And it hurt. I'd almost forgotten how much the cane hurt and then,
after, when the vicious sting and the relentless resurging pulses of
pain had eased off a bit, I marvelled as I reflected on how often I used
to get it and how I used to look forward to it. Maybe I'm just getting
older and can't take it so well or maybe my husband has become stricter
(I don't think so) or maybe it was never actually the caning that was
attractive but the build up and the aftercare. Anyway so far there
hadn't been any aftercare, I was just sitting on the bed with a sore
bottom wondering whether to go downstairs where he'd gone or sit
upstairs for hours to make him feel bad, which it probably wouldn't.
Eventually I did go down about an hour after he'd caned me, I
washed my face first, brushed my hair and put tiny dab of Chanel on,
ridiculous isn't it, I wanted to look bright and fresh, obviously for my
man as there was no-one else about, yet he hadn't even bothered to pull
my knickers back up for me or issue a post caning lecture or anything
to suggest there might be aftercare later. It made me wonder if he was
going off me, I mean I can remember canings when I've been plunged into
with some urgency while my knickers have still been around my ankles and
I have screamed in wicked ecstasy. Not so on this occasion.
As I walked down the stairs I got another of those shooting pains,
seemingly random now as opposed to every so many minutes, maybe it was
my jeans that caused it, they seemed tighter than they had when I'd put
them on first thing. I winced and thought about changing them for a
looser pair, I didn't want him to see me wince if it happened again. But
then again if he heard me on the stairs, stop and go back up, then come
down again, he'd know something was up, he'd notice a change of jeans
for sure. Wouldn't he? No on second thoughts probably not, men don't. He
probably wasn't even thinking about my caned bottom at all. I carried
on down and into the lounge, I felt my face flush as i walked in and
briskly headed for the kitchen, he didn't even look up. He must have
heard me flick the kettle on and he shouted that he'd have one if I was
brewing, he said it completely normally like he would and does any time.
I thought what a bastard, has he forgotten that he not long ago caned
me? I reached back and touched my bum to make sure it hadn't been a
dream. It hadn't.
I put his tea on a table near him, I put a coaster under it because to
my annoyance he never does. Then I went and sat on the other side of the
room, I didn't put my own cup down because that would have meant
bending away from him and I didn't want him looking at my bum, probably
kidding myself that he'd even want to the way he was acting. When I sat
in the Ikea chair, which was furthest from him, I had to shuffle a bit
because it's only thinly padded which is good for posture but not for
sore bottoms. I used my phone to check and answer some messages, I
prefer my iPad but that was over on the sofa and I didn't want to get up
again. After about twenty minutes he was going into town, he wanted
something from Waitrose and did I want to come, he was going to take a
walk round the old part by the cathedral and then through the park and
Waitrose on the way back. Combining shopping with exercise, he said. I
looked up and smiled, god knows how I managed that, and said in a bright
tone that it would be nice.
So off we went and I was careful not to mention the rights or wrongs of
what we were doing, as that had been the cause of us having words
earlier although it had morphed into other stuff which I won't bore you
with, and I was glad of the outing and by the time we were on our way
back my bottom was simmering dully, the sharper pains gone except the
odd reminder when I moved in certain ways. I was getting horny. Our
disagreement hadn't been mentioned at all. I put my hand across onto his
thigh, it was in the way of him changing gear but he put his own on top
of mine until he needed to shift down and I retracted. When we'd
cleared a roundabout he reached out and took my hand back and I knew
things were okay. I apologised for the arguing earlier (although it
takes two) and he squeezed my hand. I knew aftercare would come later.
It did and it was very intense. And still he didn't refer to the fact
he'd caned me. And neither did I. And I really really wished we weren't
under lockdown because I would have suggested going out somewhere cosy
for a bite to eat instead of having dinner in, because I felt warm and
very close and wanted everyone to see it. I also wanted aftercare again.
We obviously couldn't eat out but I did get a second dose of aftercare.
And I suppose, now that it's behind me, I did 'enjoy' getting caned
again, maybe I'd been without it for too long, better not tell him that
though.
Stay safe. Please social distance, wear your face covering and keep washing your hands.
Have a fun weekend.
Ronnie
xx
