I’ll show you a good time.”
He did and she did. It was a good idea to give Darren some space and time to recover from his beating. And he did. Eventually, he masturbated most of his cares and shame away. He also cleaned his bedroom.
Across town, the new lovers were enjoying a post-coital cigarette or two. Mrs. Prentice said, “I was discussing this with my good Italian friend, Mrs. Verga. She tells me that in her country there is a big problem with adult sons returning to the family home, and having to be taken in hand. Leatherings are commonplace, with fathers having to reassert their rightful role as head of the household. It’s referred to as the adolescencia prolongata, apparently.”
“Ha! Is that so? Well, back in my native Australia, with its unaffordable housing, it’s known as the boomerang son phenomenon.”
“Well, a universal problem then. Anyway, it seems like the natural order of things, to me. For you as the father and head of the household to maintain the discipline in the home. That dose of the cane will have done Darren some good, I’d guess?”
“I would hope so and it won’t be his last caning. Of that, I’m sure.”
“As he’s well into his twenties, maybe he needs more than six strokes next time? And harder?” added Mrs. Prentice, as she snuggled up close to her new lover.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters and businesses appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Story © MMXXIII by Rod Cayenne