By Cowjam40

This story is fiction. It is total fantasy. There will be themes including: intergenerational relationships, male-only sex acts, BDSM, corporal punishment, confinement, and mental manipulation, among others.

Since it’s my first ever erotic story, I’d love to hear from you if you love it, hate it, or have any feedback: cowjam40@yahoo.co.uk

***

He’d left the train station behind, the town was long gone, and he was now passing flat green fields with hills bubbling up in the distance. The road twisted and narrowed into tiny lanes and high-sided hedgerows. His head knocked against the backseat window, jolting him out of his sleepy state. He was convinced the driver was deliberately trying to hit EVERY. FUCKING. POTHOLE.

Wiping condensation from the window, he saw bursts of green through the trees. Fields dotted with sheep, and barns, and white walled cottages. But it was mostly wet, and miserable. And the drive seemed endless. HIs reality was miserable, made all the worse by the arsehole sitting next to him WHO. COULD. NOT. GIVE. A. FUCK.

He thought about his time in prison. He had few hassles, it wasn’t that tough, he just kept out of trouble. But then he got the offer of early parole, tied to the “Restart Rehabilitation Programme”. He’s now signed up to a good behaviour contract and two-year carpentry apprenticeship in the backend of no-where. WALES. CAN. FUCK. OFF.

The taxi rocked violently left and right over more potholes, and the engine whined on a steep track to a white cottage. They parked at the side.

“Stay here,” said the arsehole, leaving the taxi with a large clear plastic bag containing prison paperwork and personal effects. He slammed the door and walked towards the cottage. For the first time in a long while, it was deadly quiet.

“Where the fuck are we?”

The taxi driver didn’t look up. “Miles from anywhere mate” he said, while prodding the screen of his mobile.

Inside prison, he knew the routine. But on the outside, this rehabilitation programme was unsettling. There was a new reality now, and it scared him. For a moment he thought there could be tears, but defiantly jerked his head up, sniffed sharply, and blinked furiously. FUCKING. DUMPED. NOWHERE.

The car door opened. “Out you get”, said the arsehole irritably. He was the prison escort ‘just in case’, and a moody guy who was craving for an excuse to give a beating.

Glaring back, he lifted himself out of the seat. He was 21 but looked younger – overgrown curly brown hair, soft skin with freckles, and face that refused to grow a beard. He tried to compensate at the prison gym, although struggled to get enough time on the weights to build up his chest and arms. He was still wearing his prison-issue grey sweatshirt along with sweatpants which were too small – leaving the material hugging his arse and tight against his crotch.

Very, very slowly, he stretched his arms above his head in the drizzling rain. He didn’t need to, it was just a performance.

The arsehole scrunched up his face and pointed towards the cottage. “Over there.”

He knew it was petty, but he enjoyed the reaction. “Fucking knob,” he mumbled.

Inside it was tiny. At the doorway, there were steep stairs directly in front, leading up to the next floor. To the left, a lounge with ragged sofa, a random selection of old wooden furniture, and a stone fireplace. To the right, a large dark kitchen untouched by modern appliances. There were grey flagstones covering the floor, pine cabinets, cluttered worktops, a massive range cooker, and in the centre was a large wooden table and chairs – at one end stood a broad, bearded man, with arms folded, wearing brown bib overalls.

“This is Dan,” the arsehole said, “your new mentor.” He then turned, raising his palm.

“This is Todd,” he said, like he was introducing a circus act, “he’s had a long trip, but is none the worse for it.” There was silence. “Um, right let’s get some signatures.”

Todd was told to sit at the table as they filled in forms. Things were read out, instructions given, but he wasn’t paying attention. He spotted photos tacked to a noticeboard – he could make out holiday scenes, Dan smiling with his arm around a woman, in another they were together on a beach. Todd guessed she was his Ex? But what happened to them? Dan didn’t have a Welsh accent, so how did he end up here?

After the paperwork was finished, the arsehole left. And it was just the two of them. WHAT. THE. FUCK. NOW.

Dan gently sat on the table and leaned over. “We need to have a talk,” he said slowly and deliberately, “don’t we.” It was not a question.

Todd lifted his head and studied him. The man was probably in his late forties but looked older, with greying hair and lines on a weathered face – covered by a scruffy beard. His skin was slightly tanned, with splashes of red from working in the sun too long. His arms were toned, hairy, and tanned. Under his faded carpentry overalls he wore a blue t-shirt with turfs of hair poking out at the neck. His eyes were deep-set and blue – Todd noticed he was being studied too.

“We have rules. You will learn them. And you will obey them.” Dan spoke with confidence, but in truth he questioned what sort of mentor he needed to be, and whether Todd could be reformed.

“You’ve left prison but while you’re in my care – and until I can trust you – it might still feel like prison.”

Todd snorted and briefly smiled, before dropping his head and pressing his lips together in embarrassment. THAT. SOUNDS. LIKE. BULLSHIT.

“There are no walls for you to climb, no tunnels to dig – you can try to escape. But if you run, there is nowhere to go. You are nowhere. Understand this, you are going nowhere.”

Todd screwed up his face in confusion.

“Lad, listen carefully,” he took a deep breath “The only prison in your life is the one you have created for yourself. Continue to behave like a criminal, and it will only bring you pain. I will show you what honesty and integrity looks like, but there will also be hard work too.” He meant every word but realised the messaging was wrong.

Todd thought THIS. *IS*. BULLSHIT. His frustration was showing, and it annoyed Dan.

“And there will be consequences for breaking the…” he paused “…for breaking MY rules: you will show me respect and not swear; you will act with honesty and integrity; you will work hard and try your best; and you will behave how you want others to treat you.” All valid points, but they weren’t seeping in. “These are just some of the rules. And you will be punished for breaking them.”

“NO FUCKING WAY.” Todd blurted out. His face was red, breathing shallow, and eyes fixed on Dan’s. “I’M NOT…” Todd was cut short.

Dan lurched towards him, pointed at the chair. “SIT DOWN.”

He did but opened his mouth to protest.

“No more,” said Dan with a wild look on his face, “stay there.” And he left the room.

Todd flung back into the chair, frustrated and confused. There were loud sounds in the neighbouring room. Drawers and cupboards opening and shutting. And then a whoosh sound. Dan reappeared and kneeled down at one of the kitchen table legs.

“So, this is how it works. You do as you’re told. Or else – as promised – there are consequences. And that starts now.” Dan continued explaining how actions lead to consequences. “I will use punishment to correct bad behaviour. And your bad behaviour needs correcting.”

Todd could see Dan fastening straps onto two legs of the table. “Get up! Stand at this end.”

‘Why? What you gonna do?” Todd hadn’t guessed.

Dan lunged at Todd, grabbing his arm, and ripping him from the chair. “Do as you’re told,” shoving him to the end of the table, “don’t move.”

Todd’s arm hurt. It was a distraction from what was happening at his feet, where straps were being fastened around his ankles.

“WHAT THE FUUUCK!”

“Yes, lad. You keep on swearing like that. As I said, you will be punished. You will learn to obey my rules. Now bend over the table.”

Todd finally worked out what was coming. He’d never had corporal punishment growing up, either when he was in the care home or prison, and he wasn’t taking any now. He knew how to handle himself, he’d been in a few fights before, but they were guys the same age. Even so, THIS. WAS. NOT. HAPPENING.

He swung at Dan and missed by a mile. Todd turned red, he knew he was in trouble. The buckles around his ankles were firmly fastened though. And struggling wasn’t doing anything. Dan shifted behind Todd, who was flailing his arms.

“I’m a fair man, but you deserve punishment. And you WILL be punished.” Dan leaned into the back of Todd, who toppled forward onto the table.

“No, no. You can’t do this.” the squirming continued. But Dan leaned on his back. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Actually, in your behaviour contract, I’m allowed to deliver any punishment I want.” That wasn’t true, but Todd didn’t know any better. “And now we’re going to wait, as long as it takes, for you to stop squirming.”

There were more protests, something about ‘being sued’ and ‘telling the cops’. But eventually Dan could feel Todd’s muscles relax, and the breathing slowed. Then – just to make sure – handcuffs were applied, locking his hands behind his back. Dan lifted away from Todd, and then put a hand on his shoulder. His voice slowed and softened.

“Today lad, you will be punished. And you need to understand something very important. When you do something bad without consequences, you learn bad behaviour. And this is why you NEED to be punished. Otherwise, you cannot become a better person. This will make sense, eventually.”

It was a surreal moment for Todd. Strapped to a kitchen table. Unable to move. Head to one side, and mouth squashed against the surface. He still thought this must only be a mental test. Or a scare tactic. Or a lesson in how to behave.

Todd could hear the whooshing sound return in the other room. Dan entered the kitchen carrying a long stick. FUCK. IT’S. A. FUCKING. CANE.

“No, no. No, you can’t use that. Ok I’m sorry. I won’t swear. I didn’t mean it.” The pleading went on, and on.

But Dan’s reply was clear, stern, almost judicial. “I will give you 12 strokes of the cane. Six for swearing, and six for throwing your fist around. This cane is going to teach you a lesson – a valuable lesson I also got many times.”

Dan approached the table and swung the cane in the air to test his grip. It made repeated whooshing noises. He was calm. There was no anger. He briefly questioned whether there was an alternative but decided there wasn’t. Todd would need to understand who was in charge.

“Call out the number of each stroke. If you don’t, or say anything else, the stroke won’t count. Understand?”

There was the sound of laboured breathing. “Please!”.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Todd had no real idea what was coming. And perhaps that was best.

Dan wouldn’t be taking off Todd’s grey sweatpants just yet, that was for later. He lined up the cane, tapping it on his target – the middle of his cheeks, where the muscles were stretched – the prime spot to inflict pain. The cane swung back, and down, striking precisely.

“FUCK!” screamed Todd. It was nothing like he’d felt before. A jolt of pain on his arse, which then surged through his body, waking every sense.

“So that won’t count. Still 12 more to go. You need to count them out. I don’t want to hear anything else.”

He whimpered, “Sorry. Sorry.”

There was a brief pause before the next strike – the cane made precise contact again.

“Ha…!” Todd stopped himself. There was a sharp intake of breath, then silence, before a shaky voice announced “One.” He could feel the stinging sensation building.

“Better.” Dan was monitoring Todd’s pained reaction – his face contorted with each stroke. He paused for a few seconds, then another strike.

“Ahhh!“ Another anguished expression, as his cheeks continued to burn. “Two.”

There was more to come. “Three… four… five… six”. And then a pause. He sniffed and made a tiny whining noise in his throat.

“You’re doing well. We’re not finished though. And for the next six, you will be caned bare.”

He felt his sweatpants being pulled down, then the waistband of his boxer shorts was slowly dragged to the floor too. He’d never felt more exposed in front of another man. Todd started weeping. Tears, which he’d fought so hard to prevent, rolled down his face.

“The next six on bare, count them out. The sound of your voice will tell me if these strokes are on target. I need you to feel each and every one of them.” Todd sensed the cold cane being tapped against his skin, as Dan lined it up for his swing. Whoosh.

“Ahhh!… seven”. This time the pain was more intense, and he felt a whirl of wind as the cane struck his bare flesh.

Another strike. “Eight…“ The intensity continued to grow. “Nine… ten… eleven…” Then a longer pause. “Ow!….” The intensity took his breath away, “t-twelve!” he stuttered.

“Well done for taking your punishment.” Dan sounded bright and positive. He raised Todd’s boxers, then sweatpants, unbuckled the restraints and removed the handcuffs. There was care in his touch. “Stand up for me lad,” he said, softly pressing his hand on Todd’s chest and lifting him upright.

Todd was silent. But his face said everything. It was red and sweaty, dripping with tears. He looked straight ahead, shunning eye contact, although he couldn’t hide the embarrassment and humiliation.

Dan gently put his hand on Todd’s back, and leaned in. “Right now, you can only feel pain and frustration. But that will pass, and you will look back at this experience, and realise it helped shaped you as a person. A better person. I know this because the same happened to me.”

A minute passed, and Todd’s breathing had slowed. He wanted to be angry. But actually, there was calmness. He’d survived a caning, and decided it proved he couldn’t be broken. He didn’t know it yet but, ultimately, he’d be proved wrong.

Dan smiled and moved his hand onto Todd’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He would not let Todd’s chaotic past become an excuse for messing up his future. Dan had already learned that lesson. “I am proud of you, lad. And now we can begin your apprenticeship. Trust me. The two of us are going to be ok.”

Todd gave the smallest of nods. His head was filled with confusing thoughts. He could feel the intense burning sensation from his caning, inflicted by a man who also sounded like he cared and offered comfort. Perhaps Dan would be one of the few people in his life willing to believe in him.

Then, as he looked across at Dan, he noticed the outline of a hardon in his overalls. He looked up into Dan’s eyes, and felt his own cock stirring.

To be continued …

The next chapter…

Todd’s Transformation: Chapter 2 – The Induction

Todd’s transformation continues as he starts his apprenticeship and endures a harsh induction which changes him physically and mentally.

Metal would like to thank the author, Cowjam40, for this story!