Waiting for the cane

I was about 16 years old when I stayed at my aunt’s house for a month during the summer. My parents had to travel to South America on business so my aunt, who had a son and daughter of her own, was gracious enough to take care of me.

My own parents were strict with me – my mother was usually the disciplinarian and I was often spanked long and hard with a hairbrush, bare bottomed over her lap. Not surprisingly, therefore, before I left for my aunt’s house, my mum reminded me that her sister had full authority to discipline me as she saw fit while I was staying there.

It was about two weeks into my visit that I went out with my cousins Ben, who was about 15, and Alice, 17. We lost track of the time and got back to the house around three hours later than we should have.  My aunt was clearly not pleased and told us to head to the ‘rumpus room’ and wait for her. Alice said we were going to get the cane for sure, and started sobbing a bit.

My aunt had an office off the rumpus room. She entered this and called Ben in first. His face was already pale as he shuffled into the office. The door wasn’t fully closed behind him and although we couldn’t see what was happening from our spot on the couch, we were able to hear pretty much everything. At this point, Alice began to cry properly, remarking that we were ‘really in for it’. I remarked that I had never been caned before, and she warned me that it was going to be horrible. 

Soon, we heard my aunt tell Ben to prepare himself and get into position. Alice said she hoped it would only be six strokes that we would get. I could hear some muttering, then it went dead quiet.  

The next thing I heard was a loud ‘swoosh’ and then ‘thwack’, followed by a loud groan from my cousin. Tears were already rolling down Alice’s face by now. After a short while, we heard another swoosh and Ben began to cry himself. I was so nervous by now, I was almost wetting my pants.

After another brief interval there was a third swoosh and Ben let out a loud cry, followed by more sobbing. At this point, Alice explained that her mother kept two canes for the children – Ben was evidently getting the heavier of the two, and we would too.

The fourth stroke made Ben howl and he started pleading with his mother that he had learned his lesson. In reply, we heard her instruct her son to get back into position – unless he wanted the caning to start all over again.

The fifth stroke of the cane caused him to really scream out and his pleading was now unintelligible. Alice said she hoped that the next stroke would be the last.  We hear the whistle of the cane through the air and Ben let out another loud shout. I turned to Alice – she was shaking her head and starting to cry hard again.

Whack! Another loud howl, followed by lots of loud sobbing, as the seventh stroke was given. The eighth caused Ben to let out a series of howls. Finally, he was ordered to stand against the wall and specifically warned not to rub his bottom.

Then Alice, who by now was a sobbing wreck, was called into my aunt’s office. I could clearly hear her mother tell her to prepare herself and get into position. 

As the first stroke hit her buttocks, Alice let out a loud cry. With the next two, she emitted a scream and promised (to no avail) to be a good girl in future. At the fourth stroke, it was again necessary for my aunt to admonish her child to stay in position, again on pain of starting the punishment all over again.

By the sixth stroke, all I could hear was the cane cutting through the air and a loud smack, followed by uncontrollable sobbing. Alice again had to be ordered to bend back over after the seventh stroke, and she was crying hysterically by now.

Finally, she was given number eight. My aunt coldly told her daughter to pull herself together and stand against the wall next to her brother. Again, she was warned not to dare rub her backside.

Now it was my turn. As I entered the room, I turned my head slightly and saw Ben and Alice standing against the wall, naked from the waist down. They had a series of dark red lines, almost black in some places, that began midway down their buttocks to perhaps two inches down on to their thighs. Each line was raised and puffy, and looked horribly sore.

My aunt told me to strip from the waist down, which I slowly did. My reluctance was not only to do with the caning. For some reason I had found listening to my cousins’ punishments not only horrifying but also somehow stimulating, and only now did I realise I had a massive hard-on in my pants.

Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to get out of this. Sure enough, as I pulled down my briefs my erection sprang out, pointing at the ceiling. My aunt definitely noticed it but didn’t say anything. Instead, she instructed me to bend over, put my hands on the desk and spread my legs apart, about shoulder width. As I got into position, I could still hear Ben and Alice weeping in the background, and my legs began to tremble as waited for my first stroke.

My aunt tapped my bottom with the cane several times, and then I heard the whoosh of the cane through the air, followed by the smack across my buttocks. Incredibly, I felt no pain for a split second, but then a searing heat spread across my backside and all I could do was gasp. My mind was frantic – I had never experienced anything so painful, and this was only the first stroke.

It seemed like forever before the second stroke hit home. Without thinking, I immediately jumped up, screaming as my hands went back to comfort my burning bottom. My aunt immediately told me to get back into position – then said she was going to repeat the stroke for good measure. I swear, the repeat hit the exact same spot! I let out a scream but managed to stay in position as my legs trembled uncontrollably.

Two more strokes hit home, each one placed progressively lower on my bottom and more and more painful as the cane descended. By now, I was crying unashamedly like a baby. At this point, my aunt lightly tapped the tip of the cane against my testicles, fully exposed by the punishment position. “Not so excited about this now, are you?” she asked rhetorically. And indeed, I knew my erection had shrivelled away with the terrible pain being inflicted by the cane.

The next stroke hit very low on my buttocks, and I thought I was going to die. My whole body shook and burning, throbbing pain overwhelmed my bottom. All I could do by now was to babble incoherently.

The sixth stroke was placed at the very bottom of my buttocks, and I jumped in the air as more pain arrived. I let out a loud scream but somehow managed to keep my hands in position. Number seven hit my upper thighs and was just blindingly painful. I could no longer cry out, even – I just sobbed uncontrollably and prayed for the punishment to be over.

The final stroke was again aimed at my lower buttocks, on the exact spot of a previous one. I heard myself scream in agony and was convinced I was going to die. 

At last it was over. My aunt grabbed me by the arm, and placed me against the wall next to Alice and Ben. Despite the terrible ordeal (or perhaps because of it), I was amazed to see that both my cousins also showed signs of arousal. Ben had a strong erection and I could see Alice’s nipples standing out sharply through her blouse. Sure enough, I felt the blood returning to my own penis and I soon became rock hard again myself.

We were made to stand there, all thoughts of privacy and modesty gone, for about half an hour. Finally, my aunt told us all to pick up our clothes. We grabbed our lower garments but didn’t bother to put them back on. None of us was concerned about our exposure by that point. We shuffled slowly and painfully back to our rooms.

All our bottoms were were really sore for a couple of days and it took almost a week for the welts and other marks to disappear. Sitting was a nightmare for a while, and it seemed to amuse both my aunt and uncle as we fidgeted on our sore backsides at mealtimes.

That was the first and only time I felt the cane – and that was enough for a lifetime, as far as I was concerned.

Contributor: Peder

All Maman stories are copyright, unauthorised reproduction may lead to legal action.