The allure of the cane

This story comes from the early 80s, when I was about 19 and fresh back from uni for the summer break. To earn a bit of pocket money, I had agreed to do some fence painting for my mother’s friend Brenda.

Brenda was in her early 50s at the time, I should think. She had been a deputy head teacher, but she had recently married a wealthy, older man and had taken early retirement.

One evening, Brenda came over to our house to spend some time with my mother and a few other female friends. The wine was flowing and tongues were pretty loose. Some of the women were even talking about what they liked in bed, talk which led to me quietly coming out of my room and listen to the gossip from the safety of the landing.

The talk then turned to Brenda’s retirement. Some of the women joked that her ‘new bloke’ was so loaded that she just didn’t need her salary anymore.

Brenda laughed, then said: “It wasn’t the money. All the satisfaction had gone out of the job since they banned the cane.” She then went on to describe in lurid detail how she enjoyed caning naughty boys – really enjoyed it.

“Most of the time it was a maximum of three strokes across their seat of their trousers, but even after that I used to get this kind of fluttering feeling between my legs while I caned them.”

The women all laughed raucously. “I’m surprised you didn’t give it them on the bare bottom!” one remarked, giggling.

There was a brief pause, then Brenda said: “Well, I did – once. It was in my last term so I figured out I didn’t have anything to lose. This one boy had been booked in to see me at the end of the school day, and I decided to give him six of the best on the bare.

“I was excited all day as I thought about what I was going to do to that boy. He had a lovely maturing bum and I gave it to him hot and strong. It was only when he was pulling his pants back up over the welts that I realised my knickers were soaked through!”

More raucous laughter, then the conversation turned to other matters – not as interesting to a ‘growing lad’ like myself. So I went back into my room, took my own pants down and had a slow, leisurely wank while I imagined Brenda wielding the cane and putting stripes across that unfortunate lad’s bare buttocks.

Contributor: Martin

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