by Simon Smith

by Heather

Meredith exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke and listened to the sound of her daughter being caned. So what if she was 26? A good thrashing might just do the silly bitch some good. Meredith took another drag on the cigarette and allowed herself a contented smile. Schadenfreude. That was it. The delight in another’s misfortune.

The screaming suddenly ceased. A few moments later, the bedroom door was pushed open and the girl entered. She was naked, her face wet with tears. Without speaking, she pulled back the duvet and slipped her beautiful body into the double-bed she was sharing with her mother.

“You’ve left the door open, Margaret,” Meredith remarked.

The girl climbed out of bed and made towards the door. Meredith feasted her eyes on the well-shaped buttocks, now criss-crossed with ugly red weals. Brenda had clearly not spared the rod!

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson,” said Meredith, as her daughter slid back into bed.

“I don’t see why Auntie Brenda had to punish me,” retorted Margaret, pulling the duvet round her.

“This is Auntie Brenda’s house,” Meredith explained. “So it’s only right that she should punish you.” The woman reached for an ash-tray and stubbed out her cigarette. “But don’t worry, because I’m going to give you another good hiding when we get home on Saturday.”

It was a little while before Margaret spoke again. “Auntie Brenda says I may need some more punishment tomorrow night.”

“Then I’m sure she’s right,” said Meredith.

……………………………………………

Brenda was busy preparing breakfast. She looked up and smiled as her sister entered the kitchen. “Margaret not up yet?”

Meredith returned the smile and shook her head. “No, she’s still asleep.” The woman pulled up a stool and helped herself to a glass of orange juice. “That was a hell of a caning you gave her last night.”

Brenda’s face dropped. “I know. I only meant to give her six but she spoke to me in a most offensive manner. I’m afraid I rather lost my temper and gave her another two dozen.”

“You did the right thing,” said Meredith, drowning her orange juice in one go. She placed the empty glass back on the table. “I hear you plan to continue the punishment tonight.”

Brenda pursed her lips. “I thought a trip across my knee might do some good.”

Meredith nodded. “Yes, I rather think it might.” She yawned.

“Did you sleep any better?” Brenda asked.

“A little,” Meredith replied. “At least I didn’t have to put up with Margaret’s moaning and groaning quite as much.”

“It’s a pity I haven’t got a third bedroom,” Brenda remarked. “Then you wouldn’t have to share.”

“I suppose,” Meredith said thoughtfully, “that Margaret could always share with you.” She noted the flicker of interest in her sister’s eyes.

“Do you think she’d agree?” Brenda asked.

“She wouldn’t have a choice in the matter,” Meredith answered coldly.

“We’ll ask her tonight,” Brenda said.

“No,” corrected Meredith. “We’ll tell her tonight.”

Brenda glanced out of the window at the clear blue morning sky. “The weather man reckons we’re in for a hot spell.” She turned to look at her sister. “I think I might sleep in the nude tonight.”

Meredith gave a wry smile. “I thought you might.”

by Tony B

To all ‘old boys’: Waverly Hall is holding its yearly reunion this year on the 20th of June. All ex-pupils are welcome to a reception, speeches and a ball held in their honour at the Hall. Black tie. RSVP. Dr C Bamforth (Headmaster).

To Matt Burrows it was going to be the perfect opportunity to meet up with all his schoolmates again. It was the first time since he left Waverly Hall that the reunion had been planned on a date convenient for him, so he decided to go. He sent off his reply and brushed off his tuxedo in preparation.

The day of the reunion arrived. Matt donned his white dress shirt, dinner suit and black tie and set off for Waverly Hall, the public school he had not seen for seven years since he left at eighteen. He was hoping to see his old friends, to talk to his teachers again, and see how the old place had changed during his absence.

He was pleasantly surprised as he walked into the assembly hall. It had not changed one bit. Naturally, there were a few more names on the roll of honour, but the hall was still the same, even to the low bench that was used to position boys for public caning. The school’s current pupils had been enlisted to serve drinks and canapes. Matt felt a pang of nostalgic regret; the school uniform had changed a lot since he had left the school. Long trousers replaced the shorts he wore, the shirt was light blue and a solid navy tie replaced the navy and yellow stripe tie of his memory. Nevertheless, Matt mingled effortlessly, greeting his old friends warmly and bragging of his successes to his old enemies.

But the old headmaster, Dr Bamforth, was nowhere to be seen. An announcement went out that the speeches would soon be starting. Matt didn’t fancy hanging around listening to Waverly Hall’s semi-famous ex-pupils waffle on about the place, so he took this as his cue to slip out of the assembly hall to see the places that held the most memories to him. He visited his old form room, and was disappointed to find that modern laminate tables had replaced the old-fashioned open-lid desks he remembered, and bright paint had ruined the traditional atmosphere of the room. Next he visited the PE department. He felt a rush of excitement upon entering the changing room – it was as if no time had passed at all. The room still held that faint odour of young sweat. He himself had contributed to the deeply erotic scent by being a keen sportsman, and remembered the high jinks the lads had got up to in the showers. Celebrating a win, or consoling each other on a rare bad game, the boys had always found themselves ‘good company’ to put it mildly. Matt was pleased he had continued sports after school, many of the old boys he’d played with at school had really let themselves go in the years following graduation. His figure, though, was trim, smooth and subtly muscled. His memory strayed back to one session following a four-nil win against a rival grammar school, where things had taken a new turn in the showers. Fuelled by success and lubricated by soap, the lads had really ‘congratulated’ each other that time! Before he knew what he was doing, Matt had his fly open and his cock in his hand, and was slowly pumping his rapidly hardening seven-incher, memories of the other boys in his team coming back to his mind.

“You boy!” boomed a voice, “what do you think you’re doing?”  Matt turned around sharply, guiltily, to face Dr Bamforth standing in the doorway of the changing room. Dr Bamforth looked at the young man in front of him, standing there in his tuxedo with his cock in his hand.

“I see,” he said, then: “you filthy little boy, come with me.”  “Dr. Bamforth, sir, I…” Matt tried to explain. “I don’t want to hear it, boy, I can see what you are up to with my own eyes.”  Dr Bamforth seized the young man by the ear. “Come along.” Matt had no choice but to follow behind his old headmaster, dragged by his ear, with his hard-on still sticking out of his tuxedo trousers. Dr Bamforth took him, naturally, to the office. He ordered Matt to stand in front of the desk.

“So, it’s you, Burrows,” Dr Bamforth recognised the young man. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Sir, I thought I was alone, sir,” said Matt. “Do you think that excuses such disgusting and immature behaviour?”

Matt swallowed. “No sir, I suppose not.”

“You suppose not,” repeated Dr Bamforth. “It makes me wonder how you ever managed to graduate from Waverly Hall. I would have hoped you would have grown out of such self abusive habits by now. How long has it been since you left this school?”

“Seven years sir,” said Matt.

“So you are twenty-five years old and you still behave like a dirty little boy.”

Matt hesitated before answering. “Yes sir.”

“Well I can only foresee one course of action fitting to your behaviour. Do you know what that might be?”

Again Matt hesitated. “N-no sir…”

“I am surprised at you boy. A pupil at this school for seven years and you don’t know what discipline methods are preferred here? My, how much a boy forgets in seven years.” Dr Bamforth got up from his big leather chair and crossed to his cupboard. He opened it and took out a cane. He laid it on the polished oak desk. Matt stood there, sweating nervously. He had known what punishment would be administered, but hadn’t wanted to admit it. He swallowed again as he looked at the hard, lacquered cane on the desk before him. He absent-mindedly rubbed his bottom through his tuxedo trousers.

“But first, boy, I think it appropriate to match your attire with your behaviour. You are certainly not mature enough to wear a smart dinner suit like that.” Dr Bamforth said. He crossed the room again to the cupboard and took out a cardboard box, then put it on the desk. “This is the kit box, boy, I’m sure you remember it?”

“Yes sir,” said Matt, “the box of spare uniform.” Matt noticed with great surprise that the uniform in the box was not the uniform that the current pupils were required to wear – but the uniform he himself had worn at Waverly Hall, seven years ago.

“That’s right boy. For boys who have lost or spoiled parts of their school uniform. I keep it well stocked, so that a boy in an, ahem, ‘emergency’ can always look presentable. I think it’s appropriate to bring it into use now. Strip.”

“What?” said Matt. “Strip to your underwear, boy, and don’t forget to call me ‘sir’” said Dr Bamforth, raising his voice.

Many things flashed through Matt’s mind. He could just walk out, this man had no power over him, and hadn’t for seven years. Yet if there was one thing he remembered about Waverly Hall that stuck in his mind just as much as the changing room, it was the memory of Dr Bamforth’s punishment canings. Many times he had been here in his younger days, sweating and nervous before this very same desk. Not least of his thoughts at times like these was a strange stirring in his groin. This stirring was manifesting itself again now. He found himself slipping off his tuxedo and taking off his bow-tie.

“Good lad,” said Dr Bamforth, when Matt was down to his underwear. Matt was confused; he didn’t really know what he was doing or why he was doing it. “Now the uniform,” said Dr Bamforth, and handed Matt a grey shirt…

Soon Matt was standing in a stiff smart school uniform. The shirt Dr Bamforth had given him was just too small in the collar, but the headmaster had told him to wear it anyway. The collar was tight, but he had fastened it, and knotted the navy and grey striped tie snugly in it. It felt strange being in his old school tie again. A navy and grey panelled cap was on his head, and grey knee socks pulled up over his calves, the turnovers revealing navy and yellow bands around the top of each sock. He had a pair of brown shoes on, which fit him comfortably. A grey wool blazer clung tightly to his grown-up frame, flattering and humiliating his figure at the same time. But the short trousers – grey school short trousers, were tight around his waist, bottom and crotch, showing off his now hard cock. In addition, they were very brief in the leg, only about four inches or so. He looked, and felt, every bit the schoolboy.

“I knew it wouldn’t be too long before I got you in my study again, Burrows,” intoned Dr Bamforth. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” stuttered Matt. “I wouldn’t have done it if…”

“If you’d known I wasn’t going to come through the door? Ha. Not good enough boy, not good enough. No, punishment is unavoidable this time.”

Matt was sweating in the starchy shirt and itchy flannel shorts. His throat was dry; he felt just like he used to when he was a junior at Waverly Hall.

“Right boy. Go and stand outside my office, face the wall and put your hands on your head. Wait there until I tell you that you can come back in.”

Strangely compelled, Matt left the room and assumed the position outside in the corridor. After a few minutes a group of old boys walked past, smartly dressed in their tuxedos and black ties. Matt turned his head to see if he recognised the boys. He did; and waited with a knot in his stomach for them to pass, hoping they would not remember him. The group paused as they approached the uniformed boy standing in disgrace, and shared a joke, obviously directed at him. Fortunately, they continued on; it was not an uncommon sight to see a boy outside the head’s study. They were probably happy to see things were continuing as normal. One of them, however, did deliver a stinging slap to Matt’s bottom as they passed, laughing.

Matt couldn’t have been more embarrassed. There he stood, dressed in a tight, smart junior uniform, in disgrace outside the headmaster’s study. Worse, he had been seen by other ex-pupils, and probably recognised. Above all, there was the threat – no, promise – of punishment impending from Dr Bamforth and his cane…

Matt had been standing there for a good half hour when he finally heard Dr Bamforth’s booming voice come from the office. “Come in, lad,” he said. Matt gulped, took his hands from off his head and opened the door. He entered the room and stood, trembling a little, in front of Dr Bamforth’s desk.

“Stand up straight boy,” the headmaster said. Matt straightened, putting his shoulders back and lifting his head up. He could feel his erection pushing against the fly of his tight grey shorts, betraying his feelings to the man sitting opposite him.

“I don’t doubt for a minute you have forgotten my preferred method of punishment, have you boy?” said Dr Bamforth.

“No sir,” Matt replied.

“Then tell me what it is, lad, come on,” said the headmaster a little impatiently. “Th-the cane, sir,” Matt answered. “S-six of the b-best, sir.” “Six may have been good enough for little boys, Burrows, but you are older now, despite your immature behaviour and bad habits, and more severe correction is required. That is why you are back in school uniform, and I hope you realise the significance of that.”

“Oh, yes sir,” said Matt. He was well aware of how humiliating the tight uniform was. He could feel it against his skin with each slight movement he made. Yet his cock was as hard as it had ever been, fettered by the shorts but nonetheless highly visible. God, this was turning him on!

“Furthermore, I will administer not six or twelve, but twenty-four strokes of the senior cane, the last six of which will be on your bare bottom, to really hammer home the message. Do you understand and agree?”

Matt had not even anticipated being asked for his consent. He had broken out in a sweat at the mention of the senior cane – the thick, lacquered cane on the desk between him and his headmaster. He knew it would be painful, but it was incomprehensible to him to refuse the punishment. Not simply because he was so very turned on, but because he now knew that he should be punished, and that Dr Bamforth was the man to administer it. All this went through his head in a moment, and so he said simply, “yes sir” to Dr Bamforth.

“Good lad. It’s always good to hear that a boy has the maturity to accept his punishment,” said Dr Bamforth. Then with a slight smile: “It doesn’t mean he will get out of it, of course! Bend over the desk, young man.”

Matt swallowed again. It was time. He was going weak at the knees in anticipation of the punishment he was about to receive, and it wasn’t because of fear, more some kind of strange nervous excitement. He went over to the desk and bent over it. He presented his shorts-covered bottom as smartly as he could. Dr Bamforth tapped the inside of each of his legs with the cane, meaning for him to spread them a little. He did, and Dr Bamforth stepped back to admire the sight. It had been a long time since this particular bottom had been in his office! The boy trembling with anticipation, and – yes – excitement was ready for his punishment. And Dr Bamforth was pleased to note that Matthew Burrows had turned into a handsome, fit young man, and that he looked so good back in school uniform.

Dr Bamforth picked up the cane from the desk and swished it in the air a couple of times, to check his action, and to tease the boy a little. Matt flinched.

“Don’t move, boy, or it will be worse for you!” said Dr Bamforth. He ran his hand over Matt’s bottom to check for padding, and let it linger for a few seconds, cupping the lad’s firm round cheeks in his hand, relishing the feel of the material of the grey shorts material under his fingers.

Matt prepared himself for the first stroke. It landed across the centre of his bottom with a loud crack, and Matt jumped despite his attempt to compose himself. There was a gap of about five seconds before the next one landed, in almost exactly the same place as the first. Dr Bamforth had not lost anything in his technique in the seven-year gap! Matt wondered if his headmaster had been practicing in the interim. He did not have long to wonder, however, as the third stroke struck his tight ass. The fourth followed after another five-second gap, and Matt found himself almost settling down into the punishment. His ass was soon burning, and by the tenth stroke he was sweating. He took eleven and twelve with short grunts – the pain was beginning to get to him. The next six were delivered in quick succession, causing Matt’s grunts to turn into moans. Matt’s burgeoning erection showed no sign of going away, and he was getting more and more aroused.

“Right boy,” said Dr Bamforth, his voice dropping to a threatening tenor, “it’s time to get those shorts down.” And he tapped Matt’s thighs with the cane quickly, not hard enough to hurt, but Matt jumped nonetheless.

The young man’s shaking fingers moved to the waistband of the tight grey shorts he was wearing. He fumbled with the fastener a couple of times before managing to get it open, and slowly undid the fly. The shorts slid off his stinging ass and fell to the floor around his ankles.

“Your underwear too, boy,” ordered Dr Bamforth. “Then put them neatly on my desk.”

Matt pulled his white cotton briefs down to the ground to meet his shorts. His throbbing hard-on jutted out in front of him; no matter how nervous he was, Matt knew that this was the evidence of his feelings. He stepped out of his briefs and shorts and folded them neatly on the desk, before reassuming the position. He was shaking and nervous, but was not hesitant to obey his former – no, current – head master.

Dr Bamforth again stood behind the boy, and again put his hand on Matt’s bottom. This time there was no doubt as to his intentions, he was not checking for padding. His own cock was hard, and he could see his pupil was similarly aroused. He took this as a cue to give the boy’s bottom a tender feel, stroking his hand over the burning, tingling flesh. He could actually feel the heat radiating from the young man’s bottom, and see the welts from the previous caning beginning to rise. He let his hand linger for a moment only, before its tender, lustful touch was replaced by the stinging hot lick of the cane against the bare flesh.

This time Matt yelped out loud. Dr Bamforth smiled a little. “Now it seems we are making some progress, wouldn’t you say, young man?”

To his own surprise Matt fond himself saying: “Oh, yes sir, yes sir.” He didn’t know what to feel – his bottom was burning yet each stroke made his cock jump with excitement. He could feel an orgasm welling up deep inside. Surely he couldn’t cum just from being caned?

Dr Bamforth delivered five more expertly aimed stinging blows to Matt’s abused bottom. The tears were now flowing down Matt’s face. He put his hands to his bottom and felt the deep welts rising under the burning cheeks, and felt a kind of thrill at the tenderness and heat of his chastened ass.

“Now, young man,” intoned Dr Bamforth, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Matt simply. “Why sorry, boy? Sorry you misbehaved?”

Matt considered. “Yes sir,” he replied.

“And are you sorry you were punished?”

Again Matt thought before answering: “No sir, I’m not sorry I was punished. I deserved it, sir.”

“Yes boy, yes, you did. You deserved it for being filthy and immature. Behave immaturely, and you get treated the same way. Remember the lesson: do unto others what you would have done unto you.”

“Yes sir, I remember.”

“Particularly appropriate here I think. Now I do not doubt that you will want to think about what you have done, and think carefully about the consequence of your actions today.”

“Yes sir, I would like that.”

“Then I will give you the opportunity. Put your briefs and shorts back on and go and stand in the corner – and put your hands on your head.”

Matt put on his white cotton briefs. As he slowly pulled them up around his burning bottom, he could feel every fibre of the material as it rubbed against the hot flesh. His shorts, too, tingled as he pulled them up, the rough, tight material scratching gently against his skin. He was fastening the waistband of his shorts when Dr Bamforth stopped him.

“Come here, boy.”

With his fly and waistband open, Matt went to stand in front of his headmaster. Dr Bamforth brought a sprung clip, like a clothes peg, out of his desk drawer. He pulled the waistband of Matt’s briefs down and took hold of his cock, which was still semi-hard. Matt did not have time to say anything before the peg was clipped over his foreskin, trapping his erection inside its own envelope of skin – and preventing it from growing larger.

“Just to ensure that no…fidgeting goes on in that corner. A boy like you can’t be trusted to keep his hands away from himself. That is, of course, the reason you ended up here this afternoon.”

Matt said nothing in reply; he just fastened his shorts and went to stand in the corner as directed. Looking at the wall, he took the time to reflect on what had been going on. His ass was undoubtedly red raw and marked with a series of brutal welts across both cheeks. He envisioned himself standing in the corner of his headmaster’s office, hands on head, a twenty-five-year-old man dressed in the uniform of a junior schoolboy, cock bursting to reach full erection. Why did this turn him on? He was being punished after all!

Such questions were still running through Matt’s confused mind when Dr Bamforth ordered his to stand in front of the desk. Matt obeyed quickly and stood smartly before Dr Bamforth.

“Well now lad,” said Dr Bamforth, “it would seem I have made some progress with you today. But, from the evidence,” – and he indicated the bulge in the front of Matt’s short trousers, “we still have some way to go before you become a gentleman. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Again Matt’s mouth took over. “Yes, sir.”

Dr Bamforth took off his glasses and put them on the desk in front of him. “When corporal punishment was outlawed I adopted new methods of discipline to correct my pupils. However I have always felt that certain boys will never respond to anything other than the cane. I think that you are one such individual.”

Dr Bamforth paused, but Matt said nothing, and he didn’t need to.

“For this purpose I have set up a weekend school for young men such as yourself who need to be taught how to behave as a proper gentleman. I have a class of ten boys, and we have an opening for one more. They wear a smart uniform at all times, and receive formal schooling under strict traditional discipline. School hours are from nine in the morning until half past three in the afternoon every Saturday and Sunday, and the boys will attend until I judge they are properly behaved. The question is, do you feel you need such an education?”

There was absolutely no way that Matt could have resisted saying, “Yes sir, I do.”

]]> http://canerama.wordpress.com/2011/12/27/other-boys-kit-2/feed/ 2 canerama other http://canerama.wordpress.com/2011/11/19/dirty-bathroom-mm/ http://canerama.wordpress.com/2011/11/19/dirty-bathroom-mm/#comments Sat, 19 Nov 2011 13:49:17 +0000 canerama http://canerama.wordpress.com/?p=278 ]]> Dirty Bathroom

by Anonymous

The boy was eighteen when he got my daughter pregnant.  He was thrown out of his parents flat so he had to come and stay with Chrisy and me.  We have only two bedrooms so I agreed he could stay with her.  The damage was already done.

After the first week he came back from the garage where he is a mechanic.  His overalls were covered in grime.  He showered and he and Chrisy went to the pub.

When they got back I was ready for him.  I was holding the stick I had bought from the junk shop, a tasty looking old school cane.  He took one look and laughed.

Five minutes later I had him over the back of the sofa with his underwear down.  He had a good looking butt with no hair.  I thought a boy of his age would have some.  He is quite slim and his butt cheeks poked out nicely.  I sliced the stick into him and told him I wanted the bathroom tidied up and not to make a mess in the future.  He appealed to me to stop but I gave his young butt a damn good hiding.  He reddened up nicely.  Not having a son of my own, I look on him as the son I never had now.

Afterwards he rubbed his sore butt in front of us both and turned to my daughter, who was laughing.  ”What is so funny?” he asked, quite angry now.

”Nothing, you were so sexy”,  she said  ‘Dad has given me a real turn on beating your sexy butt…let’s go to bed”.

As they left the room I winked at my daughter and said ”Any time love”.  I don’t think it will be long before I get the boy again.

by Rod Cayenne

“There’s not many of us left, you know”.

“What?”

“Us old school policemen.  You know, ones who can remember when the local bobby was feared and his word was rule.  When a swift slap or caning was dished out unofficially”.

“Wait!  You mean you used to use a cane on criminals?”

“Not criminals really.  Would-be criminals.  Wannabes, you’d call them nowadays.  Anyway, I did use a cane.  Unofficially.  All the values I held dear count for nothing these days, though.  It’s the end of an era.   Everything’s politically correct now.  I feel like I’m in some weird kind of Closing Down Sale.  Such a shame.  By the way, I still have a cane.   Would you like to see it?”

“Ooooh, yes please Uncle!”

He went upstairs and could be heard rummaging around.  Eventually he returned, with a devilish looking crook-handled cane in his hand.  Coupled with his neatly pressed black uniform, he really looked the part – a real disciplinarian.   He swished the cane around.  What an impressive sound it made as it cut through the air.

“What do you think of this then?” he asked and laughed.

“Wooh!  Wicked, Uncle!  I bet that hurt!  How many strokes would you give?”

“Well, six was traditional, of course, but sometimes I’d be asked to give more.  Or I just decided that more was appropriate.  This cane ruled the village, just as the headmaster’s one ruled the school”.

“Gosh!”

“Yes, it was a real reign of terror.  Of course, as a young copper in my early 20s it helped get me the respect I was due”.

“I bet”.

“Not many repeat offenders.  The courts could order birchings, too.  Life was simpler and better”.

“Uncle, this may sound funny, but may I try a stroke or two of the cane?”

“Whaaat?  No, definitely not!  Whatever would your parents say?”

“Well, I am 22, so it’s none of their business, really, is it?”

“No, I suppose not.  But the answer’s still no.  I wouldn’t want to hurt you.  You know, and I really shouldn’t tell you this, I always insisted on a bare bottom”.

“It’s alright Uncle.  Your secret is safe with me”.

“Cheeky!  It’s not a secret.  But the answer’s still no.  A big no, do I make myself clear?”

“Yeah” was the sulky reply.

“Good.  Don’t you ever ask me again”.

Just then the phone rang in the kitchen.  A long conversation followed and uncle frowned.  As the call ended, he returned to the living room and picked up the cane.

“That was your dad.  He tells me you’ve been smoking, drinking and swearing in the house, and that your mum is really upset”.

“Sorry, Uncle”.

“I reminded him that I had a cane.  He agreed that perhaps a caning is in order, after all!”

“Oh!”

“Not so keen now, are you?  Bare your bottom for me!  Quickly!  Now bend over the arm of the sofa”.

“Err yes, Uncle”.  The sulky attitude had evaporated, to be replaced by fear and not a little excitement.

“That’s a rather nice bottom, I must say.  Two strokes for smoking, two strokes for drinking in the house, and four for swearing at your mother.  Eight crisp strokes for you!”

“Yes, Uncle, I’m sorry”.

“Mmm, you will be when I’ve finished with you!”

CRACK!

The first stroke landed on the naked bottom.

“AAARGH!”

“Oh do shut up.  Don’t be a baby!”

CRACK!

A second, harder stroke followed.

CRACK!

“Oh, Uncle!”

The third caused a lot of squirming.

CRACK! CRACK!

“Ouch!”

Two swift strokes left bright red marks.

CRACK! CRACK!

Another brace, extra hard and the first signs of sobbing.

CRACK!

“Yeeeowch!”

The final stroke, not quite so hard perhaps, but the cumulative effect was overwhelming.

“Good!  You took that well.  However, you really deserved that!  I think we’ll have another session at the weekend just to make sure you never swear at your mother again”.

“Yes, Uncle, sorry”.

“It’ll have to be a more severe punishment to drive the message home, I think.  A dozen strokes wouldn’t be excessive, would it?”

“No Uncle, whatever you say” said the obedient 22-year old.

“At least you know what a caning’s like now, don’t you?”

“Yes, Uncle”.

“And it’s satisfied your curiosity?”

“Oh, yes Uncle.  It was horrible.  What a terrible punishment”.

“Yes, yes indeed”.

He had enjoyed inflicting the cane on his young victim.  He resolved to dish out beatings as often as possible in future.

“They should bring back the cane, shouldn’t they Uncle?”

by Skinpang

by Rod Cayenne and Barry Spockings

The bar was almost empty and, by choosing a quiet corner, their privacy was ensured.  Initially “Uncle Rod” broke the ice with inconsequential chatting about the weather and the news.  Then, this mature, tall, dark and attractive man leaned towards her across the table and, with a twinkle in his eye, asked her confidentially.  “Now my dear, shall we get to the point so that I can know a little more about you and, in particular, where this unusual desire we discussed earlier has come from.”

The slim and attractive, smartly dressed brunette, wearing a striped business suit sitting opposite him, crossed her black stockinged legs, blushed and smiled with obvious embarrassment.

“Well, firstly you need to know that I have never done anything like this before.  I am a successful career businesswoman with an annual company turnover in excess of seven figures.  But it has been all work and no play for too long and so I have become a little lonely and increasingly tired of making all the decisions.  I don’t have a partner.  I have just a dog and a cat to keep me company.  Physical contact with a man is something I have missed for almost three years. In consequence sometimes I have strange thoughts of allowing myself to submit to a strong dominant male, letting him take control and make the decisions for me, but also to punish me when I need it.  These strange desires have been growing for a long time.  Access to the internet has just made it worse as I spend hours trawling the web for sites reflecting these needs. Then your advert in the personals column caught my eye and I decided to contact you.  You sounded like the ideal man to take me in hand and satisfy these desires.”

“Well you are a naughty girl and from now on you call me Uncle.” he said wagging his finger at her.  “So my naughty niece what sort of sites do you look at?”

“Oh I am sure you can guess Uncle, ones featuring women being spanked and caned by strict schoolmasters, riding instructors, cops, estate agents…”

“Estate agents?  Well that’s a new one on me!  But I can think of one or two agents both male and female I’d like to cane!  Along with lawyers, used car salesman and politicians, they all deserve a good thrashing”

“Mmmmm me too!  There are also one or two Estate Agents I’d like to spank me, given the chance or maybe go even further….” her voice trailed off and she blushed once more. This encouraged him to open up about his extensive experiences as a disciplinarian and mentor.  He related to her some of his sessions with other naughty ladies who had contacted him. She found his descriptions both exciting and disturbing as he clearly was a serious, no nonsense dominant male.  She was hanging on to his every word but eventually his vivid, detailed descriptions of previous encounters with other “women in need”, had so aroused her that she just had to interrupt his narrative.

“I am sorry to interrupt you “Uncle Rod” but I know I’ve done well in business by speaking my mind.  So I hope you won’t mind me being frank and getting to the point. As I indicated in our earlier phone call, I really need a spanking today.  Now that I have met you face to face and listened to your experiences with other women, I want you to be the man to spank me – please!”

“Hmmm, my naughty niece, well maybe you are being a bit fast, but I like that in a girl and I also like a woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to say so.  Let’s go back to my flat now and we’ll see what happens but only on condition that you promise to obey me unconditionally and that you willingly accept my authority over you. I also warn you that it will be a painful experience which, once started, means there will be no going back”

“Yes, of course Uncle, I promise to obey you and accept your authority.  It is exactly what I need and if the experience is painful – so be it!”

Once back at his flat they headed straight for the bedroom.  On the dresser, his collection of implements was already laid out in preparation.  There were three canes, two hairbrushes, a leather strap, a riding crop and a leather paddle.

“Goodness – what a collection! I’d like you to try all of these on me sometime soon” she said swishing a knobbly cane around.

“Uncle Rod” seated himself on an upholstered stool adjacent to the bed and, smiling, said

“Oh you will my dear, don’t worry about that!” he said. “But first things first – I’d like you over my knee for a thorough hand spanking”.

Demurely she obeyed, lifting her skirt above her black stockings to show white lace panties and a black suspender belt and then bent over “Uncle Rod’s” lap, wriggling her bottom sexily as she did so.

“Hmm very nice and I must say you have a pert, very spankable bottom which I will enjoy warming. You can keep your knickers on to start with – not that they will give you much protection. Now brace yourself!”

SMACK SMACK SMACK! 

The first three blows fell on the bottom that was so beautifully presented to him but apparently made little impression as she only let out a sigh of satisfaction.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

The next nine caused her to wriggle uncomfortably.

“Oooooh, that feels so good Uncle! Please take my panties down now” she urged.  He was more than happy to oblige and slipped them down smartly. He then rubbed, squeezed and massaged her cheeks causing her to squirm with pleasure.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

The next nine only prompted a cry of “Harder Uncle!”

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

Eighteen more and clearly he still wasn’t making a sufficient impression on her bare bottom.  Obviously, sterner measures were called for. After more buttock massaging and erotic rubbing he observed that she was now wet with arousal and eager to take more.  “Uncle Rod’s” extensive experience in similar situations had taught him that more painful punishment was definitely now in order.

“I think it is time for your naughty little bottom to feel the kiss of the cane, my dear. Six of the very best with this stinging cane will do the trick, I think.”

“Now do exactly as I say.” he commanded.  “You will strip off completely for your caning.  Then I want you on the bed on all fours with that naughty bottom  raised to receive punishment.  Is that clear?”

“Perfectly clear Uncle – but won’t it hurt awfully?”

“Of course it will and it is meant to.  Now be a good girl and get stripped off and don’t you dare keep me waiting!  I intend being the strict estate agent who has been messed about by a devious little minx of a customer.  That, of course, is you and you know what brats like you deserve?”

“Yes Uncle – they get their bare bottoms beaten – very hard! I promise I will try not to cry.”

By now she was stripped with all fours on the bed, offering her beautiful bare but reddened bottom to the kiss of the cane.

SWISH-CRACK!

“Ouch! Ooooh that really hurt!”

“This will teach you to mess me around, clearly you had no interest in that house at all!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“OWWWW! I am soooo sorry I did not mean to mess you around.”

“You just wanted a good nose around the place, didn’t you?”

SWISH-CRACK!

“AAARRGGGH – yes but some women are naturally nosy.”

“And, I suspect, that also you wanted to spend some quality, private time alone with your agent in this strange house, acting out your erotic fantasies, didn’t you?”

SWISH-CRACK!

 “Aaaarghh! Well perhaps – but then you are rather attractive you know and very dominant. It is difficult for a girl to resist a man like you…..”

“But you had no intention of buying!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“Aaaarghh – No – I must admit I was just nosy and perhaps a little horny.””

“Well this time you have been caught out, my girl!”

SWISH-CRACK!

“Arrrgggh.  Ooooh my botty is so sore, Uncle! – Please rub it better”.  As “Uncle Rod” obliged, gently massaging her bottom and slipping his fingers between her wet thighs, tears of joy could be seen rolling down her face.

He smiled.  “Well good! It seems at last that I am making the right impression on you. Now for something different. Over my knee again and we will try this hairbrush. I shall use it to punish you for viewing those spanking sites.  This will really hurt on a freshly spanked and caned bottom!  Do you understand and agree to accept further punishment?”

“I Understand And I Wish To Continue!” she replied, smirking.

by 3thousand

My Aunt Liz was not really my Aunt, but an old family friend, who had taken me in when I was 10. My parents had gone off travelling, and she had decided that I should stay with her, much to my annoyance at the time. But now, 11 years later, she was actually more of a maternal figure than my real Mum.
Aunt Liz sat cross-legged on the kitchen chair, showing off her long legs, balancing one of her black high-heeled shoes on a toe.

“ I am sorry, Mike, I just never know what to get you for your birthdays. You seem to buy whatever you want and I don’t want to get you underwear or stuff like that. Clara seems to buy you items like that anyway.” Liz says in a quizzical manor

I looked over the coffee table, taking the card, and carefully opening it. Clara, my much older girlfriend, had the flat looking just so, everything in its place, but there was space at the end of the book cabinet for one last card. I read it, arranged it, and then sat down opposite Liz.

“Aunt, there is one thing I would like – but this is going to sound really strange, and I don’t really know how to ask. When I was young you always threatened me with a good hard spanking where I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. I was so frightened at the thought, I always behaved, and I never did get a proper spanking – in fact, I can only ever remember you giving me a pat on the bottom occasionally, and that was more of a hurry along type affair. I don’t want to ask Clara, as she’ll just think I’m silly. I know you’ve always told me that I can tell you anything, so would you please give me a proper spanking, so I know what it’s all about?”

Aunt Liz looked at me, no expression, just deep in thought. The room was deadly quiet. Then she smiled, the room lit up; the atmosphere had all gone in an instant.

“If that is what you want, my love, of course I will give you a spanking! The trouble is, for all my threats, I really don’t know how to give one. I know all I need to do is smack your bottom, but as you have obviously wanted one for a long time, and I’m sure it was hard for you to ask, I should go home and research it. And I do have a few friends that I know I can ask about spanking naughty boys.”

“No, no, Aunt! You don’t have to ask anyone, please. I don’t want all the women’s club knowing that you’re going to spank me.”

“Oh shush, you silly! I’ll be very tactful. I just don’t know even where to begin, let alone finish. You let me do a little research and then next Sunday you can pop round and get your birthday spanking. Is that a plan, my love?”

The week dragged by. I couldn’t believe what I had done, but having finally told the truth I felt so much better. Clara, my decade-older girlfriend, seemed to feel the stress had been taken away, and even probed a few times as to why I was happier after my aunt had visited.

“Did she give you a birthday spanking?” Clara said laughing

I panicked a bit, worrying that my Aunt had said something to her. I knew they often met up for shopping trips during the week, and had become very good friends. I tried to be cool, picking up an empty glass of wine and heading for the kitchen.

“No, I wasn’t that lucky”

I shouted back, really blushing, and having a mini panic attack. Then the phone went and I heard Clara chatting, and the conversation was dropped.

Sunday morning eventually arrived and after carefully choosing some very smart clothes, I got washed and dressed, and had a late breakfast.

“Off to see Aunt now sweetie, I will be back by lunchtime, see you soon.”

Clara appeared at the door and gave me a big cuddle in her baby doll nightie.

“Ok sweetie, see you soon. You know I love you, don’t you? And you can tell me anything? Don’t you sweetie,” Clara said, following up with a very soft kiss on my lips.

I felt awful.

“I am going to Aunt Liz’s and she is going to spank me” I blurted out.

There. I had said it. It was out in the open. I’d hated hiding the truth from Clara, now the two people I loved most in the world both knew. I waited for a million questions and a very pissed off Clara, but instead a warm smile spread over her face.

“I know, silly. Liz told me all about your conversation last week. You had her pretty flustered, and she didn’t know who to talk to about it. I was a bit annoyed to begin with that you hadn’t asked me, but that’s OK. I’m happier now that you’ve told me before the event. We always said no secrets!”

“Really, Clara? You’re not upset with me? Maybe I should call aunt and tell her it is all out in the open now, and you could spank me sweetie, just so I know what it feels like.”

Clara kissed me again.

“Oh no, naughty! Liz has been planning this for a week, she’s borrowed a few implements to spank you and spent hours on the Internet! She even went last Thursday to see an old headmistress friend of hers for advice, so you’re not getting out of it that easily. But I can come along if that would make you feel better?”

I nodded, and got a final peck on the cheek.

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed and then we can get going and get your bottom smacked” Clara said, slightly exaggerating the word smacked. Then she was gone.

I blushed at the words. I was going to get a smacked bottom! A real proper spanking. I was still so nervous, but excited at the same time. I had thought about this for years and years, and today it was finally going to happen.

Sitting in the kitchen waiting, trying to be calm, wasn’t really working. I couldn’t read, I paced a little, and then sat down, my feet tapping the ground. I was so relieved to hear the clip clip clip sound of Clara’s heels approaching on the hard wooden floors. She peeked round the door then twirled in to the room, wearing her highest gloss black stilettos, black shiny stockings, a short tight A frame skirt that finished mid-thigh, a crisp white blouse, sufficiently undone to see her breasts pushed up, from a white under wired bra. Clara looked like the sexy headmistress type I had always fantasised about.

“You look stunning, sweetie”, I said, watching as she twirled slowly so I could admire her from every angle, slowly raising her skirt up a little, revealing the tops of her stockings.

“I have put on silk stockings and suspenders for you, darling, as I have a feeling that by the end of today you might well be bent across my lap too. So, a little treat for you to think about while getting your bottom spanked.”

Again Clara elaborated on the word spanked, and seemed to shine as she said it. I blushed deeply again, and bending over she kissed me once more

.” It’s OK, sweetie, don’t be frightened. But you should have told me before! I would gladly have taken you over my knee and spanked you. In fact I am getting turned on just thinking about it now. Come on, let’s get you spanked sweetie.”

Clara drove, explaining that I probably wouldn’t be able to sit down comfortably by the time we came home, apparently enjoying making me even more nervous. She hitched up her skirt as she drove and gave me a wonderful view of her silky white thighs, stocking tops and suspender straps, telling me I would soon be having a view of them from upside down, when over her lap, laughing quietly at my discomfort

. “I think you might even be getting the cane today as well, my love. Liz had Mary round last night. You remember your old headmistress? I don’t think she ever gave you the cane, did she? Well, you’re in for a treat today naughty! I rather think we are all going to give it to you., what fun eh?”

How I stammered as we pulled in to Aunt Liz’s drive, not quite believing what I was hearing! I was still a little dazed as Clara opened the door of the car, and looked at me.

“Come on silly, this is what you wanted! In we go, sore red well-spanked bottoms for naughty boys.”

She smiled at me wickedly, holding my hand like a reassuring mother. And then patted my bottom as we got to the front door. Aunt Liz opened the door, smiling as she saw Clara too.

“I am so proud of you for telling Clara. I really was worried about that. I’m so pleased you have no secrets. Now, I also have a little surprise: Mary, your old headmistress, is here. We had a good talk about what you asked for and I thought it best to get a professional in. We’re all dying to learn how to give you a nice red bottom – sorry, a good spanking! – But I’m sure you’ll have a nice red bottom by the end of it.”

All the ladies laughed quietly, smiling at each other.

I hadn’t seen Mary for four years, and I blushed a little as the feelings of my schoolboy crush came flooding back. She was in her mid forties but still looked amazing, her lithe body toned with lots of yoga and tennis. She wore a plain black skirt that finished just above her knees, hugging her sexy bottom, with discreet heels and a cream blouse. She gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“It was a shame you were such a good boy at school, Mike. I’d have loved to spank your cute little bottom years ago. But it seems all good things come to those who wait. Now ladies, I think it’s time to get started. Mike, get undressed and go and stand in the corner, please.”

I looked in disbelief at what had just been said to me, stunned, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Smack, a burning sting across my face brought me back

“I said, get undressed and go and stand in the corner, unless you want me to undress you?”

I still looked in disbelief. Immediately, Mary slipped my trousers undone, yanked them to the floor slipping down my pants, only to be confronted with a very stiff erection.

“You’re a very naughty boy and you’re going to get very sore bottom,” she said, grabbing my ear and marching me to the corner. I shuffled behind her, nearly falling, with my trousers and pants around my ankles. This was followed by ten hard spanks to each of my chubby bottom cheeks.

Mary turned to Liz and Clara. “If they’re going to behave like naughty boys, then it’s time to treat them as naughty boys. Clara, let’s have you sitting on this dining room chair. Pull up your skirt. That’s right! I do like feeling them wriggle and squirm, skin to skin, while giving a spanking across the lap. So I want you, in your strictest voice, to call Mike here and to get over your knee”.

“Come over here, you naughty boy! Time for a well-earned spanking” Clara said, in her strictest voice. I was still in a state of disbelief. I felt the fingers of Mary once more, nearly ripping off my ear lobe, marching me over to Clara. I stood in front of Clara’s stocking tops.

“Grab him by his erection and pull him over you, Clara. He was made with a nice handle hold, use it.” Mary said smiling at Clara

Clara wrapped her fingers around my erection. Gently she pulled me across her. “Wiggle forward, Mike. I want your bottom nice and high.” I shimmied forward a little, very aware my bottom was now the highest point of my body, and my erection was clamped between Clara’s silken thighs. I looked back, and sure to her word, I saw Clara’s stocking tops this time from the floor up. She was perched on the very edge of the chair. I gazed hungrily at her black sheer stockings, contrasting beautifully with her pale white thighs, and felt my erection stiffen.

“Now, my dear. Cup your hand – like this – and then smack that naughty bottom, one cheek, then the other, and work from here” I felt Mary’s finger poking my bottom. “To here” then a nice patting feel on my bottom. I sighed. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“No, harder than that! You’ll never give him a red sore bottom at that rate.”

The pats became a little stingier and the noise of the spanks increased.

“Go on, put your arm into it girl, and flick your wrist too.”

Smack, smack, smack!

“That’s better. Remember the lower spots, too. You want this naughty boy to remember the spanking for a long while after.”

Again I felt fingers prodding my bottom.

“Down low and central, just there, the sit spot, that’s called. As by the end I want to see a red angry sore spot of bottom here, so every time he sits down he will remember he got a well-spanked bottom. Legs apart Mike, so Clara can spank a little inside your thighs and lower bottom cheeks”.

I felt my trousers and pants being removed, and the Aunt Liz pushing my legs apart.

“That’s it, Liz. Stand between Mike’s legs and keep them wide apart, and you have a great view of his spanking,” Mary said.

Clara didn’t need to be told twice and was now landing spank after spank all over my bottom, paying particular attention to the tops of my thighs and lower bottom cheeks. The stinging, burning feel was much more intense than I thought it would be, and soon I found myself trying to wiggle and get away from each spank. Clara seemed to have my erection still well clamped between her thighs, and the combination of squirming and her holding my erection so tight made it rub against her stocking tops. This was not doing anything to make my arousal go down.

“OK, Liz, your turn. Mike, up you get! You two ladies can swap position. I think it’s time for Mike to feel the implement of choice for all girlfriends and Aunts – the trusty hairbrush.”

I stumble off Clara’s lap, and clasp my hands over my erection as I stood up, very aware how embarrassing it was to be so very hard and erect in front of the three ladies.

“Hands on your head, you naughty boy.”

I look at Clara and she winks at me. My aunt looks a little shocked at how hard I am. I am so embarrassed, my face a fiery red.

“Well, nothing we all haven’t seen before, ladies” Mary said, as they all looked at my throbbing erection.

“So, Liz. I think you will have to spank this naughty boy very hard with the hairbrush and we will see if we can take his mind off naughty thoughts, and more on how sore and red his bottom is instead. OK, across your Aunt’s lap, Mike.”

I try to lower myself over my Aunt’s lap, and I am even more embarrassed as she reaches between my thighs and pulls on my erection, placing it perfectly between her legs, and then, like Clara, clamping around it.

“Now, Liz, begin as Clara did. Good strong strokes with the hairbrush. Where Clara has started spanking those sit spots it’s your job to make them look angry and sore.”

Liz raises the hairbrush and after five or ten spanks starts to get into the rhythm of it. I begin to wiggle and squirm, the burning heat completely filling my thoughts. As the hairbrush hits, I find myself pushing into my Aunt’s lap, and then lifting away after it. Again this was doing nothing for my throbbing erection.

“You can scold him, ladies. There’s nothing like a good scolding during a good bare bottom spanking” Mary said, admiring the way Liz was fully in charge of her much larger and more powerful naughty boy.

“You asked for this, sweetie, so I don’t want any more squirming, or wriggling. You will stay still and take your spanking like a good boy, do you understand?”

I yelp “Yes!” between each stroke of the hairbrush that was now burning my bottom.

“Please, please, Auntie! I’ve had enough, please no more!” I gasp.

“No, you asked for a spanking and that is what you are going to get Mike, and anyway I am starting to enjoy this. I should have spanked you when you were younger, now I know you wanted it all along. And I shouldn’t be admitting this but I am getting very turned on spanking you too, your cute bottom on display like this and bouncing up and down in time with the hairbrush.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you said that, Liz” Clara says, smiling. “I’m so hot, I didn’t think spankings could be such a turn on.”

Mary smiles at both ladies, and says, quietly “Why do you think my husband can’t sit down on a Sunday morning, and I have such a contented smile?”

The ladies chuckle.

Liz carries on raining the hairbrush down. Tears are starting to drip from my eyes, but still I could feel my erection throbbing. The sensation of a burning bottom, and the rubbing of aunt’s stocking tops was nearly sensation overload.

“Right then, ladies. It’s cane time. But as we have all found out that spankings are a turn on, I think we should all learn how to cane Mike with a bit of a difference. Right Mike, up you get. Go and stand in front of the dining room table. Clara, you sit up on the table facing Mike, and as Mike bends over place his tongue between your pussy lips. Pull your panties to one side, so he can do it properly. This was a little game a friend of mine showed me at a spanking party. Mike you will lick Clara’s pussy while I show Liz how to cane you. Mary, you will give Mike a good caning, and he’d better give Clara a wonderful orgasm, or he will be getting extra hard strokes from me till he does. Is that understood, Mike?”

Clara looks a little tentative as she sits on the table, keeping her skirt down, but very turned on by the idea.

“Over here, Mike. Legs wide apart, a metre away from the table. Legs straight, bottom up, and I want your face between Clara’s thighs. Oh, stop worrying about your silly erection! That won’t be up for long once you have felt the cane. Silly boy.” Mary flexing her old school cane menacingly.

“Please Mary, I don’t want the cane! I’ve already got such a sore bottom. Please!” I pleaded.

“Mike, bend over, or I will cane the backs of your legs instead of your bottom. Which would you prefer? You wanted a spanking and that is what you’re going to have.” Mary was not going to be dissuaded from her objective.

I bend over, my only consolation the view of Clara’s lovely thighs. As my head moves into position Clara slowly pulls up her skirt, and with my head obscuring the sight of her well-trimmed pussy, she eases her panties to one side. I slip my tongue in between her wet silken lips and lick her clit. Instantly I hear Clara moan softly and feel her hands on the back of my head, pushing my mouth harder against her sex.

“Good” said Mary.

“Shall we begin? I want you to stand here, and bring the cane up to the naughty boy’s bottom. Place the cane across both cheeks, and step back till the tip is just touching his far cheek, so when you swing the cane tip won’t wrap around his bottom. Now let’s have some practice strokes. Liz, bring your arm back, and at the final stage flick your wrist. Not too hard to start with, as your aim won’t be perfect yet.”

I feel gentle taps of the cane, but my mind was on other matters, and I could feel Clara so wet, my tongue diving in and out of her wet soft lips. I could tell she was getting closer to orgasm, and it wouldn’t take much longer before she came for me. I was nearly oblivious to Mary and Liz talking.

Then Thwack! I gasp and drill my tongue harder in to Clara’s pussy; Clara gasps too, as I push deeper into her. My bottom explodes with pain, and I try to push away from the burning line of pain that burns across my bottom. Then again, thwack again! The pain is incredible, my bottom on fire, but I try to concentrate on licking. Clara moans again. Thwack!, my bottom is so hot, and all I can do is wiggle the pain away, tears mixed with Clara’s juices fill my mouth as I licked harder and harder. I can’t believe how the cane could leave such an exquisite pain burning my bottom.

“That’s good, Liz. Aim for the sit spot and give the cane a real flick next time. Let me see if Mike’s erection is going down at all.”

Mary stands by my side. I feel a firm grasp as she takes hold of my erection, giving me a vigorous rub. “I think he’s still pretty turned on. Give him a good hard stroke, Liz, while I feel if this naughty boy’s erection goes down at all.”

Liz raises the cane and brings it down firmly across my sit spots, painting another purple welt line across two throbbing red angry bottom cheeks. At the same time, Mary’s fingers wank my erection hard, tugging it hard, letting her fingers slip from the crown to the shaft, in good firm strokes, as if she was milking me.

“Another, Mary. I think he’s learning his lesson. But harder this time, keep going till he’s sobbing like a naughty boy. As it is not a proper spanking till naughty boys are crying”

Liz raises the cane again.

“I love this feeling of power it is such a turn on Mary, my panties are soaking wet, I think Mike may well be getting spanked a lot more often you know, this is just wonderfully sexy”

Thwack!

The cane swishing through the air lands another purple welt across my bottom, feeling the cane land then a loud thwack, I gasp, then at the same moment, Clara gasps, as my tongue plunges in deeper and harder in to her wetness, I try to get away from the cane and the pain it leaves. Liz slips her left hand down the front of her skirt, and into her silken panties, rubbing her wet lips, while taping the cane across my lower bottom cheeks and then rubbing her pussy harder, I hear the unmistakable sound of the cane cutting through the air, swish, then thwack. Then a loud moan as can only imagine Liz coming behind me. I can hear her gasping and moaning in waves of pleasure.

My bottom burns from that last stroke, the burning lines of sexual pain are a wonderful exquisite pain though, and with Mary milking my throbbing erection it is just heavenly, Mary jerking my erection harder and faster till I can’t hold off any longer and I erupt pumping sticky white semen on to the floor.

At the same moment, I feel Clara cum, I lick and swallow her juices, my tongue licking every wet and sticky part of her sex, her hand pressing firmly on the back of my head, making me keep the orgasm for as long as she can.

Clara’s hands slowly release the grip on the back of my head, I hear her sigh, as I give her one last lick, releasing her hold on me. I look up in to my wonderful girlfriends face and see the look of a very contented lady.

Mary smiles too, looking at her two new pupils, and pats my bottom.

“Corner time, Mike. I think Liz and Clara need a rest before you lick Liz’s pussy and Clara canes you, you naughty boy.”

Her fingers begin to creep down the front of her skirt.

by Peter 242