Chris B Gets the Cane

Author:

This story is dedicated to Chris B with whom I worked in 1984. I don't think either of us realised we were interested. This story is thus founded on a wish or perhaps a regret. The rest is fantasy or if only…

Chris and Mike worked together in London. They were good friends having a beer after work each day and frequently playing squash together. Mike was further up the professional tree and Chris reported to Mike. Efficiency was essential.

Unfortunately Chris was not always efficient and there were frequent stuff ups. One day in a fit of exasperation Mike declared that he wished Chris was still at school so he could at least give him lines or a detention to make him think twice, and perhaps improve his performance. Quick as a flash Chris replied that as a head prefect at school he would probably have given him six of the best. They both laughed this off Mike commenting that at least Chris would have learnt his lesson and improvement could be expected. For both of them there was, however, a hint of eroticism just below the surface.

Three days later there was another stuff up. Chris piped up, another 6, I am due 12. Again Mike thought little of it.

This game went on for about four weeks when Mike finally lost his temper and delivered Chris an ultimatum. That's it. You either front up and cop the first instalment or you stop these incessant games which make no difference to your performance and accept the fact that your term assessment will be lousy. Without thinking, and rather smugly, Chris replied 'when and where?' '9:30 tonight at my on call flat and bring a suitable rod with you.' Just then the phone rang and stopped the conversation but both guys were rather stunned by this turn of events.

It proved to be a very busy day and the conversation slipped from both their minds. After work they arranged to meet for their usual beer. As they drank Mike reassured Chris he was merely expressing his frustration but perhaps the fun had gone out of the taunt. He would not think Chris gutless for not turning up at 9:30.

Satisfied he had given Chris an honourable way out they each left the pub at about 8:00.

Mike gave little thought to matters until called back into work at 8:45. As he left his room, on the spur of the moment, he decided to leave Chris a message. In an envelope marked CB he wrote 'Consider this door the entrance to the headmaster's office, wait until bidden".

On his return at 9:45 Mike approached quietly and saw a chastened Chris awaiting his return. He was carrying a cardboard tube similar to those used for artistic prints. He was dressed in a T-shirt and fairly tight denim jeans. Mike was suddenly at a loss what to do, he had never deliberately hurt anyone, yet in a few minutes….

There was no doubt about the rush of blood to his groin. Talk about nerves.

Chris felt no better. He hadn't been caned since he was 12 and yet he was knowingly allowing himself to be thrashed by another guy. Since deciding to accept the challenge he had considered the issues and decided to call Mike's bluff, a thought re-enforced by Mike's attempt to excuse Chris over drinks. As Mike hesitated, Chris was wondering whether sex would follow. He had always considered himself straight but this whole scenario had drawn him into an increasingly erotic web.

Despite the palpitations Mike was determined to appear to be in control and strode up to Chris…"Wait here lad. I will call when I am ready for you" He closed the door behind him, washed his hands, made his member more comfortable and moved the desk to the window, the armchairs to in front of the desk, seated himself behind the desk and called for Chris to enter. Chris approached like a nervous schoolboy and stood in front of the desk. He laid the tube on the desk. The nature of its contents required no further explanation.

"Have you anything to say B," using Chris' surname?

"No sir."

"No extenuating circumstances."

"No sir."

"Very well assume position for punishment. I know you are aware of the routine from what you have told me of your school days."

Chris moved to the centre of the room and bent over. His feet were approximately 2 feet apart, his knees slightly bent, his head low and his buttocks tight. The position favoured by many schoolmasters. He had been there before but not for many years. Mike took his time opening the tube and emptying its contents of 6 canes onto the desk. He audibly swished each of them through the air before making his selection. "You will receive 10 as your first downpayment, if you move I start again. You will count each stroke and you will not get up until told to do so." He laid the cane on those tight upturned buttocks. The jeans looked great but …

"Chris how old are you?"

"21 Sir"

"Far too old to wear your trousers don't you think?"

Chris was about to stand up and protest that the game rules didn't include a bare arsed thrashing but that inexorable erotic sensation made him bite his tongue.

"Yes Sir"

He removed his jeans, and, without being asked, his underwear. He placed them on a nearby chair and resumed his position. Mike could not contain himself at the sight of Chris' upturned buttocks and, when he moved behind him, the low slung balls and lightly haired, almost certainly virginal, arsehole. How he would love to probe that hole…There would be more sessions to complete Chris' forfeit and the possibilities were infinite.

Mike laid his chosen cane on Chris' buttocks. Being inexperienced he decided to place the first cut in the middle and try to work his next 8 or so cuts above and below and finish with the diagonal Chris had told him of from his schooldays.

Chris heard the hiss before he felt the burning pain in his arse. "That is one Sir" he intoned, waiting for the second. Mike took his time, Chris relaxed just a little.

Hiss… crack and burning pain. "That is number 2 Sir"

Hiss… crack and burning pain. "That is number 3 Sir"

One on either side of the first with reasonable symmetry, rather like cricket - keep your eye on the ball. Mike was rather pleased with himself and his accuracy would improve with experience.

Hiss… crack and burning pain. "That is number 4 Sir"

Hiss… crack and burning pain "That is number 5 Sir"

Hiss… crack and burning pain "That is number 6 Sir"

Compliance was harder for Chris now. He was having trouble staying in position and even counting the strokes demanded effort.

A slightly longer wait as Mike stood back to admire his efforts and that delightful hole and now retracted balls.

Hiss… crack and burning pain. "That is number 7 Sir"

Hiss… crack and burning pain. "That is number 8 Sir".

Mike's aim was not as good as it had been and his efforts merely re-ignited previous cuts.

The penultimate cut. Chris knew he would make it. Hiss… crack and burning pain. "That is number 9 Sir"

Mike aimed for the diagonal and as it landed Chris' arse burned like never before. "That is number 10 Sir".

He remained in position desperate to stand and rub his screaming backside. Mike meanwhile stood back and admired his first effort with the cane. This was just the first instalment. There would be further sessions, different positions, different implements, and there was that hole

To be continued: