From the Top Shelf - The Canery

Today's fiction selection comes from The Canery "where adults receive the rattan cane for pleasure and discipline". This excellent blog has a vast assortment of stories - F/F, F/M, M/F and M/M - so if caning is your thing, you've come to the right place.

Here's an interesting story called Closing Down Sale, written by Rod Cayenne. I like it because the gender of the one receiving the cane is left to the reader's imagination.

“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!”

Read the rest here.