A serious dose of the cane

When I was about 16, my aunt moved back to the United States with her two boys, who were 14 and 17 at the time. My aunt had worked for many years in South Africa, and had raised the boys by caning them when they misbehaved. She didn’t have to cane them often but when she did, it was a severe dose of discipline.

Not long after the move, I spent a month with my aunt and cousins. On one occasion, we spent a whole day goofing off and failed to get any of the household chores done by the time my aunt got home.  She was furious that we had not done our jobs, especially as she had her book club coming over that night and she wanted the house perfect.

There was a mad rush to get things partially done, but the boys were dead silent throughout dinner. After her book club left, my aunt told the three of us that our actions were unacceptable, and that in the morning we would be punished for our failures. Then she told us to pick a cane each and put it into soak overnight. 

The boys started to plead for mercy (while I had no idea what was going on)  but my aunt quickly shot down their protests with the threat of more strokes if they didn’t obey.

I followed my cousins into the basement, where there was a bucket with a number of canes in it.  They all looked about the same to me but the boys took their time picking one out, tears by now running down their faces.  They then filled a taller bucket (almost a tube) with water and put each cane in the tube to soak. I just followed their lead. The boys explained that in the morning we all would be caned and would be in distress for at least several days from the strokes.

I had been spanked before with a hairbrush, paddle and strap, but I had never caned. Examining the implement, it didn’t look that imposing to me. Boy, was I wrong!

The next morning before breakfast we were told to get our canes and head to the study. They boys began to cry and plead again, but were quickly quietened with a stern look from my aunt.  I went with them and picked up my cane, which was considerably heavier now that it had soaked all night.

Everyone shuffled to the study where she my aunt waiting.  She took the cane from the youngest boy and told him to get ready and in position.  To my surprise he stripped off his pyjamas – revealing a stiff erection – before he moved over and bent over a tall stool.  Once bent over, my cousin grabbed the lower rung on the stool and began to cry much harder.

My aunt tapped his legs and told him to spread them out more, which he did. This resulted in me getting a very good view of his privates, which was somewhat exciting to me and I felt my nipples begin to harden.

My aunt tapped the wet cane against her boy’s buttocks and as he tensed up, she raised it up in the air and swung it down on the middle of his exposed bottom with a loud crack. My cousin’s buttocks bounced under the blow and he let out a scream as his legs did a little dance in the air.

My tapped his legs again and told him to spread further – I could see that by now his erection had vanished.  The next stroke hit lower than the first and the boy let out a shout and his whole body trembled as tears and snot began to fill his face.

The next two stokes each fell lower on his bottom and each stroke created a deep purple welt that was obviously very sore.  He begged his mother to stop, protesting that he had learned his lesson, but another hard stroke landed at the base of his buttocks, right on his ‘sit spot’, and he went frantic; crying, twisting and kicking his legs as his whole body shivered.

My aunt let her youngest recover a bit, then announced that the next stroke would be the last, and that it was going to be a ‘this was his last stroke and it was going to be a ‘crossover’.  She tapped his legs again, ordering him to spread them wide, as he begged for mercy. None of that stopped the cane, as it flew through the air and sliced across the previous marks at an angle. He let out an agonising cry as the stroke landed.

Finally, his mother helped him to feet, his legs trembling, and ordered him not to touch his bottom. The boy danced from foot to foot, putting on quite an educational full frontal display for me, then his mother put him facing against the wall as snot dribbled down his face.

Her oldest boy was then told to strip and he too displayed a large, dancing erection as he bent over the stool and took hold of the lower rung.  His first stroke also landed in the middle of his butt but he showed no reaction for several seconds until he howled and kicked his legs wildly in the air. The next stroke landed just a bit below the first and as the welt formed it seemed to merge with the first.

As she tapped his legs, telling him to spread them further, I could see that his erection had also disappeared like his brother’s and his penis was now shrivelled up. As his legs trembled, his scrotum jiggled, which fascinated me. The next two strokes were each a bit lower and were much harder than what she had given her other boy. After each one, his whole body shook and shivered as tears and snot dripped from his face.

He begged ‘Mommy’ not to hit so hard, but that clearly had no effect on her. Her next stroke smacked him right across the sit spot and he frantically kicked in the air as he let out a loud shout.

He too got a crossover stroke and bawled like a baby afterwards. My aunt had to help him move to stand against the wall and his buttocks were covered with ugly welts that were turning purple.  His flaccid penis bounced as he jumped up and down in a ‘spanking dance’.

I knew I was next and was already crying. My aunt helped me off with my nightgown and left me standing naked next to the stool. I could see, even through teary eyes, that the boys were gazing at my breasts. My aunt ordered me to get into position, then reached down and separated my legs. Fortunately, she was the only one who could see my genitals. 

She explained that I would get three strokes of the cane and that it would be very painful to teach me a lesson. She also told me that if she ever had to cane me again, I would get a full six strokes.

I braced for the first stoke and then heard it hit the centre of my bum.  It was so forceful that if pushed me forward against the stool. It took a few seconds before the  pain registered and then I went ballistic in agony. I thought for sure I was going to die and that was after the first one. My whole body shook and my tits jiggled wildly – and entertainingly for the boys.

My aunt told me to hold on tight and to spread my legs for the next stroke. I glanced at the boys who were looking over their shoulders at me and were clearly leering at my jiggling breasts. The next stroke hit right on my sit spot and I almost fainted with the pain. I began babbling incoherently but that did not stop my aunt from telling me to spread my legs once again.

She told me to get ready for a crossover and it hit across the other two welts with a wave of incredible pain. I felt a dribble of pee run down my leg, as my aunt remarked that I had apparently learned my lesson.

She moved me against the wall and told us all not to move for 30 minutes. I could easily see the boys had regained their erections and despite my throbbing bottom, I became very wet looking at my cousin’s hard penises.

After the 30 minutes was up we were finally allowed to get dressed and leave. I grabbed my nightgown and ran for my bedroom.  I immediately examined the damage to my bottom in the mirror. I had three welts that each were already turning purple. My buttocks were so sore that sitting was impossible and I just flopped face down on to my bed.

Later, we were called downstairs to have lunch. All of us children were wearing sweat pants as anything tighter would have been too painful to put on. We all ate standing up, then shuffled back to our rooms. 

It took about a day and half before I could sit down and that was still an uncomfortable proposition. I truly learned what a real caning was all about that day, and needless to say the punishment never had to be repeated.

Contributor: Alice

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