Lockdown Caning

Unreasonable for sure, well in my opinion it was, but I got unexpectedly, three weeks or so into lockdown and the first 'words' we'd had. I mean harsh words not teasers. They say the mental health of nations is as much a concern as the physical and economic health and that the longer lockdowns continue, the greater tensions will build. Well I'm not saying my husband is suffering mental health issues, aside from any he may already have been carrying (joke, P!), but he has definitely been getting tetchy lately and I suppose maybe I have too. Anyway we clashed.

It happened, or started, over travelling to the supermarket but spread to other related things, I won't go into all of them. Basically P insists we should go into town when we want to buy food, in spite of there being corner stores much nearer and more than one supermarket within walking distance, about half an hour at a fair pace. We've walked it several times and P has been good natured about it all but it's been starting to wear thin and I know he can be exasperated when we get there and there's a queue outside and then you can't find what you want on the shelves, I'm not talking loo rolls and things like that but fresh coriander, root ginger or eggs, that sort of stuff (my husband likes to cook). So he gets the car and heads for Waitrose but that's still pot luck and then if he doesn't find what he wants it's into town. How would he explain that to a policeman? I think he'd have some difficulty if he told the truth.

So words had been exchanged between us over a few days, me disapproving but him insisting it was acceptable to buy what he 'needed' and that he was perfectly capable of distancing responsibly. I have to agree that my husband is good at distancing, he's perfectly happy not to engage with anyone at all depending what mood he's in:)

Anyway we got to the point where an exchange between us got a bit heated and I called him pig-headed and arrogant and I was sure neighbours would have noted the number of times he was in and out in the car and why should he be any different from them, he should follow the rules like everyone else. He told me if I didn't like it I didn't have to eat stuff he bought or make use of other things he brought back from his trips, I could live on stale toast pot noodles and tinned vegetables if I wanted. I shouted at him not to be so fucking stupid. Then he took me upstairs and caned me.

He shuffled me into the office and reached on top of the book cupboard but didn't find what he was looking for so he told me to stand by the desk and wait while he left the room. He was back in less than a minute with a cane in his hand, he didn't go into any sort of lecture, just walked up and turned me round facing the desk and window, then bent me forward. I was resisting pushing back against his left hand and he swished the cane across the top of my thighs sharply. It stung, I only had shorts on and I cried out, he told me to bend over the desk then or I'd get a lot more like that and he eased the pressure off his left hand to give me the chance to obey. I hesitated and told him I was sorry for what I'd said and he didn't need to do this but he just reiterated his instruction. I bent over, part way leaning on my elbows and then on second thoughts all the way flat with my belly against the desk top, showing no resistance might get it over sooner.

He pulled my shorts down to my thighs and they fell to the floor when I shuffled. My knickers followed and I gasped aloud as the first stroke landed with a thwack across my bottom. As always with the cane the first sharp shock is followed immediately by a much deeper pain which makes you want to stand. I didn't, just yelled out more and then a second stroke followed and a third so quickly I could hardly get my breath. 'Nooooooooooo....please!!' I bellowed as I shuffled my legs on the spot. I could feel tears welling. P put his hand on the small of my back and told me to keep still, then I sensed him move closer against the desk, I knew why, it was because he wanted to re-balance so that both buttocks got the same message. The brief lull gave me a chance to say sorry again but he wasn't interested. He gave me three more strokes, very firmly and very quickly and my outraged bottom burned like fire. I shouted because I had to but tried to make it not like a scream in case people heard. If anyone had been in the room below they might have been more alarmed by the frantic thumping on the floor which was my feet drumming on the spot. 'Please P....please.....that really hurts I'm sorry you know I am....please!!' He stopped and stood back. Told me to make myself respectable when I was ready, no more arguing, he was going downstairs. He left the office and I went to the bathroom after a few minutes to wash my face then to the bedroom to brush my hair. I stood in front of the tall mirror and pulled my shorts and pants down, my backside was throbbing like mad and had red ridges across it. He'd only given me six strokes, I've often had much more than that, but goodness me he did them effectively.

When I went into the kitchen about thirty minutes later P was sat on a high stool sipping tea and reading something on his phone. I could see he'd made a mug of tea for me too but when I picked it up it was only luke warm and I popped it in the microwave. He glanced up and said sorry, he'd made it too soon. When it pinged I took my mug and dragged a stool from under the work bench. The plastic top was cold against my thighs and I jumped before settling my full weight down then winced as my bottom reminded me how much it had been hurt. I took a sip of tea quickly I didn't want him to see the wince on my face but I think he knew.

It wasn't mentioned for the rest of the day and by evening we were chatting away as normal. But I'm not bringing up lockdown shopping any time soon:)

Stay in, stay safe and try to have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx