|by Y Lee Coyote|
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 29 Jul 2006
The following story is fiction. It contains scenes of a sibling caning. If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
This story was inspired by a couple of photos I saw. (I can not post them because I lack permission from the copyright owner.) They show a lad of about thirteen years sitting in a window box. He is in short-shorts and flexing a cane in one and playing with a Rubic's cube in the other. His wicked grin/smirk implies that something unpleasant is about to happen to someone else but that he will like it. This is what my imagination thought up. I showed them to Mike Ward and he also wrote a story about it. I also thank him for his help in assuring I was using British English.
Christopher was only thirteen. He sat on the window box with a malevolent grin on his face. His right hand gripped the end of a rattan cane which he was flexing and holding in position with his left hand. He knew what was going to happen. He was savoring it with great anticipation. Every second gave him great pleasure as he awaited his brother's capitulation. He knew several things of importance: that his brother was in deep doo-doo; that their mother was furious; that interfering in the fury between mother and brother could not be good for him; that mother had directed him to get the cane and wait. The final outcome was certain.
Orlando, Christopher's brother, was having one of those talks with his mother. The details are not of importance but suffice it to say that his mother was most displeased with her son. If his father, her husband, had not been away he would have been having this discussion and it would have surely ended with six of the best applied to Orlando's backside most promptly.
Things had advanced far enough that Orlando already knew that there was not any hope that he would not be caned. He was now arguing about who should do it and when. As much as Christopher was anticipating the great joy to come, Orlando was dreading the horror to come a hundredfold more intensely. He begged his mother to allow him to wait until his father's return but she was adamant. After a while, she gave him an alternative. He could ask the headmaster to give him twelve in front of the entire school. But if he refused, then his brother would give him the twelve at school – in either the assembly or in the school yard.
They all knew that the head did not approve of the cane so he would be most unlikely to agree. And, of course, twelve from the head would really be terrible especially in front of everyone. To get it publicly from his brother would be social suicide.
Orlando finally admitted that he had only one choice. He already had been told exactly what he must say. He turned to his waiting brother and spoke in a low whisper. "Christopher, I have been a most naughty lad. Since father is away, please give me six of the best."
Christopher, not interested in such talk, did not make him repeat it at proper volume but moved the process forward by replying: "Dear brother, I shall be honoured to try to act in father's stead. Please strip and get into position." They both knew the position from sessions with their father: naked and bent over gripping one's ankles.
Orlando wished that his mother would leave but she remained to watch. He realized that asking her to leave would just bring the retort that she had to be sure it was done correctly. As he stripped, he realized that his mother had not seen him naked since he was a boy of ten. Now he had grown and matured and was obviously approaching manhood. But he did not have any options. He stripped, blushed and quickly got into position.
Christopher got up and stood near his brother. He carefully checked that he was in the right place by tapping the target with the cane and, satisfied, raised the cane. It SWISHED down with as much force as he could muster and slashed into Orlando's cheeks. The track mark was forming even before he started the second cut. Christopher was elated. He was relishing delivering each of the five remaining cuts. It was no longer just simple blood coursing through his body but a highly potent mixture – blood laced with testosterone and adrenaline.
The cane had been an object of fascination to Christopher ever since he first watched his father cane his brother and also felt its bite himself on that fateful day a few months earlier. Initially, he thought that using a cane required nothing more than a strong arm but some reading revealed otherwise. For several months he had secretly practised with the very cane in his hands. His pillow had endured many cuts as he developed his technique – so that he struck effectively and precisely.
The first cut he had placed precisely on the horizontal centre of the target bottom. The second was just as level and just an inch higher. Their mother, not knowing anything of the craft, did not realize how effective Christopher was being, but Orlando was feeling the pain. Christopher could see how his brother was struggling.
The third cut was an inch below the first and the fourth an inch above the second. Orlando was showing definite signs of distress. Christopher thought he saw some tears already. The fifth was not an inch below the third but on the most sensitive crease delimiting the arse checks from the thighs. Orlando cried out for this one and Christopher's cock throbbed harder in his seemingly shrinking tight corduroy shorts.
The sixth and last cut was the trickiest and he hesitated while finalizing his decision. He placed it diagonally and turned the five bars into a perfect gate.
"You may get up now, Orlando." he said smugly.
It was most bitter for Orlando to thank Christopher for the caning. There were tears on his cheeks and a searing gate on his bum.
"Thank you, Christopher. You did a very good job of this unpleasant task. I'm sure you were not happy having to cane your brother but it was an unpleasant task that had to be done. Orlando, go to your room." said their mother still ignorant of how extreme the interaction between her two sons was.
"Yes, mother." Christopher lied for he could not think of a task that he would be happier doing. Christopher also left immediately for he had a pressing need. He locked himself in the loo and ripped open his shorts for a wank. His mind was filled with the vision of how his brother's backside looked – because he had caned him. Once he had relieved the pressure – twice, he soaked a flannel in cold water to use to sooth his brother's blazing buns. A few minutes later, Christopher joined his brother in the bedroom. Orlando was prone on his bed sobbing. Chris did not gloat but gently placed the cold flannel on his brother's flaming backside. "This should help." he said most insincerely.
When he could talk, Orlando confessed new respect for his brother. "You're positively, brilliantly wicked with that cane. I hurt worse than when father does it."
"I take that as a great compliment, especially from you, Orlando." It was fortunate that Orlando could not see the most happy smile on his brother's face.
When their father returned he was most impressed by the marks for he could tell that they were from a caning far more effective than his own. As Orlando fidgeted in his seat at dinner, their father made three pronouncements.
First to his wife who he called mother in the boys' presence. "Mother, I find that Christopher's caning technique is most satisfactory and you need not wait for my return in the future but just have Christopher do it when Orlando deserves it."
Then he turned to Christopher and in his no nonsense will be tolerated voice said: "Christopher, you are never to cane your brother except on direct instructions from mother or me."
Finally, to Orlando, in that same strict parental voice: "You are to cooperate with your brother when mother or I decide he should cane you. I assure you that you will regret not doing so."
Christopher was delighted. His brother would have to be nice to him in the hope that he might go easier with the cane.
Orlando still had another item to worry about. As bad as it was to be caned it was worse when it was done by a sibling especially when the sibling is three years younger and there is the possibility of others getting to know it.
© Copyright A.I.L., July 29, 2006
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