textfiles/sex/EROTICA/L/latenite.txt

A LATE NIGHT OUT

Paul glanced at his watch, as he left the Disco where he had been
spending saturday evening. It was five minutes after midnight and he
had a fifteen minute journey ahead of him, and even by running all the
way he would be unable to make the deadline set by his father of
12.15. If only he had not stopped to chat up his girl friend for five
minutes. Paul's father was very strict with his son who was under
eighteen, and only the fact that the Disco was run by the church young
peoples fellowship enabled Paul to be out so late. As it was, he did
not hesitate to use the cane on his son for any misdemeanour and
arriving home even five minutes late would result in five strokes of
the cane, as Paul well knew from previous experience.

Paul had his own front door key and he quietly let himself in, hoping
that his father would not hear him as he watched the late night film on
television, but his luck was out. As he shut the door behind him his
father came out of the lounge. Glancing at the hall clock, he ordered
Paul to go into the dining room. With a sinking feeling Paul obeyed.
He heard the sound of the hall cupboard being opened. He knew that
sound only too well, for that was where the cane was kept; a three
foot, medium weight, very pliable cane which was capable of
imparting a sting to human flesh and raising weals which lasted for
days afterwards.

Paul eyed the cane apprehensively as his father entered the room,
shutting the door behind him. Without being told Paul unzipped his
tight, thin, pale blue jeans and pushed them down to his ankles,
followed by his red briefs. Pulling up his shirt, he bent over the table,
as he had done on so many occasions in the past. His father eyed the
handsome pair of unmarked buttocks, for this was the first time for
several weeks that he had seen his son's bare bottom. The previous
occasion had been particularly embarrassing for Paul, for his bottom
showed the marks of a caning he had received at school, and for
which his father had demanded a full explanation. Paul had had to
explain that he had been caught smoking with several of his friends
behind the cricket pavilion by one of the masters who had sent them
all to the Head, who had given each of them eight of the best with his
most efficient cane and one which he kept for senior boys. Paul had
been enable to sit down in comfort for several hours afterwards, and
only the fact that his father had been out that evening prevented his
obvious uneasiness being noticed at the time. When, a few days later
he stripped to receive a caning from his father, the marks were still
visible and had had to confess. On hearing what had caused his son
to be punished, he had given him twice the number of strokes of his
cane to express his own displeasure at his son's behaviour.

At last he laid the cane lightly on Paul's well rounded bottom which
twitched slightly. His father who always caned with horizontal strokes,
ordered Paul to stick his bottom out to give him a better target. Paul
eased himself back from the table until his father was satisfied that his
son was in the best position.. Although it was more than 20 years
since his father had been at school, where he was a prefect, he had not
forgotten how to administer a sound caning. He found that the cane
was most effective when applied on the lower part of the bottom, on
which a boy sat. He also aimed for the left cheek knowing that the
end of the cane would by virtue of its flexibility , inflict the same
amount of pain to the right buttock.

Drawing back the cane he delivered a searing stroke on Paul's bottom.
'Swish - crack', the cane landed squarely on the middle of the target
area. For two or three seconds Paul felt nothing, then suddenly his
bottom felt as if it had been in contact with a red hot poker, and only
by gritting his teeth and gripping the edge of the table was Paul able
to prevent himself from crying out as his father, at five second
intervals delivered the remaining four strokes, placed neatly and with
great accuracy on the lower part of his squirming backside, the last
stroke landing on the crease where the buttocks end and the thighs
commence, a particularly sensitive spot for any boy, as his father well
knew from painful experience at school himself, an experience which
had stood him in good stead when he became a prefect.

When it was over Paul stood up somewhat stiffly. His whole backside
was now on fire, it was too sore to be rubbed and he could only hold
both cheeks as tightly as he could in his efforts to relieve the pain. A
caning from his father was infinitely worse than anything he had
received at school from the headmaster. There at least he had the
protection of his school trousers and underpants. If he knew in time
he could add a little extra protection by putting on his swimming
trunks. It was a bit risky, as the headmaster had been known to order
a boy to lower his trousers and to cane him on the seat of his
underpants, which would render detection of the extra layer
unavoidable and would certainly result in a caning similar to that dealt
out by his father, but most boys felt it was a risk worth taking in the
circumstances.

The pain in Paul's wealed bottom cheeks was beginning to wear off
now and a feeling, almost pleasant was taking its place. Paul had
noticed this only in the last year or so. He had noticed, too, a feeling
of excitement spreading to other parts of his body. As he stood there
with his jeans and underpants still around his ankles and facing his
father, the latter also noticed the effect the caning had had on his son.
Realising what was happening, Paul blushed and quickly pulled up his
jeans, albeit with some difficulty for his rear was still smarting and
swollen as a result of the tanning he had received. He had some
difficulty too in pulling up his zip, but for quite a different reason!

Switching off the lights they left the room. Replacing the cane in the
cupboard, father and son went up the stairs together. Putting his hand
on his son's mobile buttocks, he rubbed his seat gently. Paul responded
by putting his arm round his father's waist. he did not bear his father
any malice for he knew he had deserved the caning and that he only
had himself to blame. When he reached his bedroom door his father
gave him an affectionate pat on the bottom and bade him goodnight.
Slipping off his shirt, Paul went to the bathroom for a quick wash and
to do his teeth. Returning to his room he took off his jeans and
underpants and viewed his lacerated bottom in the wardrobe mirror.
Five distinct bruise lines were clearly etched across both cheeks, and
he could not help admiring his father's expertise with the cane, at the
same time he marvelled that such a thin pliable cane could inflict so
much damage. He knew that the marks would still be there when he
returned to school on Monday, and he wondered what the other boys
would say when they saw him stripped off in the showers after P.E.

After feeling the ridges on his bottom for a few minutes, Paul put on
his pyjamas and quietly got into bed so as not to wake his younger
brother who was asleep in an adjoining bed. He found that sleep in his
customary position was impossible and that he was obliged to sleep on
his stomach, and even the the weight of the sheet and blanket on his
still very sore behind caused him to lie awake for some time before
sleep at last overtook him. It was not surprising considering the
lateness of the hour that he was still fast asleep when his bother,
Mark, awoke the next morning. Seeing Paul lying on his stomach he
guessed immediately what had happened, for it was a position that
both lads had had reason to adopt on numerous occasions. If anything,
it was Mark who had to sleep on his stomach, for he was a lively
young man who was always getting into trouble at school as well as
at home, trouble which generally deserved, and resulted in a sound
caning from his housemaster, the prefects or his father.

Slipping out of bed he went across to Paul's bed and gently, so as not
to wake him, he got in along side of him. Slowly and very carefully
he eased his hand under the elastic top of his brother's pyjamas and
felt his bottom. Although less prominent than they were a few hours
ago, he could still feel the weals left by the cane, all five of them. He
continued to stroke the soft bum cheeks, which was something both
boys enjoyed doing to each other, especially after a caning. After a
few minutes of this attention, Paul awoke and lay quietly, thoroughly
enjoying his brother's attentions. At last Mark realised from the change
in his breathing that Paul was awake. "Dad really laid it on last night
from the state of your bum." he remarked cheerfully. Paul turned his
head and looked at the grin on his brother's face.

"You can say that again, he gave me five real stingers."

"I know I can feel them."

"Do you want to have a look?"

"Of course, list up."

Paul obeyed and Mark slipped his brother's pyjama trousers down. He
whistled at the sight of the bruise marks, now turning a dark blue.

"Dad certainly knows how to cane, you're going to have those marks
for at least a week. I wonder what the chaps at school will say when
they see them?"

"So do I," Paul replied.

Mark continued to rub his brother's well marked bottom, now using
both hands, one on each cheek. At last he became a little more
venturesome and started to run his fingers down into the divide
separating Paul's buttocks, ignoring the mild protests until his two
middle fingers met at the most private part of all.

"Hi, cut that out."

"O.K." Mark replied, and raising his hands, he brought them down
smartly on that bottom so temptingly displayed before him.

"Oouuch !!" was his brother's reaction, more in surprise than pain.
Quickly turning over, he sat up and grabbed Mark at the same time
pulling him over his lap. It only took two or three seconds to pull that
young man's pyjamas trousers down, revealing Mark's neat and trim
bottom, this he started to spank with some enthusiasm. After he had
given the squirming youngster some half a dozen good hearty spanks,
he laid his hand on the now very warm bottom, seeking the same spot
that his brother had violated a minute or two ago. Having found the
exact place he wanted he pressed with his finger until Mark called out
"Ow, that hurts!"

At that moment the boys heard the door of their parent's bedroom
being opened and the voice of their father calling out "What's going
on in there?, it's time you boys got up." Scrambling off Paul's bed,
Mark hastily pulled on his pyjama trousers in case their father should
open the door and see his sons in a somewhat compromising position,
which would also certainly result in a caning for both of them on the
spot. 

"It's alright, Dad, we're both getting up.

" "Well , hurry up then," they heard him reply, as he went down stairs
to make their mother a cup of tea.

"Whew, it's a good job he didn't catch us" said Paul feelingly, "I don't
want another tanning on top of the last one."

"And I don't either," Mark replied. "But I expect I'll get one when my
report from school arrives next week."

"Well if you do, you know where to come to have you bum rubbed."
Paul grinned, at the same time patting his brother affectionately on
that part of his anatomy.