Wednesday, 11 July 2018

55 cm of sting

Well I suppose it was probably no more than 15-20cm at any one time doing the actual stinging, I mean the contact, but of course the extra length determines how much sting gets delivered. Retrospectively (certainly not at the time) I would have liked more sting but 55cm was my max baggage allowance, I supposed I could have squeezed a few more if I'd packed it diagonally but I, or rather my husband, didn't think of that.
 
I'm talking about my England flag which would have been the cutest England flag any security office had ever seen, with its shiny stem and its neat little red handle with hanging loop, if I'd been stopped and searched. But I wasn't. And when we'd reached our destination and settled in, the flag was unfurled and removed from the pole and laid inside my husband's travel bag. And there it remained until the third day of our holiday in spite of me reminding him a couple of times that it would have to be reassembled if we were to take it into town with us to watch the football. He just smiled.
 
The second evening the weather turned, the sky clouded and a warm wind got up, we started a meal outside a restaurant but swapped to inside halfway through because the wind was blowing everything around. Locals thought rain was imminent but it didn't happen, it stayed warm too but hardly anyone was left outside because of the wind. I checked my phone and told P it said possible light showers for the next day, in line with what I'd checked back home. P 'humphed' a bit, said he didn't like eating indoors, wasn't what he came on holiday for but the food was still good and the atmosphere was friendly. We were both in happy mode and visited a couple of bars after we'd eaten, it was midnight before we decided it was bedtime, either a taxi or a twenty-five minute walk uphill and slightly out of town to where we were staying. We walked, in fact we did every night, and got a few big splashes of warm rain on the way but it didn't take hold. P asked me if I'd brought my handbag umbrella, I told him he must be joking. He clutched my bottom and told me he hoped we didn't get drenched then or someone would be getting spanked. That made me feel even warmer inside than I did outside.
 
Next morning, I suppose about 5.30 am maybe earlier, I could hear drumming outside, it got louder and I realised it was rain and it escalated the way hot country rain does. P heard it too and sat up to look at the terrace door which we'd left open and where the rain was bouncing and splashing inside it was so heavy. P got out of bed to close it and then the first lightning flash came. I heard him say 'Christ!' and then the door sliding almost shut. Then a few seconds later the first thunder clap. I love continental thunderstorms, I was wide awake now but snuggled tightly into the single sheet. I saw my husband stride across the room, I thought he was going to make coffee but he went to the wardrobe instead and reached up to the top shelf where he'd put his bag. When he turned and came back to the bed he had the cane in his hand.
 
"So it looks as if we are going to get drenched after all," he said.
 
"We're not drenched at all," I said, "this will pass, these little storms always do." Then I thought how stupid am I, and added, "But then again the weather graphic did show cloud for the whole day."
 
"Turn over," he instructed. I went to unravel the sheet as I turned but he snapped leave it as it was and just turn my body over.
 
He swished the cane a few times through the air. The rain was really heavy by now and P told me it was perfect caning weather, I know his sense of humour, I knew it wasn't going to be a serious caning, not with a sheet for protection although I didn't have any knickers on underneath.
 
"Best make use of it," he said cheerily, "in case it does continue into the day, then I might have to cane you without the benefit of the thunder to disguise the strokes. And your whimpers."
 
I like hearing him say that sort of thing. Then he told me it made a lovely target, my bottom cheeks like sculptures, two mounds rising up under the thin cotton, offering themselves for chastisement. What sort of drivel was that I thought, but I'm sure I raised said bottom cheeks a tad higher. Then I felt the first thwack, sharp as a thunder crack. Followed by another and another before I could catch my breath. He gave me six then ordered me to shuffle to the middle of the bed and he walked round to the other side. I felt him take hold of the sheet and though he was going to unveil me but instead he adjusted it so that it was tight and smooth against my bottom, I guess I ravelled it when I shuffled across. The rain slowed a bit and I heard the stroke swish through the air, god it was sharp and I squealed. Another five, which had me wriggling I hoped lasciviously for all I was worth, and then I felt him lifting and sliding the sheet off my shoulders and down my back. He rested in the small of my back and stroked, then continued over my hips and buttocks making me release weight from side to side to let it slide. He stopped it half way down my thighs and told me my bottom looked very red but there were no stripes.
 
I felt him straighten up, then he told me a bottom had to have stripes after a visit from the cane, then he gave me another six swishes and they seemed extra hard because I'd just had six from that side and I squealed quite a bit but still raised my bottom for more, greedy slut that I am. P walked casually back to the original side of the bed and gave me six real stingers, absolute humdingers that made my eyes water. The rain had picked up again, I thought he might go with it, I didn't want him to but I didn't want him to stop either. I watched him walk back to the wardrobe and replace the cane, this time he walked back to the bed with just a hard on.
 
He got in beside me and snuggled. More lightning and thunder followed. I wanted sex but I wanted to enjoy the moment too. P stayed my hand when I reached across for his cock, goodness knows where his self control comes from because he'd looked pretty urgent as he'd strode across the room. We lay there enjoying the storm, I eventually drifted back to sleep, I don't know whether P did but when I woke back up it was seven thirty and he was still next to me. This time I didn't bother reaching for him, instead I snuggled my head down under the flimsy sheet and found his cock with my mouth. It had been sleeping but it didn't take long to wake up and a few minutes later we could have done with some more of that thunder to mask the roar of my husband as I thanked him for my caning.
 
Ronnie
xx 

13 comments:

an English Rose said...

Hi Ronnie, A nice adventure on holiday! WE could do with a bit of that rain round here.....
love Jan, xx

Roz said...

Hi Ronnie,

What a fantastic way to spend a stormy morning, and clever of P to cane you during the storm to mask any noise. Very nice, and hot! I hope the rain cleared up for you later in the day.

Hugs
Roz

Ella said...

Oh, Ronnie, even without the holiday and the good food and the long walk, this is a lovely memory. You didn't fool me though. I knew right from the start that the flag was attached to the cane.

I am heading to our favorite pub at 12 noon today with Son #1 to watch the England game and swill some of my favorite IPA.

Go England!!!!
And Hugs Across the Pond, of course,
Ella

Windy said...

Being from the USA, I have to calculate how many inches all those centimeters are. So with canes, the length varies it seems, but does the diameter change as well? Storm and I have not had one yet and have only use dowel rods here and there, but I am sure there is no comparison at all to the cane experience. Hmmm. I do like sting...... but gosh, if it is bringing tears to YOUR eyes, I best wait, I think, for now. Always enjoy your stories. Sounds like a kinky, sexy, and lovely time you had with your man and his flag pole... both of his flag poles! :)

Leigh Smith said...

Love your adventures - and P's logic gave me a chuckle.

Hermione said...

Hi Ronnie,

We could use a bit of that rain (and the accompanying cane) here too!

Hugs,
Hermione

Rosie Jones said...

It’s good to know the cane’s clever disguise worked so well, Ronnie. The thunder was helpful too, disguising the sound of the caning!
Rosie xx

Our Bottoms Burn said...

I think the US is one of 2 of 3 countries that are not metric. When I was a young person, I thought we should go metric. Now, it's a constant irritant. Two sets of wrenches. Watching a show and they say the Solomon Islands are 1,500 kilometers from the nearest land leaves me scratching my head.

Good recount, as usual. Thanks for sharing.

Michael M said...

Good to see that you evaded identification of the implement at border control and that the cane was put to good use on the holiday. The flag is somewhat redundant now but you may want to keep it for when you holiday during the next Euro matches.

ronnie said...

Jan - Thanks. I'm surprised there hasn't been a hose pipe ban.

Roz - The rest of the day was perfect. Thanks.

Ella - Thanks. Clever of P as I wouldn't have thought of it. Sad night for the the UK but very proud of Gareth and the lads.

Windy - Thanks. We did have a lovely time. I wished we still used feet and inches. Yes length as does the diameter. Never had a dowel used but there definitely would be a difference. Thinner the cane, more of a sting.

SG - Happy you had a laugh. Thanks.

Hermione - I could only help out with the one:) Thanks.

Rosie - Was a celver idea I thought. Thanks.

OBB - I know what you mean. Bring back feet and inches for me:) Thanks.

Michael - I've left it on one of my canes. 2 years to Euro I think. Thanks.

Love,
Ronnie
xx

Fondles said...

What a lovely story - totally holiday-ey, what with the rain, the storm, the sheet, the snuggling, the swishing. ah... sigh... now *I* wanna go on holiday to somewhere with a storm!

Red said...

Wat a delightful way to start the day, but not so certain about 5:30 in the morning. thanks for sharing
bottoms up
Red

Yorkie69 said...

I always enjoy your writing Ronnie. Always makes me wish I was in your place and that it was my wife doing what P does.

Sigh...

Yorkie