Timothy Stroud was nervous—the headmistress had told him to put on his shorts with nothing underneath, so he knew that it meant a caning. He also knew from experience that although he had been told to wear shorts, they might not be staying up for the caning.
As well as being nervous, Timothy was also excited because he knew that after the caning, he would be expected to give, and would give, the headmistress a good fucking.
Timothy was aged sixty-one, and the headmistress that was going to cane him was his wife Dorothy, who was a year older than him.
The couple had been married for almost forty years, and still had a good sex life, which from time to time involved role play.
It could be that Dorothy was an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl about to be caned by her headmaster, or she was an eighteen-year-old girl getting a good hiding from her father. Timothy might be a young man caught shoplifting and getting a bare-bottomed belting from the female shopkeeper rather than being reported to the police, but today he was a schoolboy.
Such scenarios were not used very often, the infrequency of them made them particularly exciting when they happened.
"Enter," said a female voice from within the room, when Timothy knocked on the closed door.
Timothy entered the room, which had been converted by Mr and Mrs Stroud to resemble a headteacher's study, and he saw the bespectacled headmistress seated behind her desk.
"Ah, Stroud, I understand that you called Miss Prendergast, an ugly old tart," said the headmistress.
"I called her a fucking ugly old tart, actually, headmistress," replied Timothy.
"Yes, she did tell me that, but thank you for your honesty, although your honesty will not save you from a thrashing," said the headmistress.
"I understand, Miss," said Timothy, looking at his feet but being aware of his stiffening penis.
The headmistress, Dorothy, rose from behind her desk and went to a basket in the corner which contained several canes.
Dorothy was also sexually aroused because she knew that these role plays turned them both on and after she had put cane marks on her husband's backside, he would give her a good shafting with his very impressive penis.
Dorothy was wearing a tweed skirt and jacket and a white blouse under her headmistress gown, she might or might not be wearing knickers, Timothy thought.
The headmistress selected a cane and bent it and slashed it through the air.
"I think that we will have those shorts down, young man," said the headmistress, with just a trace of a smile on her lips.
"Yes, Miss," said Timothy, lowering his shorts to reveal his now fully erect penis, Dorothy subconsciously licked her lips.
"Bend over, young man," said the headmistress. In earlier years, the words 'and touch your toes,' would have followed bend over, but although still sprightly, Mr and Mrs Stroud were not getting any younger, so touching toes was not insisted upon.
Timothy bent over, and his fingers were close to his ankles, his T-shirt rode up, and with his shorts being lowered, his bare bottom was totally exposed.
The cane was then slashed through the air a few more times, Timothy knew that it would hurt and that he would not be sitting down comfortably for quite some time, but the whole situation was so erotic.
"You will receive a dozen strokes, young man," announced the headmistress, Timothy did not answer.
Dorothy tapped the cane against her husband's backside, then raised it high and slashed it down CRACK.
Timothy had received many cane strokes over the years, but the first one always came as a surprise, fuck, it stung.
Dorothy waited a while before delivering the second stroke and had delays between subsequent strokes, but soon she had put six red lines on Timothy's buttocks and his arse was really smarting. If Dorothy had been wearing knickers, they would now be very damp, but she wasn't, so her thighs were getting sticky.
CRACK sounded in the room as the seventh stroke landed. Timothy's penis was rock solid. He hoped that he did not cum during the caning although he had a couple of times in the past.
Dorothy was finding it difficult to have extensive time gaps between each stroke because she was wanting to end the caning and get on with the fucking, but for now, she waited several seconds before delivering stroke number eight.
Timothy was now groaning loudly as he was feeling the full effects of a caning being administered by someone that knew how to administer one.
Stroke nine slashed across his bottom, followed several seconds later by stroke ten.