Saturday night caning

Almost through the holiday weekend and all's well, in fact all's better than well. I'm sitting, as I type, on a still slightly sore backside from an incident on Saturday night which I'll tell you about shortly, we've jumped further along the road to organising a China trip, P's brother got some very good news and our son's taking mom and dad out for a beer or two at a jazz night in one of the local pubs tonight. I think the one that means most to me is the jazz night, it was our son's second payday Thursday in his new and first proper job since uni and its nice to get invited for a beer instead of being asked for some beer money. And hey, he's not ashamed to be seen out with his mom and dad, so I won't let him down, I can drink beer from the bottle, by the pint, even knock back a Guinness, when in Rome and all that, I'm looking forward to it. If they have upholstered seats so much the better.

So to Saturday and my own upholstered seat getting some unexpected but deserved attention. Last weekend I really wanted to get into 'trouble' (if you read my Friday post you'd know) and it didn't happen, but this weekend I had no such intention and it happened quite naturally, and forcefully, after I lost it at P's mother's, where we had dinner. Yes I know.

Everything was going okayish, we'd agreed we'd leave as early as politeness permitted because we were driving up to Chester early Sunday morning but that didn't happen because of a few things his mom brought up which P felt needed airing and I was totally bored with having heard it more than once. I had a couple of extra glasses of wine while they put the world to rights, eventually just at after eleven pm I started kicking P's ankles under the dinner table, I think his mother noticed, I can't imagine how unless it was the look he gave me, anyway she found more incredibly important matters to burden P, I'm sure she did it on purpose and I opened another bottle of wine. P stopped me from pouring, jammed the cork back in the bottle and said it was time to go, he hadn't noticed the time. His mom looked disappointed we weren't staying longer but I did see a hint of a smirk when she saw him stop my hand from pouring?

It's only a short drive from his mother's and it was made in silence. Our son was out with his friends, I was about to go into the lounge when P's hand gripped my upper arm, I turned admittedly aggressively and he just said 'Now,' and propelled me towards and up the stairs. I shook his hand off at the top and went to go towards the loo but he grabbed me again and shuffled me into the bedroom, he started telling me how unacceptable my little tantrums were, it was always over his mother, it was childish, there were responsibilities which he took seriously even if I didn't etc etc. So it was obvious what he was intending to do, ''You can't, it'll wake the neighbours,'' I said in a spitting whisper. ''What I'm going to do won't wake the neighbours, any fuss you make might but that's up to you,'' he said, and he went to the wardrobe and took out a green garden cane. ''Oh no you're not,'' having felt it in play I was in no mood to acquiesce, but my protest didn't get me anywhere other than across a doubled over pillow near the centre of the bed. P's a lot heavier than me and much stronger, if push comes to shove there's no point struggling although I would probably have made the effort if it hadn't been so damned quiet. He roughly unfastened my jeans and dragged them and my knickers down to almost my knees, placed a hand firmly in the small of my back and caned me. He did it hard and quite fast and I'd say more than a dozen times, the noise of the swishing and the sharp thwacks would have been over in not much more than a minute, any neighbour curiosity would have been short lived, not long enough to put two and two together. As for me I could hardly find enough bed to writhe into and I'd stuffed my face into the other pillow to muffle my distress.

I heard P leave the bedroom and go downstairs. I stayed on the bed, pulled the duvet round me and thought what a bastard I had for a husband, it was all his mother's fault, I wanted to cry, I tried snivelling but couldn't, I heard the tv switch on downstairs. After about 15 minutes I got up, pulled my pants up and went down. P was sitting sipping a small glass of whisky watching Sky news, I said I was sorry, got myself some water and went to bed.

I was melting into sleep twenty minutes later when I heard P get into bed, I instinctively moved further to my side when I felt his hand rest on my punished backside but his hand didn't move, and two minutes later I was nuzzling back into it as I drifted off.

Yesterday morning the skin on my bum felt tight, it was sore to touch in places, I reached across to P's side of the bed but it was empty he'd gone to collect the Sunday morning papers. I moved across to his side, where his man scent still lingered and curled up for an extra 10 minutes, wishing he might come back to bed but knowing he wouldn't.

We went up to Chester as planned, nothing was said of Saturday night, I enjoyed the day very much.

Ronnie

xx

Picture from Carly, Brambleberry Blush