I said I'd tell you about my bottom caning that I had while away on holiday and I'm going to, there was sex too, which I'm going to include and it's a bit naughty. It's true actually, there was anal penetration and I actually asked my husband's advice before completing this post so be warned and please don't read it if you might be offended.
Oh yes and it's quite long:)
I mentioned we were taking two garden canes with us and we did, one natural bamboo and one thinner, green, the type that supports house plants, material unknown. They had remained in our suitcase until the morning after our lovely meal by the castle, partly because the first couple of days were so full and partly because it was so quiet and sound seemed to travel for miles then echo off the mountain and travel back! Especially at night. Anyway on the evening of the castle meal I'd wanted to play, well I'd just wanted sex actually anyway it came, and I was making it quite obvious in bed but P wasn't up for it and he told me I was sex mad and to go to sleep. I told him he was no fun and huffily shifted right across to my side of the bed and left it at that.
In the morning I was lying on my tummy, half stirring, you know that lovely time when you're comfy and snug and you wake and realise you haven't got to get up for work and you melt into the bed again, when I felt ever so lightly P's finger trailing up my thigh, over my buttock, up my back and then down again, this being through a thin cotton sheet which was all we had on the bed because of the heat, and it felt strangely erotic. I let him do it a few times without moving and then let out a little appreciative murmur and stuck my bottom out as his finger passed to let him know I was definitely awake. I felt him move closer then his hand rested on my hip, still through the sheet, and I felt his breath on my neck as he whispered he was sorry he hadn't been fun last night and he was going to make up for it. I made to turn over towards him but he stopped me and told me to stay just as I was and his hand moved from my hip to my bottom where his fingers started caressing my cheeks as he told me he was going to cane me. I know I whimpered but I didn't say anything, just let his fingers carry on circling and stroking my bottom through the sheet, god if his hand had slid under the sheet and between my legs he'd have found my knickers were damp but he didn't do that. Instead, after some softly spoken but firm words about consideration and tantrums, which weren't really true but that didn't matter, his hand left my bottom and his body weight left the bed, I heard him unzip our suitcase and then he closed the window and flicked the air conditioner on. I could hear shouts of kids and splashing from various pools in the villas around us, they were happy sounds.
'You know,' said my husband, 'you've been needing this ever since we got here but there hasn't been an appropriate opportunity. So now, with the morning chorus of wake-up swims and breakfasts cooking and preparations being made for the day ahead, I think a sound caning will go almost un-noticed. Except by the recipient, of course.'
Then my husband grabbed the sheet from my shoulders and pulled it down to my thighs, I felt the cooled air roll down my back and I shuddered and then that few seconds of suspended reality when you can hear your own heart beating and you know the cane is being raised, and then the light whoosh and almost simultaneously the CRACKKK as it landed across my pantied buttocks. I gasped and almost immediately a second and third stroke followed, causing me to UUHHH! and wiggle my hips uselessly to try and spread the sting.
I felt my husband's hand placed firmly in the small of my back as he delivered three more strokes in quick succession and I had to grab the pillow to my mouth to stifle my cries. There were no more strokes, I let the pillow go, my husband sat on the bed and stroked my back, he told me to remember what happens to thoughtless girls who want want want, sometimes they get more than they bargained for. But actually I wanted more, my bottom was burning but I'd been turned on before the caning started and now I wanted to go further.
'Call that fun,' I mumbled, 'I think you're out of fun practice.' I just do these things spontaneously sometimes, I hold my breath after I've done them never quite knowing the response. I needn't have worried.
My husband was up off the bed immediately. 'You cheeky girl.' He pulled my knickers down now, always a sign he means business, and I sucked in air. 'We'll see whether a further twelve strokes of my cane across your bare bottom takes some of the cheek out of you and don't dare move out of position because if I have to hold you down you're going to be sitting poolside for the rest of the week!' Oh my, when he uses words like that, and in that strict tone of his, I go almost light headed. So the cane came down again, this time on my bare buttocks, and I managed four without crying out but at the fifth I had to fill my mouth with pillow again because it was so hard and I couldn't help myself and I didn't think there could be any part of my bottom left that hadn't been caned. Then at I think about the eighth stroke, my husband stopped and told me he thought I'd learned my lesson but I hadn't and I pushed my punished bottom up as high as I could and mumbled 'what lesson' into the pillow. He heard me.
'OUUCHHH!' There was no warning when the cane came down against my lewdly raised bottom, it really took me by surprise, it was easily the hardest stroke and my legs thrashed wildly but there was no follow up. I heard my husband rummage in our suitcase again then he sat on the bed.
'Look round,' he said,' see what you've done, you've made me break my cane.' Sure enough the top eight inches were hanging off and I giggled.
P could see the funny side too but he nevertheless had the thinner green cane in his hand and he climbed onto the bed and sat with his back against the headboard, instructing me to get across his lap. I did and he stroked my battered bum, making me purr, before sliding his hand between my legs and discovering the pleasure he'd been causing. 'Hmm,' he said, 'I believe I have a cure for this sort of improper excitement' and he proceeded to cane me as I lay across his lap. Nowhere near as hard as previously but enough to sting atop an already tender bum, then whilst still caning me he slid his left hand under my belly and down to where my wetness betrayed my feelings and started masturbating me from below as he caned me from above. I came. Twice. Then I was ordered to do the decent thing and suck my husband off, which I did dutifully and greedily, after which I was dispatched to the shower while P went to prepare breakfast.
(LOOK AWAY NOW, read no further if you might be offended)
But here the story does not end. A few minutes into my shower the bathroom door opened and in came P, he got into the cubicle, loaded some gel and started soaping me from behind, I could feel he was getting hard again, not a frequent occurrence these days, and, frankly, I still hadn't got the one I really wanted. I tried to turn and reciprocate but he wouldn't have it so the best I could manage, hands behind back, was his hips and thighs, I thought to grab his penis but it was nuzzling in and out between my bum cheeks and it felt pleasant, well more than pleasant actually, in fact so pleasant that I bent slightly forward to thrust my bum back onto it. P was very aroused and I felt a dollop of cool gel plop onto my bum and slide down into my crack and then my husband's penis head probing my rear entry and it was far to big to go in but it didn't stop probing and when his right hand slid down over my belly and started massaging my clit I pushed gently back and P took it as a green light and thrust forward with a deep groan, at the same time increasing the stimulus between my legs. I didn't want to resist but I was so excited at the same time I couldn't relax my sphincter muscle and P had to stop working me and talk soothingly just telling me to relax and then suddenly unexpectedly he thrust again and he was in and I shouted No! and for him to stop, which he did. But as I adjusted to the feeling filling me, his hand returned between my legs and I started to wiggle.
There was something so deliciously dirty and wrong about what was happening that I think my mind just went to some place it doesn't get to very often and I let my body go on auto pilot. It didn't last very long because the orgasm I still needed built so fast it took me by surprise with a great rushing swell of such intensity I thought I might pass out but in fact pushed back hard onto my husband, willing my muscles to tighten against the intrusion and screaming Yes! when I felt my husband's penis convulse and I knew it was going to spurt into me. When it did and I felt the hot liquid I know I screamed and my husband told me later he did the same but a few octaves lower. We stood in the shower thus enjoined until P had deflated sufficiently to permit a pain free withdrawal. I honestly think if either of us had offered the slightest encouragement we would have gone on to round 2, but hey we're sensible adults. Ahem.
Well we finally finished our shower and P did finish making breakfast which we ate on the terrace, overlooked by the mountain. And I wore shorts on the beach that morning because there were a few marks on my bum but amazingly they'd gone by afternoon.
Enjoy your weekend.