Four Poster Caning

Have you ever been caned in. Or I suppose on, a four-poster bed? Yes I thought you probably had:) well I hadn't, at least not until our recent trip to Ireland.

We (meaning I) had some trouble booking accommodation, Dublin was 'FULL' so it seemed on all the booking sites, unless you were prepared to pay upwards of £200 a night, well you can imagine my husband's response to that prospect, I couldn't understand why it was so busy although later we found out AC/DC were playing a sellout concert and that had squeezed accommodation. Anyway I found us a nice guest house which was three Georgian houses joined together and looked really nice, walking distance to the city but in a leafy suburb. When we got there we were delighted, it was full of character, lovely staff and the rooms were massive, we had a four poster bed, 

high ceiling, antique furniture and Impressionist prints around the walls, it put to shame many a standard 4* or even 5* we've stayed at, the only small point it didn't have aircon but the room was so big and airy, and with huge sash windows which opened fully, we didn't need it. I got us the last available room, which was actually a junior suite but we got it for the double rate, I don't know why.

My husband told me within minutes of being in the room that he would be caning me on the four-poster. I told him he'd have a job without a cane, then he told me had an otk cane with him, I laughed and said he wouldn't have dared go through airport security with one. Then he said he hadn't...both of us had. Apparently he had pulled our otk cane apart and the handle grip was in my overnighter (unknown to me) and the cane part was in P's bag, just a 'kids flagpole' or whatever if he was stopped and searched and, if I'd been stopped, well I genuinely wouldn't have put two and two together and would just have said I didn't know what the handle was doing in my bag but what business was it of theirs anyway. I mean it's quite ridiculous the trouble we go to to hide or camouflage things which aren't illegal or anybody else's business other than our own, but I know we're not the only couple who do it.

So there's the background, all the ingredients were there, all it needed was a catalyst and my husband provided it, he doesn't normally indulge in a lot of spanking talk (more's the pity for me because I like it) but on this occasion he did. He did it alongside making some phone calls and answering some emails, it was matter of fact, as if what he'd said was going to happen had to happen, it was a given, it was just a case of when and how and how hard. He said it would be an almost criminal waste of opportunity not to be caned in such a lovely room. Full of history, he said, he imagined I wouldn't be the first person to be caned in the property, he asked me if I could imagine wives, girlfriends and domestic staff dressed in the style of the days in which the property was built, the courtesies and protocols they used, I told him I could (thinking Downton). He told me he could too, and he could also see the formally attired gentlemen of the day, doing business, taking charge of affairs, doing what had to be done...he kept throwing little bits like this in, adding stuff about discipline and how important it had been to maintain it in those days, he looked up at me from time to time and asked 'didn't I agree?'  and 'I could just imagine it couldn't you?', I answered with a 'Hmm' or a nod of the head and I think once a 'Oh yes definitely' at which point I was struggling to keep the hoarseness out of my voice. I know my knickers were damp, I wondered if Victorian girls got damp knickers.

Then he told me he was going into town and I should come with him, he had to go to a Chinese restaurant, not to eat, he said it wouldn't take long, it would be a nice walk the weather was lovely and he said he'd treat me to tea or ice cream on the river. I went with him because I didn't want to spend the next few hours reading or dreaming about Victorians or getting on and off the four-poster bed wondering if he really would do it. P didn't talk about spanking on the way into town, he was mentally running through a list of things he had to cover with the Chinese client, he always does that before meetings, he did pat my bum a couple of times though and I rubbed against him in appreciation. His meeting took an hour, I found a shopping mall in St Stephens and killed time. We didn't have ice cream but we did sit on the river bank after and have coffee and chocolate, there was a kiosk with alfresco seats and it was lovely in the sunshine. I asked about his meeting and it had gone fine, I could tell that anyway from his relaxed attitude, and then spanking returned to the conversation when a couple of girls in tight shorts walked past and I smiled and said nice, and my husband said they wouldn't have thought it nice if they'd dressed like that in Victorian days, he rested his hand on my knee as he said it. We crossed over the river and got a taxi back to the hotel, we were coming back into town later in the evening we had a table booked at Fire Restaurant but we both wanted showers and he had some emails he wanted to send too as a result of his meeting.

I showered while P did his mail, I came out with a large bath robe wrapped round me and took the spare hairdryer off its hook to start drying my hair. P got up and went to the bathroom and as my eyes followed him out I noticed our otk cane had been reassembled and lay on the bed. Oh god he was going to do it then, I dried my hair as quickly as I could, wondering as I did it whether I should stay naked under my robe or fish out the best underwear I'd got with me and slip some tight fitting trousers on (I remembered his comment about the girls). In the end I slipped some nice knickers on, satin peach with a lace trim, they shimmered as I moved. I put trousers on then took them off. I didn't wear a bra or top, when I heard the shower stop I scurried to the big bay window and stood looking out, there were groups of people making their way along the road to a nearby stadium, I didn't think they could see me if they looked up but I did think my silhouette from behind, set against the light from the window would be a seductive sight for my husband when he came out of the shower, I think a TV ad had influenced me although I don't suppose I looked like the girl in the ad. I heard P walk into the room and pretended to be startled, I didn't turn round though, I though he might come up and put his hand on my bottom but he didn't. Instead he told me it was time for my caning and to turn round and come over to him, he had a bath towel around his waist and he looked tanned against the white of it, his body always looks tanned. He let the towel slip when I got close and I could see he was rigid, I went to touch it but he told me I couldn't I was having my bottom caned and there would be no hanky panky. I thought surely to god he's not going to waste that after caning my bottom but I didn't say it.

P got on the bed with pillows stacked up behind his back and told me to crawl up and get across his thighs. I could feel his cock hard against my left hip and I could feel myself wet between my legs, I thought the material of my knickers would probably show it and the thought made me wetter. He asked me how hard a caning I should get, he said he thought it should be hard. I asked him what it was for and he said it was because he'd told me he was going to and then, with a flash of inspiration, added that standing by the window exposing myself was another reason, in fact it was shameful exhibitionism and in his opinion deserved a severe thrashing. I felt the butterflies in my stomach and whimpered my complete agreement.

So I got thrashed, I don't know if it was severe, I doubt it because the otk cane isn't as long or swishy as full length ones but it still hurt, in the most wickedly delicious way you understand and I wriggled and bucked and clenched and pleaded across my husband's thighs for several minutes while he caned my bottom. When he stopped I felt disappointed but I needn't have, it was just to shuffle me further down his legs so that he could get a better swing. And pull my knickers down. Oh my! Round two really packed a sting and I had to hold on to P's ankle with one hand with the other over my mouth to stop me crying out. I tried to slither into a position where I could rub against his knee but he spotted me and parted his legs under me so I had a void under the bit I wanted to rub. I cried in frustration and the caning continued until my husband decided I'd learned my lesson and asked me if I'd be standing in the window again any time soon. I said no in a small weepy voice. He told me to pull my knickers up and sit next to him, I thought he was going to make me service his cock which was still hard, but he didn't, instead he put his arm round me and asked me how I'd enjoyed my first (and probably only ever, I thought) caning in a four poster bed. I snuggled against him and placed his hand between my legs and said he could find out for himself but he didn't, he told me to get dressed we needed to be out within twenty minutes if we were going to make our table booking, he intended to walk into town as it was such nice weather.

So I went out horny and we had a lovely meal, I can recommend Fire to anyone, and I still had a sting in my bum as we sat chatting over dinner and I loved it. We had cocktails too and on the way back we stopped at a real Irish bar, the sort where they have 'the craic' not an internationalised bar, and we both drank Guinness and talked for a while with some Aussie backpackers who thought we knew our way around but got fed up of us when they realised we didn't:)

Back at our hotel I was ready to be fucked but P wasn't, he said it was far too quiet, it was too. So we waited till morning when traffic was on the road and the local train had resumed its service and staff were turning up for work, the TV did the rest. Apart from the fucking of course.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx