Pre-dinner Cocktail

Forget it, I've discovered a pre-dinner caning can be far headier, last longer, cost nothing and promote sizzling conversation.

Well to the extent that my conversation can be sizzling at all. Perhaps I should have said animated conversation and reserve sizzling for the condition of my bottom, because it was, from the moment we got into Rob's car (no driving yay!) and I kept sitting forward, then to this side and that, then shuffling back again, I'm sure Linda thought I was livelier  than ever, good company eh, and really interested in all the usual small talk that passes between friends when they join up. If only she'd seen me twenty minutes before they collected us and if only she could see my husband's hand cupping my scorched cheeks alternately as I shifted around on the back seat of their car, she might have twigged that my mind wasn't entirely focused on the weather or her new outfit.

You see my husband had caned me before we came out. He'd waited till I'd showered, dressed, applied a drop of Chanel and a smear of lippy, checked my bum in the mirror (I can get into a pair of RL Weekenders which I haven't been able to without a shoe horn for ages) and then told me he wanted me to come into the office. I knew what it must be for, after all he had threatened it yesterday, but this late? Linda and Rob would be here any time, I was dressed and couldn't be disturbed, it wasn't right, better postpone it till the next day or the day after, I suggested. Not a chance. P told me this was exactly the correct time to cane my naughty bottom, as he'd promised. He told me this as he was walking me to the office.

Whatever babble I came out with to try and wiggle out of it had no effect at all. He stood me at the desk by the window, I could see Maureen across the road swilling her car and I thought must make a smile and a casual wave if she looks up, not easy to do when you're having your trousers undone and wrestled down to your knees. I had a thong on, I never wear them normally although I have a few, I put one on just because I was so pleased with the RL fit nice and snug and didn't want a line. Well I got some lines and the RL fit got snugger.

P made a comment about the underwear, he said good, didn't have to waste time removing it. He pushed my back forward and down until my tummy and hips were against the desk surface and I couldn't see Maureen any more because my head was flat against the desk top, below window height. P was standing to my left, I don't know how much of him might have been seen if anyone had been looking from outside, I thought probably not much, perhaps just his arm swinging into view a few times, quite a few actually, but they wouldn't know what it was doing, I doubted if they'd see the cane unless they were rude enough to stare. Then I felt the first stroke, well I heard it first then felt it then there was a delay while my brain worked out how bad it was then there was an almighty gasp from me, shock at the pain and a long muffled Ooooooh Noooo all within a second or so. Shuffling and stamping of legs to make it obvious to my husband that it hurt. Wishing Maureen wasn't doing her stupid car so that I could shout louder. P probably enjoyed the stomping and the noise I made, nice little show for him I supposed as my bum wobbled atop my protesting legs and an angry red line emerged. I thought I'll just keep still and not make any sound and don't give him the satisfaction. Then the next stroke landed and I stomped even more and Pleeeeeaaase-Ooh-not-so-hard-ooh-it-stings came out or words to that effect.

My husband must have enjoyed all my activity and vocalising I'm sure but he must have known it was hard and he certainly knew we didn't have much time. He helped me a bit by placing his left hand gently but firmly in the small of my back and telling me to try and keep still, there's a good girl. Then he whipped me a number of times in quick succession, so quick it took my breath away and the pain sort of merged and I could hardly respond individually instead I just writhed and moaned across the desk until it stopped, then I squealed and shuddered and lay still. I heard P putting the cane on top of the cupboard then his hands were on my shoulders and he was helping me up. He kissed me on the back of my neck, patted my bottom which made me jump, and told me to put myself straight, didn't want to be holding things up. Cheeky sod. As he went out the office door he looked back and told me my bum looked nice. It didn't feel nice as I struggled back into my RL's, I'm quite sure bottoms get bigger after they've been thrashed, they certainly feel it.

So that was what happened. I put myself straight as he put it, checked myself in the mirror, checked my bum again to see if it looked as if I'd been caned, I did look from the left and the right because of the light, I couldn't see anything that would suggest I'd been caned it was just in my mind that I feel conspicuous after a good spanking. Ah well, in its own way it's a curiously nice feeling once the initial shock has mellowed, and this evening was no different and P's prediction that we'd have an enjoyable time came true. And when we got home at the end of it, after a drink or two more than normal because of the no driving, I could hardly keep my hands off my husband. It's funny what a pre-dinner caning can do for a girl, I had the strongest urge to drain my husband's cock that I've had for a long time so I lay on the settee with my head in P's lap and did him while he watched the tail end of Newsnight. 

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx