Caned as requested

"I didn't request a fucking caning!" I remonstrated when my husband told me to see him upstairs in half an hour for the caning I'd asked for.

"Yes you did," he calmly but firmly told me, "well you may not have specifically requested one, in fact I can't think of any occasion when you have, but by your behaviour in bed the other morning you clearly indicated that you were in need of some correction, more than the little cheek warming I gave you at the time. The cane is the finest way I know of correcting naughty girls and so it shall be. Don't dilly dally, I expect you in the office in thirty minutes." And that was that.

Well almost. He shouted back on his way up the stairs, "And watch your language too."

Shit. Shit and Yippee. So he hadn't forgotten but what a way to spring it on me, no build-up, no time to warm to the prospect, to get my head around it. Thirty minutes notice when I'd been doing other things, my mind completely away from anything spanking related, is hardly fair. I mean I knew he couldn't do it for a couple of days because we had our granddaughter staying but he could at least have steered my mindset in the right direction rather than springing it on me. Spanking thoughts are much better appreciated when you're warm and snugly in bed, not when you're mid-way through shopping online. So I didn't want it but I didn't want it not to happen either.

Anyway thirty minutes later I poked my head around the office door. "Reporting for the cane. Sir." I thought a light hearted approach might get me off lightly, I hadn't been caned for quite a while and I have to say that even though I trust P and his decisions, the cane still makes me goosey especially after a long break. His words and behaviour determine how it goes, whether he's strict and to the point or fiery and verbose, angry or amused, it all makes a difference to how I take it. Well I needn't have been too worried because for one he'd got the shorter cane on the desk, for two our neighbour was outside cleaning his car and although a hedge separates us and his pressure washer makes a noise I didn't think P would want me yelling too much, and for three he was regarding me with amusement, perhaps even relish.

He'd cleared space on the desk top, bare except for his cane which he picked up and then stood back leaving me plenty of space. He told me to take off my jeans, my knickers came halfway down with them too but he made me pull them back up telling me he didn't want to see my bare bottom I was there to be caned not to jiggle my assets about. So I jiggled back into them, then he told me to bend over the desk and he came close behind me and thumbed the waistband of my knickers higher pulling the flimsy material taut into my cheeks. I gasped and let the teeniest squeal out. We usually have a plant and some photos standing on the window ledge but they'd been moved and I could see out and, logically, my face could be seen through the window.

"People can see me," I said.

"You'd better not grimace or make too much fuss then, had you, it's only your head that can be seen," was all he said. The road was actually deserted.

Then he stood back and I sensed him raise his arm up, then the quick whoosh and then the sharp sting as the cane landed across my bottom causing me to jolt forward and whimper. I used to think, mistakenly, that a whimper, sounding girlish as it does, might appeal to his male protective instinct and make him go a bit lighter. It doesn't, in fact it might appeal to different male instinct and make him go harder, lol, but anyway I still do it. The next stroke was harder and the one after that harder still. He gave me four and then moved me slightly so that he could cane from my right side and even the impact on my bottom, thoughtful that he is. In some respects:) I squealed but didn't scream. I also squiggled my bottom and stomped my feet side to side. Well it hurts! He gave me six from the right side then went back to the left and gave me another three. The last one caught me on my thigh and that one did make me shout out and jump. He apologised immediately, he hadn't meant that. I knew it anyway. Seconds later I felt both his hands on my bottom, I made to get up but he told me no, to stay bent over the desk. Then he pulled my knickers down and told me I could jiggle my assets now if I needed to help cool them down. I wobbled them. He hadn't really lectured me much so far but he told me now what a naughty provocative girl I'd been earlier in the week and that he hoped I'd learned my lesson. I purred and told him I was still learning it and I pushed my bottom back to see how near he was. I couldn't feel him but then he moved forward and I felt his crotch pushing against me, he was obviously erect and I felt myself dampen at the touch. He unbuttoned his fly and released himself, telling me again to stay down as his cock sprung forward and settled at my entrance. "Oh do it!" I pleaded.

He did the decent thing and his thighs hit my tortured buttocks each time he plunged into me and I think on the fourth plunge I screamed out and thank god the pressure washer was still going. P growled out a climax plunge or two later and then we lay a while joined together, laughing. If anyone had walked past they would have wondered what on earth was going on. Oh well they didn't.

Don't let it go so long next time please, P. Or perhaps it's down to me to ensure that.

Ronnie
xx