The Friendly Landlord (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

All three parts of this hot story by very special guest author David Stewart presented together for the first time. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery.  All the characters are aged 18 or over.  This story is for Adults Only!

 

The Friendly Landlord by David Stewart – Part One

David was 32 years old and struggling to find suitable employment. He stayed at home with his mother and father but resented the strict upbringing that had kept him there. His personal freedom was not really his own.  His father in particular always appeared to want to know where he was, with whom and what he was doing. Much as David was an adult he still referred to his father as Sir and mother as Ma’am and had a healthy respect for older people, something that had always been uppermost in his upbringing.  But now at 32 he was leaving home and moving 185 miles away to Birmingham. He was starting a six month contract with the hopes of a full-time contract, and was eager to do well.

His father had put him in touch with an old friend who they knew through the church and who would provide the lodgings for David.  On that Sunday afternoon David arrived at the lodgings and introductions were made by his father, who had driven him down. The landlord was Mr Harrison, an older chap about 60 years of age, who lived alone. He had a spare room and was letting this out to David.  His bags moved in and a refreshing cup of tea taken, his father bid farewell to his son and told Mr Harrison to, “Look after David, he can be unruly but I am sure you will keep on top of him, Harry.”

His father gone David and Mr Harrison sat down for a chat. He asked about his life and his work and then stated, “So now, David, the house rules.  I am not a late-nighter and expect silence after 10pm. If you are about I do not expect to be awoken and you will behave in my house, or I will deal with it.”  That left David wondering.  “My house, and my rules, David. You are paying a pittance compared with other rooms round here because I know and respect your father. In turn I expect you to show the same kind of respect to me. No swearing or drinking in the house. No girlfriends in your room and keep the noise down. You understand?”

David agreed to these and for the first few weeks all was well and they got on. David was careful and respectful, till that Friday night.

David had just received his first full pay and went out straight from work for a pint…and that stretched to several and he got home just after midnight.   Mr Harrison was in the living room and not happy.  “You’re drunk lad, and your tea is wasted. Get to your bed and we will deal with this tomorrow.”

In the morning, with a sore head David was suddenly awoken by Mr Harrison just after 7am. The sheets were pulled back revealing a naked David who jumped and shouted, “Fucks sake, Harry!”

“Get your arse out of bed lad and come down and see me NOW!”

David had never heard Mr Harrison swear like that and was embarrassed about being seen naked.  Once dressed, David went downstairs and found Mr Harrison not very happy.  He lectured David in manners, swearing, shouting, keeping him awake and so forth and then said, “So lad you can either let me deal with this or get on yer bike back home.”

“Deal with it, how?” David asked.

“I will give your worthless drunken bottom a taste of discipline lad, that is what, and I am sure your father will agree with that.  Do you want to ask him?” So saying, he handed the phone to David.  David’s reaction was one of disbelief knowing that his father would go crazy and probably do what Mr Harrison was suggesting anyway.

While he was working this out Mr Harrison helped him, “Aye, your father has told me how he still tans your bum when required, so no worries there then.”

David looked sheepishly and said, “OK Mr Harrison, as you wish.”

“Good.  Now get back up to your bedroom and I will be up shortly.”

David waited for almost 20 minutes for the expected visit and when Mr Harrison entered he did so with some authority, saying, “Right lad, get your trousers off!”

David took his jeans off, feeling foolish.

“Now your top as well lad.” David was shaking a bit and very nervous but this was always how his father made him prepare as well. Had the two friends been talking?  David was left in just his shorts and socks, looking at the floor.

Mr Harrison sat on the side of the bed and said, “Now lad, I am going to give your arse a good leathering today. It has been a while, but I am sure I can still teach a lesson to a naughty lad like you. You have a choice, you can run away and tell your father or you can apologise and ask me to punish you. If I do it then it goes no further than thee and me.”

David was becoming strangely excited, which caused him more embarrassment.  He said, “Please Mr Harrison, I am sorry.  I will accept whatever punishment you give me.”

“Aye, what a sight lad!  A 30-odd-year-old still needing his arse spanked and you’re stood there obviously thinking it will be fun!” At that he slipped David’s pants down and slapped his erect cock.

“I hope your not going to make a mess over my knees lad, but over you go.”

David was soon over Mr Harrisons knees looking at the duvet and after some moving about a hard hand started to rub his bottom cheeks.

“Ready?”

“Yes Sir!” and so it started. No warm up here, just a steady smack from Mr Harrison’s palm on each cheek. David shouted out, he apologised, he begged for it to stop…but it continued for a good five minutes.

He was told to get up and Mr Harrison commented that David was, “Not so big and excited now, eh lad?”

He was stood in the corner while Mr Harrison left the room and when he came back David turned round to face his chastiser.  To his shock, Mr Harrison held in his hands a length of leather split in two halfway down. It looked about quarter of an inch thick and David knew its purpose.

Involuntarily David’s erection grew again.  Mr Harrison couldn’t miss it. He smiled at this and commented, “Ah David, does the idea of your ‘Uncle Harry’ taking the tawse to you excite you?”

“Uncle Harry?”

“Yes lad I think at these times you should call me Uncle Harry, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir…I mean Uncle Harry”

David relaxed a bit and also noticed that there was a growing bulge in Mr Harrisons pants as well.  Uncle Harry said, “Aye lad, not all hard work this disciplining.  Now, get yourself on the bed face down while I teach you another thing or two.”

Laid on the bed his uncle started to use the tawse on his bared buttocks and David reacted as one would expect. He yelled and begged for it to stop and eventually after about 24 strikes it did. David was sniffling and sobbing and Mr Harrison sat on the bed and held him close, comforting him. “Wait there,” he said and returned a few moments later with a bottle of cream lotion which he started to rub on David’s burning cheeks.

“You took that well lad, so we’ll draw a line under your behaviour.”

“Thank you, Uncle Harry,” said David.

“Till the next time,” smiled his new uncle.

The lotion was soothing and soon the burning was becoming more bearable, and the rubbing in of the lotion was a good feeling. His uncle let a finger slip between his new nephew’s cheeks.  David’s reaction was to part his legs slightly. This encouraged his uncle and soon a finger was caressing the bum hole and then slipping in and out. Nothing was said and as his hand slipped to cup his balls David found himself erect again.

“Do you find being thrashed exciting, David?” asked his uncle.

“Oh no, uncle.  No.” he replied.

A sudden slap on his bottom was followed by, “I don’t want lies, David!”

“Does it excite you?”

“Oh uncle, it does a bit, but it hurts and I don’t know why, but it does excite me..it always has done.”

“Always?  Explain, David!”

“I have always, as far back as I can recall, thought about being spanked by other people, just like you just did.”

“And did you toss yourself off thinking about that, David?”

“Oh yes, uncle.”

His uncle’s hands were now moving on his nephew’s cock in a slow but nice way.  “And tell me David, what else did you do in these fantasy dreams? What were you made to do?”

There was silence and the wanking stopped.  “Tell me, David!”

“I well, I was made to suck cock, uncle.”

The wanking continued, “Good, and what else?”

“Oh Uncle, this is humiliating, but I was used by them.”

“Used by who?”

“The guys in my wanks.”

“Have you ever sucked cock, David?”

“No Uncle.  Never.”

“Have you ever touched another man’s cock?”

“No, never ever.”

“But you want to suck a cock and to feel one, don’t you?”

Heavy breathing and a gargled, “Yes, yes!” came out as the 32-year-old could not hold back and shot spunk in convulsions all over his uncle’s hand and up his own belly and chest.

His uncle stood up and said, “I will leave you to clean up, but I think your stay here will be educational,” and left.

David thought to himself. “Shit!  I have just been spanked and leathered by my father’s friend. He got me to confess that I fantasise about sucking guys off and being shagged, and then he wanked me off.  Fuck me, that was amazing!  What have I let myself in for?”

The answer to that question was to be an educational whirlwind over the next few months.

Part Two

David’s life was changing for the better.  After finding his new “Uncle Harry”, David started to talk more openly with this man. Harry had never married and admitted to David he was bisexual having had several relationships with both men and women.

It was a fortnight after that spanking that David broached the subject and commented how his bottom had taken a long time to get back to normal. “Aye, the reality far worse than the fantasy?” his uncle responded.

“Well not so much because I had never realised how good it could be having someone do what you did to me.”  His landlord smiled at his charge.  “Oh yes son, there are good parts to discipline, but discipline is still needed.”

“Will that ever happen again?” asked David.

Mr Harrison smiled and eyed up David before saying “Follow me lad,” and taking him up to the spare bedroom. Inside there was a desk and hard backed chair and a cupboard, and when the cupboard was opened what David saw inside made him gasp. There were a few belts, or tawses like the one that had been used on him so painfully, along with several crook handled canes. Mr Harrison took a cane out and handed it to David. “Look son, you’re not going to tell your father, just as I am not, so here is what happens. I engage in some spanking play with a few other lads and they come here occasionally for a spanking or caning. In your case, you are in my charge and as and when you deserve it I shall spank you, use a tawse and possibly cane you.  However, as you found out two weeks ago, I do not do that in a fainthearted way, and when I thrash a lad I do it for real.  It’s the best way, you see.”

David was inspecting one of the canes, and swished it a few times, much to the amusement of Mr Harrison. “I wonder what that feels like?” said David.

Mr Harrison said, “I will reject the temptation of saying you can try it now David!”  Then seeing the look on the lodger’s face added, “But I tell you what, I will give you one stroke so you have an idea if you want.”  Rather too eagerly David agreed and Mr Harrison told him to, “Drop your trousers and bend across that table.” David obeyed and soon felt his pants being pulled down. Nothing was said and a tap on his bottom told him the stroke was coming soon and then WHAAAAP and a sting went through his bottom that made him yell and stand up to rub his bottom!

Mr Harrison laughed and added, “So you now know and perhaps will avoid it in the future.”

Over the next few weeks, the events of that day were mentioned a few times, but never in much detail.  Eventually David asked, “Mr Harrison?”

“Yes David?”

“Please tell me again, what kind of things would I be spanked for?”

Mr Harrison put his book down and eyed David curiously, “For swearing, lateness, bad behaviour, just like I told you before.  But you have been good David, that spanking taught you and I think the fear of the cane helped?”

“Mr Harrison?”

“Yes David?”

You said other boys visit you, Why do they come?”

“They come because they feel they need discipline. Some it helps to lead a good life and others just need it.”

“What, what if I felt I needed that Mr Harrison?”

Mr Harrison looked and smiled and said, “If that is ever the case then you will come to me, call me Uncle Harry and tell me why you need it.  But be warned David…you know at first hand what I can do.”

Two sleepless nights later, David entered the lounge just after 7pm, “Uncle Harry?”

Mr Harrison looked up from his paper with a stern expression, “Yes what do you want?”

A nervous David stuttered out, “I feel I need some discipline in my life Uncle.”

“Ah, you took your time.  And what kind of discipline do you need then?”

David had expected Uncle Harry to take over and just get on with it, so was taken aback. “I feel I need to be spanked and belted again, Uncle Harry.”

“Right then,” Uncle replied.

Then with a rush of blood to the head, David spurted out, “And caned please, Uncle.”

“You want caned as well, do you David?”

“Yes, I think so Uncle.  Yes I do.”

They both went to the spare room and Uncle Harry drew out the hard backed chair. “Right then, you know the drill, strip down to your pants!”  David did as instructed and was soon stood shaking with a tent pole in his pants.  Uncle Harry came over to David and stood in front of him. “You’re a brave lad for asking me to cane you and spank and tawse you. Well you’re going to find that Mr Sympathetic I am not!”  At that he led David to the chair, sat down and pulled his pants down exposing a rampant cock. “Aye lad, I know what you are thinking about. You are thinking about the afters last time, but believe me there is a lot of starters and main course first!  He was pulled over and a spanking was administered that made him yell and apologise and all those things you say under such circumstances.  He was then taken to the bedroom and laid on the bed and given a real roasting with the tawse. He bucked and jumped and got 24 strokes over his arse and back of legs before being allowed up and sent to wait in the other spare room.

When Uncle arrived he had left David standing for 20 minutes and found him still erect and up for an adventure.  Ignoring this he ordered David to, “Bend across that desk and hold tight. You have twelve strokes coming and no doubt you will jump up, but for every time you do, or or if you swear, I will add another two strokes.”  David bent over the desk preparing for the worst…and it arrived soon after. He yelled and stood after that first stroke and his even-tempered Uncle shouted at him, “Get back over that table David and remember YOU ASKED FOR THE CANE!  We can be here all night if you want.”

The second stroke caused him to yell louder and the third the same. By the time he had taken the first six he was sobbing and regretting everything, but scared to get back up. The next six strokes covered his entire bottom and the tears just flowed. There were still the two extra strokes and these were placed on the top of his legs, just under the bottom.  David howled and cried loudly.

“Now David stand up and go have a bath then get into bed.”

“But Uncle it’s just gone 8pm!”

“Don’t disobey me David!  You want treated like a naughty lad then your bedtime is as soon as you have been thrashed.”

David trooped off and ran a bath and when he entered the burning of his bottom and the water almost brought new tears.  His Uncle entered the bathroom and helped him wash and then tenderly dried him before taking him to his room. “No need for PJ’s tonight,” he said, and David got into bed.  Uncle produced some lotion and soothed David’s bottom the way he had done before, and then he cupped the lad’s balls and started to rub his hard young cock.  “Was it worth it David?” Uncle asked.

“I think it will be Uncle Harry,” a sheepish David replied.

“Did the cane do what you expected?  You were ever so eager to sample it.”

“Oh yes, Uncle Harry!  It was worse than I imagined…but at the same time it feels lovely now.”

“Good David,” said his Uncle and continued applying the lotion. His fingers slid between David’s now opening legs and probed delicately at his anus only to find David actively pushing back and forcing the finger to enter.

”Is this what good boys get after a caning Uncle?” smiled David.

“It’s a special after a caning, David.”

David arched backwards to push further back on the finger and allow his Uncle’s other hand to grasp his throbbing cock. “That is most of my fantasies completed Uncle, thank you.”

His Uncle stood up with a smile, and with a “Shoosh!” to David started to undress himself in the full gaze of the lad.  David had eyes for the hairy manly cock that stood erect before him and as his Uncle guided his hand to it.  For the first time, David was touching another man’s cock.

“Did you mean what you said about being used David?”

“Oh yes Uncle!  Yes I did!”

“And do you want all your fantasies to become reality?”

David blushed a deeper red than before and whispered, “Please Uncle, I do.”

“Then hand me what is in the top drawer over there.”

David opened the drawer and took out a foil-wrapped condom.  He knew all his dreams were about to come true.

Part Three

The six-month employment contract soon ended and David found himself with a permanent job, more money and able to move into a flat if he wished.  However, his relationship with his Uncle Harry had moved on as the older man had become a mentor and lover to him.  David began actively looking for his own flat because he knew, for his future, he needed to settle. However, he would miss Mr Harrison, his new uncle.

It was strange.  There was affection, that of an older person for a relative, and David knew what they were doing was, well, not exactly wrong, because the were consenting adults, but perhaps what others would term “odd.”  The spankings still continued, as and when either Mr Harrison considered David required some for his behaviour, or more often when David felt the need and called him Uncle Harry, their sign for discipline.

After that first time with another man, David had found himself frequently wanking under the sheets and longed for a repeat.  That had occurred only once since, and after a sound caning, which David had found really painful.  The message was clear to him, that such play only occurred after a caning.  Yes, after other spankings and strappings his Uncle would comfort him but it was the canings that brought the best out from his Uncle!

It was a Saturday afternoon, just after 2, when David got up the courage and approached Mr Harrison in the garden and said, “Uncle Harry, can I speak with you please?”

“Certainly, what can I do for you?” he said with a knowing smile and anticipating having his nephew’s bared bottom over his lap in the immediate future.

“Eh…Uncle I think I need your discipline today…please.”

“Aye, you probably do son, and I will give you it.”

“Err, Uncle, I think I need the cane today.”

His Uncle looked at him and raised his eyebrows, “Ah, the cane do you?  And why the cane, because I know you hate it?”

“I deserve the cane…and I know you like giving it Uncle,” he said with a red blush to his face that could have burned you if you got too close.

His Uncle looked at him closely and spoke softly, but with authority. “Good enough young man, I will do it for you.  I will spank you first then cane you, but you must appreciate how painful it will be, and as you are asking for it, then you need a good dose to dissuade you in future.  So it will be 18 strokes, full on.”

“Oh Uncle!  That’s too many!  Please just the 12!”

His pleadings pleased his uncle, but he denied them, saying, “No David!  There is a difference between me deciding that you need the cane, and you asking for it.  You need to learn that asking for it incurs more of a caning. Up to you.”

Head cast down David said, “Yes Uncle, I understand.  18 it is.”

“Good.  Now, I am busy at the moment, so I will deal with you tonight.”

David was disappointed.  He’d summoned enough courage to ask and wanted it now, but knew better than to question his uncle, “Yes Uncle.”

“We will have dinner and then I expect you to ask me to give you your punishment bang on 9pm.”

For the rest of the day, David was a bit nervous and scared, although he also had numerous erections thinking about what was to come.  Dinner was an uncomfortable experience and his Uncle was amused by his lack of concentration and clock watching.  Bang on the allotted hour David stood and walked to his uncle saying, “Uncle.  It’s 9.  Would you give me my punishment please?”

“Aye, son.  Been a long day waiting?” before taking David with him to the spare room.  “Right then David!  Get your clothes off for me!”  He watched as David striped to his shorts.

The chair was taken into the centre of the room and David was dragged over his uncle’s lap.  His pants taken down, ready for what was to be a memorable hand spanking from his uncle. A verbal tirade followed.  David kept saying he was sorry, for what he didn’t know, and his uncle meanwhile was telling him how much he deserved this spanking and that the caning to follow was going to make him cry.

The spanking over, David was made to stand in the corner, with his hands on his head.  Uncle Harry moved the chair and then told him to turn round.  David was displaying an erection, his hands were still on his head and his white pants were down at his ankles.  David looked an exciting proposition for his uncle whose own cock was causing problems in the pants department.

Uncle then did something that he had never done before, certainly not in mid-spanking.  He called David over and pulled out his own member and told David to kneel and worship it. While he did this he thought back to that first time, and how he had converted this young man and what power he now had over him. He also regretted the fact that soon, perhaps too soon, David would move onwards.

Concentrating on the matter in hand his Uncle recovered his composure and standing David up held him close and whispered to him, “David, I am going to cane you so hard now, you will cry, you will shout but you will take it and afterwards you will be so good.”

“I know,” answered David.

Releasing his hold, David stood back and his uncle added, “Are you scared about this caning David?”

David nervously admitted “Yes, Uncle.  I am a bit.”

“Good, and so you should be, because it is going to be the most severe you have had and will probably ever get. I doubt you will come back asking for the cane again, but you will probably still get caned from time to time.  Now over the desk please, oh and kick those pants off!”

David lay over the table grabbing hold of the far side and looked out his side of his eyes as Uncle collected a cane from the cupboard, flexed it, then took another, flexed it and closed the cupboard.

“This is it,” thought David and gritted his teeth.  The first stroke soon whistled down on the centre of David’s bared cheeks and he gripped tighter, and let out a strangled “Urghh!”

The next landed higher up as did the third and fourth and David still gripped tighter and tried not to yell to loud. It was strokes five and six that broke him and at each he yelled in pain but stayed in position.

David was allowed a short respite, only broken by his Uncle saying, “Six down lad, and remember you asked for this!”

The next set of six followed and and at each stroke David yelled out as if stabbed. The pain was worsening and his verbal complaints were not unnoticed.

“Right lad, I’ve given you twelve.  I would normally stop there, but remember with every one of these last six that you asked me for them.”

David was beginning to sob gently but as the next stroke landed his tears burst full flow and he started to blubber, “Please Uncle, no more please!”  He yelped, but the answer was the next stroke and then the next and soon there were just three left.

His uncle went behind him and caressed his burning, welted rear and then handled his limp cock, saying, “You see David…be careful of what you ask for…but one day you will ask me to cane you like this again.”  Despite the pain in his bottom, his uncle’s ministrations were bringing David’s cock back to life.

“Soon!” his Uncle said as he stood back and took aim once again.  David was amazed by his own emotions. Here he was having taken fifteen painful strokes with three more to come and yet the touch of his uncle’s hand had left him so erect and wanton.  That thought was broken by the sting of the third from last stroke and he yelled like mad, his erection collapsed and once more tears started to flood. The penultimate stroke cut deep below his cheeks and then the final stroke landed right on top of it.

David was told to he could stand up.  Uncle then told him to run a bath and that he would see him in the bathroom.  The ritual of being bathed and then dried was easing the pain and then David was taken, for the first time, through to his Uncles large double bed and laid down on that. The soothing lotion soon brought back the lad’s erection and uncle soon disrobed and said to David, “Tonight you can sleep in here with me, if you wish to?”

David nodded, and his uncle’s hand went to a drawer in the cabinet beside him.  He pulled out a foil-wrapped condom.  David glanced at it, with joy, as he thought, “It was worth it.”

___________)

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.

(___________

Story © MMXVI by David Stewart

All rights reserved

More great stories by this author can be found here

___________)

Comments welcome.

Comments are here.

Free Spankings (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Celebrate St Andrew’s Day with this exciting CP story by very special guest author JOELSTRAP.   This story is new to The Canery. All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

Free Spankings by Joelstrap

 

I looked carefully at the feet planted firmly on the floor; at the long, sinewy legs ending in a pair of taut young buttocks; at the slim waist and long back with the spinal cord rippling under the skin; at the broad shoulders and sun-browned neck and the muscular arms; at the shock of unruly fair hair which half covered the ears. I turned and looked at the frontal view; at the flat stomach with the line of dark hair pointing to the fuzziness in the groin, the heavy balls and slim, pendant penis; at the broad, flat pectorals and firm nipples; at the open face, framed by the profusion of hair; at the shining, dark eyes.

Yes, I thought to myself as I gazed in the full-length mirror, you’re not bad-looking at all and if Iain doesn’t want you any more, there’s bound to be somebody else who will appreciate you.

Iain and I had been together for just over five months but it was becoming clear that we had little in common beyond the physical attraction of each other’s body and he had announced the previous evening that he felt we should split up. He did it as kindly as he could but it still hurt, even although I knew it was probably for the best. After a restless night, I’d gone for a long walk this morning and decided that I just had to pick myself up and get on with it.

Although I wanted another boyfriend, I wasn’t in any desperate hurry and felt that I needed some time alone to sort myself out and work through my feelings and emotions. Living near a railway-line in Glasgow, I was familiar with trains and had made a number of journeys in my seventeen years. I decided that perhaps a trip to Mallaig on the West Highland Line would be a good idea. I planned to take the train as far as Rannoch Station and then to walk the nine miles to Corrour Station before picking up the train again after a night in the Youth Hostel there. This would make a pleasant interlude and allow some quality thinking-time.

After placating my mother with repeated assurances that I was well-equipped and would not fall into a bog, I set off on a cloudy morning from Glasgow’s Queen Street Station, and watched as the city faded and the Clyde gave way to the Gare Loch and then Loch Long before we were running along the north-western shores of Loch Lomond. We reached Crianlarich and then headed north into the mountains and on towards the wilds of Rannoch Moor and so to the remote station at Rannoch.

By now the skies had cleared and the sun was out and I felt cheerful as I alighted at the tiny station, the only passenger to do so. It was shortly after eleven o’clock and the little café provided welcome sustenance before I set off eastward along the only road into Rannoch. After following it for a short distance, I turned off to the left up a track which eventually led to a footbridge over the river and to a path under the southern ridge of Carn Dearg.

Far to the south and west the moor stretched away to the mountains of Glencoe. I however was headed north towards the vast bleak, boggy acres of Rannoch Moor as they extended towards Corrour. The path descended to the ruins of the old Corrour Lodge, long replaced by a new building at the north end of Loch Ossian after the West Highland Line was constructed in 1894.

Not far from the tumbled remains, there was a small stone cottage which appeared, from the smoke rising lazily from the chimney into the summer sky, to be inhabited. The path passed within a couple of hundred yards of it and I could see as I approached that there was a small sign propped against a stone where the footpath to the cottage began.
My eyesight was pretty good and I could read it well before I came up to it. I grinned to myself because it appeared to say: Free Spankings.

Obviously, I decided, my vision wasn’t quite as good as I thought; but as I drew nearer, I had to alter my opinion. My vision was 20:20. The sign did indeed read: Free Spankings. I stopped by the sign and re-read it several times; but it made not one whit of difference. It still said undeniably, Free Spankings. I tried to work out if it was a corruption of something but made no headway. I stared at the cottage, in a quandary. Curiosity was fighting a strong battle and eventually I conceded defeat and turned up the narrow, grassy path to the house.

The door stood partly open and so I stuck my head in and shouted “hello”. A large dog padded out and sniffed suspiciously at my crotch and then turned away as if disappointed. I waited and then a man appeared. He was perhaps in his mid-thirties, about my own height of six feet, with black, straight hair receding slightly and well-muscled arms visible in his close-fitting tee-shirt.

“Er, I couldn’t resist coming to ask about your sign,” I began. “Free spankings?”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. Do you want one?”

“What? A spanking?” I asked, incredulous.

“Sure. It’s free,” he added as if that made the prospect more attractive.

“But who the hell wants to be spanked?” I enquired.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “But I couldn’t help wondering about the sign.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you wonder about the sign?”

“Well, it’s a bit odd, isn’t it?”

“Why? I give spankings and some guys like to be spanked. What’s odd about it?”

“Some guys like to be spanked? Where’d you get that idea from?”

“It’s true. They find it exciting. Some of them even come while they’re getting spanked.”

“They…..fuck! I don’t believe it!”

“Want to try?”

“No way!”

“It’s free.”

“Well, nobody’s going to pay for a spanking, are they?” I objected.

“Of course they are. And if you want the cane or the tawse, it’s £1 a stroke; but if you go for five, I’ll give you the sixth one free.”

I stared at him, baffled.

“You can’t be serious! I’d more likely pay not to get caned. And what the hell’s a tawse anyway?”

“You’re a Scot aren’t you? You should know that. It used to be used in schools to discipline youngsters.”

“You mean the belt? I’ve heard of that. Got it across their hands, didn’t they? Bloody sadistic. There was none of that in my schooldays,” I said.

“Anyway, how about this spanking then? Bare bottom, across my knee,” he offered.

“Bare bottom? Across your…….no fucking way, mate. You’re seriously kinky, you are.”

“Sure you don’t want to try it? You’ve got a brilliant pair of buttocks there, just crying out to be spanked.”

I felt myself going red.

“I……….well, thanks…..I think………oh, shit!”

The trouble was that I really liked the look of him. I didn’t want to be spanked; but the idea of lying across his knees had a strong appeal. There were stirrings down below as I imagined it.

“So, how about letting me see the target,” he suggested. “I’d like to know if your bum’s as good in the flesh as it is in your shorts.”

The sheer effrontery of this almost left me speechless.

“You want me to drop my shorts and let you see my bare arse?” I asked, in disbelief.

“That’s right.”

“Not likely.”

“Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me!”

“Come on then; let me have a look. I promise not to touch.”

I decided that a look would do no harm and dropped my shorts and pants, turning my back, partly to conceal my genitals and partly so he could see my behind. I knew I’d nothing to be ashamed of and felt a tingle of pride as I displayed my assets. To my own astonishment, I found myself hoping he’d approve.

“Awesome! Perfectly formed; taut and muscular. I can’t believe no-one’s ever spanked them,” he said enthusiastically.

It was undoubtedly a compliment but I was unsure how to react; and in my confusion I found myself, to my horror, blurting out:

“Well, maybe just a little spanking; so I can feel what it’s like.”

“You won’t regret it,” he assured me.

“Hmmm!” I said.

He sat on a sofa and patted his knees.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Dave.”

“Hi, Dave. I’m Neil. Right! Over my knee, boy!”

Not quite believing I was still in the real world, I shuffled across the floor and lay down carefully across his lap, feet on the floor, pants round my ankles, head resting on my folded forearms on the sofa arm. He shifted his legs slightly and pushed me a little to get me correctly positioned. I was acutely aware of his erection pressing against my thigh and of my own surprising tumescence trapped between my stomach and his groin.

His hand slid across the bare skin of my bottom and I stiffened; but as it continued to explore, I relaxed a little and enjoyed the sensation. I tensed again as his fingers probed deep into my cleft and a daring forefinger teased the lips of my anus, but thrills of pleasure allayed any serious fears and I made no protest.

The first smack was unexpected and barely registered as more than a light slap. It was followed by several more, methodically covering every inch of my bottom from my waist to my thighs and the tops of my legs. A growing warmth in my skin was exciting and enjoyable and I relaxed into the experience, moving my hips slightly in time to the smacks and giving a little extra stimulus to my now rampant cock.

A much harder smack on the crown of my left buttock made me flinch and, before I’d time to really register it, another followed on the other buttock. A flurry of stinging spanks ensued and the pleasant warmth became a more insistent burning, strong enough to make me squirm and wriggle. Still Neil’s hand fell steadily, never quite where I was expecting it and, as the sting built up, I began to breathe hard with the effort to process the pain. A particularly well-placed spank near my crease had my hand reaching back automatically to scrub the stinging flesh; and my wrist was instantly grabbed and my arm twisted across my waist so that I was effectively prevented from any further pain-alleviation activity.

There was a pause and I lay, panting, cock still rigid beneath me, bum burning like a bonfire.

Wow! Well, if that’s what a spanking feels like, I’m bloody glad I came here. That was fantastic; and I feel fantastic. I’d just love to wank off, but I don’t suppose that’s allowed. I can feel his hand now, caressing the skin now it’s over; cool hand on hot bottom. Pure dead brilliant! as they say in Glasgow.

“Ow!”

Something hard slammed into my left buttock, right on the sit-spot and it stung like hell. I struggled, but was firmly held. It came again and again and I soon became aware that I was yelping and squealing, twisting and writhing as a sting like a nest of scorpions engulfed my behind and penetrated deep into the burning flesh. I looked round and saw that Neil was wielding a wooden hair-brush. Never could I have believed such an innocent-looking implement could deliver such an intense pain. It was searing; it was excoriating; it was ferocious. I could have endured it for eternity.

Each new swat hurt like a blast of flame but I didn’t care. I was into it. I loved it. Tears streamed down my face. I sobbed and cried like a kid who’s skinned his knees and all the questions and doubts I’d had after my break-up with Iain seemed to fade away and I felt clean again.

The spanking stopped and I lay, quivering, as the pain slowly eased to a steady throb of heat. Neil lifted me to my feet and directed me to the bathroom. There I felt gingerly round my bottom, registering the heat emanating from a pair of soundly-spanked buttocks. I looked over my shoulder in the mirror and admired my fiery-red globes. I lay on the floor and scrubbed swiftly at my balls until I achieved a shattering release. I lay still and relived again and again the revelatory wonder of being spanked.

I donned my pants and shorts and returned to the living-room.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a little foolish. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“No need to say anything,” he replied.

He told me to sit down and I did so carefully, enjoying the discomfort in my behind, the steady reminder of my first spanking. He provided coffee and then we talked. I told him of Iain and my break-up and why I was here. He told me he was a businessman and worked mainly from home, visiting an office in Glasgow every two or three weeks for a day.

“I’m successful enough that I can employ someone to do the day-to-day running of things and I can live here and just go in occasionally.”

I envied him and resolved to get on with making my first million as soon as possible.

“Now,” said Neil, “what about the cane?”

I tensed nervously.

“What about it?”

“Think you’d like it?”

“Definitely not!”

“Like to see it?”

Curiosity won the day and Neil went out of the room and returned with a limber rod which he arched before my eyes. I stared at it, as a rabbit stares at a snake, knowing it is in danger but unable to run. It was longer and thicker than I’d imagined a cane would be. It certainly wasn’t a toy. He handed it to me.

I felt my way along the lissom length of it, felt its springy curvature, imagined it moulding itself to my bare buttocks in a red-hot embrace, and rapped it several times against the palm of my hand as I tried to assess its potential for inflicting pain. I concluded that it would hurt like fuck, and then some.

“Boy! That’s vicious,” I breathed and suddenly had to plunge a hand into my shorts to rearrange things.

“I see that you like it,” observed Neil with a sardonic smile.

“Er, well, it’s sort of exciting to think about,” I admitted, “but there’s no way I’d ever want it for real. You’d have to be a bloody masochist to ask for that.”

“You enjoyed the spanking,” he reminded me.

“That was different. This is much more savage.”

“Think you couldn’t stand that kind of pain?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t stand it. I just don’t want to have to stand it.”

“It scares you?” he asked.

“I’m not a fucking coward,” I protested. “I’m just being sensible; like not putting my hand on a hot-plate.”

“Fair enough.”

He took the cane from me and laid it on the coffee-table where I found my eyes drawn repeatedly to it. We talked on, but I found the cane distracting and disturbing, not least to my penis, and decided I should resume my journey.

“Maybe,” I suggested tentatively, “I could drop in for another spanking on my way home next week?”

Neil picked up the cane.

“If you set foot in this house again, boy, it will be the cane for you. Understand?”

“Okay,” I said, disappointed. “But I’m sorry. I’m not coming back to be caned. I’d have liked another spanking; I’d even pay for it next time; but not the cane. Probably couldn’t afford it anyway,” I ended in a mild attempt at humour.

“If you come back again,” said Neil with a smile, “I’ll cane you for free.”

“Gee, thanks!” I said sarcastically.

“It’s an offer you can’t refuse,” he said.

“Wanna bet?”

Neil arched the cane and suddenly slammed it down on the top of a leather stool, making a crack which echoed through the little cottage and made me take a pace back in alarm.

“How do you think that would feel, Dave?”

“And you expect me to come back and just bare my bottom, bend over and let you hit me like that with a cane?” I asked, disbelievingly.

“You got it in one,” he said.

I shook my head, hoisted my rucksack on to my shoulders, thanked him for his hospitality and for the spanking, and set off.
I could still feel the sting of the hair-brush as I resumed my interrupted walk to Corrour. A curious sense of well-being coursed through me.
As I walk, I relive over and over again, the spanking of the early afternoon, aided and abetted by the sting in my bum which is stimulated by the act of striding along in shorts which I have to admit are pretty close-fitting. My persistent erection becomes so much of a nuisance that I am forced to retire behind a huge boulder and relieve pent-up feelings. After that I think about the cane as I walk, touching it again in my memory, tracing with a mental finger-pad the long, smooth curve, imagining it cracking hard across my bottom, feeling the blossoming pain. Undaunted, my cock rises to the occasion and I force myself to think about the geography and geology of the area through which I’m walking. Nothing like thinking about hard rocks to get rid of a rock-hard; nor thinking about soggy bog to induce a soft, spongy cock.

To my left the vastness of Rannoch Moor stretches away toward the skyline, a mass of bogs, lochans, small rivers and rocks. During the last Ice Age, about ten thousand years ago, a huge glacier covered the moor and, as the ice slowly radiated outwards, it gouged out the glens of Rannoch and Tummel, Coe and Etive. Where the acres of peat have dried out I can see the roots of age-old pine trees, sorry remnants of the ancient Caledonian Forest which once covered this land.
On my right Carn Dearg rises calmly into the afternoon heavens and I follow the path which skirts its southern ridge. Mindful of the stories that the boggy ground of the moor has been known to swallow men whole, I keep carefully to the track and eventually I see ahead the shining waters of Loch Ossian and the Youth Hostel set on a peninsula protruding into the loch. Corrour Station itself is about a mile to the west but I don’t intend going there until tomorrow morning. There is no road to Corrour. You either come in on foot or on the train.

I found myself to be remarkably popular at the hostel. First a slim, well-developed girl showed a blatant interest in me, plonking herself down beside me as I sat gazing at the loch and engaging me in conversation. She probably sensed that she wasn’t getting very far as she eventually said:

“You look pretty good. Would you like to come into the bushes and let me find out if you’re as good as you look?”

I shook my head and she shrugged.

“Pity,” she said and wandered off.

Later, as I was washing up my plate and mug, a muscular young guy with a centimetre-long fuzz of hair all over his head, patted my behind and asked if he could see it bare? I told him to fuck off. Later still, as I was sitting in the hostel shortly before bed-time, a large, hairy mutt made vigorous attempts to mate with my left foot, much to the amusement of the owners who seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. I scowled at them and stalked off to my bed. Honestly, the whole place was sex-mad!

Next morning I made my way along the Road to the Isles as far as Corrour Station and boarded the train which in due course deposited me in Mallaig on the west coast. Between hostels and bed-and-breakfast accommodation, I made my way around the area and then over to Skye before returning a week or so later to pick up a return train at Mallaig. It would have been possible to just stay on the train all the way to Glasgow, but I felt myself in no hurry to get home and decided to extend the trip by a day and break the journey with an overnight again in the Corrour hostel before walking south to Rannoch and picking up the train there.

Part of me wanted to see if they were still sex-mad at Corrour; and a part of me wanted to walk past the cottage on the way to Rannoch again, although I couldn’t have put into words exactly why. It was a simple little plan and would bring my holiday to a pleasant and unhurried end. As a good Scot, I should of course have been mindful of the words of my national poet, the illustrious Robert Burns, who observed so pertinently that:
“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.”

I alighted from the train and ambled slowly along the mile towards the hostel and about half way was overtaken by a young guy with a large rucksack whom I’d noticed had also left the train at Corrour and had been sitting on the platform as I’d set off. He was one of those lads who looked about twelve as far as his open, freckled face went, topped by a shock of light-brown, curly hair. Closer inspection, and I’d taken the chance when walking past him on the platform for a closer look, showed that there was a honey-coloured down on his face and he had the well-developed chest and bulging groin of a fully-mature young man, at least as old as I.

“Hi,” he said, cheerfully, giving me a disarming smile. “I’m Guy.”

My knees felt slightly shaky. I had a feeling that if there was going to be any mad-for-it sexiness at the hostel this time, I’d be contributing substantially to it. This guy was gorgeous.

“Hi! I’m Dave. You headed for the hostel?”

“No. I’m walking down towards Rannoch but I’m spending the night with a friend of mine on the way so I won’t pick up the train again until tomorrow morning,” he replied.

I started. The only habitation I’d seen between Rannoch and Corrour, apart from very close to the village was the cottage of my spanking chum. I gave Guy a curious glance and wriggled my hips a bit to accommodate movements down below.

“Oh,” I said with feigned insouciance, “I didn’t realise there were any houses until you got to Rannoch.”

“Not far from the old Corrour Lodge,” he said. “My pal lives in a cottage there.”

So it was the spanker! It had to be!

“Strange place to live,” I said, hopeful that he’d open up and tell me more.

“He’s a strange chap in some ways is Neil. But he and I share a particular interest and I visit him every two or three weeks. I’m a student in Glasgow but my home’s in Fort William, so I break the journey by doing the walk between Rannoch and Corrour and visiting him when I’m travelling between the two places. Sometimes it’s just for an hour; sometimes for a night like this time.”

I was desperate to ask what the shared interest was, but you can hardly ask a guy you’ve only just met if his kink is getting his bare buttocks spanked. We were approaching Loch Ossian and the hostel hove into view. Overhead the sun shone in a sky of unsullied blue and the air was warm, only a slight breeze ruffling the surface of the moor.

“Like to join me for a picnic by the loch before you set off for Rannoch?” I asked, fingers and toes crossed that he’d agree.

“Sure. You got food?”

“I stocked up before I left Mallaig,” I said.

He nodded.

“Come on, I know a good grassy bit to sit and eat.”

I followed him and we unpacked our comestibles, placing what we had between us, apparently managing to reach an unspoken agreement that we’d share what we had. With Guy it was that easy. Conversation was easy too and we soon established that we were both gay and immediately a barely-suppressed frisson of sexuality became overt. We looked appreciatively at each other and had a giggle when we simultaneously had to plunge a hand into our shorts to release a trapped erection.
There was a spark which very quickly ignited a roaring conflagration, boosted by a wind of testosterone. The afternoon grew hot and we removed our shirts.

“How about a swim?” I suggested.

“Yes! Just have to wear my underpants though,” he said, pulling off his shorts. I gazed with undisguised admiration at the massive bulge in the front of his pants.

“Wow!” I said.

He smiled in a rather embarrassed fashion and watched closely as I removed my own shorts and allowed him to see my package.

“And wow! back at you,” he said with a broad grin.

We plunged into the water, gasping as its icy coldness, even on a hot July afternoon, stung our bodies. We horsed around energetically, swimming, diving, splashing each other, chasing and catching each other, revelling in the touch of each other’s naked, wet body; until, exhausted by our efforts, we clambered ashore and lay panting, side by side on the warm grass, letting the sun dry our skin.

I glanced at the remains of our picnic. Only a small amount of juice was left and I picked up the bottle and held it to my mouth.

“Hey! How about sharing?” objected Guy in mock outrage.

I eyed the fluid in the bottle.

“There’s only enough for one of us to get a decent mouthful,” I said; and then added daringly. “Fight you for it?”

“You’re on!”

I laid the bottle aside and at once Guy threw himself on top of me. I hastily responded, struggling to fight him off. We strained and panted, wet skin sliding sensually over wet skin, first one on top and then the other as we fought like young animals, determinedly and in near silence. Once I thought I’d got him and was about to force a submission, when he suddenly wrenched free and rolled me on to my back, pinning me with his weight on my chest. I don’t give in that easily though and after a sustained effort I had him again and this time made no mistake. Some painful pressure and he gasped audibly. I looked a question but he just stared back at me. A little more pressure, a contortion of his features and he panted: Okay. I surrender.

I released the pressure and lay still on his chest, my face inches from his as he lay on his back beneath me. We were laughing breathlessly; and then the laughter died and the silence was absolute and the sun was hot on my shoulders. Between us I was acutely aware of two erections. His eyes were fixed steadily on mine as I slowly lowered my head, tense with the awful possibility that he might turn away, until our lips touched. Like an electric-shock, a jolt zipped through me and, as Guy’s lips responded to mine, a fiery lust gripped us both and we writhed like coiled snakes in a mating-ritual as we kissed hungrily in several minutes of torrid passion.

By mutual although unspoken consent we fell apart and lay on our sides, words unnecessary, gazing into each other’s eyes. At last Guy stirred.

“You’re fantastic,” he said softly, running a finger along my jawbone.

“I know.”

“Cheeky sod!”

I leaned forward and kissed his hand.

“You’re pretty special yourself,” I admitted.

“Why don’t you come down to Neil’s with me this evening, instead of staying in the hostel here? He won’t mind another guest for the night; and then we can go back to Glasgow together tomorrow morning.”

Into my mind there flashed a sharp, clear vision of Neil arching that vicious-looking cane; and in my head I could hear his words:
If you set foot in this house again, boy, it will be the cane for you.

And it would too. I had no doubt about it. My thoughts about the cane, and I’d had them daily in the past week or so, had convinced me that it held a fascination, but I still found the prospect of actually baring my bottom and bending over for its powerful sting something which frankly scared me.

“I couldn’t do that. It would be rude just to turn up and expect to stay. I’ll spend the night here and leave early in the morning and catch you up at Rannoch Station if not before.”

“Come on. I want you to be with me.”

He stopped and I waited as he seemed about to say more. After a few seconds, during which I could see by his face that he was wrestling with something in his mind, he continued.

“Look. Can I tell you something? Something kind of personal and private, I mean?”

“Sure. I won’t spread it,” I assured him.

“This chap Neil that I’m going to see. Well, he’s into spanking; and, well………..well, that’s why I’m going…you see?” he ended lamely.

“You’re going to get spanked?” I asked.

He nodded, watching my face uneasily. I tried to decide what to say next. Guy misinterpreted my hesitation.

“You’re disgusted, right?” he asked, looking a bit miserable.

“No, no. I’m not, honest,” I insisted. “I was just thinking. You see, I’ve got a bit of a confession to make.”

“Yeh?”

“I walked up from Rannoch on my way north and there was a sign outside that cottage which said, I kid you not,”free spankings“; and, well, I was kind of curious and so I went to the door and, well, one thing led to another and………”

“And you got spanked!” ended Guy with a grin which reached from ear to ear.

“Er, yes, I got spanked; fucking hard too. Bastard didn’t just use his hand; he took a fucking hairbrush to my arse as well. Hurt like the fires of hell.”

“Brilliant! Bet you could feel it when you were walking,” he said eagerly.

“Too right! Stung all the way to Corrour.”

“And you liked it?”

“Yes,” I admitted, feeling slightly shame-faced. “It made me feel bloody good after it was over; all sort of calm and content and relaxed; and I liked the sting while I was walking too,” I added honestly.

“He canes me,” Guy vouchsafed, watching me closely.

“C..canes you? With a cane?”

“Usual thing to use for a caning,” he said.

“Yes, I know. I just mean that…..he actually canes you? How does that feel?”

“Sore. But it’s exciting too. I’ve had the cane a few times and I’ll be getting it tonight.”

“You scared?”

“A bit; that’s natural; but I want it too. There’s nothing like the kiss of the cane on your bare bottom.”

“Kiss? That’s hardly the word I’d use about a fucking great rod lashing my bare backside,” I said, but my cock was erect.

“Some kisses can be very intense,” said Guy solemnly.

I sighed and said nothing. We lay in silence for several minutes.

“Why not come, then? You could get another spanking and watch me getting caned,” offered Guy.

My cock soared at the prospect of this double-whammy of delights.

“It’s not a simple as that,” I said. “I’ve not told you everything yet.”

Guy stared at me.

“Well, come on. Out with it. What’s the big secret?” he demanded.

“Neil wanted to cane me but I wouldn’t let him. I just don’t think I could take the cane; and he told me that if I ever set foot in his house again, he’d cane me – for free,” I ended.

“Ah! So, if you come with me tonight, you won’t just get a spanking; you’ll get a caning, is that it?”

I nodded.

“So, aren’t you kind of curious to find out what the cane feels like?” he enquired.

“Not really. I think it’d be fucking awful.”

“Or it might not,” suggested Guy. “Did he let you see the cane?”

“Yep! Held it too.”

“And?”

“Vicious.”

“So, you’ve forgotten all about it?”

“No. I can’t stop thinking about it; but that doesn’t mean I want it,” I added hastily.

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. Listen, I’ve got a tent in my rucksack, so why don’t you come with me this evening and stay in the tent nearby; maybe in the ruins of the old lodge; and then we can go on in the morning. That way you don’t need to enter Neil’s house so you won’t get caned. Mind, you won’t get spanked either,” he said. “Unless Neil comes out and spanks you in the open air.”

For some reason this prospect excited me enormously and Guy noticed.

“That’s settled then,” he said firmly, “and we can stay together for the rest of the day.”

I smiled contentedly; for I wanted to stay with him, very much indeed.

With Guy the hours flew by, more swiftly than the wind-driven clouds scudding across the summer sky. By seven in the evening, we were approaching Neil’s cottage and I was sure that I wasn’t imagining the tingling sensation in my behind. A memory of what had been the last time I was here; or a hope for what I might get if Neil deigned to come out to me?

Guy went to the door while I waited at the end of the path. A minute or two later, he joined me and we made our way to the ruins of the old lodge where he showed me how to erect the little one-man tent where I’d spend the night, in the shadow of the ancient, tumbled walls. He told me he’d asked Neil if he’d like to come out and give me a spanking but the answer had been unequivocal. I had to come into the cottage; in which case I’d be caned. Guy made one last effort to persuade me to come and join him.

“You can see me getting it; and I’ll be there when it’s your turn,” he said.

Almost he persuaded me, as the prospect of seeing Guy’s bare behind getting the cane was hugely thrilling. The prospect of my own bare behind getting the cane was sufficiently less so to sway me. I declined, albeit with some reluctance. We’d stick to the plan. Guy would spend the night in the cottage and get a caning; while I’d spend the night in the tent and go un-caned. What was it Burns had said about the best laid plans?

I wandered rather disconsolately around the old lodge in the evening sun. The wind had dropped to almost nothing and the summer air was still and warm. This was a gorgeous place, I decided, peaceful, beautiful in its own remote, majestic way. Not, certainly, the domestic beauty of the cottage garden or the village by the stream; but the grander beauty of bare moor-land stretching to the horizon, the hint of distant mountains and the nearer bulk of Carn Dearg to the east.

Into every Eden however there comes a serpent and I had feared that the serpent might be Neil’s cane; but the President of the Immortals, who had had such sport with Tess, wanted to play with me a little first. I had failed to take account of that scourge of the West Highlands, that vicious torturer which has had grown men running away in terror, that tiny tormentor which blights the summer days and especially the still evenings; Culicoides Impunctatus, or the Scottish midge.

The females do the biting, requiring a little meal of blood before they can lay their eggs. Almost too small to be seen, they hunt in packs of hundreds, biting mercilessly on every area of exposed human skin they can find and raising painful bumps which itch infuriatingly and persistently until the victim is driven to escape the onslaught by vacating the field in ignominious defeat.

At first the assault was only a minor irritation and had me slapping and rubbing at my neck and face and bare arms and legs; but soon it became more determined. For a moment I had a vision of the tiny world of the midge in which a sign had gone up saying, Free Blood. I tried to escape a cloud of the little monsters by running swiftly around the old lodge’s walls. It was of no help. They followed; reinforcements came. Scratching and swatting desperately, I withdrew to the tent; but they were there before me and drove me daft as I struggled in vain to defeat them by covering my head with my arms.

Yet still they bit and still I slapped and rubbed and scratched until I fled the tent and ran at full pelt along the path in a vain attempt to out-distance them. They were driving me crazy. I’d met midges before and I’d heard of them compelling campers to pack up and flee in the middle of the night; but never had I realised how horrendous and unbearable their assault could be on a still, warm evening with no breath of wind to blow them away.

I had to escape. Anything was preferable now to this torment and I perceived at last how cunningly I’d been played; for the only escape from the pain of the midges was to the cottage; and the pain of the cane. So desperate now was my situation, however, that even the cane seemed a minor irritation compared to the relentless bites of the midge-horde. I fled to the house and banged on the door.

Neil answered and took one look at me; and laughed.

“So,” he said, “it looks like there’s something you fear more than my cane, eh Dave?”

“Just let me in, please,” I begged, still scrubbing furiously at my face and then at my neck and then at my legs.

He stood aside and admitted me and I went into the sitting-room. On a sofa, lying face-down was Guy. I stopped short. Across his taut, muscular bare bottom was etched a series of five parallel cane-lines, all crossed on the diagonal by a sixth. They looked angry and red and painful; but Guy was looking round at me with a broad, cheerful grin on his face. He appeared to be perfectly content.

“So you came for the cane after all,” he said.

“Fucking midges,” I swore savagely, scratching and rubbing still. “I couldn’t take any more; even in the bloody tent.”

Neil approached me. I turned and saw that he was holding the cane. I gulped; but I knew I was for it.

“Oh, God!”

“You planning to argue, Dave?” Neil enquired.

“No,” I said. “It’s what we agreed. I just never thought I’d be in this position.”

“Nor in the position you’re going to be in very soon,” chortled Guy.

“Sadistic bugger!” I muttered.

I continued to scrub at my bites. Neil looked at me with some sympathy.

“The midges are tough,” he said, “but I promise that once you’re bent over, bare-arsed and waiting for the cane, you won’t be thinking about a few midge-bites.”

“A few midge-bites? The whole fucking army of Rannoch midges has been dining out on my body for the past two hours; squadrons of the blasted monsters! What the hell do they do for their blood when I’m not here?” I demanded unreasonably.

“Right! Stop moaning. You’re going to get something to really scrub at shortly,” said Neil, his voice suddenly harsh. “Guy; up against the wall, boy!”

Guy sprang instantly from the sofa and took his stance facing the wall, hands on his buttocks.

“You; strip!” Neil ordered, turning to me.

I found myself obeying at the double, hauling off my boots and socks, yanking down my shorts and pants and finally pulling off my shirt. I stood in all my naked glory. I observed Guy turning his head to look.

“Face the wall, boy!” shouted Neil; and Guy obeyed immediately. “Now I’m going to give you a spanking first to get your endorphins going,” Neil informed me, “and then we’ll move on to the cane. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, boy?!”

“Yes, sir,” I replied hastily.

“That’s better,” agreed Neil. “Now stand up straight; hands on your bottom; and stop that bloody scratching!”

“But I………”

“Silence!”

I said no more and adopted the position required; but I glared resentfully at him as the bites throbbed and itched and I forced myself not to rub them. Bloody ironic that the only place I was allowed to put my hands, on my bottom, was about the only place I had no bites!

Neil sat on the sofa and summoned me across his lap. My cock rose as I positioned myself and the feel of his denims under my bare, hard penis, sent a thrill of excitement through me. Neil’s hand performed a circular motion on my behind, firmly caressing the full surface of my buttocks, his index finger occasionally sliding easily between my legs and along my perineum and back up through my cleft to pass lightly over the lips of my anus with a touch of fire.

I relaxed and even the midge-bites seemed less intense; and when his hand suddenly came down with a sharp smack on the crown of my bottom, I forgot the bites altogether for a second. Spank after spank followed in a steady stream, covering my behind from waist to crease, raising the temperature to a hot glow. I was wincing and wriggling and gasping a bit by the time he stopped. My bum was aflame and my penis was at full attention.

“On your feet, boy!”

I scrambled up and stood, feeling my way over my backside, revelling in the stinging heat; and the midge-bites were little more than a background irritation. Neil stood and picked up the cane. I tensed. He arched the rod slowly, letting me see what I was going to get. I took in the lithe arc and its potential for pain. I tried to imagine what cane-welts would feel like under my hands. I swallowed and listened to the blood pounding in my ears.

“Over here, boy!”

He led me to a small, plain, wooden table and instructed me to bend over with my lower-arms on the table’s surface, on their sides with palms open and facing each other, as if I were holding an invisible piece of wood between them. He kicked at my feet to make me spread my legs a bit more; and then he tapped my behind with the cane. I flinched, not with pain but simply because it was the cane. He drew the cane back and forward across my bottom several times, letting me feel its hard, unyielding texture, its slim length; letting my buttocks know what was coming.

My penis, erect after the spanking, had gone into retreat.

“Don’t break position,” he ordered.

The cane was drawn back and I tensed my body in readiness. I was aware of the rod descending, of the whistling sound in the still air of the room, of the crack as wood and bare flesh came into violent contact; and then on a sudden I was aware of the sting, a lash of pain across the crown of my bum, penetrating, burning, forcing me to clench my glutes to a quivering intensity as I fought to ride the pain.

I released my breath slowly and relaxed my muscles slightly as the sting subsided. I felt the cane touch my behind again. It was removed; the air sang and I heard the crack and a split second later felt the burn. I reached forward and grasped the edge of the table.

“Get your hands back in position, boy!” roared Neil, so loudly that I moved them instinctively. “Now keep them there!”

Oh, God! He doesn’t believe in making it easy. Isn’t it bad enough having to cope with the pain without having to keep fucking still as well?

I abandon my resentful thoughts as the cane touches my skin once more and is then raised and brought back down, hard. I gasp aloud as the tip of the rod bites savagely at my thigh.

“Quiet!”

For fuck’s sake! I’m in agony here. Can’t I even make a bloody sound? Fucking sadist!

I steady myself and feel the rod now high on my behind, near the top, approaching my waist. There’s a pause and then the routine of withdraw, bring down hard, crack, burn, pulse with growing intensity, fight to keep still and quiet; and easing slightly of pain. Just two to go. I hope. He never actually said six, but that’s what Guy got and he surely couldn’t give me more than that; could he?

The cane is resting on my crease now and I’m scared. I know how sensitive I am there, just where my legs join my buttocks. He knows it too and that’s why the next stroke is going there. He intends to hurt me; and I intend to show him I can take it! The cane lashes down; pain screams along my crease and I thump my feet on the floor as I wrestle for self-control.

“Keep still, boy!”

Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!

I force my feet to be still. Why? Why should I obey him? I don’t know; but I want to. One to go and I am fairly sure now that I can do it.
I wait for the touch of the rod, the preliminary which warns me that a stroke is imminent; but it doesn’t come. Nothing happens. I stand, bent over, bottom throbbing with heat, ready for a final explosion of fire. Still he makes me wait. The silence in the room is absolute and I’m aware that Guy too is waiting. He can’t see what’s happening but he can hear it all and I find myself hoping that he’s proud of me.

Come on, you bastard! Stop torturing me! Cane me, damn you!

I hear the whine of the rod as the air winces and am barely ready when the cane strikes. The diagonal cut reawakens all the previous fires of the earlier strokes and my bum blazes with a searing heat. In spite of myself, I grasp the table’s edge once more and stretch out a leg behind me, holding it taut and a-quiver. A yelp which I can’t quite stifle escapes me. Pain flourishes, triumphant, and then softly dissipates leaving behind a steady, burning sting which stimulates my genitals and my penis rises fast.

“Get up, boy!”

I rise painfully, like an old man rising stiffly after sitting too long. I place my hands tentatively on my thrashed bottom and feel with a degree of awe the welts raised on my skin, radiating heat on to my palms.

“You may come and see him, Guy,” says Neil and Guy is there, a golden grin splitting his face, his eyes dancing. I feel a dark and secret delight in what I’ve experienced and I feel at one with Guy for he too knows exactly how I feel. He takes me into his arms and hugs me tightly and I feel a few tears trickling down my face. Guy notices and licks them off tenderly.

“Okay?”

“Brilliant!”

I feel awesome. A sense of euphoria has flooded my being. My pulsating bottom is a source of powerful sexual stimulation. If I were to be offered three wishes now, I’d wish to go to bed with Guy three times over.

“You were right,” I confessed, turning to Neil who was watching us with a wide smile on his face. “I did want to be caned. I just didn’t realise it.”

“How are the midge-bites?”

“What midge-bites?”

We all laughed.

“Right, you pair, into the spare room and sort yourselves out and then come back here and we’ll eat. Getting caned gives you a good appetite.”

Neither Guy nor I needed any second bidding. Cocks like flag-poles, we retired to the bedroom and shyly began to relieve each other’s tensions. I had one of the best orgasms I’d ever had. Once we’d done, we lay on our fronts for a while, side by side, shoulders and thighs touching, and discussed the intimate experience of being caned.

Neil fed us like fighting cocks and then sent us back to the bedroom for the night.

“I’m afraid it’s only a single bed,” he said. “Will you manage?”

I glanced at Guy and we both sniggered.

“I think so,” I replied. “We won’t need a lot of space.”

Nor did we; and after two more increasingly-confident workings at each other’s balls, first with tongue and then with hands again, we fell asleep, Guy lying behind me, his arms around me, one hand resting on my balls and his organ soft now between my buns.

Neil provided us with breakfast and then we accepted his invitation to spend the day with him, exploring a little of the country round about and enjoying his entertaining company. We had to catch the train at Rannoch station about half past six that evening and wanted to give ourselves a couple of hours to get there. Shortly before we left, Guy and I dropped our shorts to let Neil see the lasting effects of his efforts with the cane the previous night.

“Are you still offering free spankings?” I asked.

“Of course. Want one?”

“I’m still marked from the cane; but maybe a little one?” I suggested.

A couple of minutes later I was over Neil’s knee and the wooden hairbrush was snapping across my buns in a flurry of swift, sharp swats to whichever area of my bare bottom I couldn’t get my hand near to protect. I writhed and yelped and felt the tears come as a roaring inferno engulfed my buttocks. As suddenly as the onslaught began, it ended and I was hoisted to my feet to stand, scrubbing ruefully at my blistered bum while Guy went over Neil’s lap for similar treatment.

“Fucking shit!” I panted, blinking back tears. “How the hell do you manage to make it sting that much so quickly?”

“You’ve got a lot to learn, boy,” he answered as I watched a somewhat nervous-looking Guy lower himself across the waiting knees.

“You think I’m coming back for more?” I enquired, eyeing my rearing erection.

Neil just raised his eyebrows at me and began to beat a swift tattoo of spanks on the crown of Guy’s buns.

“Okay,” I admitted, watching Guy flinch and wince. “I will be back.”

A few minutes later, bottoms tingling pleasantly, we strode off down the path towards Rannoch. The skies were somewhat overcast and a brisk breeze meant that smart walking was in order so that we covered the ground fairly swiftly. On the approach to Rannoch, however, the cloud-roof parted and a pale sun streamed through, transforming the almost monochrome moor-land into a patchwork of heather, peat, rocks and pools which extended to the south and west to where the mountains of Glencoe brooded darkly over their ancient memories of hideous betrayal of hospitality. The early evening sunshine tinged the edges of the clouds with gold and, far to the north-west, Ben Nevis and the mountains of Lochaber stood stark against the horizon.

We gazed in wonder at the remote loveliness of the landscape and then became aware that the wind had dropped and the midges were on the attack. We were both scratching and slapping at our bare skin.

“Midges are hell,” remarked Guy, scrubbing furiously at his neck, “but all this” (and here he swept his arms out in an expansive gesture encompassing the panorama before us) “makes even them worth enduring.”

“I suppose it’s kind of like the cane,” I said meditatively. “When it cracks across your bare bum it hurts like a jellyfish-sting; but that feeling afterwards, the adrenaline-high, the sexual arousal, the sensation that you’re on top of the world and invincible; wow! That makes it all worthwhile.”

“So you’re glad you went to investigate the ’free spankings’, then?”

“Definitely,” I confirmed. “And when there’s a red-hot, sexy boy, randy as a rabbit and panting to share the experience with me,” I added with a grin at him, “then everything is just perfect.”

“We’re a bit early for the train,” observed Guy. “Since you liked the free spanking so much, I’ve got another free offer for you.”

I looked expectantly at him.

“Free wanking,” he said. “In behind those rocks there.”

My penis had already accepted the offer but I had one reason to hesitate.

“The midges are getting bad.”

Guy shrugged.

“We’ll be quick; and I bet you the pleasure’s worth the pain.”

I got bites on my bum and on my cock; but Guy was right. Together we soared above moor-land and midge on the wings of ecstatic release; and then, hand in hand, we walked down to Rannoch and along the road to the station.
I wriggled uncomfortably on the train-seat as midge-bites and the after effects of Neil’s hairbrush made themselves felt. It had been a tough couple of days. Guy watched me and grinned.

“You’ll be coming back with me in two or three weeks’ time?” he asked.

“I hope I can afford it. He said the cane was a pound a stroke,” I said.

Guy smiled broadly and fished out of the back-pocket of his shorts a small pile of cards. He handed me one. It said:

Caning Voucher – value: 6 strokes

I stared at Guy.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“From Neil. Good customers get free vouchers. I’ve got quite a lot of them. Have another couple.”

He handed me two more. One was the same as the first. The other read:

Tawsing Voucher – value: 12 strokes

“That’s two dozen you’ve got lined up for nothing; and I bet he starts giving you some free vouchers of your own pretty soon. Aren’t you the lucky boy, Dave?”

I gave my bottom a careful rub. Twelve strokes of the cane; and twelve with the leather tawse, which I hadn’t even felt yet; and probably that fucking bastard yelling at me to keep still and keep quiet as well. This could be hell. My cock soared excitedly in anticipation. I decided I’d not be using the vouchers all at once. I remembered vividly the six I’d got the previous evening and scrubbed thoughtfully at my behind again.

There was no doubt about it. I was the lucky boy!

The train thundered south towards Loch Lomond.

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You can still travel by train on the West Highland Line from Glasgow to Fort William and Mallaig and, if you choose, leave the train at Rannoch and walk the nine miles along the path over the moor to Corrour before boarding again.
Neil and his cottage are, I regret to say, entirely imaginary. The midges are definitely for real!

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Story ©MMXI 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.  Comments are here.

Joelstrap’s excellent earlier stories for The Canery are available here.  Further great stories by Joelstrap may be found at this external link

Mr Jones (M/M) NEW!

 

♥ 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

______________

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.

_______________

Further great stories by this author may be found here.

Comments on this story are here.  Please add a comment of your own. 

 

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Feeling The Heat (M/M) NEW!

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♥ Site recommended story ♥

New to The Canery is this exciting spanking story by very special guest author JOELSTRAP.   All the characters are 18 or older. WARNING: ADULTS ONLY!

Feeling The Heat by Joelstrap

The traffic moved increasingly slowly until at last it came to a standstill. The snow had been falling heavily for some time and outside the car windows the countryside was shrouded in a blanket of white while the road beneath me was thick with compacted snow on which more layers were relentlessly building up.

Time eased passed and we were going nowhere. The road was high and exposed. I got out of the car and looked around. In both directions vehicles were at a standstill and the swirling snow was unremitting in its intensity, loading the branches of the bare trees, lining the tops of the walls with a deep layer of white, filling in the ditches and levelling the hollows of the landscape.

I approached the next car. The guy said he’d spoken to the police on his mobile. Jack-knifed lorries were blocking the way in both directions; snowploughs couldn’t get through. We were in for a long wait. I tried the big white van behind. A young lad of about my own age, maybe twenty, was sitting staring moodily through his windscreen. I told him what I’d learnt.

“If you get cold,” he informed me, “come along here.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve not got much fuel left and I daren’t run the engine to get any heat.”

I returned to my own vehicle and snuggled into my coat to wait. The hours crawled past and the darkness fell; and still it snowed until I had to get out and sweep it from the windows so that I could see outside. It was bitterly cold. I stamped my feet and swung my arms and climbed back into my car; but I couldn’t settle. The cold was beginning to numb me. I decided to go along to the white van and see if maybe he had some blankets. He had said to come along if I was cold.

The lad jumped out when he saw me approach and led me round to the side of his van where he unlocked and pulled open a sliding-door and climbed in. I followed. A dim light shone in the capacious interior where a several large boxes and some crates sat in two neat rows.

“I’m supposed to be delivering this lot for an exhibition,” he said, “but they won’t be getting them today.”

I clambered in. I’d expected heat, but there was none.

!Er, I thought when you asked me to come round if I was cold that you’d have some heating on.“

“Nah, heating only works in the cab,” he informed me.

“So what we doing here?” I asked, teeth beginning to chatter.

“There’s another way of getting warm that I found in one of these crates,” he said. “But I don’t suppose it’s everyone’s cup of tea.”

I was curious.

“So what is it?”

He opened one of the large boxes, reached in and pulled out a thick leather strap, slit into two thongs down almost half its length.

“What the fuck’s that?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Never seen a baby like that,” I admitted. “What’s it for?”

“Look. Hold your hand out like this.” He extended a hand, palm upward.

I copied him and, with a move so swift it took me totally off-guard, he swung the leather thong and smashed it down on to my extended palm. Pain ripped through my hand and I withdrew it with a yelp of pain and turned a furious face towards him.

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” I demanded angrily. “That was fucking sore!”

“It was meant to be. That’s what it’s for. It’s called a tawse. It was used to punish school-kids in the old days.”

Vague memories of stories my gandad had told me about getting belted in school came back to my mind.

I surveyed my flame-red palm, still pulsing with pain.

“Must’ve been tough buggers in those days,” I muttered. “That stings like hell.”

“But I bet your hand isn’t feeling cold now, is it?”

I rubbed my hand against my stomach. No, it certainly wasn’t feeling cold now; it was feeling bloody hot!

“So, want the other warmed up too?” he enquired, flexing the tawse.

Part of me didn’t want a repeat, but part of me still couldn’t quite believe how deeply it had stung and wanted to find out if it felt that bad when I was expecting it.

“Okay,” I said and held out my left hand. I felt a pang of apprehension as he raised the belt, swung it back over his shoulder and then I saw it descend with explosive intent towards my palm. It took a bit of will-power just to keep my hand out when I saw what was coming. The ferocious lash of pain convinced me that it hurt just as much when I knew what to expect! I nursed my flaming palm under my arm.

“Wow,” I told him. “That is one hell of a sting!”

I looked at my palms, red, a slight indication of bruising at the base of the thumbs, and wondered.

“So just what kind of an exhibition is this?” I asked.

“It’s called Education through The Ages,” he replied.

He undid a little bolt on one of the crates and the front fell forward to reveal an old-fashioned school-desk, such as I’d seen in pictures. He pulled it out and we admired it; solid iron frame, hard wood seat, various names and words carved into it with a penknife.

I shivered a little with the cold.

“So, how about you bend over that and I’ll warm you up a lot more with this across your arse,” he suggested, flexing the tawse again menacingly. “You look pretty cold.”

I was cold, but I wasn’t at all sure that I wanted that vicious bit of leather used on my behind. My cock, however, seemed to have other ideas and I had to do a hasty readjustment. This did not escape his attention.

“I’ll take that as a ’yes’,” he said with a grim smile. “Bend over.”

Why the hell not? I thought. My jeans will give me some protection.

I leaned over the back of the seat and placed my hands on the edges of the desk-lid and waited. He swung the tawse and brought it down with moderate force on my denim-clad rump. I felt it, but only enough to make my cock soar. He hit me several more times and I became increasingly aroused by the sting.

“Okay,” he said. “If it’s really going to warm you up, you’ll have to get it on the bare. Drop your jeans and pants.”

“No way, mate!”

I stayed down because I wanted him to continue; but he didn’t. He could read me like a book.

“You want more,” he said; not a question; a statement. I didn’t argue.

“But you’ll only get it if your bum’s bare. So, drop them. Now!”

My penis repeated the order vehemently. I stood up, unbuckled my belt, undid my jeans and pushed them down to my ankles. I hesitated. He just nodded at my pants and I slowly pushed them down too. My cock, released from any strictures, bounced joyfully. Embarrassed, I swiftly bent over again.

He began to wield the tawse across the bare skin of my buns, just hard enough to sting. I loved it. A warm glow spread across my buttocks and seemed to permeate my whole being. Steadily he covered the whole surface of my buns from my waist to the tops of my legs, across from thigh to thigh with a blanket of pulsating heat. I was a-quiver, not only with thrilling pain, but also with sexual excitement. I felt my balls were going to burst.

He stopped the leathering and a pang of disappointment shot through me. A strong, young hand explored the planes and curves of my bottom and a long, confident finger slid deep into my cleft and stroked my hole so that a powerful shudder of delight shook my whole body.

“You want it harder?”

“Yes, please!”

This time I really felt it; but the endorphins were flowing through me and I had been well warmed up. I could take it. He hit more slowly now, giving me time between each stroke to savour the pain and then wait with a pang of apprehension for the next one. Every time the leather smacked into my buns, I thrust forward hard, like having sex, and I felt my body was ready for release; but I didn’t want this to end and held myself desperately in check.

He must have sensed that I was close to losing control and the belting ceased again. I stood, flame-hot, pain throbbing insistently and thrillingly through my behind, cock rigid as an oak tree, foreskin drawn well-back, pre-cum shimmering on my prepuce. I didn’t dare move. It was up to him. He drew the leather strap across my skin and I felt its rough texture. He slid it up to my waist and then let it come slowly down so that one of the slim thongs dropped into my crack and pulled gently at the tender skin near my arsehole and then on to tickle the edge of my perineum before falling away. I held my breath. I closed my eyes. The world waited.

Behind me he must have been swinging the tawse back and then bringing it forward and down, the full power of his muscular young arm behind it. A crack like a gunshot echoed round the van and a yelp was forced from me as a tidal-wave of raw pain flooded my bottom, intense where the hard tips of the thongs curled deep into my thigh. I quivered, poised on the very brink of orgasm, panting for it, every nerve stretched to breaking-point. Time stopped.

There was nothing left in my world now; only the tawse and the pain and the certainty of release imminent. Again the heavy tawse descended and this time the ends of the thongs were driven into my cleft, lashing the sensitive flesh between my buttocks. With a cry of pain, my body bucking violently, I teetered momentarily on the brink, and then was lost.

I was dimly aware of my balls pumping out spunk, of the crimson tide of pain receding to leave a steady pulse, still severe between my buns. All else was joy, deep and potent; pleasure which went deeper than anything I’d ever experienced before; and a long, slow surge of fulfilment.

I stood up slowly, dribbling semen. I placed my hands tentatively on my leathered buttocks and worked my way wonderingly over the raised prints of the belt on my skin, savouring the heat.

I looked at him. He was still standing there, slowly stroking the tawse across his hand. On the front of his jeans there was a patch of dampness. I took a deep breath.

“That,” I said, “was fucking awesome!”

“Warm now?” he enquired.

I grinned, still scrubbing ruefully at my rump.

“Definitely!”

I cleaned myself on my handky, pulled up my pants and denims and, with his help, shoved the desk into its crate. He put the tawse back in its box and pulled out something else; a slim, wicked-looking cane.

“No!” I said, backing hastily away. “I’m grand and warm now, thank you!”

He shrugged, laid the cane down and I slid open the door and jumped down into the snow. Back at my car, I sat carefully on the seat and then just closed my eyes and remembered. I must have dozed, for when I awoke, I was very cold. I stretched, got out of the vehicle and looked up. The snow had stopped and overhead the sky was spangled with stars. The fallen snow shimmered with a layer of frost. It was bitterly cold.

I rubbed my bottom, feeling still a tingling warmth there. I glanced towards the white van. I could see him sitting in the heated cab, apparently reading a newspaper. I rubbed my buns again and shivered. The frost was hard and the air bitingly icy. I walked back to the white van and pulled open the driver’s door.

“I don’t like to bother you again,” I said, “but I’m bloody freezing.”

He reached across to the seat beside him and picked up the cane. I drew in my breath sharply.

“Cold enough for this?”

I swallowed and took the plunge.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “C-c-cold enough for that.”

He smiled. I rubbed my bottom.

 

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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

 

How I Got Into Corporal Punishment Games (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot and explicit true story by David Stewart, repeated from 2012.  All the characters are 18 or over.

I’ve always felt that I wanted to be spanked, and I’m not sure why.

It was always ladies I fantasised about until I was about 22, when I made a friend who would introduce me to the world of adult discipline.

To set the scene here, I was a young police officer.  I met John, who was 59 and a retired teacher (or so he told me).  I had been schooled in Scotland and he had taught on both sides of the border.  I met him as a result of a call to assist with some children that were causing a nuisance.  We had a chat over coffee about ‘the kids of today’ and so on.  Over  a few visits the story was always the same, about people lacking discipline nowadays and eventually I guess we both learnt that each other was more than interested in the topic.  He did ask me if I was disciplined at home and in school, and did I think I was better for it.  In hindsight, nowadays he would be called a pervert, but there you are and remember this was the late ’70s.

He made an unusual comment one visit, asking, “Do you ever miss the way a spanked bottom or tawsed hands dealt with an issue and then it was over?”  I answered, “I suppose so, in a strange way.”

As I left that night John made his move and said, “You know David, if you ever felt the need to revisit those days of a spanked bottom, then you only need ask me to do it for you.”

Well I left, and I gave my cock a thorough workout later that day.  The following day I called him and spoke nervously about the comment.  Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself if I got it wrong, I asked,  “What did you mean last night when I left, about if I ever felt the need or something?”

“David, I know some adults still miss that old fashioned spanking thing and as a friend if you felt you needed it, then I would do it for you.”  It was a s simple as that, but it had taken about six visits before he asked.  I said that I thought I did and he said, “Well if you do David, bring your PE kit to change into and we will see to it!”

Two days later I turned up in uniform along with a bag with shorts and vest in it, and we had a coffee. “Did you bring anything with you today, David?”, he asked.  Nervously I showed him the plastic bag and then its contents.  John then went on to try to relax me, which was impossible.  He told me he had friends who he spanked, and not to think I was unusual in any way.

Eventually he said something about “So should we go and deal with you then?”  We stood and went to what was a small study.  It had a desk with leather chair, a hard-backed chair in the corner, and a small cupboard on one wall.

“So how should I deal with you, David?” 

I said, “Just like my father would, Sir.”  There had been no request to call him Sir, it just felt right.

“I will leave you to change then into your shorts and vest.” 

When he returned some five minutes later I was stood there with an erection in my PE shorts.  He smiled and pulled the hard-backed chair out, told me to go over his lap and then he spanked me over my shorts for a while.  I left that night disappointed, to be honest.

 

The next time I visited, we chatted about it.  I had brought my kit again.  He asked me how it had been.  I suddenly blurted out that “It was not quite as I expected.”  Asked why, I said, “Well I was always spanked on the bare bum and it always really stung.  I always felt as if I had been punished then.”

John looked at me, smiled, and said “Ah David, so you want a proper spanking do you, pants down, over my knee and one that teaches you a lesson?”

“Well yes, Sir,” I stuttered. “It’s just that I always thought spankings should be like that.”

As a result, a few minutes later I was at John’s side and having my shorts and pants pulled down.  This caused my erection to stick out (and be ignored by John).  I was then pulled over and I got the hardest spanking I could remember.  I recall yelling out “Oh Sir, I am so sorry!” 

After the spanking, I was made to stand in the corner, bottom bare and hands on head.  That was the way it went for a few months until one day I turned up without my kit.  Over coffee we were chatting about spanking and I said, “It makes me regret forgetting my kit today.”  John smiled and said, “Well David, I think, if you don’t mind, and as I have seen most of you anyway, we can do without the PE kit from now on, if you want.”

We went up to the study and John for the first time stood watching me and said “Right David I want all your clothes off today.”  I was soon stood naked and erect as he gazed at me.  “Does it excite you that I am going to spank you David?”

“Yes Sir!”

“Do you usually have a wank afterwards, thinking of me spanking you?”

“Yes, usually Sir!”

He moved closer to me. “Do you ever think of me touching your cock David, or does that thought never enter your head?”

“I do Sir, sometimes.”

His hand started to move towards my cock.  He touched it and it stood even more erect.  He pulled back and then had me over his knee, spanking that erection out of me.  It was a harder than usual spanking and I nearly cried.  Afterwards he put his hand between my cheeks and made me erect again.  So it was that I was wanked for the first time by another guy.  That became the norm and I would visit for a spanking at least twice a week and I started to visit him on my days off.  It was only a short while before I started to wank him off as well.

picture by Jonathan

After about six months he re-introduced me to the tawse.   In doing so, he revealed his love of tawsing.  The norm then became for me to have to take six of the tawse along with any spanking.  Normally, this was after the spanking, as he liked my hands to be warm when I touched him.  After a tawsing, they were really hot! 

 

It was a year before I got caned and I was warned how sore that experience would be. We had discussed it before, but I was still rather unaware of the pain a cane could cause.  I recall being told that the cane would be applied next time I came and to make an appointment on a day off.  He promised me a real ‘six of the best’ and I got that, for sure.

It was six days later.  I visited him nervously.  This time, John was very different. “Come in boy!” was his command and I was taken directly to his study.  A a cane lay on the desk.  He lectured me and told me I was to be caned, six strokes and if I stood up  or touched my bottom that stroke would not count and he would add another.

Naked, I stood waiting and Sir said to me in a softer tone, “Now remember David, you asked for this and I need to give you it as I would if it were a real punishment.  It is going to hurt like nothing you have experienced before, but I have explained all that already, haven’t I?”

“Yes Sir”, I said.

“And you still want to find out what a real caning is like?”

“Yes Sir, please Sir.”

His attitude changed suddenly, “Right boy!  Over the desk, and grip the far side.”

The cane was tapped a few times before it thrashed down.  The sound felt delayed, as if it came after the hit .  There was a distinct moment when I felt nothing, but then a fearsome pain cut through me!  I stood up and grabbed my bum, only to hear a very unsympathetic, “Get down boy!  I expected better!”

The next stroke elicited a real yell from me followed by a third then a fourth which both did the same.  It was true agony and I had to wait for the fifth stroke.  The sixth cut deep into my cheeks and then Sir spoke, “Now you have to be given the first stroke again and then one extra.  Are you ready boy?”

“Sir, please no more!  I’m so sore!”, I whined.

“You wanted a real caning, now take the last two like a man, David!”

“Yes Sir!”

Almost immediately the cane delivered the penultimate stroke, followed shortly by the eighth, final stroke.  In tears, I stood up and Sir cuddled me, and then made me stand in the corner.  After a while the flames of pain diminished.  He led me to the bedroom where he undressed and we got into bed.   In the end, I stayed the whole night after being taken out for a curry.

 

Our relationship lasted for over six years and during that time my bottom was constantly spanked and caned.  My hands were tawsed so often that I lost count!  It was the only time I have had a long relationship with another guy.  Believe it or not, the reason we stopped was because by then I’d met my wife.  The marks were too conspicuous to have.  She became my chastiser.  I have however, always retained a desire to be spanked by another older guy and especially to be hand tawsed by one.  I have met a few guys who can tawse school-style and are happy to spank a naughty lad like me.

So that’s the true account of how I came to be into spanking.

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 Story text © 2012 by David Stewart

Tawse photo and multiple implement photo © Jonathan, R.I.P.

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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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I hope you’re going to comment on this one – please use link at top of story

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Comments from the original 2012 post are here

Rump Kilt Skin (F/M)

Erotic fiction by your host, Rod Cayenne

Although the smoke of the steam engines engulfed the platform, the two figures recognised each other instantly.

“Hello Aunt Penelope!”

“Hello Gregory!”

They exchanged a kiss and smiled at each other.

“It’s very kind of you to let me stay this week!  I really want to explore the city’s architecture.  It will help with my finals.”

“There’s no finer city in Scotland, Gregory.  I’ll show you around.  Just be a good lad for me.”

“Oh I will Aunty!  I’ll be on my best behaviour.  You won’t be needing your old cane this time.”

“Well, that’s good.  I don’t think I’ve got it any more.  I think your uncle threw it out just before he died.  He said it wouldn’t be needed any more.”

“Oh,” said Gregory trying to hide his disappointment.  He had been thinking about his Aunt’s canings a lot lately.  They had been terrible at the time but now that he was in his early twenties and sexually mature, he had rather fancied a reminder of the cane’s bitter sweet caress.  “You must really miss Uncle Robert.”

“Yes, I do miss him.  Most of all I miss having a man around the house.  I feel like I’m rattling around in that big empty house.  So it will be a comfort having you to stay for the week.  Come on, let’s head home and I’ll fix you some food.”

Over broth and oatcakes the two stared at each other lovingly.  There was real electricity between them.

Aunt Penelope nipped out to the outhouse.  She hadn’t been there much since the death of her husband.  She rummaged around and eventually found what she was looking for – the old leather tawse.  She picked it up and stroked it with affection.  The brown leather twin-tailed strap was capable of severe punishment.  The happily-married couple had used both it and the cane regularly to spice up their sex life.  Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the cane.  He hadn’t thrown it out after all!  He had always been a bit of a tease!  She decided to take both items in to show Gregory.

She placed both items on the kitchen table.  Gregory was sat there still, daydreaming, but the arrival of the cane and tawse brought him back down to earth.

“Oh Aunty, you won’t be needing those, will you?”

“I rather think I might be, young Gregory!”

“I thought you said Uncle Robert had thrown the cane away.”

“Well, I honestly thought he had.  But now I’ve found it, I rather think I might put it to use.”

“Oh Aunty!  And that beastly tawse?”

“Yes, that too!  I think you deserve a good thrashing for all of those times you took advantage of me.”

“But Aunty, you led me on!”

“Yes, I may have done.  But you should have declined.  I had a devil of a job keeping it secret from Robbie.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No, I didn’t.  I felt so guilty though.  Maybe he guessed and that’s what finished him off.  Poor Robbie.  Anyway, you can take advantage again this week, but only if you accept your punishment first!”

“Oh Aunty, must I?”

“Yes, you must.  It’ll help us both assuage the guilt, I think.”

“Yes, Aunty.  I suppose you’re right.”

“I hope you’ve brought your kilt.”

He nodded.

“Go and change into it then.  Remember, no underwear”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“And I’ll slip into something more comfortable.  Something you’ll really like.  Meet me in the bedroom.  I want the full outfit too, please.  Sporran, garters, shirt…”

So it came to be that the two of them met up in the master bedroom.  Gregory looked smart in his traditional Scottish wear, and Aunt Penelope looked severe in a black girdle.   She flexed the cane menacingly.

“Right Gregory, bend over the side of the bed and lift your kilt up for me.  I will be alternating strokes between the cane and the tawse.  That’s it, stick your rump out for me.”

She approached him, and tucked the cane under her arm.  She had a good feel of his generous, meaty rump.  Its skin was still soft and boyish, not nearly as hairy as her husband’s had been.  The smooth surface was about to become marked by the lash of the cane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“ACH – YEOWCH!” Gregory cried as the stroke was much harder than he’d been expecting.   He heard the clatter of the cane being put down on the side table.

WHACK!  Now the tawse lashed down.  A different kind of pain followed.  A bruising, hurtful pain.

SWISH-CRACK!  It was the cane again and a sharp line of fire assaulted his arse.

WHACK!  The tawse crashed down on Gregory’s cheeks.

SWISH-CRACK!  The whippy cane struck down.

WHAACK!  The tawse crashed down even harder than before!

“AARGH!”

WHACK!  The tawse struck again, unexpectedly, as the cane had been due.

“OWWW!”

“That’s enough of the tawse, I think.  Six of the best with the cane!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

Both were really getting into their stride.  Aunt Penelope stopped to feel his manly cheeks.  They were hot and inviting.  She made a mental note to find something suitable to push up his arsehole.  A quick feel of his semi-erect penis followed.  Yes, it would serve her well once again.

“Six more, I’m afraid Gregory.  Your penis is betraying your true feelings.  You’re enjoying this!  Six more, then you can mount me.”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

She tucked the cane under her arm again and groped his arse and cock once more.  

“Still enjoying it I see!  Do you think you can take six more with the tawse?”

“I’d rather have the cane, Aunty.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, but make it a dozen!  In for a penny, in for a pound!” he laughed.

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Story © 2012 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.

__________________

Comments welcome, please use the link at the top of the story.

Comments from the original 2012 post are here

 

Fire Breaks Out On Arthur’s Seat (M/M) (Reposted again and again)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Erotic fiction by Roderick Cayenne

Reposted to celebrate Bonfire Night (November 5th in the UK)

Etching of Edinburgh by John Slezer – Arthur’s Seat is in the background, to the left.

THE FACT (INSPIRATION FROM 2011):

Fire crews were called to tackle a large fire on Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh on Bonfire Night.  Lothian and Borders Fire Service said the gorse was alight.   Arthur’s Seat is an extinct volcano and a popular spot for watching firework displays on Bonfire Night (November 5th in the UK).

I love Scotland

THE FICTION:

Arthur Smith was enjoying his holiday in Scotland.  He’d visited a lot of the popular tourist destinations and now found himself in Edinburgh for three days.

One highlight of his visit was to be a session with local disciplinarian Hamish McDonaldson.  They had corresponded via an internet spanking contacts site, and now on this cold, rainy evening they were to meet.

“Come in laddie!” Hamish greeted Arthur.  “Wipe your shoes and follow me.  You can hang your coat there.”

Hamish was pleased to see that Arthur had bought himself a kilt.

“So you want a taste of discipline the Scottish way, do you laddie?”

“Yes, please Sir.”

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for!  And is this discipline to be on your hands or on your seat?”

“I’d prefer it on my arse, Sir!”

“DON’T YOU EVER USE THAT DISGUSTING WORD IN MY PRESENCE, LAD!”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“YOU WILL BE, LADDIE!”

“Yes, Sir, Sorry Sir.”

“Your punishment has been doubled, whether you like it or not.”

He went to a cupboard and drew out a couple of canes, and three tawses.

“Oh yes, you’re going to be one sorry lad!”

He pointed to a leather-covered stool in the corner of the room.

“Bring the spanking stool to the middle of the room.  Then bend over it.”

As Arthur bent over, Hamish flicked the kilt up with a cane.

“Ah good lad, no underwear!”

He put the cane down and caressed the cheeks before him.  A little hairier than he liked.  Perhaps a little more ample than he liked.  But the flesh was tender and begging for discipline.

“Twelve with this light tawse.  It was going to be six originally.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The strokes were hard and stinging.  The twin tails of the evil tawse wrapped themselves around the generous contours of the bottom.  Arthur gasped, and cursed silently.  Hamish enjoyed a certain sadistic pleasure as blow after blow reigned down on Arthur’s cheeks.

“How was that laddie?”

“Agony, Sir!”

“Well, we’ve only just begun.  Twelve with this senior belt!”  Hamish picked up the dark-coloured Glasgow Corporation tawse from the chair next to the spanking stool.

He surveyed the bottom looking for places to aim.  This was difficult as the whole bottom was already covered in marks.

WHACK!  A first blow landed and Arthur let out something close to a scream.

“Aha!  Getting to you now are we, laddie?”

“Yes, Sir.”

WHACK!

“AAAARGGH!”

“I’ll teach you to use disgusting language in my home!”

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The evil tawse did its master’s bidding.  Arthur squirmed on the spanking stool.  Oh how that beastly leather hurt!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“Please Sir, I can’t stand any more!”

“REALLY?  I think you can, you cowardly wee sassenach!  Final two with this belt, laddie.  See if you can enjoy them.”

WHACK!

“AAAAAAAARRGH!”

WHACK!

The triple tails wrapped around the bare bottom offered so submissively to Hamish.

“AAARGH!” A final cry from Arthur, as Hamish laughed heartily.

“Did you enjoy those last ones, laddie?”

“No Sir.  Not really.”

“How strange!  I enjoyed them immensely!”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

“Right laddie!  Next up I was going to give you a couple with this XH belt.  It’s severe.  Of course, the couple has been doubled to four.  Very appropriate for the four letter word you said.”

“I only said arse, Sir.”

“Are you trying to provoke me, lad?  I wouldn’t recommend it!”

“Sorry.”

“Aye, you will be.  You will be.  Now shall we play a little game?”

“A game, Sir?”

“Hold your tongue, lad!”.

WHACK! The tawse lashed down.  “A!” said Hamish.

WHACK! A harder blow, causing Arthur to buck and squirm.  “R!” said Hamish.

WHAAACK! Instant agony spread across the submissive cheeks. “S!” said Hamish, laughing with delight.

WHACK! A fourth blow fell. “E!” said Hamish.

Arthur then felt the hands of his tormentor exploring his naked, disciplined cheeks.

“Laddie, that sure is one fine bottom.  It’ll be caned in a minute.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

But the wandering hands were not finished yet.  They caressed the cheeks.  The fingers  strayed towards the arsehole where they began to probe gently.  Arthur moaned submissively, pushing his bottom towards his master.  Suddenly six hard smacks reigned down.  Hamish then applied a little lubricant and thrust his middle finger up Arthur’s seat.  The finger moved in and out and around and around, causing delighted, approving noises from Arthur.

“Time for the cane, laddie.”

Hamish picked up the junior cane.  He flexed it and swished it around.

“It was going to be a dozen, but I think you can cope with 24!”

Arthur wasn’t so sure as the first stroke fell.  Successive strokes of the beastly cane confirmed his doubts.  He had miscalculated when he chose Hamish for his first foray into Scottish discipline.  He had met his match and grew ever sorrier as the cane lashed down mercilessly.

At last it was over.

“Well done laddie.  Bedtime now.  Take this senior cane with you.”

Arthur’s seat was already on fire but would become further inflamed upstairs…

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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 persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story by Rod Cayenne, © 2011

Republished again by popular demand, possibly!

Comments welcome

5M (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot and heavy BDSM fiction by special guest author sukemnsee.  Strictly over-18s only!

Bowater billed itself as the fourth largest town in Reeveshire which did not say much for the other towns as it had a population of only about 40,000. Various larger counties on the border had aimed to annex it but so far had been thwarted. The town usefully was at the intersection of two major railways, three roads including the pass through the hills and it was now within five miles of the Motorway. This kept it alive as a trade town, with plentiful light manufacturing and new pioneer business. Trade was what brought me here. I was currently back in Sales seeking orders for the range of brass ferrules our firm milled. A lot of our trade was office and internet-based, but the firms around here were quite old school and wanted to see the representative in the flesh. For me this was a useful diversion, time to travel in fresher air and hone my people skills. I also procured lots of orders this way and the trick of getting the decision makers to place orders was to offer little custom made treats which I could only do by getting to converse deeply. It also proved a good way of tasking the promising apprentices to design and construct novelties, and to assess their skills. 

I had found a pleasant hotel close to Town Centre. It had seen days of high occupancy in the past when tourism was more established.  This was my third visit.  On occupying my room I was pleasantly surprised to find some laundry awaiting me with three shirts on hangers already in my wardrobe. I had somehow forgotten to pick up my laundry from my last visit, so I was impressed by the service they had provided for me.

A while later I went to the ground floor restaurant and headed for a section towards the back that I liked, where I could look at my tablet with wifi and not feel overlooked. The waiter came over and suggested I might prefer to sit further forward as there was a men’s activity function in the basement and noise could sometimes travel. I said I was fine and would probably have my headphones on soon anyway. He gave me a killer smile and moved off. When he brought my aperitif, served exactly how I like it with olives as nibbles, I commented it was quieter than usual that night.  He said it would be busier from 9:15 when some of the club members would finish their evenings with drinks and meals. He left me to look over the menu.

And then I heard it. I know I have an active imagination but I was sure I heard the noise of a cane travelling through air followed by contact. I listened intently and heard it again and this time it was followed by a shout of pain. Just at that moment the waiter came over looking to take my order.  I saw from his name badge that his name was Eric.  I asked him what club was meeting downstairs. He said it was called 5M. I said I had not heard of this society but he said it was a one-off meeting held on the third Wednesday of every month. He looked around conspiratorially and said it was a naughty boys club. I am no poker player but my face must have expressed interest.  Luckily, he could not see the under my table, where I sported a stiff reaction to what I had already heard! He added, “It is for the broad-minded or adventurous. They call themselves curious, I think. Men spanking other men’s botties and a bit more. Quite an age range too with some fit blokes not just old saddos. Kinky.”

He said maybe I would like to dine later and see what some of the participants looked like, perhaps have a mental game imagining who does what.   I agreed I could do with going through some paperwork in my room and finished my aperitif with a promise to return later. I asked if he knew what 5M stood for and with another endearing smile he said it was Martin’s Mischievous Men Mended Monthly.

A few minutes later I was downstairs in the function suite area. I saw a sign by a door labelled ‘5M. Ring for admission.’ There was a little bell on a side table and so I rang that. Nothing happened immediately and I wondered if it could be heard. Then the door opened and a man in a towelling robe came to greet me. I said I was a regular hotel guest who had been given a notion of the activities going on and would like to attend. He asked me in, into an area that was curtained off to make a reception area.  I was told it was a private members group with an annual fee. A charge for each session but the first included in membership. A direct debit plan for regular access was a good option. No photography and phones except for the official organiser, and should advise him if there were any privacy issues. I agreed to join. He then asked if I was top or bottom, not leaving any scope for versatile. I decided to say bottom and was handed a bag for my clothes and a pair of hotel slippers and told to strip naked before going through the end curtain. He would pick up and store my clothes right after and if I needed toilet facility it was immediately right after the curtain.

I was immediately nervous and was rather slow undressing but this turned out fine for as fast as the robed man (later I knew him as Justin) went then the bell sounded and I was joined by a fit young hunk named Andy who was obviously a regular on the debit plan. He was told I was a newbie and to guide me. So it was that we both left the curtained area together, fully naked. I noticed his generous endowment and fine physique.

He led me straight to an area with several chairs facing each other. This was the compulsory warm up area. Tops would install themselves on the chairs and wait. We were required to stand and face a wall nearby with hands on head until called. Meanwhile others could if they wished touch our bodies. This area also remained in use throughout and not just on point of entry.

We both stood there a few minutes and were conscious of people behind us. I know Andy got attention immediately but it was not long before I too was being felt. Anonymous fingers rubbing my nipples, stroking my bottom, teasing me in front. My body is always responsive and it was a job to stay still. Suddenly I am grabbed by the left ear and hauled to a chair and virtually thrown over the knees of a stern older man, already seated. My hands found stability on the floor but with my bottom upended I am less sure of my feet. The man speaks not to me but to the delivery man. He asks Jones what he knows of me. He is told I am lewd and not able to control myself. He then says I am a smoker.  Well that is true and I am about to assert my right to smoke but as I plan to speak he declares that I was charging money or favours to help others with homework and not being kind to the stupid boys. I realise this is some kind of role play just as a big gym slipper lands heavily on my bottom. It hurts just as much, in fact more being bare bottom, as it did years ago at school. The slipper lands many times and I know I am squirming. After a pause, a very hard hand comes down relentlessly and really heats me up reaching more areas than the slipper did. I don’t care to cry out but I am surely not silent. I get told to stand and return to the wall and I obey. I see as I pass that Andy is getting a good hand spanking too but his tormentor is much younger. A few minutes later he comes up to me and feels my bottom commenting it is still warm. On invitation I check him out and he is quite hot and pink. He tells me to follow and he will show me the rest.

As we walk around I realise there are a lot of guys fully naked though some are wearing chastity devices. Most of the other men, the tops, wear fulsome jockstraps and some have an additional leather harness over shoulders.  We go past a few men fastened against diagonal St Andrews Crosses. At one the master is running a pinwheel at places and interspersing with swipes of a small flogger.  Andy leads me to a corner with a blackboard on easel and some school desks with inkwells. On a side table are some clothes and we dress in short grey shorts, a simple white shirt with narrow collar and add a ready made tie fastened with an elastic cord. We sit down with two others then a master comes in with flowing gown over a three piece tweed suit. He glares at us all and starts asking simple sums, writing up answers on the board. Suddenly I cry out as something hits my cheek. It is a blue ink pellet. The master demands to know who threw it but there is silence. We are commanded to hold out our hands and the culprit, one of the others, is evident. He is called to the front and told to hold his hands up front. From within the folds of the gown the master produces a brown leather tawse of about 15 inches length and 2 inches wide with the split end tails. The boy blubbers and pleads but is told to hold the inky fingers and hands high. He does so still trying to act bravely in front of others. The master knows his trade, just as he knows this boy well, and brings the strike down effectively. The boy screams and has to re-position the hands once more for another fiendish blow. Again he cries out and this time has to swap hands, hardly able to use the beaten hand to support the new target. Two more strokes but luckily that is all. As he returns to desk he holds his hands out. They are shaking and the redness shows they are throbbing. The master lays the tawse in vision ready for next use.

Sure enough, the next victim was Andy who was called forward and made to bend over.  We had a prime view of his muscles in shorts so tight they were like a second skin. He got four really strong strokes.  He stayed silent but had to readjust his position after each blow. After a pause, he stood up.  The master immediately asked whether this was to make it easier to unfasten his shorts!

“Hurry up and get back down.”

He dropped his shorts and as he bent over we could see four clear red bands where the tawse had impacted.  He then got four fresh strokes.  Each one caused him to  grunt, and each one left a strong red inflammation. He was sent back to his seat but was not allowed to pull up his shorts.  Instead he had to sit on bare wood. A few minutes later class was dismissed! We returned the uniform and carried on naked. We stopped by one of the crosses and waited with hands on our heads. This obviously excited Andy as I noticed a definite stiffy! When a master came over in a full leather outfit it was me he selected. I was tied forward with hands outstretched above. He started pumping and kneading my chest and twisting my nipples. I writhed in the agony it was but also with excitement. Next came a small flogger, never lashed heavily, but enough for stinging impact.  I was then turned around and refastened. Now my shoulders and back got light attention, and then my thighs. During all this Andy was on his knees below me, charged with keeping me excited using his fingers. He was good and I hoped I would not cum just yet. The flogging intensified on my buttocks. It was not enough to seriously mark but enough to get me hot and tender. The master let us go and Andy led the way back to the chairs. There we each had a fun master who roasted our behinds but also kept us right on the edge of peaking.  Just as our masters stopped tanning our hides, the little bell rang incessantly. Everyone now gathered in the centre by the trestle over which various people had been caned earlier. This was the finale! Andy had said there was usually a special planned climax each month. A hooded young man of dusky complexion and even more defined muscles than Andy was brought into the centre. He was already stiff, and I noticed he sported a Prince Albert piercing. The hood was now removed and he faced us all. A doctor figure wearing a white coat went through the charade of a medical.  It was that guy Justin who had greeted us earlier.  He played with a stethoscope and doing the cup and cough test.  A lubed and gloved finger also came into action, probing the desirable body. The doctor pronounced his patient fit for punishment. The lad was now bent over the trestle and secured with some padded cuffs. A man of stocky build with bare hairy chest and leather trousers stepped forward carrying an implement that seemed to be a series of light canes fastened into a handle. I had never seen one like this. I would not have called it a birch but it was going to mean that every strike had multiple impacts.

The room was momentarily quiet as the punisher got into position to the left of the young man. Reaching out he lightly tapped the implement on the unmarked flesh. The lad looked so vulnerable tied down, legs spread and a tasty pair of testicles on view. The punisher stood back and with a swish the first blow made contact. The victim gave a sharp gasp as the pain registered. We saw the rods splay on impact, leaving behind a whole series of parallel red lines. Someone called, “One!”  Another stroke fell seemingly overlapping the first.  This produced an unrestrained shout and the voice called, “Two!”  Everyone in the room was focused on the action. The third blow was lower still.  The whole bottom was red now.  The next strike was much lower but aimed upward as if to lift the under flesh it caught.  It was accompanied by a howl from the victim as the count of four was called. The next stroke was lower still but not angled, and punished the top of the thighs.  The victim screamed. Andy whispered to me that a thigh stroke was usually a personal punishment, reserved for the very naughtiest!  This was reinforced as the next one was almost in exactly the same point.  A lusty scream accompanied it. The count was now at six. The next one whistled through the air. The man counting said, “Seven!” and then told two men to step forward. On direction, standing one to each side they rubbed their hands all over the reddened bottom, tracing the multiple ridges with their fingertips.  They were told to get back and the punisher now approached from the right side and had transferred the birch canes to left hand.  A broad, powerful sweep followed, landing centrally. The blow was rewarded with another howl.  “Eight!”  The ninth was another undercut stroke, met with a long howl. The tenth was back to the upper thighs.  The lad screamed, and writhed, almost making the trestle jump about.  The same two men were called forward and spread the buttocks apart so that the unmarked flesh in the cleft was visible. The lad realised what was happening and started pleading.  The punisher paid no heed and aimed a vertical stroke hard into the cleft!  The victim started to sob.  Another stroke and it was back in standard fashion, quite central, with no cry at all this time. The count of twelve was given and the punisher dropped the tied canes at the man’s feet and walked off.  The evening’s entertainment was drawing to a close. The young man was unfastened and helped to stand. Some guys clustered around him, but I headed to collect my clothes. Andy asked if I was likely to stay for dinner and I told him I was in fact staying at the hotel and invited him to come and shower with me!  I resolved to time my future trips to coincide with 5M club meetings!

On re-entering the restaurant, Eric was still on table service. He commented that I had timed it well to be with those who attended the meeting!  He was probably fully aware I had indulged myself with a furtive visit to the club, but he was being mischievous.  Andy addressed him as Martin and asked why he was not around earlier.  The reason was a pair of young waiters had both dropped out of shift leaving him desperate for cover and with no time to arrange agency replacement. It turned out that Eric was the Catering Manager, but due to the staff shortages was having to wait tables that evening. Andy offered to take notes when Eric tackled the absent waiters over their attendance.  Both men smiled, which revealed volumes.

All in all, this had been a very successful trip.  Thanks to the club many of my fellow diners had seen this sales representative in the flesh.  I resolved to time my future trips to coincide with 5M club meetings!

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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.

(___________

Story © MMXVI by Sukemnsee, used here by very kind permission

Photos © MMXIII by Jonathan, R.I.P.

All rights reserved

More stories by this author can be found here

___________)

Comments welcome

How I Got Into Corporal Punishment Games (M/M) repeated

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot and explicit true story by David Stewart, repeated from 2012.

I’ve always felt that I wanted to be spanked, and I’m not sure why.

It was always ladies I fantasised about until I was about 22, when I made a friend who would introduce me to the world of adult discipline.

To set the scene here, I was a young police officer.  I met John, who was 59 and a retired teacher (or so he told me).  I had been schooled in Scotland and he had taught on both sides of the border.  I met him as a result of a call to assist with some children that were causing a nuisance.  We had a chat over coffee about ‘the kids of today’ and so on.  Over  a few visits the story was always the same, about people lacking discipline nowadays and eventually I guess we both learnt that each other was more than interested in the topic.  He did ask me if I was disciplined at home and in school, and did I think I was better for it.  In hindsight, nowadays he would be called a pervert, but there you are and remember this was the late ’70s.

He made an unusual comment one visit, asking, “Do you ever miss the way a spanked bottom or tawsed hands dealt with an issue and then it was over?”  I answered, “I suppose so, in a strange way.”

As I left that night John made his move and said, “You know David, if you ever felt the need to revisit those days of a spanked bottom, then you only need ask me to do it for you.”

Well I left, and I gave my cock a thorough workout later that day.  The following day I called him and spoke nervously about the comment.  Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself if I got it wrong, I asked,  “What did you mean last night when I left, about if I ever felt the need or something?”

“David, I know some adults still miss that old fashioned spanking thing and as a friend if you felt you needed it, then I would do it for you.”  It was a s simple as that, but it had taken about six visits before he asked.  I said that I thought I did and he said, “Well if you do David, bring your PE kit to change into and we will see to it!”

Two days later I turned up in uniform along with a bag with shorts and vest in it, and we had a coffee. “Did you bring anything with you today, David?”, he asked.  Nervously I showed him the plastic bag and then its contents.  John then went on to try to relax me, which was impossible.  He told me he had friends who he spanked, and not to think I was unusual in any way.

Eventually he said something about “So should we go and deal with you then?”  We stood and went to what was a small study.  It had a desk with leather chair, a hard-backed chair in the corner, and a small cupboard on one wall.

“So how should I deal with you, David?” 

I said, “Just like my father would, Sir.”  There had been no request to call him Sir, it just felt right.

“I will leave you to change then into your shorts and vest.” 

When he returned some five minutes later I was stood there with an erection in my PE shorts.  He smiled and pulled the hard-backed chair out, told me to go over his lap and then he spanked me over my shorts for a while.  I left that night disappointed, to be honest.

 

The next time I visited, we chatted about it.  I had brought my kit again.  He asked me how it had been.  I suddenly blurted out that “It was not quite as I expected.”  Asked why, I said, “Well I was always spanked on the bare bum and it always really stung.  I always felt as if I had been punished then.”

John looked at me, smiled, and said “Ah David, so you want a proper spanking do you, pants down, over my knee and one that teaches you a lesson?”

“Well yes, Sir,” I stuttered. “It’s just that I always thought spankings should be like that.”

As a result, a few minutes later I was at John’s side and having my shorts and pants pulled down.  This caused my erection to stick out (and be ignored by John).  I was then pulled over and I got the hardest spanking I could remember.  I recall yelling out “Oh Sir, I am so sorry!” 

After the spanking, I was made to stand in the corner, bottom bare and hands on head.  That was the way it went for a few months until one day I turned up without my kit.  Over coffee we were chatting about spanking and I said, “It makes me regret forgetting my kit today.”  John smiled and said, “Well David, I think, if you don’t mind, and as I have seen most of you anyway, we can do without the PE kit from now on, if you want.”

We went up to the study and John for the first time stood watching me and said “Right David I want all your clothes off today.”  I was soon stood naked and erect as he gazed at me.  “Does it excite you that I am going to spank you David?”

“Yes Sir!”

“Do you usually have a wank afterwards, thinking of me spanking you?”

“Yes, usually Sir!”

He moved closer to me. “Do you ever think of me touching your cock David, or does that thought never enter your head?”

“I do Sir, sometimes.”

His hand started to move towards my cock.  He touched it and it stood even more erect.  He pulled back and then had me over his knee, spanking that erection out of me.  It was a harder than usual spanking and I nearly cried.  Afterwards he put his hand between my cheeks and made me erect again.  So it was that I was wanked for the first time by another guy.  That became the norm and I would visit for a spanking at least twice a week and I started to visit him on my days off.  It was only a short while before I started to wank him off as well.

picture by Jonathan

After about six months he re-introduced me to the tawse.   In doing so, he revealed his love of tawsing.  The norm then became for me to have to take six of the tawse along with any spanking.  Normally, this was after the spanking, as he liked my hands to be warm when I touched him.  After a tawsing, they were really hot! 

 

It was a year before I got caned and I was warned how sore that experience would be. We had discussed it before, but I was still rather unaware of the pain a cane could cause.  I recall being told that the cane would be applied next time I came and to make an appointment on a day off.  He promised me a real ‘six of the best’ and I got that, for sure.

It was six days later.  I visited him nervously.  This time, John was very different. “Come in boy!” was his command and I was taken directly to his study.  A a cane lay on the desk.  He lectured me and told me I was to be caned, six strokes and if I stood up  or touched my bottom that stroke would not count and he would add another.

Naked, I stood waiting and Sir said to me in a softer tone, “Now remember David, you asked for this and I need to give you it as I would if it were a real punishment.  It is going to hurt like nothing you have experienced before, but I have explained all that already, haven’t I?”

“Yes Sir”, I said.

“And you still want to find out what a real caning is like?”

“Yes Sir, please Sir.”

His attitude changed suddenly, “Right boy!  Over the desk, and grip the far side.”

The cane was tapped a few times before it thrashed down.  The sound felt delayed, as if it came after the hit .  There was a distinct moment when I felt nothing, but then a fearsome pain cut through me!  I stood up and grabbed my bum, only to hear a very unsympathetic, “Get down boy!  I expected better!”

The next stroke elicited a real yell from me followed by a third then a fourth which both did the same.  It was true agony and I had to wait for the fifth stroke.  The sixth cut deep into my cheeks and then Sir spoke, “Now you have to be given the first stroke again and then one extra.  Are you ready boy?”

“Sir, please no more!  I’m so sore!”, I whined.

“You wanted a real caning, now take the last two like a man, David!”

“Yes Sir!”

Almost immediately the cane delivered the penultimate stroke, followed shortly by the eighth, final stroke.  In tears, I stood up and Sir cuddled me, and then made me stand in the corner.  After a while the flames of pain diminished.  He led me to the bedroom where he undressed and we got into bed.   In the end, I stayed the whole night after being taken out for a curry.

 

Our relationship lasted for over six years and during that time my bottom was constantly spanked and caned.  My hands were tawsed so often that I lost count!  It was the only time I have had a long relationship with another guy.  Believe it or not, the reason we stopped was because by then I’d met my wife.  The marks were too conspicuous to have.  She became my chastiser.  I have however, always retained a desire to be spanked by another older guy and especially to be hand tawsed by one.  I have met a few guys who can tawse school-style and are happy to spank a naughty lad like me.

So that’s the true account of how I came to be into spanking.

______________)

 Text © 2012 by David Stewart

Tawse photo and multiple implement photo © Jonathan

Other photos © Rod Cayenne

______________

D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

_______________

I hope you’re going to comment on this one

__________________

Comments from the original 2012 post are here

The Friendly Landlord – Part 2 (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Part 2 of this hot, sexually explicit spanking story by very special guest author David Stewart. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are aged 18 or over.

David’s life was changing for the better.  After finding his new “Uncle Harry”, David started to talk more openly with this man. Harry had never married and admitted to David he was bisexual having had several relationships with both men and women.

It was a fortnight after that spanking that David broached the subject and commented how his bottom had taken a long time to get back to normal. “Aye, the reality far worse than the fantasy?” his uncle responded.

“Well not so much because I had never realised how good it could be having someone do what you did to me.”  His landlord smiled at his charge.  “Oh yes son, there are good parts to discipline, but discipline is still needed.”

“Will that ever happen again?” asked David.

Mr Harrison smiled and eyed up David before saying “Follow me lad,” and taking him up to the spare bedroom. Inside there was a desk and hard backed chair and a cupboard, and when the cupboard was opened what David saw inside made him gasp. There were a few belts, or tawses like the one that had been used on him so painfully, along with several crook handled canes. Mr Harrison took a cane out and handed it to David. “Look son, you’re not going to tell your father, just as I am not, so here is what happens. I engage in some spanking play with a few other lads and they come here occasionally for a spanking or caning. In your case, you are in my charge and as and when you deserve it I shall spank you, use a tawse and possibly cane you.  However, as you found out two weeks ago, I do not do that in a fainthearted way, and when I thrash a lad I do it for real.  It’s the best way, you see.”

David was inspecting one of the canes, and swished it a few times, much to the amusement of Mr Harrison. “I wonder what that feels like?” said David.

Mr Harrison said, “I will reject the temptation of saying you can try it now David!”  Then seeing the look on the lodger’s face added, “But I tell you what, I will give you one stroke so you have an idea if you want.”  Rather too eagerly David agreed and Mr Harrison told him to, “Drop your trousers and bend across that table.” David obeyed and soon felt his pants being pulled down. Nothing was said and a tap on his bottom told him the stroke was coming soon and then WHAAAAP and a sting went through his bottom that made him yell and stand up to rub his bottom!

Mr Harrison laughed and added, “So you now know and perhaps will avoid it in the future.”

Over the next few weeks, the events of that day were mentioned a few times, but never in much detail.  Eventually David asked, “Mr Harrison?”

“Yes David?”

“Please tell me again, what kind of things would I be spanked for?”

Mr Harrison put his book down and eyed David curiously, “For swearing, lateness, bad behaviour, just like I told you before.  But you have been good David, that spanking taught you and I think the fear of the cane helped?”

“Mr Harrison?”

“Yes David?”

You said other boys visit you, Why do they come?”

“They come because they feel they need discipline. Some it helps to lead a good life and others just need it.”

“What, what if I felt I needed that Mr Harrison?”

Mr Harrison looked and smiled and said, “If that is ever the case then you will come to me, call me Uncle Harry and tell me why you need it.  But be warned David…you know at first hand what I can do.”

Two sleepless nights later, David entered the lounge just after 7pm, “Uncle Harry?”

Mr Harrison looked up from his paper with a stern expression, “Yes what do you want?”

A nervous David stuttered out, “I feel I need some discipline in my life Uncle.”

“Ah, you took your time.  And what kind of discipline do you need then?”

David had expected Uncle Harry to take over and just get on with it, so was taken aback. “I feel I need to be spanked and belted again, Uncle Harry.”

“Right then,” Uncle replied.

Then with a rush of blood to the head, David spurted out, “And caned please, Uncle.”

“You want caned as well, do you David?”

“Yes, I think so Uncle.  Yes I do.”

They both went to the spare room and Uncle Harry drew out the hard backed chair. “Right then, you know the drill, strip down to your pants!”  David did as instructed and was soon stood shaking with a tent pole in his pants.  Uncle Harry came over to David and stood in front of him. “You’re a brave lad for asking me to cane you and spank and tawse you. Well you’re going to find that Mr Sympathetic I am not!”  At that he led David to the chair, sat down and pulled his pants down exposing a rampant cock. “Aye lad, I know what you are thinking about. You are thinking about the afters last time, but believe me there is a lot of starters and main course first!  He was pulled over and a spanking was administered that made him yell and apologise and all those things you say under such circumstances.  He was then taken to the bedroom and laid on the bed and given a real roasting with the tawse. He bucked and jumped and got 24 strokes over his arse and back of legs before being allowed up and sent to wait in the other spare room.

When Uncle arrived he had left David standing for 20 minutes and found him still erect and up for an adventure.  Ignoring this he ordered David to, “Bend across that desk and hold tight. You have twelve strokes coming and no doubt you will jump up, but for every time you do, or or if you swear, I will add another two strokes.”  David bent over the desk preparing for the worst…and it arrived soon after. He yelled and stood after that first stroke and his even-tempered Uncle shouted at him, “Get back over that table David and remember YOU ASKED FOR THE CANE!  We can be here all night if you want.”

The second stroke caused him to yell louder and the third the same. By the time he had taken the first six he was sobbing and regretting everything, but scared to get back up. The next six strokes covered his entire bottom and the tears just flowed. There were still the two extra strokes and these were placed on the top of his legs, just under the bottom.  David howled and cried loudly.

“Now David stand up and go have a bath then get into bed.”

“But Uncle it’s just gone 8pm!”

“Don’t disobey me David!  You want treated like a naughty lad then your bedtime is as soon as you have been thrashed.”

David trooped off and ran a bath and when he entered the burning of his bottom and the water almost brought new tears.  His Uncle entered the bathroom and helped him wash and then tenderly dried him before taking him to his room. “No need for PJ’s tonight,” he said, and David got into bed.  Uncle produced some lotion and soothed David’s bottom the way he had done before, and then he cupped the lad’s balls and started to rub his hard young cock.  “Was it worth it David?” Uncle asked.

“I think it will be Uncle Harry,” a sheepish David replied.

“Did the cane do what you expected?  You were ever so eager to sample it.”

“Oh yes, Uncle Harry!  It was worse than I imagined…but at the same time it feels lovely now.”

“Good David,” said his Uncle and continued applying the lotion. His fingers slid between David’s now opening legs and probed delicately at his anus only to find David actively pushing back and forcing the finger to enter.

”Is this what good boys get after a caning Uncle?” smiled David.

“It’s a special after a caning, David.”

David arched backwards to push further back on the finger and allow his Uncle’s other hand to grasp his throbbing cock. “That is most of my fantasies completed Uncle, thank you.”

His Uncle stood up with a smile, and with a “Shoosh!” to David started to undress himself in the full gaze of the lad.  David had eyes for the hairy manly cock that stood erect before him and as his Uncle guided his hand to it.  For the first time, David was touching another man’s cock.

“Did you mean what you said about being used David?”

“Oh yes Uncle!  Yes I did!”

“And do you want all your fantasies to become reality?”

David blushed a deeper red than before and whispered, “Please Uncle, I do.”

“Then hand me what is in the top drawer over there.”

David opened the drawer and took out a foil-wrapped condom.  He knew all his dreams were about to come true.

To Be Continued…

___________)

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.

(___________

Story © MMXVI by David Stewart, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

More stories by this author can be found here

___________)

Comments welcome

 t

The Friendly Landlord – Part 1 (M/M)

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot, sexually explicit spanking story by very special guest author David Stewart.  This story is currently exclusive to The Canery!  All the characters are aged 18 or over.

David was 32 years old and struggling to find suitable employment. He stayed at home with his mother and father but resented the strict upbringing that had kept him there. His personal freedom was not really his own.  His father in particular always appeared to want to know where he was, with whom and what he was doing. Much as David was an adult he still referred to his father as Sir and mother as Ma’am and had a healthy respect for older people, something that had always been uppermost in his upbringing.  But now at 32 he was leaving home and moving 185 miles away to Birmingham. He was starting a six month contract with the hopes of a full-time contract, and was eager to do well.

His father had put him in touch with an old friend who they knew through the church and who would provide the lodgings for David.  On that Sunday afternoon David arrived at the lodgings and introductions were made by his father, who had driven him down. The landlord was Mr Harrison, an older chap about 60 years of age, who lived alone. He had a spare room and was letting this out to David.  His bags moved in and a refreshing cup of tea taken, his father bid farewell to his son and told Mr Harrison to, “Look after David, he can be unruly but I am sure you will keep on top of him, Harry.”

His father gone David and Mr Harrison sat down for a chat. He asked about his life and his work and then stated, “So now, David, the house rules.  I am not a late-nighter and expect silence after 10pm. If you are about I do not expect to be awoken and you will behave in my house, or I will deal with it.”  That left David wondering.  “My house, and my rules, David. You are paying a pittance compared with other rooms round here because I know and respect your father. In turn I expect you to show the same kind of respect to me. No swearing or drinking in the house. No girlfriends in your room and keep the noise down. You understand?”

David agreed to these and for the first few weeks all was well and they got on. David was careful and respectful, till that Friday night.

David had just received his first full pay and went out straight from work for a pint…and that stretched to several and he got home just after midnight.   Mr Harrison was in the living room and not happy.  “You’re drunk lad, and your tea is wasted. Get to your bed and we will deal with this tomorrow.”

In the morning, with a sore head David was suddenly awoken by Mr Harrison just after 7am. The sheets were pulled back revealing a naked David who jumped and shouted, “Fucks sake, Harry!”

“Get your arse out of bed lad and come down and see me NOW!”

David had never heard Mr Harrison swear like that and was embarrassed about being seen naked.  Once dressed, David went downstairs and found Mr Harrison not very happy.  He lectured David in manners, swearing, shouting, keeping him awake and so forth and then said, “So lad you can either let me deal with this or get on yer bike back home.”

“Deal with it, how?” David asked.

“I will give your worthless drunken bottom a taste of discipline lad, that is what, and I am sure your father will agree with that.  Do you want to ask him?” So saying, he handed the phone to David.  David’s reaction was one of disbelief knowing that his father would go crazy and probably do what Mr Harrison was suggesting anyway.

While he was working this out Mr Harrison helped him, “Aye, your father has told me how he still tans your bum when required, so no worries there then.”

David looked sheepishly and said, “OK Mr Harrison, as you wish.”

“Good.  Now get back up to your bedroom and I will be up shortly.”

David waited for almost 20 minutes for the expected visit and when Mr Harrison entered he did so with some authority, saying, “Right lad, get your trousers off!”

David took his jeans off, feeling foolish.

“Now your top as well lad.” David was shaking a bit and very nervous but this was always how his father made him prepare as well. Had the two friends been talking?  David was left in just his shorts and socks, looking at the floor.

Mr Harrison sat on the side of the bed and said, “Now lad, I am going to give your arse a good leathering today. It has been a while, but I am sure I can still teach a lesson to a naughty lad like you. You have a choice, you can run away and tell your father or you can apologise and ask me to punish you. If I do it then it goes no further than thee and me.”

David was becoming strangely excited, which caused him more embarrassment.  He said, “Please Mr Harrison, I am sorry.  I will accept whatever punishment you give me.”

“Aye, what a sight lad!  A 30-odd-year-old still needing his arse spanked and you’re stood there obviously thinking it will be fun!” At that he slipped David’s pants down and slapped his erect cock.

“I hope your not going to make a mess over my knees lad, but over you go.”

David was soon over Mr Harrisons knees looking at the duvet and after some moving about a hard hand started to rub his bottom cheeks.

“Ready?”

“Yes Sir!” and so it started. No warm up here, just a steady smack from Mr Harrison’s palm on each cheek. David shouted out, he apologised, he begged for it to stop…but it continued for a good five minutes.

He was told to get up and Mr Harrison commented that David was, “Not so big and excited now, eh lad?”

He was stood in the corner while Mr Harrison left the room and when he came back David turned round to face his chastiser.  To his shock, Mr Harrison held in his hands a length of leather split in two halfway down. It looked about quarter of an inch thick and David knew its purpose.

Involuntarily David’s erection grew again.  Mr Harrison couldn’t miss it. He smiled at this and commented, “Ah David, does the idea of your ‘Uncle Harry’ taking the tawse to you excite you?”

“Uncle Harry?”

“Yes lad I think at these times you should call me Uncle Harry, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir…I mean Uncle Harry”

David relaxed a bit and also noticed that there was a growing bulge in Mr Harrisons pants as well.  Uncle Harry said, “Aye lad, not all hard work this disciplining.  Now, get yourself on the bed face down while I teach you another thing or two.”

Laid on the bed his uncle started to use the tawse on his bared buttocks and David reacted as one would expect. He yelled and begged for it to stop and eventually after about 24 strikes it did. David was sniffling and sobbing and Mr Harrison sat on the bed and held him close, comforting him. “Wait there,” he said and returned a few moments later with a bottle of cream lotion which he started to rub on David’s burning cheeks.

“You took that well lad, so we’ll draw a line under your behaviour.”

“Thank you, Uncle Harry,” said David.

“Till the next time,” smiled his new uncle.  

The lotion was soothing and soon the burning was becoming more bearable, and the rubbing in of the lotion was a good feeling. His uncle let a finger slip between his new nephew’s cheeks.  David’s reaction was to part his legs slightly. This encouraged his uncle and soon a finger was caressing the bum hole and then slipping in and out. Nothing was said and as his hand slipped to cup his balls David found himself erect again.

“Do you find being thrashed exciting, David?” asked his uncle.

“Oh no, uncle.  No.” he replied.

 

A sudden slap on his bottom was followed by, “I don’t want lies, David!”

“Does it excite you?”

“Oh uncle, it does a bit, but it hurts and I don’t know why, but it does excite me..it always has done.”

“Always?  Explain, David!”

“I have always, as far back as I can recall, thought about being spanked by other people, just like you just did.”

“And did you toss yourself off thinking about that, David?”

“Oh yes, uncle.”

His uncle’s hands were now moving on his nephew’s cock in a slow but nice way.  “And tell me David, what else did you do in these fantasy dreams? What were you made to do?”

There was silence and the wanking stopped.  “Tell me, David!”

“I well, I was made to suck cock, uncle.”

The wanking continued, “Good, and what else?”

“Oh Uncle, this is humiliating, but I was used by them.”

“Used by who?”

“The guys in my wanks.”

“Have you ever sucked cock, David?”

“No Uncle.  Never.”

“Have you ever touched another man’s cock?”

“No, never ever.”

“But you want to suck a cock and to feel one, don’t you?”

Heavy breathing and a gargled, “Yes, yes!” came out as the 32-year-old could not hold back and shot spunk in convulsions all over his uncle’s hand and up his own belly and chest.

His uncle stood up and said, “I will leave you to clean up, but I think your stay here will be educational,” and left.

David thought to himself. “Shit!  I have just been spanked and leathered by my father’s friend. He got me to confess that I fantasise about sucking guys off and being shagged, and then he wanked me off.  Fuck me, that was amazing!  What have I let myself in for?” 

The answer to that question was to be an educational whirlwind over the next few months.

To Be Continued…

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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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Story © MMXVI by David Stewart, used here by very kind permission

All rights reserved

More stories by this author can be found here

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picture by Jonathan, R.I.P.

Comments welcome

Rump Kilt Skin (F/M) repeated

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Femdom fiction by Rod Cayenne, repeated from 2012. Strictly 18+, adults only!

Although the smoke of the steam engines engulfed the platform, the two figures recognised each other instantly.

“Hello Aunt Penelope!”

“Hello Gregory!”

They exchanged a kiss and smiled at each other.

“It’s very kind of you to let me stay this week!  I really want to explore the city’s architecture.  It will help with my finals.”

“There’s no finer city in Scotland, Gregory.  I’ll show you around.  Just be a good lad for me.”

“Oh I will Aunty!  I’ll be on my best behaviour.  You won’t be needing your old cane this time.”

“Well, that’s good.  I don’t think I’ve got it any more.  I think your uncle threw it out just before he died.  He said it wouldn’t be needed any more.”

“Oh,” said Gregory trying to hide his disappointment.  He had been thinking about his Aunt’s canings a lot lately.  They had been terrible at the time but now that he was in his early twenties and sexually mature, he had rather fancied a reminder of the cane’s bitter sweet caress.  “You must really miss Uncle Robert.”

“Yes, I do miss him.  Most of all I miss having a man around the house.  I feel like I’m rattling around in that big empty house.  So it will be a comfort having you to stay for the week.  Come on, let’s head home and I’ll fix you some food.”

Over broth and oatcakes the two stared at each other lovingly.  There was real electricity between them.

Aunt Penelope nipped out to the outhouse.  She hadn’t been there much since the death of her husband.  She rummaged around and eventually found what she was looking for – the old leather tawse.  She picked it up and stroked it with affection.  The brown leather twin-tailed strap was capable of severe punishment.  The happily-married couple had used both it and the cane regularly to spice up their sex life.  Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the cane.  He hadn’t thrown it out after all!  He had always been a bit of a tease!  She decided to take both items in to show Gregory.

She placed both items on the kitchen table.  Gregory was sat there still, daydreaming, but the arrival of the cane and tawse brought him back down to earth.

“Oh Aunty, you won’t be needing those, will you?”

“I rather think I might be, young Gregory!”

“I thought you said Uncle Robert had thrown the cane away.”

“Well, I honestly thought he had.  But now I’ve found it, I rather think I might put it to use.”

“Oh Aunty!  And that beastly tawse?”

“Yes, that too!  I think you deserve a good thrashing for all those times you took advantage of me.”

“But Aunty, you led me on!”

“Yes, I may have done.  But you should have declined.  I had a devil of a job keeping it secret from Robbie.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No, I didn’t.  I felt so guilty though.  Maybe he guessed and that’s what finished him off.  Poor Robbie.  Anyway, you can take advantage again this week, but only if you accept your punishment first!”

“Oh Aunty, must I?”

“Yes, you must.  It’ll help us both assuage the guilt, I think.”

“Yes, Aunty.  I suppose you’re right.”

“I hope you’ve brought your kilt.”

He nodded.

“Go and change into it then.  Remember, no underwear”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“And I’ll slip into something more comfortable.  Something you’ll really like.  Meet me in the bedroom.  I want the full outfit too, please.  Sporran, garters, shirt…”

So it came to be that the two of them met up in the master bedroom.  Gregory looked smart in his traditional Scottish wear, and Aunt Penelope looked severe in a black girdle.   She flexed the cane menacingly.

“Right Gregory, bend over the side of the bed and lift your kilt up for me.  I will be alternating strokes between the cane and the tawse.  That’s it, stick your rump out for me.”

She approached him, and tucked the cane under her arm.  She had a good feel of his generous, meaty rump.  Its skin was still soft and boyish, not nearly as hairy as her husband’s had been.  The smooth surface was about to become marked by the lash of the cane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“ACH – YEOWCH!” Gregory cried as the stroke was much harder than he’d been expecting.   He heard the clatter of the cane being put down on the side table.

WHACK!  Now the tawse lashed down.  A different kind of pain followed.  A bruising, hurtful pain.

SWISH-CRACK!  It was the cane again and a sharp line of fire assaulted his arse.

WHACK!  The tawse crashed down on Gregory’s cheeks.

SWISH-CRACK!  The whippy cane struck down.

WHAACK!  The tawse crashed down even harder than before!

“AARGH!”

WHACK!  The tawse struck again, unexpectedly, as the cane had been due.

“OWWW!”

“That’s enough of the tawse, I think.  Six of the best with the cane!”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

Both were really getting into their stride.  Aunt Penelope stopped to feel his manly cheeks.  They were hot and inviting.  She made a mental note to find something suitable to push up his arsehole.  A quick feel of his semi-erect penis followed.  Yes, it would serve her well once again.

“Six more, I’m afraid Gregory.  Your penis is betraying your true feelings.  You’re enjoying this!  Six more, then you can mount me.”

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

SWISH-CRACK!

She tucked the cane under her arm again and groped his arse and cock once more.  

“Still enjoying it I see!  Do you think you can take six more with the tawse?”

“I’d rather have the cane, Aunty.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, but make it a dozen!  In for a penny, in for a pound!” he laughed.

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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 persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story ©  MMXII by Rod Cayenne

Photo © by Jonathan, R.I.P.

Comments welcome

Comments from the original 2012 post are here