I got caned

And it hurt. I'd almost forgotten how much the cane hurt and then, after, when the vicious sting and the relentless resurging pulses of pain had eased off a bit, I marvelled as I reflected on how often I used to get it and how I used to look forward to it. Maybe I'm just getting older and can't take it so well or maybe my husband has become stricter (I don't think so) or maybe it was never actually the caning that was attractive but the build up and the aftercare. Anyway so far there hadn't been any aftercare, I was just sitting on the bed with a sore bottom wondering whether to go downstairs where he'd gone or sit upstairs for hours to make him feel bad, which it probably wouldn't.

Eventually I did go down about an hour after he'd caned me, I washed my face first, brushed my hair and put tiny dab of Chanel on, ridiculous isn't it, I wanted to look bright and fresh, obviously for my man as there was no-one else about, yet he hadn't even bothered to pull my knickers back up for me or issue a post caning lecture or anything to suggest there might be aftercare later. It made me wonder if he was going off me, I mean I can remember canings when I've been plunged into with some urgency while my knickers have still been around my ankles and I have screamed in wicked ecstasy. Not so on this occasion.
 
As I walked down the stairs I got another of those shooting pains, seemingly random now as opposed to every so many minutes, maybe it was my jeans that caused it, they seemed tighter than they had when I'd put them on first thing. I winced and thought about changing them for a looser pair, I didn't want him to see me wince if it happened again. But then again if he heard me on the stairs, stop and go back up, then come down again, he'd know something was up, he'd notice a change of jeans for sure. Wouldn't he? No on second thoughts probably not, men don't. He probably wasn't even thinking about my caned bottom at all. I carried on down and into the lounge, I felt my face flush as i walked in and briskly headed for the kitchen, he didn't even look up. He must have heard me flick the kettle on and he shouted that he'd have one if I was brewing, he said it completely normally like he would and does any time. I thought what a bastard, has he forgotten that he not long ago caned me? I reached back and touched my bum to make sure it hadn't been a dream. It hadn't.
 
I put his tea on a table near him, I put a coaster under it because to my annoyance he never does. Then I went and sat on the other side of the room, I didn't put my own cup down because that would have meant bending away from him and I didn't want him looking at my bum, probably kidding myself that he'd even want to the way he was acting. When I sat in the Ikea chair, which was furthest from him, I had to shuffle a bit because it's only thinly padded which is good for posture but not for sore bottoms. I used my phone to check and answer some messages, I prefer my iPad but that was over on the sofa and I didn't want to get up again. After about twenty minutes he was going into town, he wanted something from Waitrose and did I want to come, he was going to take a walk round the old part by the cathedral and then through the park and Waitrose on the way back. Combining shopping with exercise, he said. I looked up and smiled, god knows how I managed that, and said in a bright tone that it would be nice.
 
So off we went and I was careful not to mention the rights or wrongs of what we were doing, as that had been the cause of us having words earlier although it had morphed into other stuff which I won't bore you with, and I was glad of the outing and by the time we were on our way back my bottom was simmering dully, the sharper pains gone except the odd reminder when I moved in certain ways. I was getting horny. Our disagreement hadn't been mentioned at all. I put my hand across onto his thigh, it was in the way of him changing gear but he put his own on top of mine until he needed to shift down and I retracted. When we'd cleared a roundabout he reached out and took my hand back and I knew things were okay. I apologised for the arguing earlier (although it takes two) and he squeezed my hand. I knew aftercare would come later. 
 
It did and it was very intense. And still he didn't refer to the fact he'd caned me. And neither did I. And I really really wished we weren't under lockdown because I would have suggested going out somewhere cosy for a bite to eat instead of having dinner in, because I felt warm and very close and wanted everyone to see it. I also wanted aftercare again. We obviously couldn't eat out but I did get a second dose of aftercare. And I suppose, now that it's behind me, I did 'enjoy' getting caned again, maybe I'd been without it for too long, better not tell him that though.

Stay safe. Please social distance,  wear your face covering and keep washing your hands.

Have a fun weekend.
 
Ronnie
xx