“Pass me the mustard please, darling.”
“Oh my gosh, look at this! It’s an ancient hill figure of a giant male with a large phallus.”
He was explaining the chalk carving to his newly wed.
“Do you mean a big cock?” she laughed.
“Shhh…the other guests will hear you! Anyway yes, that’s exactly what I mean and you are being very rude!” he admonished her.
“Let me have a look please,” she said grabbing the tourist guide from her husband.
“My, that really is a big cock!” she whispered “Even bigger than yours. It says childless couples used to sleep on the cock, er phallus I mean, in the hope that it would bring fertility to their barren lives. And what’s that in his right hand?”
“It’s a club or stick apparently…” he laughed. “Maybe for beating his wife with.”
“Sounds like fun!”
“You’re joking!”
“Only a little. Let’s go and see it then.”
And so it was that the two young lovers left their hotel and made their way to see the Cerne Abbas giant in darkest Dorset. What an impressive sight it was. Carved in the chalk hill, with its enormous phallus plain for all to see. As the weather was dry, they were able to make their way across the fields from the village towards the giant. Soon they were there admiring the ancient man, his cock and club. They enjoyed a picnic from a small wicker hamper that they had bought in Dorchester. After eating, they rolled around in the grass and as darkness fell, engaged in some passionate lovemaking, all under the influence of the giant. After a brief nap, the lovers awoke and headed back to the village where their old Wolseley saloon was parked.
Back at their hotel in Dorchester, the couple were still frisky. She admired the way his cock was again stood to attention, just like the giant’s one.
“Oh my darling, if only you had a stick or club to beat me with, then you would be the perfect giant.”
“Don’t worry dearest. We are going shopping in the morning. We’ll go to the ironmongers where we bought the hamper. They had some punishment canes for sale there. You’ll be getting your beating!”
Over breakfast the lovers giggled and tittered like naughty children. The giant had given them much to reflect on.
“Are you sure you want me to buy a cane? For your bottom?”
“Yes darling. Quite sure. Except I want you to buy two. You never know when one might break. That happened to me at school, you know.”
“Ouch!” he said. “So you’ve had the cane before? I had it at school too and let me tell you I have no desire to repeat the experience. All I remember is the pain and my rage at the injustice of it all. Never again.”
“Injustice? Pah, that I find hard to believe. I expect you deserved it…” she said matter-of-factly. She wiped her lips voluptuously on the napkin. “Well now’s your chance to dish it out, if you’re man enough?”
“You don’t need to worry on that score honeybunch. The giant has inspired me.”
“Yes, I do believe he has. Finish your toast, let’s go to the ironmongers.”
Hand in hand they wandered the back streets of the town. Eventually they found the shop. They were surprised to see that the store was named “Dorset Giant General Supply Co.”
“I didn’t notice that last time. It’s a sign.”
“Yes, I do believe it is. In more ways than one.”
As they entered the shop, the bell signaled their arrival. Behind the counter, was a large affable gentleman. He was a giant himself.
“Morning! Good to see you back, Sir. I trust the hamper was satisfactory.”
“Yes it was. Quite satisfactory, thank you.”
“We had a nice picnic at Cerne Abbas, by the giant,” she chimed in.
“Ah yes, the jolly green giant. Such an underrated treasure here. Very popular with young couples.”
“Yes indeed. I’m afraid my young wife here was quite taken with his features.”
“Oh ho, she’s a naughty girl then?” the fat man laughed.
“Exactly. Now what I need is a school cane or two. I thought I saw some here the other day.”
His wife was blushing red with embarrassment. She wandered off to a corner of the shop where she began admiring souvenir tea towels.
“I understand perfectly, Sir. Yes you did see some. They’re over here. Still a surprisingly popular item Sir, despite the modern times and trends. They still fly out of the shop, especially in winter. I call them the winter warmers.”
“Er, quite so, my man.”
“Here we are Sir. Allow me to show you them. These are standard school rattans. They are different thicknesses. Junior, medium, senior. With or without these beautifully crafted crook handles. Handles are tuppence extra.”
“Worth every penny, I’d say,” said the husband picking up one and slicing it through the air. “What an exciting sound!”
“Yes Sir. Satisfaction guaranteed. For a young lady wife I recommend the junior or medium size. And if by chance Sir required correction himself, then a senior would be more appropriate.”
“Oh no, that won’t be necessary.” The husband reflected a little and said, “Well, I don’t think so, but don’t ask the Mrs!”
“And just over here Sir, we have some local Dorset specials. These ones are crafted from local willow and give quite a different sensation. Of course, they do command a premium for the artisan work involved.”
The husband duly selected four canes. Three crook-handled rattans, one in each thickness and one straight willow. As one was a senior, he would have some explaining to do to his young wife at some stage…
“Excellent choices, Sir. I’ll just wrap them for you. I can only offer a one year guarantee on these items. They can break if they get too dry and at the same time are used too vigorously. Probably more of a danger with the senior model, I should suppose.” He gave the young husband a knowing wink.
The couple made their way back to the hotel.
