Another Year Starts

Hope you enjoyed all the celebratipons last night.

I don't really blog these days so thank you to each and everyone who stopped by my humble little blog last year. Really appreciate you taking the time.

I know I've said it before, but it's my blog and I'm going to say it again:)  -  Roz, you always leave lovely comments when I post and for a lot of bloggers. From all of us, thank you. You are a lovely friend to our community.

Wishing you all and your family a happy, healthy and prosperous 2026.

Happy New Year.

Love,

Ronnie
xx

Dragons really do breathe fire

Hope you are well. Sorry haven't been around. We were away and I've been looking after newest grandchild.

This happened a few weekends ago.

I know because I felt it on the weekend and it wasn't even an angry dragon, it was a 'friendly' one.

Don't worry I'm not going mad or hallucinating or having terrible dreams, just getting my bottom caned (a kink which has caused me considerable pain but considerable joy over more than a couple of decades, for those who don't know me) by my husband who was thoughtfully trying to give me some business ideas or so he said.

You see there is a type of cane known as dragon cane, which I've often seen advertised and usually at very high prices, which is apparently sought after by those in the know or/and with deep pockets. It hurts more than normal canes not by being longer or thicker but by being denser yet keeping all the qualities that make canes yummy (for me anyway), the swish flex and sting factors.

So P announced on Saturday that he'd got a surprise for me but he wouldn't give it me until Sunday when we had a bit more time. He wouldn't tell me what it was either. Then come Sunday morning he told me that he'd been listening to my pleas, some overt others less so, for a long time about getting more spankings and he'd decided to give me a very special spanking and possibly a business idea too. He told me this earlyish in the day to give me time to absorb what was going to happen and adjust my corrupt mind appropriately to cope with it and even look forward to it. He told me he'd acquired a dragon cane and would look forward to putting it through its paces in the afternoon if I was up for it. I was, fool that I am.

I don't know quite what possessed him to do it. I did remember a note about a package being 'undeliverable' to our house about a week ago and P saying he'd go and collect it from the sorting office not wanting me to go with him, which struck me as unusual because he hates queues and normally delegates queuing to me. He wouldn't be drawn on why he was doing it he just said it was for my good and asked me if he'd mis-heard or read what I'd been saying for ages about needing more spankings, was it true or not? My bottom actually tingled and I had to move in my seat as I said the words, 'Yes P it was true'.

So around 3 o'clock he told me to go upstairs, put on the thinnest leggings I'd got and go to the office, he'd join me there. He patted my bottom as I squeezed past him and I felt a hot flush as his eyes followed my bum up the stairs. I heard the garage door close as I was changing so guessed he'd kept his new toy in there. He was already in the office when I entered, cane in hand. I blushed as he offered it to me to feel, pointing out the sheen on the husk and lack of nodes or bends, he said he'd practised with it in the garage (Ha! He who'd given so many canings!) and judged it to be of excellent quality. He held out his hand for me to return it and told me to bend over the desk which he'd completely cleared save for a handy pack of tissues in the far corner which he's never done before and made me a bit nervous.

Long story short, he caned me, six strokes evenly spaced across the plumpest ten to fifteen centimetres of my bottom which responded at first saucily by pushing upwards but then squirming and hugging into the desk edge accompanied by outraged vocals from its owner. P stopped at six and told to keep my bottom up away from the desk for my next six which would be harder, and not to wiggle because it affected his aim. I protested and made to push up but he coaxed me back and soothed my shoulders before gently but firmly moulding my lower back to how he wanted it.

"It would be a shame to stop now we've got this far, don't you think?" He asked. I uttered something between a squeal and a sob but arched my back as his hand released; I knew the effect it had on my bottom and I knew the effect it would have on my husband. I sensed him reposition himself and then felt the first of the second salvo of strikes and it made me scream. Shush shush, I heard him say just before the next stroke landed right across my sit-spots and made me grip the desk edge with white knuckles as I uuurrrrrghhhh'd my horror. The third stroke landed somewhere I can't say exactly where because my whole backside felt like it was on fire and more pain kept coming in waves and made me stomp my feet which didn't make it go away at all but the loud and urgent drumming got P's attention. I felt his hand across my waist and he warned me, "No more of this nonsense, you're doing very well but you've got another three to go so stop this or I'll add another six." Then he stood back and gave me the last three in quick succession, faster than I could catch my breath and god knows what I was blubbering or what my poor bottom cheeks must have looked like wobbling frantically as the cane did its work and my feet continued to stomp from side to side.

Then it stopped and there was silence except for P's breathing and my, what I realised was, sobs, as extra waves of pain continued to taunt my bottom and I was scared to move in case they got worse. P loosened my finger grips on the desk and raised me up gently.

"That's it, good girl, you've had a good caning and been very brave," he said as he turned me round and nuzzled me into his shoulder. He started talking with me calmly, telling me how well the cane had behaved and how accurate it was and how with the same force he would normally apply to a caning it delivered far better results. Better, I thought! That depends which side of the cane you're on!

After ten minutes we went downstairs, I didn't feel horny, my bottom was still on fire, P said he'd look at it later. I sat cautiously on the sofa and P made us tea, when he came back he told me he thought I should consider selling the 'dragons' he thought there was a market for them. I asked him what he was going to do with the one he'd just used.

"Keep it of course," he said, "for next time, when you've been a genuinely naughty girl or when you've had that 'need to be spanked' feeling building up again and need me to help."

Hmm. I thought immediately I might not be getting that feeling so often but, by the evening, with the pain just twinges when I moved and the background more of a dull glow, I was already replaying the experience and getting little twinges of a different kind:)

Stay safe.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Oh that Cane!

I don't get very many canings these days, nowhere near as many as I used to, the natural acceptance of advancing years has mellowed both of us and the daily thrust of business, which used to help keep adrenalin levels and tensions high, is no longer an imperative. There are other stimulants of course but they're not as strong and even though I never stop wanting to get spanked, it's probably better to accept the watered down intensity and frequency with good grace.

That said, I got caned on New Year Eve daytime and it was a humdinger and probably deserved and the impression it made on my bottom lasted right through most of the evening and refreshed again next morning when I showered. Something I hadn't felt for a very long time and which made me smile warmly and want to shout out to my husband that his work was stinging me in the shower, which I didn't do of course but I did tell him later when we were cuddled together later  looking at some holiday photos.

Why did I get caned? Well it started off small, doesn't it always, with me whining about things we hadn't got done or arranged properly and could have done better, then bemoaning that we'd cancelled our plans for NYE nearly two weeks earlier based on media reports and government dithering over the direction of the Omicron virus and now we were going to our son's for an early evening finger buffet which wouldn't be late because P won't drink drive. Anyway the blame for everything was directed squarely (by me) at my husband even though I'd been party to all the decisions we'd made. And, as I'll admit does happen when things get a bit frayed, words escalated and I got madder while P got calmer which infuriates the hell out of me.

So that was the state of affairs. My husband said, 'Enough's enough, this stops here and now,' and frogmarched me upstairs, me still arguing and telling him to stop. He shuffled me into his office and shifted a new printer off his desk, which he hasn't bothered to connect so far, and it became clear to me that he intended to cane me. I told him he couldn't I wouldn't accept it and it would be an assault but he just said it would happen now or later and harder or tomorrow and harder still, and that we would not be going to our son's until I'd had my bottom well caned. Then he stood back, no more hand on arm physical strength stuff, just me breathing deeply and frantically trying to think of ways to de-escalate. I couldn't.

I'm sorry,' I said.

'You will be. Bend over my desk and hold the far edge.' He reached up to the top of a shelving rack for his cane. 'I know you say you're sorry but it doesn't excuse all the name calling and exaggeration and bad language, does it. And it's hardly a first for you and I can see in your eyes now and from your stance that you still have temper and unreasonableness in you. Bend over.'

I jutted my quivering chin out but turned and bent over. I felt his hands come round my waist and my jeans unbuttoned and lowered. I had a long t-shirt on which he raised half way up my back and then my knickers which he didn't take down but pulled tight into my bottom. There were no pauses for effect or comments or last requests, he stood to the right of me and gave me three sharp strokes with only a couple of seconds between, then stopped and I heard him move to the left and another three followed and I heard myself cry out as if I was detached from my body and it wasn't really me doing it. The pain from the cane comes, to my thinking, in three stages; first the sharp immediate shock of white heat then the wave or rather waves of deeper pain which roll in after and then the longer lasting burn which settles in and stays and every time you move in your jeans you feel as if they're sticking to you. I started to get up but P told me, 'No I'm not finished with you,' and his hand not ungently urged my shoulders back down.

He gave me three more strokes from each side and made sure I felt them, OMG I couldn't remember harder and didn't give a monkeys about the noise I knew I was making. I might have begged for leniency but it was all so fast. Twelve strokes and really hard ones I'd say, surely that was it. It was, he moved but not to switch sides and I heard the light clatter on wood as he replaced his cane. I was sniffling as I stood up, slowly, and felt my t-shirt drop back into place covering the damage he'd done to my backside. I looked at him, I knew my eyes were welling but didn't want them to break.

'Let that be a lesson to you,' he said, 'I don't want to hear any more nonsense from you and you better put your face straight for later if you intend coming over to our son's with me,' and he walked out of the office. then I felt back under my t-shirt and ran my finger lightly along the welts which were forming. I wanted to go in the bedroom and lie on the bed but wouldn't because I thought he might be in there, then I heard his footsteps on the stairs and in I waddled with my jeans held at my thighs. I didn't bother with the mirror, no need I knew from how it felt that he'd meant it, I just lay on my side on the bed for a while playing back the things I'd said and what it had led to. After half an hour I washed my face and fastened up my jeans with a grimace. I went downstairs, the longer you leave it the harder it gets.

'I will still be coming with you later, of course I will. And I'm genuinely sorry for what I said, not just because you caned me but because I know it was wrong.' There, I'd got it out.

We had a very pleasant evening and there was no lingering resentment at all even though I was reminded I'd been dealt with whenever I sat or went to the loo. Next day I was horny from wake-up, I didn't say it or make any moves but I was. It reminded me why I used to love-hate the cane and really still do, it's awesome and I hope it gets used more in 22 .....perhaps not quite as hard but who knows, maybe that's the attraction:)

Stay safe.

Ronnie
xx

Extract I mentioned

You may remember me mentioning a reader had sent me a well written script about women coming during and after spankings and there was a section on the application of the cane which I liked. Here it is....

....A warming session with the hand is useful but not essential. A nicely warmed, red bottom takes the cane much better than a cold white, bottom; anyway it can be a highly pleasurable experience so why not.

So we are ready to go. Apply the light to medium whippy cane to the shapely red bottom with vigour. There is no hurry; take your time, let her bottom dance, let the angry red stripe appear. Let her savour the moment. Don't hesitate to feather run your fingers over the cheeks, feeling the tram lines. Let her know you can feel them and that you like them.

Once she has settled apply the next stroke, ideally a bit harder. Let her bottom bounce, writhe, tell her how beautifully her bottom is taking the cane. Let her know you are enjoying caning her. Let her know she deserves it, even if she does not. Let her juices flow, let her sexuality rise, hopefully on each stroke that much higher, striving towards that orgasm. Sometimes she will come openly; sometimes she will have a partial orgasm not fully aware of what has happened, sometimes she will not come at all, just be well caned and hot and smarting and perhaps tearful. Be sure to let her know your appreciation in all cases. She deserves it.

Stay safe.

Ronnie

xx

My reader can't remember where she found the it, so please, if you have seen this before let me know so Ii can give cred x

Ouch - not f-----g there

That's what I said, and loud too and with 'angriness', so he told me later.

You see I'd asked P to cane me, stupid as that may seem, but it wasn't a severe caning I sought. I'd read a longish but well written script about women coming during and after spankings and there was a section on the application of the cane and it just kind of got to me and I sent an extract (it was sent to me by a readers, I'll post the extract next week) to P and he sounded mildly interested and a bit amused so decided to ask him in that vein if he thought it would work. He said there was only one way to find out and I said 'would you do it then please, *pretty* please?'

Well a bit later we were in the bedroom and he was caning me (you know, normal early afternoon activity:)) when he caught my left thigh with a rogue stroke, very unusual for my husband and that was when I cried out. I wouldn't have except for a few days previous I'd tripped over a metal parasol base which had been anchored to a pavement in town, I'd landed on the concrete which bruised my ribs and caught my thigh on the kerb so that also bruised and was still tender. P was aware of it but out of sight out of mind (he was caning me with my thin slutty leggings on) and it was an accident anyway and it happened.

It was a pity because I'd been building nicely, P is a good caner and he'd been hitting all the right spots with just the right blend of pain/stimulation. My cry-out stopped things immediately, I told him what was wrong and he tenderly took down my leggings to almost my knees. 'Yeah I can see it,' he said, 'sorry about that, you know it wasn't meant. I mean I intended to hurt but not there. Sorry.' He double 'sorried', he meant it of course, he always says intended pain yes, unintended pain no.

Then he told me my language hadn't been appropriate and I was angry and shouldn't really have been, then he told me he was going to continue my caning but from the other side. I wiggled my bum a bit in acceptance rather than saying it. He said my leggings could stay down so he'd have a full view. He gave me a few strokes, gentler than before but I couldn't get my rhythm back, the stoppage had neutralised me. Added to which he was leaving my leggings down which I didn't want, I've developed quite a kink in my mind about being spanked 'in' leggings, especially the thin rubbishy ones I've got. I'm sure it will pass but it hasn't yet. Anyway I told P it had gone and he said ok no problem, then sat on the bed next to me. He pulled my leggings up for me and guided my head down onto his lap.

I did the decent thing of course and halfway through got my mojo back but it was too late to change course. Instead I took a mouthful and swallowed like a good girl. I liked my lips lasciviously when I came up and told him it wasn't quite what I'd been after but it would keep me going wink wink. I also apologised for snapping at him.

Stay safe.

Have a fiun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

I didn't want to cum

Never thought I'd hear myself say that, so I didn't. I just thought it. Afterwards, of course, not during it:)

You see I got caned on the weekend, for nagging my husband all week to treat me to a beer outside one of the various pubs with outside facilities and then moaning and calling him a stick in the mud when, by Friday evening, he had still failed to do it and showed no enthusiasm towards doing it either. He said outside drinking was for real summer days or sunnier climes, not just because the masses were flocking to do it. I told him I wasn't a mass and said he was a snob, god knows how that came to me. Anyway it was silly talk and he knew it, as did I, but still it was an exchange which caused him to threaten to spank me if I didn't shut up, which I didn't, and take me by the arm and lead me upstairs.

He took me into the bedroom which usually meant otk and often a preamble to sex, which I thought was possible as bad feeling hadn't really set in, and told me to wait by the bed. I thought he'd gone for a pee but he hadn't, he came back with his cane. I must have looked shocked because he actually said he wouldn't be too harsh, then he made me lay on the bed and caned me after pulling down my shorts.

Words as much as actions do it for me, depending on the circumstances. He patiently and calmly told me his reasons for not wanting to scrabble, as he put it, for a chilly table outside some pub. He was almost chatty about is as he caned my bottom at the same time, pausing occasionally to demand an answer from me to show I'd been listening. Trouble was a lot of what he said made sense and he did make it clear that he absolutely loved treating me and fully intended to as soon as hospitality properly reopened but in the meantime I should stop nagging and if I really wanted to go for a beer by all means go with one of my friends.

I suppose he gave me thirty or forty strokes (obviously not to hard) well laid apart and as I listened to his reasonableness, his hand touching my bottom in between strokes, I adjusted to the warmth building in my bottom, I started to wriggle, I hoped salaciously, and push my bottom up for more. He told me unexpectedly that he knew what I wanted and that I was a little slut and that I better stop wriggling like that or he'd give me what for.....and that was as far as it got because I just exploded and cried out and clutched the duvet into my mouth to muffle the noise. P put a few harder strokes across my bottom as I was orgasming and then tossed the cane onto the bed when he could see I was done.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked my bum and told me no more nonsense about outside drinking. I purred Yes Sir, and apologised for cumming, it just happened. I offered to make my apology more personal but he said no need just so long as I'd learned my lesson. I could hear the humour in his voice, then he patted my bum and left the room. And I was left wishing we could do it over again and this time I wouldn't cum because I like the frisson which follows a spanking.

Stay safe.

Ronnie
xx

Just Curious

As I've been searching around blogland looking for sites for my 'In with the New' spot, I've noticed increasing mention of the cane, or is that just me, like when you change car for a new make or colour and suddenly you notice more cars of the same make or colour you've just bought.

As you know I have an affection (most of the time:)) the cane so I'd be interested to know from readers what they think of the cane, is it being used more often, does it pop up in spanking related sites more often than it used. What's your opinion?

Have you ever been caned. If so, what was it like for you, have you tried it again or was is a one-off and if so what put you off using it again?

If you haven't had the cane used on you or used one on someone else's deserving bottom, what, if anything, would persuade you to maybe try it?

Stay safe and have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Spanking Position

I post 3 days a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday so late posting as I thought today was Thursday not Friday:)

I do like a caning but wouldn't fancy receiving it in this position. 

Have you ever been spanking in an unusual position?

Stay safe.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx

Please let me know if the picture is yours so I can give credit.n

Before the Ball

She was excited and it would be a break from the long hours they were both spending renovating the old rectory they'd just bought. Period dress was optional but she said she wanted to, Edwardian finery with frills and fancies appealed to her, she said the opulence of the period made her feel a little bit naughty. 

He caught her drift, he wasn't for fancy dress himself but he did appreciate some of the values and practices of the period. He fetched his cane.

"There, darling, a dozen on your bare bottom before we go and you'll be feeling like a very strictly kept Edwardian wife all evening.

Now pull up your knickers, straighten your furls and let's get going."
 
They had a wonderful evening.

A reader sent me the lovely picture but can't remember where he found it.  If you know whose picture it is, please let me knowtso I can give credit.

Stay safe.

Ronnie
xx
 

Caught

It was end of week and she had a free period. She went for a smoke in the girls room but got caught and was sent to the Headmaster.

He wasn't amused, Sixth formers or not made no difference, smoking was a caning offence full stop. She had to remove her skirt, her regulation knickers wouldn't offer much protection.

He gave her six of the best and she cried her eyes out. It would be a painful ride home on the bus.

Stay safe. Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

Please let me know if the picture is yours so I can credit or remove.
  

The cane for him

He's in for a surprise or maybe he knows what's in store for him.  

Stay Safe.

Ronnie

xx

Behind High Walls II

Remember the picture of  a couple watching a lady being caned which had a caption? Well I'd forgotten I posted a story attached to it (some may remember it) so I thought I'd do a re-post. This is the original picture without the caption.

.....DEEP in the leafy country-side, behind its high protective walls, Balcombe Manor basks in the languor of a drowsy English summer afternoon. The sun is shining out of a clear blue sky and it would be too hot if it weren’t for the gentle breeze which is keeping the air pleasantly fresh. The four young women, Mrs Blackett’s pupils, are in the garden for their Tranquillity Period, in the rose garden beneath a magnificent Albertine rose from which pink petals now and then fall gently down.

‘You’ve some petals on your hat,’ Felicity tells Annabel. ‘But leave them; leave them for your husband. His rose adorned with rose petals; isn’t that poetic.’

Annabel smiles. All four young women, as usual, are wearing wide-brimmed hats against the sun and are in calf-length dresses of an elegant bygone age – the middle 1930s perhaps. Under those dresses each girl’s form is tightly held in that ultimate of feminine discipline, a tight-laced corset, a garment which is worn at all times at Balcombe Manor. Annabel’s smile hides a certain nervousness. Today, this afternoon, her husband is visiting her for the first time.

Annabel is excited yet apprehensive. She has been here a week and a week can be a long time, especially a young woman’s first week at Balcombe Manor. As is usually the case it has not been as easy adjustment. Modern girls are simply not taught to accept submission and discipline. In particular they have had no experience of being regularly caned on the bare bottom. So when a young woman in her early twenties is sent to Balcombe Manor there is an ingrained behavioural pattern to be broken.

It is always a shock for the new pupil but Mrs Blackett’s methods are tried and tested and she is also a strong, dominant personality. Mrs Blackett and Balcombe Manor are invariably successful in remoulding a modern young wife into traditional feminine ways, but the remoulding, especially at first, is painful.

‘Lucky you,’ smiles Felicity. ‘You are allowed a whole hour alone with him in your room, you know.’ She giggles, as do the other two, Susan and Rosalind. Annabel flushes slightly.

It will be marvellous to see Roger again, to be with him, but at the same time… Annabel wonders if she dare ask him to take her away – as she has told herself all the past week she will. She suspects that even if she dares it will be quite useless – and could even make matters worse. Mrs Blackett could very well ask Roger if Annabel had made such a plea, and it would be very difficult to lie to Mrs Blackett. And then… it would simply be more of that cane, from Mrs Blackett herself or from Gillman, the head servant.

That dreadful cane. Annabel has had it every day, scything mercilessly into her tender bare nates. Yesterday an eight-stroke session and a six-stroke one.

Read the rest of part II here but you may want to go and read the first part here. Both on the Janus website.

Bob  found the stories.

Ronnie
xx

Smile for Today

Someone has added the words to the picture.

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

31° caning

I hadn't been caned for ages, I don't really know why, whether I've just been better behaved or whether age mellows the inclination to both give and receive, who knows, I suppose probably both plus the fact that we no longer share an office amidst others going on about their businesses, somehow that had a formalness to it and caning lends itself to formalness. Anyway it was the case and then Saturday happened.

It was a hot day, had been billed as such all week so we were prepared for it and planned a barbecue for the evening. All well and good and it was nice to be in shorts and flip flops right from getting up, it reminded me of holiday times in warmer countries which I started talking about with P, who Mmmm'd and Yeah'd but wasn't really engaging, admittedly he was preparing some food at the same time. I said we should take a break, don't you think? He said we'd just had one or had I forgotten so soon. I told him no I hadn't forgotten, but it had been wet wet wet and I wanted hot and dry, apart from pool and sea time of course.

"I think there are some good deals around, discounts to entice people with the political and brexit crap still ongoing," I said. Mention of good deals usually gets P's attention.

"Mmmm.." was all he said, clearly not convinced or enthusiastic.

I went into the lounge and opened my ipad, a bit of googling threw up some offers which I shouted through to the kitchen. I didn't get a shout back so I went to the door. "Did you hear me, I found quite a few offers easy, you didn't answer."

"Yep I heard you," my husband said.

"Well it's rude not to answer." I reprimanded him with a smile. "So what did you think of them?"

He told me they sounded very reasonable but they'd still be around next week and the week after, maybe even get better. I told him it was always the same with him, trying to get him to commit to a vacation was like pulling teeth. He didn't think that was a good analogy. I tried to tempt him, fresh seafood, steamy sex, pretty waitresses and girls on the beach, boys too I added as I don't mind bronzed male torsos at all. Then he told me I was trying too hard and to just forget it, at least for now, he had other things to think about. I asked him what but he didn't answer so I closed the door and returned to the lounge. I played my face after that, well he was being unreasonable as far as I was concerned. It lasted into the afternoon then, about three o'clock, he told me to come upstairs with him.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I'm going to cane your bottom," P replied, extending his hand to me.

"What the fuck for?" I asked, genuinely caught off guard.

"For giving me hassle, for over trying, for being persistent, for being irresponsible (how did he work that one out) and for barely speaking for the past few hours sulking like a child."

"That's not reasonable, P," I said giving him my hand and warming to the idea of a caning as the tone of his voice wasn't too harsh, "I mean I'm thinking of us not just me." I was making my case even as he led me up the stairs and into the office.

"Stand at my desk, facing the window, while I fetch my cane," said my husband. When he came back I said, "I'm surprised you remember where to find it, it's been so long I hope I don't get dust on my shorts."

"You won't be getting dust on your shorts you cheeky girl, they're coming down." He unbuttoned them and slipped them off my hips.

I gasped and felt that little moment of thrill and fear as my bottom was bared and he told me to bend over the desk. I bent over and then felt him against me, I thought he might have changed his mind and had other plans for my bottom but he hadn't, he just had to lean over me to get to the top window the other side of the desk which was open because it was so warm and he wanted it closed, at least for a while, for obvious reasons. I told him it was too hot to be caned, he just said I'd be a lot hotter soon and he was right.

I sensed him move to the left and looked back as he raised his arm, then scrunched my eyes as his cane swished down and thwacked into my bottom. I squealed loudly and gripped tighter on the edge of the desk, I turned my head forward I didn't want him to see my face wincing then the next stroke landed with hardly a pause in between, I made some kind of Oooarrghhhh! sound and stamped my feet on the floor. I'm sure it made my bottom wobble and possibly a harder target or perhaps it pleased him and he stopped to enjoy it, either way the next stroke came only after I'd stopped stomping and it was right where bottom meets thigh and it made me squeal again. I wriggled and he told me to be quiet and keep still or I'd get it a lot harder and longer. Then his hand was on the small of my back to steady me and I bit into my wrist to stop me shouting out for the next three strokes which were at a diagonal because of the way he was standing but not quite as hard for the same reason. I wiggled through all of them but only my bottom and legs because my torso was pinned down. Then his hand lifted off my back and he told me I could get up.

I was sweating, I could feel it dripping from my forehead. He told me to open the window and I had to stretch hard across the desk, I'm not as tall as him and it gave him a good view of my blazing backside.

"Nice bum," he said, "always the better for a few lovely cane lines. I hope we won't be having any more of your sulky nonsense for the rest of the day."

"No, P." I said with a pout but I didn't really feel pouty. It hadn't been too hard a caning nor very long although it had hurt because I hadn't had it for a while. But although my bottom sizzled, I had other feelings and I suspected my husband did too because his shorts were tenting and they don't lie. I told him with the heat and the sweating it was almost like being abroad, except for the steamy sex of course. When I went to pull up my shorts he told me not to bother but to turn round and bend over the desk again. I thought I'd blown it and was going to get a few more strokes but I didn't, well I did but strokes of a different sort and I was wet and ready for them. I tried to stifle my cries as orgasm approached but I needn't have bothered because the roar that erupted from my husband as he came into me drowned them out. We stayed entwined over the desk panting, sweating, laughing at the noise we'd made. I couldn't see anyone in their front gardens just a few kids playing way along the street, I doubted if they'd have heard anything.

I didn't bring up the subject of holidays for the rest of the day but P will come round in his own time, he always does. The met office said we'd reached thirty-one degrees where we live, pretty warm although a breeze got up later which was pleasant to feel but a nuisance for P's barbecue but all in all a very pleasant day.

Ronnie
xx

Hit the road, Jack

It was the song, it was also what my husband said earlier this week after we both met Jack for the first time. P didn't like him, I did, which was probably why P didn't. He didn't say it to Jack's face, he wouldn't be that rude, he said it after he'd left, with a few canes I might add. Anyway, it prompted him to put Jack's link back onto my blog for me, which I did ask him to do weeks ago but he didn't get round to it and I didn't like to nag him.

So it's back on and I've also put a link to Ronnie's Caning Tips which a few people asked me about recently as the old link wasn't working for some reason. So there you are, get caning!

Oh and one more thing, if you do fancy trying the sting of the cane you can get a discount from Jack's little Etsy shop by inserting the code RONNIE20 into the voucher slot before you pay and it will knock 20% off the price. It's valid to the end of August so you can get or give a hot summer caning on the cheap:)

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Headmaster Canes

I don't know why but Headmasters' Canes are flying. Metaphorically of course, well maybe in practice in some cases too. But I'm referring to requests for them really, I'd say they are making up about seventy percent of my cane sales at the moment and that is a complete reversal of this same time last year. It's curious because it is, in my opinion, and
that of my husband which carries a weight of experience, the most difficult to use well out of all canes because of the shaped handle. Straights are much easier.

So what is the attraction? I wish I knew, perhaps it is the image space they hold in the minds of many people of 'le vice anglais', long ago outlawed symbol of authority in British schools, public schools in particular. 

I am sending quite a few to Italy, France and the Scandinavian countries on a regular basis and most recently to Brazil.

I wish I could get some stories back from people who buy them, I would really really love to know how they are used, in what circumstances and why. I mean I do know a few because some of my customers make no secret of the fact that they use them professionally and some of them buy for their clients too, which is quite nice. But the diversity of buyers, from hotels in the south to recently a restaurant in Scotland and a few weeks ago an educational establishment in Italy, as well as private households all over the place. I wonder if I could devise a system whereby customers could send me a paragraph or two on their uses in return for which I'd give a discount on future purchases. Always respecting anonymity of course.

I shall mention it to P, he's quick thinking on that sort of thing, probably see some drawbacks too.

It would point his mind in the direction of canes too, it's been a while since he's employed one against my bottom.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx 

Did you ever get the cane then?

A repost. Hopefully I'll be less busy next week.

"So what were you like then as a schoolboy?" She asked in a desultory fashion. I had a terrible feeling that I was boring her despite trying to appear interesting. I could hardly answer that I was in all probability even duller than I must appear now, so I did the obvious thing, I lied.

"Oh I was a bit of a rebel actually. You know always in trouble!"

She gazed at me, her dark eyelashes fluttering, her large baby blue eyes wide open as if attempting to see me in a new light. Whether she believed me or not I am not quite sure but at least she had stopped yawning and was now looking thoughtful. As we were leaving the car she asked.

"Did you ever get the cane then?"

That question I admit rather stopped me in my tracks. To be honest I had a thing about being caned and partly regretted that I had escaped that particular punishment. Boys were frequently caned but not boys like myself who slavishly followed all the school rules. In fact my behaviour was so exemplary I was never punished at all. My reputation, if I possessed such a thing, was as a blindly obedient boy who did exactly as he was told. Nevertheless I had got the bit between my teeth and was busy rewriting my own legend.

"Oh yes, I should say so. We had this form mistress, Miss Taylor. She was only a young woman but dreadfully strict. I must have had six of the best from her at least a dozen times!"

I shrugged my shoulders and affected an air of heroic fortitude. Miss Taylor indeed had a reputation for strictness, she frequently sent to the Head with a hand written note and I'd once witnessed her cane two boys in my class for bullying. The incident lingered still in my memory. I was almost envious of the bullies as I was in the stock room next door doing my good deed for the day and returning some text books when the punishment took place. Each boy received four strokes of the cane. The first boy took his punishment in silence, all you could hear was the cane falling on tightly stretched trouser seat. However, the second boy was crying even before it started and after each stroke of the cane let out a desperate howl of pain. Not that the boy's tearful pleading stopped Miss Taylor carrying out the punishment. Susan had a most disconcerting way of staring, she was now gazing at me as if I was suddenly a person of great interest.

"Really, how awful. It sounds like something Charles Dickens would write about! They never had anything like that at the girls school I went to!" She said almost enviously. Yes, she was definitely seeing me in a new light. In fact I was seeing myself in a new light and feverishly hoping we weren't going to meet anyone who remembered me as I really was. I pointed out the cricket pitch and the nets which still hadn't been taken down despite the term ending. Then the swimming pool, which was always freezing cold I remember. However it seemed Susan was much more interested in the disciplinary practices of the school.

"Did it hurt dreadfully when you were caned?" She enquired. As we were walking she inserted her hand in mine which was rather a nice surprise.

"Well some chaps used to make a fuss but I just used to grin and bear it! No it never really bothered me being caned. Just an occupational hazard of being a bit of a rascal I suppose! You know how it is, you do the crime you accept the punishment!"

This was a bit rich since the one thing I have always been incapable of is suffering in silence. She was now looking at me with something like hero worship in those large blue eyes. Unless I was very much mistaken, Susan had more than a passing interest in corporal punishment herself. Well we certainly now had something in common at least.

We were standing in the shadow of the schools main entrance but I didn't want to risk going in so I was quietly attempting to lead Susan back to the car.

"Shall we go inside? Aren't you curious to see if it has changed at all?" She asked. I was just about to say no, not in the least, let's go back to the car, when an attractive well dressed woman seemed to appear from nowhere. It was Miss Taylor! I could feel the colour draining from my face.

"Are you aware that this is private property and you are trespassing?" She asked with intimidating politeness. Her face was tired but still unquestionably, undeniably beautiful. Obviously she didn't recognise me, after all it was six years since we had last seen each other. I don't suppose quiet well behaved boys are all that memorable anyway.

"I am terribly sorry we are just going," I said. Stress had made my voice rise an octave. I lurched towards the car still clutching Susan's hand. Glancing at Miss Taylor over her shoulder she said,

"James used to go to this school many years ago!"

"Come here!" She commanded. Her voice still had the ability to freeze the very marrow in my bones. I turned I was still hoping to make it back to the car before she recognised me. Suddenly a smile of recognition illuminated her severely attractive features.

"Oh yes, I do believe it's James Anthony Mortimer!" She said brightly. Inwardly I groaned, the only thing to do now was make sure our chat was as brief as possible. The last thing I wanted was a trip down memory lane.

"Miss Taylor," I said, "allow me to introduce a friend of mine, Susan Catesby! We were just passing but we really must be getting back now!" I glanced at my watch and smiling nervously said.

"My goodness, is that the time?" I started edging back towards the car park. Susan had a bewildered look on her face as if she couldn't understand my sudden hurry. If only I had been truthful with Susan. Better to have been a bore than a teller of tall tales.

"Nonsense, of course you have time to come to my study both of you and enjoy a cup of tea!"

So I really didn't have much choice in the matter. Fate had conspired against me and before I knew it, there I was, perched on the edge of my seat, waiting to be exposed as a fraud, a young windbag, a one time teachers pet! The blow was not long in coming. Susan sitting on the sofa next to our host, accepting her cup of pale fragrant tea said enthusiastically,

"James, was just telling me how he was always in trouble at school!"

Miss Taylor's eyes seemed to widen perceptibly. A smile hovered for a brief moment on her soft red lips.

"Really!" She said. She sipped her tea smiling it seemed at my discomfiture, in a moment I should be revealed in my true colours. Susan, however was not finished yet.

"And you gave him six of the best a dozen times!" She laughed, as if sharing an amusing joke.

Miss Taylor's eyes seemed for a moment to twinkle with merriment.

"I don't think that is true!" She said, sternly. That's it, I thought, put me quickly out of my misery. I waited for the fatal blow to fall.

"No, I am sure I caned him much more than a dozen times and you know the funny thing was!"

Susan, glanced at me in admiration. I heaved a huge sigh of relief as Miss Taylor continued.

"That he never seemed to really feel it!"

I grinned weakly and wished desperately that someone would change the subject or the ground would quickly open and swallow me up. Miss Taylor was now beaming at me as if I was her favourite little rascal.

"Do you know I never did cane you for putting that mouse in my desk on the last day of term!"

Susan clapped her hands in admiration, laughing as if it was the most amusing practical joke. Of course it wasn't me, everyone knew that it was Edwards, I am sure Miss Taylor knew it was Edwards. Her sources of information I seem to remember were always impeccable. I could hardly spill the beans though, so I grinned weakly and played the part of the unrepentant rascal. I wished fervently the tea wasn't quite so hot.

"Oh he was a naughty boy wasn't he! The funny thing is you would never guess it, to look at him, I mean!" laughed Susan. Her face was looking bright and cheerful for possibly the first time that day.

"How very perceptive of you Miss Catesby! This young girl is a shrewd judge of character I can see. You are very fortunate to have her as a friend James!" Purred Miss Taylor. Her eyes seemed to be shining with mischief. She continued, her smile quite terrifying.

"Yes, I think we can safely say, Master Mortimer has hidden depths!"

"I bet your happy Miss Taylor hasn't got a cane in her desk now!" Chuckled Susan, as she sipped daintily at her tea. I glanced at Miss Taylor a little nervously, who was to say what she had in her desk. I wasn't at all sure I liked the way this conversation was heading.

Miss Taylor, crossed her slender legs on the settee and laughed,

"James would know of course that the cane was never kept in my desk!" Miss Taylor was obviously enjoying herself greatly.

"Of course I remember!" I said, nervously. For a brief moment there was an uncomfortable silence before Miss Taylor said brightly.

"Oh yes! I used to keep it in that large cupboard by the bookshelf as you will no doubt recall James! In fact it's still there now, although I haven't had reason to use it for a week or two!" Desperately I blew on the tea, the quicker we were on the road again the happier I would be.

"I don't suppose it would be possible to see it?" Asked Susan in a thrilling voice.

"Oh indeed. Why not. I am sure it will bring back many painful memories for James though!" Miss Taylor showed no sign of moving.

"James would you be a dear and fetch the cane!" As I put my tea cup down my hand shook, and somewhat nervously I walked over to the large cupboard, Miss Taylor smiled at Susan who laughed. I opened the cupboard door which creaked noisily. In amongst the piles of text books and rolled up maps I could see a thin yellow cane. I picked it up. It felt strangely light in my hand, almost as if it weighed nothing at all.

"Painful memories!" I heard Susan titter. I could feel my cheeks beginning to blush as I handed it to the still seated Miss Taylor. She looked up to me with those merciless bright blue eyes and said jokingly, whilst tapping the cane against her palm.

"It was you that put that mouse in my desk on the last day of term, wasn't it?"

Susan laughed, noisily. A look of horrified delight on her pretty face. I was temporarily deprived of the power of speech and stood there foolishly in front of the two woman seated on the sofa.

"Why don't you sit down James. You look uncomfortable standing there!" Said Miss Taylor, smiling gently and winking at Susan who responded with another peal of laughter. I could feel my cheeks burning as I sat down. One of the disadvantages of being fair skinned is people can easily tell when you are embarrassed.

"For a moment there, I thought you were going to cane him for putting that mouse in your desk!"

Giggled Susan, looking rather pink herself. Miss Taylor and Susan seemed to be getting on so well I seemed almost superfluous.

"Why, would you like me to?" Asked Miss Taylor, She had stopped laughing and then Susan stopped laughing too. Suddenly there was complete silence in the room.

"It might be amusing, I mean just for fun!" She said after a seemingly endless pause. Susan looked even paler than usual as she sat there in a state of nervous anticipation. Miss Taylor turned to me, smirking like a cat that had swallowed the canary. She stood up to her full height and swished the cane menacingly through the air.

"It's only a bit of fun, James! So I mean why not, after all it would be nothing new to such a naughty boy as yourself!" There was that twinkle in here eye again.

She knew I had little choice but to play along. The butterflies in my stomach certainly seemed to be working overtime as I stood up from the chair. Susan had her mouth hidden behind her small pale hand as if she might scream in equal amounts horror and delight at any given moment. Her blue eyes seemed larger than ever.

"Bend over the armchair will you Mortimer! I think Miss Catesby will agree with me that you will benefit greatly from six of the very best!" Said Miss Taylor sweetly. Susan sat on the very edge of her seat as if she was about to witness the changing of water into wine.

The use of my surname had unsettled me still further. Surely this was only going to be a "bit of fun" as Miss Taylor put it! I tried a cheerful smile and failed miserably. Reluctantly I walked over and slowly bent over the armchair. A few moments later I felt the cane tapping gently across the tightly stretched thin cotton of my trousers.

"The thing is when you cane a boy!" Explained Miss Taylor. "You must do so firmly!"

Whack

It felt as if a explosion had recently taken place across my buttocks. Susan was looking directly into my eyes, a rapt expression on her face, as the cane bit. I attempted a brave smile as the excruciating pain made my body arch in agony. Susan's smile grew wider with her eyes.

"Otherwise..."

Whack

I made a gulping sound. My smile by now was that of the condemned man as he draws his last breath and I am sure I did little to convince Susan I was enjoying myself. Nevertheless she smiled back reassuringly.

"..there is no point to it!"

Whack

After that one I nearly dived over the armchair. It felt like someone was holding a barbecue on my behind. I could feel my smile turning into a rictus grin. The next blow came a little quicker with a little extra zest as if Miss Taylor felt she was beating a particularly dusty carpet.

Whack

"Aaaaaah!" It was a new language I had recently invented. The language of untold agony!

Whack

It was definitely getting harder. God it was awful. I suddenly gripped my bottom with both hands and howled like some wounded animal.

"Aaaaarghh!"

" Oh dear! You have moved your hands I am afraid! That one will not count which is a pity!"

Explained Miss Taylor with infinite patience. I was about to complain when the next stroke landed and all my thoughts were suddenly concentrated in one place. Nothing else mattered other than the pain in my backside. Right then if you had told me I had won a fortune I shouldn't have cared less.

Whack

"Please no!" I begged. Miss Taylor took a step back smiling and affected not to hear. I was going to get an extra stroke whether I liked it or not. She put plenty of beef into it!

Whack

"Ah nooooooooooooooooo!!"

It felt as if my bottom had been sliced in quarters, as if the skin had been taken off. It is was all I could do not to burst into tears which were welling up in my eyes! I was still bending over, when Miss Taylor said brightly.

"You may get up now!"

She was still smiling hugely as if she had won first prize in a beauty contest. She turned to Susan whose smile was even wider than Miss Taylor's. Neither of them were offering the slightest sympathy despite my pitiful groans.

"That is how it's done! I do hope you were paying attention my dear as I am sure, if you intend to remain together for any length of time, James would benefit from an occasional good hard caning to remind him... of his schooldays!"

They both laughed as if it was the best joke they had heard in years. But the look on Susan's face as we walked back to the car, me wincing every now and again as some new sharp after-shock reminded me of the ravaged state of my bottom, told me she had taken Miss Taylor's 'joke' far too seriously. When we got in the car and started off, Susan turned to me and asked.

"Where do you suppose someone might acquire a cane like Miss Taylor's, James? I should have asked her before we left, shouldn't I. Just out of interest I mean."

I didn't answer because I didn't know, but I got the impression that Susan was planning for the long term.

A reader sent me this story. I enjoyed it so sharing with you.  Anon said he found it on one of the true experience websites but can't remember which one. So please, if it is yours, let me know so I can give credit or remove if that's your wish.

Story by Arthur James at malespank.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Mrs Barker's Discipline

Have been up to my eyeballs with wallpaper stripping and painting which has left me no time to write a post or find any new blogs for an edition of 'In with the New'- so I hope you don't mind a re-post...

...As school secretaries go Mrs. Barker was exemplary but she had taken on a position with a high salary, high expectations and high level of personal discipline which she repeatedly failed to achieve.

The penalty was a trip to her headmaster's office where she was subjected to a sound bottom warming from the headmaster's cane.....a situation which occurred with alarming frequency.

Not unusually would her bottom be tenderised two or even three times in the same week.....

...and she amazed her headmaster with her stoic bravery, presenting herself for correction without complaint and always immaculately turned out...

The Head showed no fear or favour, punishing his secretary quite as severely as he would any naughty senior girl and sending her back to her office, frequently teary eyed, after he'd dealt with her.

Andrew Barker had initially had doubts about offering his wife the position of school secretary but her presence certainly added colour to his week, not to mention her bottom, and their domestic life had never been better!

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx

Dubious story but very good advice

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

55 cm of sting

Well I suppose it was probably no more than 15-20cm at any one time doing the actual stinging, I mean the contact, but of course the extra length determines how much sting gets delivered. Retrospectively (certainly not at the time) I would have liked more sting but 55cm was my max baggage allowance, I supposed I could have squeezed a few more if I'd packed it diagonally but I, or rather my husband, didn't think of that.

 

I'm talking about my England flag which would have been the cutest England flag any security office had ever seen, with its shiny stem and its neat little red handle with hanging loop, if I'd been stopped and searched. But I wasn't. And when we'd reached our destination and settled in, the flag was unfurled and removed from the pole and laid inside my husband's travel bag. And there it remained until the third day of our holiday in spite of me reminding him a couple of times that it would have to be reassembled if we were to take it into town with us to watch the football. He just smiled.

 

The second evening the weather turned, the sky clouded and a warm wind got up, we started a meal outside a restaurant but swapped to inside halfway through because the wind was blowing everything around. Locals thought rain was imminent but it didn't happen, it stayed warm too but hardly anyone was left outside because of the wind. I checked my phone and told P it said possible light showers for the next day, in line with what I'd checked back home. P 'humphed' a bit, said he didn't like eating indoors, wasn't what he came on holiday for but the food was still good and the atmosphere was friendly. We were both in happy mode and visited a couple of bars after we'd eaten, it was midnight before we decided it was bedtime, either a taxi or a twenty-five minute walk uphill and slightly out of town to where we were staying. We walked, in fact we did every night, and got a few big splashes of warm rain on the way but it didn't take hold. P asked me if I'd brought my handbag umbrella, I told him he must be joking. He clutched my bottom and told me he hoped we didn't get drenched then or someone would be getting spanked. That made me feel even warmer inside than I did outside.

 

Next morning, I suppose about 5.30 am maybe earlier, I could hear drumming outside, it got louder and I realised it was rain and it escalated the way hot country rain does. P heard it too and sat up to look at the terrace door which we'd left open and where the rain was bouncing and splashing inside it was so heavy. P got out of bed to close it and then the first lightning flash came. I heard him say 'Christ!' and then the door sliding almost shut. Then a few seconds later the first thunder clap. I love continental thunderstorms, I was wide awake now but snuggled tightly into the single sheet. I saw my husband stride across the room, I thought he was going to make coffee but he went to the wardrobe instead and reached up to the top shelf where he'd put his bag. When he turned and came back to the bed he had the cane in his hand.

 

"So it looks as if we are going to get drenched after all," he said.

 

"We're not drenched at all," I said, "this will pass, these little storms always do." Then I thought how stupid am I, and added, "But then again the weather graphic did show cloud for the whole day."

 

"Turn over," he instructed. I went to unravel the sheet as I turned but he snapped leave it as it was and just turn my body over.

 

He swished the cane a few times through the air. The rain was really heavy by now and P told me it was perfect caning weather, I know his sense of humour, I knew it wasn't going to be a serious caning, not with a sheet for protection although I didn't have any knickers on underneath.

 

"Best make use of it," he said cheerily, "in case it does continue into the day, then I might have to cane you without the benefit of the thunder to disguise the strokes. And your whimpers."

 

I like hearing him say that sort of thing. Then he told me it made a lovely target, my bottom cheeks like sculptures, two mounds rising up under the thin cotton, offering themselves for chastisement. What sort of drivel was that I thought, but I'm sure I raised said bottom cheeks a tad higher. Then I felt the first thwack, sharp as a thunder crack. Followed by another and another before I could catch my breath. He gave me six then ordered me to shuffle to the middle of the bed and he walked round to the other side. I felt him take hold of the sheet and though he was going to unveil me but instead he adjusted it so that it was tight and smooth against my bottom, I guess I ravelled it when I shuffled across. The rain slowed a bit and I heard the stroke swish through the air, god it was sharp and I squealed. Another five, which had me wriggling I hoped lasciviously for all I was worth, and then I felt him lifting and sliding the sheet off my shoulders and down my back. He rested in the small of my back and stroked, then continued over my hips and buttocks making me release weight from side to side to let it slide. He stopped it half way down my thighs and told me my bottom looked very red but there were no stripes.

 

I felt him straighten up, then he told me a bottom had to have stripes after a visit from the cane, then he gave me another six swishes and they seemed extra hard because I'd just had six from that side and I squealed quite a bit but still raised my bottom for more, greedy slut that I am. P walked casually back to the original side of the bed and gave me six real stingers, absolute humdingers that made my eyes water. The rain had picked up again, I thought he might go with it, I didn't want him to but I didn't want him to stop either. I watched him walk back to the wardrobe and replace the cane, this time he walked back to the bed with just a hard on.

 

He got in beside me and snuggled. More lightning and thunder followed. I wanted sex but I wanted to enjoy the moment too. P stayed my hand when I reached across for his cock, goodness knows where his self control comes from because he'd looked pretty urgent as he'd strode across the room. We lay there enjoying the storm, I eventually drifted back to sleep, I don't know whether P did but when I woke back up it was seven thirty and he was still next to me. This time I didn't bother reaching for him, instead I snuggled my head down under the flimsy sheet and found his cock with my mouth. It had been sleeping but it didn't take long to wake up and a few minutes later we could have done with some more of that thunder to mask the roar of my husband as I thanked him for my caning.

 

Ronnie

xx