Mother lode of yum

I'm not sure that's an appropriate synonym for what I got on Saturday but it will do as a header and I'll elaborate of course. You see I got caned on Saturday, which hasn't happened to me for quite a while because my sometimes caner (my nearest and dearest) has been having strange headaches as those of you who stop by from time to time will know. He had an MRI on Tuesday and got a call Thursday with the findings which showed no tumour (that word hadn't actually been said but hey we're all human) but there were some irregularities and he's seeing a neurologist on Tuesday. How's that for NHS efficiency! 

P's headaches had softened before the MRI but were still persisting at a low level. He was cheerful enough but not quite his normal self, I'm the one who does most of the worrying, I'm also a stickler for keeping appointments on time, almost as if I get there a couple of minutes late I'll miss my place and go to the back of the queue. I harry P whenever we're going somewhere together and I'm always proved wrong with my timing and we get to places way too early; airports, dinner bookings, you name it and it applies to hospital appointments too. Well I didn't go with him to the MRI place but I did persuade him to take the traffic seriously and get there on time. He was there twenty five minutes too soon, he told me afterwards. He also told me I deserved a good spanking for getting him there too early but it was only a passing comment or so I thought.

Anyway he got this neuro appointment and after his chat with the doctor seemed pretty positive so I was too. Then Saturday morning I check where the neuro guy is and he's nearly an hour's drive in average traffic. I told P and he said no way, I told him I'd googled it, he'd need to allow at least half again to be on the safe side. That wasn't going to happen, he said, but it reminded him he owed me a spanking from earlier in the week. My ears pricked up. I told him I was only thinking of him and I remained adamant about his appointment next week. He thanked me for my concern but told me it was a fine line between appropriate concern and nagging and that I was always wrong and he was always right when it came to journeys, he also said men were just better drivers and planners (wtf!) and then told me to come upstairs with him. I asked him why and he told me I was going to get spanked, then he said double spanked; one which he owed me and one for today, then he changed it and said he'd roll them into one and cane me instead. How unreasonable can a man get, but it was music to my ears because it meant he was feeling pretty much ok, I could hear it in his voice and I rejoiced inwardly for both of us.

He continued his theme as we went upstairs, berating me for hassling him at times, telling me he'd tolerated my flapping and fussing far too often and he should have given me a sore bottom many times but he'd overlooked it, well I was about to get one now and doubted I'd be sitting pouring over google maps for the rest of the weekend in fact he doubted I'd be sitting for the rest of the weekend. He has a way with words. My stomach was fluttering, I was so happy to hear him overdoing it I allowed myself a little 'me' thought, it was excitement, I wanted it and his scolding was making me wet for it after a few weeks of not being able to feel like that. O Lord for what we are about to...

So he took me in the bedroom, fished out his cane from under the mattress and told me to bend over the side of the bed, his side by the window, not how he usually canes me. I started to query him "But..."

"Don't even bother," he cut me short. "Do as you're told, you're in enough trouble, turn your head and you can see yourself in the mirror, or part of yourself anyway. And you can see part of me as I  bring my cane down across your bottom and you'll see the look on your own face as you get what naughty interfering mithering nagging girls get." Oh my he was definitely laying it on a bit now and I loved it. The only thing was he hadn't taken my jeans down. I thought about reminding him but didn't. Then I sensed arm movement and heard a couple of swishes and then a longer swish and a THWACK! and I screamed. Even through my jeans it bloody stung and drove me forward almost onto the bed. I repositioned myself, whimpering, and twisted my head towards the mirror where I saw his forearm and the cane raise and steady before whistling back down across my bottom. I saw myself jolt forward with the force and my face contort with the pain. I didn't see the third stroke, it came fast, before I'd readied myself, it stung like hell and made such a noise against the meatiest part of my bum it truly shocked me and I expected the after sting to be worse than it actually was. P was saying stuff to me about trusting I was learning my lesson and that I'd remember this in future etc etc, window dressing really but I loved it and after about eight or ten strokes I realised the pain wasn't as bad as a bare bum caning but the swishing and thwacking were much more dramatic and I made sure my cries matched.

I was half way to heaven when the swishing stopped and I felt P's arms around my waist. He started undoing my jeans. I thought 'Oh god I'm going to get it on the bare as well' and I think I might have squirted a bit into my knickers just before my husband pulled them down, with my jeans, in one go. "Oh please, P, it already hurts..." I started to say. "Be quiet!" He snapped. Then I heard him fidgeting and his own zip coming down and then his cock was thrusting between my cheeks and I raised on tiptoe to offer myself at the same time saying "Oh no P, it's too big" in my best well-caned-naughty girl-oh-goodness-and-now-you're-going-to-fuck-me indignant voice.

I think he must have liked the voice or perhaps the sight of my deeply reddened backside offered up to him, whatever, but his too big cock plunged into me with brute force which made me gasp and within three or four strokes, a little way before I could catch up, he came and how! I felt it in my stomach, a mother lode of hot melty yum and I collapsed onto the bed under his weight with him still inside me. I didn't come, I wanted to but I was so glad he had and in spades too, I knew that was a lot of stress unloading.

P slid his hand down my tummy, I knew where he was going but said "No, I'm fine." He kept it there anyway but didn't bring me on. He whispered in my ear, "You can keep planning our journeys if you like, I think I'd miss it if you stopped." I just smiled.

Then he got up and ran his fingers across my bottom and said, "Hmm...I think I was a bit lenient, I'll finish your caning off tomorrow," I knew what that was code for and I did indeed get my own stress relief the next day.

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

Bouncing Bottoms Galore and The Cane!

Really! Swinging cocks too on the beach near our hotel in Tarragona. It wasn't marked as a nudist beach but it was clearly a case of anything goes, not that I mind at all, I just hadn't expected it. I spotted the first one and nudged P, who was laying flat out on the sand beside me trying to doze after a sleepless night. He didn't even raise his head, just murmured lovely and to keep an eye on them and let him know if it grew to epidemic proportions. Then, as an afterthought, see if I could spot any spanked bottoms amongst them, adding not to forget that my own bottom was due to be spanked later.

That was last week, first full day of a lovely little break in the sunshine which combined spanking with good seafood, Roman ruins, historic old town, excellent wines, more nudes and a trip to a leisure park which we aborted quickly. So I'm refreshed and I shall tell you a bit about it because I was also well spanked.

At the start of our trip I was in the doghouse for badgering my husband to get to the airport extra early because there were press reports of huge delays at Bham because of airport restructuring work in addition to local road closures. Even the car parking firm said allow extra time so, reluctantly, P agreed and allowed nearly three hours ahead of departure time, something he never ever does! So anyway we got there in just normal traffic and the airport itself was quiet and P told me someone needed a damned good spanking and perhaps he could rent a private room for half an hour. Very funny, I told him. He said I wouldn't think it was funny when I was across his lap later. Promises promises, I thought but didn't say.

P got stopped at Security, he was frisked by a girl then asked to open his bag, she removed a small sunsceen spray and gave it to someone to take to a separate scanner, it took less than five minutes but from the look on P's face you'd have thought a lot longer, he does get a bit angry. But here's the funny bit...after she'd cleared him and he re-joined me...he said, "What a disappointment, she stopped me for an innocuous mini sunscreen and ignored the dangerous weapon I was carrying". I asked him what he was on about and he told me he'd got one of my travel canes in his bag. I didn't believe him so he unzipped and rummaged around to show me the red handle, he didn't get it right out of the bag. I was shocked. 

"What if she'd seen that and asked you what it was for?" I was really amazed that he'd done that without telling me.

"I would have taken great pleasure in asking her what she thought it was for and then, before she even answered, telling her she was probably right. And then watching her face." He was smiling, probably pleased with himself for having risked it.

I asked him what if I'd been standing next to him, OMG the very thought made me shudder but he maintained it was none of their business and so what if they saw it, it would probably embarrass them more than him, he said. (what about me!). Anyway the cat was out of the bag, I knew a spanking wasn't an idle threat and he reminded me several times during our long wait for embarking that the only thing keeping his temper even was the thought of striping my bottom later. I have to admit it made me tingle each time he said it.

The Spanish airport was dead and they don't bother too much about passports so we got through and picked up our car quickly, it was less than half an hour to the hotel, it wasn't late but even so by the time we got there we were both hungry and stale from travel so a quick shower and into town. We didn't get back till late and we had guests next door so I didn't get spanked. P didn't sleep well, he got a mosquito bite and swore there was one in the room but couldn't find it, he didn't think the bed was comfortable and there was a train line nearby which ran throughout the night although I didn't think it was too noisy.

So that's the background and why P was feeling tired the following day, after visiting the harbour in the morning, when we were spending couple of hours on the beach. He didn't get to doze, I kept reporting more nudes to him, there really were quite a few and some fit looking types amongst them, I made a point of saying that. P wasn't tempted. After an hour or so I told him I was going to get a cup of tea, there was a beach bar not far away, he said he'd have a coffee but not yet, he had a little job to do first. He was going to cane me.

I told him he couldn't, not on a beach, he hadn't got the cane with him anyway, it wasn't supposed to happen like this blah blah. He just said we'd leave the towels where they were and walk back to our hotel which actually overlooked the beach, then he'd cane me and then we'd come back down and have a drink at the beach bar and I could sit there with a sore bottom and point out some of the nudes to him. He was very cheerful. The hotel room was cool, there was no noise coming from either side, P said it was a very good time for caning with everybody out. He retrieved the cane from his bag, put me across his lap on the bend, pulled my shorts down and caned me, telling me off all the way through it for pestering him into breaking his good timekeeping habits. I objected and told him I'd only been following Internet advice!

"And for good measure," said my husband, "quite apart from the airport debacle, I think you deserve your bottom extra caned for going on about all the nudes on the beach."

So I got quite a long caning and he did it hard because it's a short cane and he wanted to make sure it made an impression. It did! It might have been short but it was whippy and it stung like hell and it was as much as I could do to stifle my cries. When he decided I'd learned my lesson he gave my bottom a beefy slap with his hand and told be to get off and pull my shorts up. I lingered, thinking he might want some attention but just snapped and said it was coffee time, telling me to get a move on or I'd be back over his knee for another dose only harder and then I'd be going down to the beach bar with tears as well as a sore bottom. I jumped off the bed!

We were sipping tea and coffee fifteen minutes later, sitting on the raised decking of the beach bar which gave a great view of the whole beach, idly watching boobs, water shrivelled cocks and bare bottoms in the sea. P said he didn't think any of them had been spanked. The only bottom that has been spanked for certain was sitting next to him:)

Ronnie

xx    

Jazz and the Cane

I got caned in Sheffield on the weekend and it was unexpected and really quite..ahem..delicious. You might wonder what the cane and jazz have in common and to my knowledge nothing at all but what binds them in my mind is that my husband likes jazz and I, well, you know. We went to see Post Modern Jukebox perform there on Friday night and although I wouldn't class myself as a real jazz fan I did enjoy them. The fact that I was sitting on a sore backside during much of the concert was a bonus.

Sheffield's a ninety minute drive for us although it took a bit longer in Friday afternoon's traffic, P said we'd drive back after the show but I thought that was a bad idea and booked us into a budget hotel, I only told P about that on the drive up and he wasn't best pleased. I said we could get up, have a leisurely breakfast, have a wander around the town (I'd never been), maybe shop a bit, drive back in easy traffic etc, sales person that I am. He said he had stuff to do Saturday morning, I asked him what it was and if it was important, he wouldn't say so I assumed he was just irritated that I'd done something without telling him. He told me I should call them and cancel, I said I couldn't it was a no-cancel deal, we'd lose the money. I was annoyed, he knew it and five minutes later he said OK we'd stay over but he wasn't happy he hadn't brought any clothes or toiletries or anything. I smiled and told him not to worry, be a big boy. I'd thrown some stuff together for both of us, it was in the boot, I hadn't told him and still didn't.

We had plenty of time because we'd planned to grab a snack somewhere, so P asked me to get the route on my phone and changed course and drove straight to the hotel, he said we'd leave the car there and get a taxi to the show being as I'd booked us in, then he could have a beer, might as well make the best of things now I'd committed us, he said it a bit grudgingly. I told him not to be so miserable and after we'd checked in and found our room I asked him if he'd pop and fetch my bag out of the boot. He said he didn't know I'd got a bag in the boot but off he went. When he returned he had my bag and a short garden cane with white paint on the end of it. My eyes widened. I'd actually seen it in the boot and not given it a second thought, we'd been helping our son with some decorating recently and it didn't seem odd.

"What are you doing with that? Have you just walked through reception with it?" I asked, more concerned at that point about what the girl on the desk might have thought. 

"Well it wouldn't have got here any other way," said my husband, "and as to what I'm going to do with it, you'll find out soon enough." He put my bag on the bed and held the cane across both hands and flexed it a bit, I suppose it was about two feet long maybe a bit more. I told him he couldn't cane me with it, there was paint all over it. "Oh that dried ages ago, it was no good for stirring paint anyway, too bendy," he said, "but it will do very nicely to give you an impromptu caning. It's obvious that you had this planned or you wouldn't have brought your bag with you, I think a sore bottom is in order. Now take down your jeans and stand by the bed."

He came and stood along side me. I could have protested but I'd still have got it. He didn't seem genuinely mad with me, I didn't think it would be too hard and anyway I was starting to feel aroused by him telling me off in his own way. "Bend over, hands on the mattress and stay there, don't dare try to get up until I tell you to." He lifted the tail of my shirt. "That paint better not be wet," I said stupidly, "I've only just bought that top." My husband told me I was hardly in a position to threaten him and that even if it was wet it would be marking my bottom not my shirt. Then he pulled my knickers down and I gasped sharply and emitted a tiny whimper. Then he stood a bit to the side and I felt the first stroke of pain from his paint stirrer cane.

It felt like a regular cane but not quite as hard, the length I thought. It got harder though and I squealed that he hadn't warmed me. He just said that he was warming me now. I couldn't disagree. He gave me more than twenty four strokes, I knew that because he moved from one side of me to the other four times, which he usually does each six strokes to keep things even and in case wrapping occurs which can happen with longer whippier canes but I thought not with this one. He added a few strokes at the end, from the left, really hard ones to leave an impression.

"Right, up you get, pull your knickers up and let's get going." He sounded pleased. I said I just wanted to go to the bathroom and put my face straight, I took a couple of things out of my bag, I hadn't been crying but it makes him happy. "Well quick about it then," he said.

I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, my bag was fully open on the bed, he'd been in it. "You brought stuff for me too," he said almost sheepishly. Then he came over and pecked me on the cheek. "You are a silly girl the way you do things." But I'm not silly:)

We got a burger before the concert, it was terrible. The concert was fantastic. Couple of beers afterwards and we fucked back at the hotel after he'd asked me how my bottom was.

In the morning I was online and noticed the band were playing in Estonia in June, I told P we could go and see them there, it had been ages since we'd been to Tallinn. He said, "I thought you weren't all that keen on jazz." I told him I wasn't but these guys were different and, in any case, the accompaniments were good. He told me I'd probably like to see the Hot Sardines, it didn't mean a thing to me, I just thought as long as he brings his paint stirrer along..

Ronnie

xx

Unscheduled shopping, stopover and a spanking

Well the spanking is never scheduled really, although sometimes it seems like it is, but the shopping and stopover were certainly impulsive, spur of the moment stuff. I was surprised, pleasantly I might add, that P not only agreed to it but initiated it.

I'd asked him if he'd come into Birmingham with me on Tuesday to help me choose some sale items, cheapskate that I am. He agreed right away, presumably impressed that some of his own fiscal prudence was rubbing off on me. Then when Tuesday morning came, he said "Why not go up to Chester?" I wasn't going to argue with that but for good measure I asked him if he was sure, could he spare the time, I mean the shopping's better up there but it's a long way to travel etc etc. "Not really, and probably not too busy with people back to work," he said, "in fact why not stay over night." I could hardly believe my ears. So that's where we went and that's where I am now, writing this post before we go out to dinner at either Chez Jules, casual French, or Picanha By Fazenda, which we'd heard of but not tried. P hasn't said which one we're going to yet, we haven't booked.

Most people are familiar with designer outlet villages these days but, for those who aren't, they're a collection of designer 'bucket shops' where they get rid of their end of line stuff cheap, sometimes very cheap. I usually do OK when I visit one and I like mooching for bargains anyway so I've had a good day all round. P was getting a bit tetchy towards the end even though I bought him lunch, we left about 4pm and he drove into Chester to find a free parking space by the university. We walked from there to the hotel, a cramped Macdonalds which he'd booked us into. It doesn't really deserve 4 stars but it's convenient for the restaurants so no drink drive issues.

I got spanked an hour ago for profligate spending well that's what he said, I only had a few packages and not a single item over 50 quid so I didn't agree with him and I argued a bit. It usually gets me spanked harder but there were people on one side of us because we could hear their TV so P was cautious about the noise level. He told me to take a shower, I knew why, because spankings hurt more when you're fresh from a shower, and when I came out with a towel wrapped around me he was sitting on the bed with his otk cane, the short one with the black and red handle which I love and hate. I looked at it and grimaced, he told me get across his lap sharpish if I knew what was good for me. My hair was soaking and I told him I needed to dry it or the bed would get wet. He thought about that and said for me to take the bath towel from around me and make it into a turban over my hair, then get over his lap and be quick about it.

I got the cane about thirty times across my bare bottom, already tenderised by the hot shower. I squirmed around over his thighs of course and as he was caning me he apologised for having to use it but said his hand would have been too noisy. I said he must have intended using it or why would it be there, he just laughed and asked me if he should stop. I said "Don't you dare stop! Not now you've started." P laughed again and increased the strokes. After he'd caned me I thought he was going to fuck me but he didn't although I knew he was hard. Instead he said he had some emails to send and then went for a shower. I dried my hair while he was mailing and started this post while he was in the shower. I'll update it later after we've been out if anything noteworthy happens, otherwise it's scheduled for the morning.

Ronnie
xx    

Too clever for my own good

I thought I was being clever, it was a last minute change of plan, spontaneous and with hindsight stupid. I mean it's going to get me spanked again, he's made that quite clear, so I suppose that's a bonus, sort of...except I fear it will be a rather painful one not the sort that causes my knickers to dampen as it approaches. Or maybe it will, who knows, another day.

You see I'd been taunting my husband good naturedly, it doesn't matter what about but it ended up me daring him to spank me. He told me I was a spanking addict, I didn't disagree and I told him I hadn't had the cane for quite a while, sticking my bottom out provocatively as I said it. Oh it's so easy to say and do that when the flames of the cane are memories and only the sexy bits stay in your mind but I often wonder if I would be so provocative immediately after a strict visit from that revered implement.

Anyway I'd set myself up for it and P decided he would give me a good caning if that was what I needed. I clearly did, in his opinion, the way I'd been carrying on, and he was going to give it me hard and with no sex after it, well not for me, not by way of getting fucked anyway... unless you count my face because he said he'd make me get down and take him in my mouth immediately after he'd caned me while my bottom was still outraged by the assault. He said he'd treat me like a slut, a spank slut, thrash me and then make me pleasure him. To squirm in ecstatic pain as I sucked his cock and swallowed like the little slut I was. I whimpered, I hoped it sounded like fear but suspect it came out like 'oh yes please, fucking do it don't just talk about it'.

Now there's no need to feel sorry for me, I'm a big girl and know what I'm doing, well most of the time, and I was drooling as P took me upstairs to deal with me like a spank slut. It was unceremonious, my trousers were taken down and I was made to lay over a pillow in the middle of the bed, I was allowed to retain my knickers, which were wet, although they didn't offer much protection. Then my husband caned me, he gave me exactly thirty strokes, fifteen from each side in groups of five, and I wailed and wriggled and stifled screams with another pillow as the tempo built towards the end. I'd lost my libido with the end pain but that often happens temporarily. I was nevertheless excited and craved further instructions. They came when P settled on the bed his groin level with my head and told me to undo his zipper and take his cock in my mouth. He said that was how he treated spank sluts and I better do a good job on his cock or he'd give me another dose. I opened his fly and his cock head, squeezing out precum, was in my mouth in no time as I licked and sucked and then...brainstorm....I decided to be clever. 

I decided to wait till he was about to explode and then take my mouth away, I thought it would be disobedient, naughty, evil, whatever, I had the devil in me. So that's what I did and my poor husband spurted his load part onto his shirt and part onto his belly. His grip on my shoulders was so strong it left (unintentionally) a bruise and the desperation in his voice was touching. I just said 'Oops'.

Poor P at first could hardly get over that I'd done such a thing, even though it wasn't the first time I'd been so naughty I certainly don't make a habit of it. Then he told me he was going to cane me again, then he changed his mind and said he wouldn't do it immediately, he'd make me wait and suffer. I was licking around the edges of the cum on his belly and asked him if I was a good girl belatedly and licked it all up, would he let me off. I thought I might get him hard again but it didn't happen. He got off the bed and told me the only way he could deal with what I'd just done was with another sound spanking and there would be no sex for me meanwhile. 

Later in the evening when I was sitting next to him, I apologised and asked if he was still angry with me. He put his hand on my leg and told me he hadn't been angry, dumbfounded was more like it. I wished his hand would move further up my leg but it didn't, he knew I wanted it to though, he can read me like a book. I asked him if he was really going to spank me again and when. He said it would be the next day or maybe the day after and it wouldn't be a spanking it would be the cane. I said that wasn't fair, he'd actually said sound spanking when we were upstairs. He said my little trick hadn't been fair, had it. I just muttered no and nuzzled up to him.

So que sera.

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx         

Voluptuous bottom got me caned

There were three vacant offices in our little building. Now there are only two. One has been filled by a company selling baby foods, they don't actually stock or distribute from the office but they have three people working there, including the boss, so they must be busy doing something right. Anyway it is their boss, and I suppose attractive woman in her late twenties, who has what I can only describe as a voluptuous bottom, at least that has been my impression from the few occasions I've seen her. She has always had on jeans, faded and fake old but no doubt expensive, and close fitting enough to separate the cheeks of her full bottom. That bottom got me into trouble.

If my old friend Gail had still been at the office she would have filled me in on everything that was going on in the building but, sadly, she has left and her replacement is nowhere near as informative nor friendly, I might add, although that could partly be because I'm not in there as often as I used to be so we haven't really got to know each other. Still, she was able to tell me a bit about the new tenants and, the particular bit I found interesting, that my husband had helped them sort out their networking when they moved their equipment in. My husband hadn't told me that.

I asked him about it and he just casually said "Oh yeah, they couldn't get their computers online so I took a look and got lucky and they're working fine." So how come they'd asked P for assistance, I mean he doesn't look technical or nerdy and there are plenty of other tenants, and why didn't any of them know how to get online. He told me it wasn't actually a case of 'them' on the day in question, it was just Julie who owns the business, and the reason he'd got involved was because she'd knocked the office door and told him Reception had said we had our own system separate from the communal broadband system and might be able to help her. Simple as that, and P had helped. I asked him how long it had taken and he said not long at all, less than an hour he thought. Ha! My husband doesn't give up an hour so easily and how come he only thought, how come he didn't remember and what was the exact problem anyway, I asked. He told me it was just a mistake with the router password but she'd made him a coffee which he couldn't really refuse so that slowed him down a bit as she was chatting too.

"I bet she was." I said, "So you know her name and what they do, then. And who else works with her, is her husband in the business?"

"She isn't married actually," he said.

"Oh, how come you know that?"

"Because in the same way you just asked me if her husband was in the business, just polite conversation, I asked her the same thing and that was her answer. What's the problem?"

P was getting irritated by my questions, I could tell that. I said she was quite attractive from what I'd seen of her, wasn't she, and I asked him if she always wore jeans. I mean men don't notice that sort of thing unless their attention has been caught. He told me he had no idea whether she always wore them as she'd only been there a short time but yes she did seem to wear jeans quite a lot now that I mentioned it. Oh yes, he'd noticed alright, no doubt about it.

"And was she wearing them the day you helped her out?" I asked. "Maybe that would account for how long you were with her, I bet she threw in the odd wiggle, she could hardly help it as her jeans are so ridiculously tight. Perhaps I'll revert to coming in more often."

"Perhaps you should and perhaps then you'd get to know her and you could make your own mind up instead of beating about the bush asking me ridiculous questions. If you're asking me if I noticed she's got a nice arse the answer's yes, if you're asking if I fancy her the answer's no, if you're asking if she was flaunting herself in any way the answer's don't be so bloody ridiculous. She seems just a nice girl with a young business, trying to expand it, no airs and graces, she dresses how she's comfortable. End of."

P then got up from his desk, put the snib on the office door and turned off the light. I asked him what on earth he was doing and he said something he hadn't done enough of lately, being as I was so infrequently in the office these days and when I was there it wasn't usually for long. Then he got his school cane from under the lip of his desk top. I told him oh no he couldn't do that, not today, I wasn't meant to be staying at all, I'd only popped in for some bags from upstairs. He told me what he was about to do wouldn't take long and he marched me across to my own desk, the top of which was clear, and bent me across it. I had jeans on myself as it happened and his hands reached round for the stud and zipper and pulled them down to my thighs.

"If it's just a bit of attention you need, you're about to get it and you'll be more focused on your own backside than the girl down the corridor's, I can assure you. And if this doesn't nip your nonsense in the bud then you'll get another dose at home tonight, do you understand?"

"Yes P," I mumbled just as the first stroke landed across my cheeks.

I got twelve strokes and couldn't cry out because the offices either side were working. The strokes came fast because P wanted it over quickly, short sharp shock to bring me back to reality, he told me afterwards. Also because anyone who did hear anything would hardly have time to adjust their ears and try to figure out what was going on before it was all over. He told me to get up and pull up my jeans. I just lay there I didn't want him to see my face. He said I better get up because he was switching the light back on and taking the snib off the door. I got up quick enough then, grimacing as my jeans slid over my caned bottom. The light went on. I pouted and got a wet wipe out of my handbag and put it to my cheeks, I hadn't been crying but he needn't know that. I sniffled and asked him why he'd turned the light off, he said so that anyone passing would think we were out. I looked at the office door, I hadn't even noticed that the little porthole window in it had had its covering removed and now showed light to the other side. 

P came across and patted my bottom. "Any more silly questions?" He asked.

"No, I'm sorry," I said and pecked him on the cheek. I left because I had stuff to dispatch and I didn't want to start getting horny, which I could feel coming on in spite of the burning in my backside. P had been right, my attention had certainly been re-focused:)

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx  

Breach or Trust

"Put your face straight and be quick about it," were my husbands last words to me before exiting the guest bedroom to put his cane away.

I suppose I'd deserved it but I didn't feel as if I'd deserved it at the time, it was unreasonable as far as I was concerned and I made sufficient protest as to leave P in no doubt that I was not best pleased, not that it made any difference. We'd been sidling up to one another only half an hour before it happened, too, and that made it even worse.

Linda and Roger came to visit last weekend, you see, and because it's a 180 mile trip and we hadn't met for ages except briefly at a funeral, they stopped over on Saturday night. No problem there then, they didn't bring their kids they wanted to talk without the kids around, Roger's recently been diagnosed with prostate cancer and I think they wanted to get it out in the open, we go back a long while. Roger used to be a DJ in fact he was the first one to work for P when we were in a different business. We'd decided to eat out on Saturday evening and they were going into town in the afternoon because Roger wanted a bulb for his car and Linda needed something she didn't tell me what (turned out to be flowers for me), they said they wouldn't be long.   

I went into their room to put a couple of fresh towels in and happened to notice Roger's bag open on the bed, some clothes alongside it and a letter from an NHS Trust on the floor, I presumed in connection with Roger's condition, no doubt they would be showing it to us later, I picked it up, couldn't see any harm in reading what is said. (as mentioned we go back a long way) P must have seen the door open and came to close it and preserve heat. He found me reading Roger's letter. He thought I'd taken it from his bag, which wasn't the case at all and I told him so but it didn't make any difference. 

"What on earth is going on, Ronnie?" He was angry.

I told him what had happened, that it had been on the floor, whether he believed me or not he said I shouldn't read other peoples' mail anyway and he went into our bedroom and brought his cane back. He made me bend over with my hands on the dresser, then he undid and lowered my jeans, no dilly dallying, and caned me. I went to get up after the first stroke, it hurt and it was ridiculous and unjust but he pushed me back down and kept his hand on my back telling me to stay there if I knew what was good for me. he told me it was bad manners and breach of trust and friendship and just plain wrong and I should be ashamed of myself. He caned me quite a few times more than ten strokes I think although I wasn't counting. They were hard and in quick succession and I yelped and at the end when he let me up I said "For fucks sake that was stupid it wasn't how you thought. Fuck that hurts!" and I stomped my foot. I was somewhere between indignant outrage and tears.

P said to make sure to leave the room how I'd found it and they'd be back soon. That was when he told me to put my face straight and left the room.

I was furious with him but ten minutes later our guests were back and I was in hostess mode, I still wasn't happy with P though and I didn't care who noticed. When we went out to dinner he told me I better buck up or I'd get another dose tomorrow. I bucked up, I already had some welts adorning my backside I didn't want more, not in the circumstances.

The stupid thing was, Roger did show the letter to us later and it really had been on the floor. Anyway hearing him talk about his prostate cancer overshadowed my paltry gripes. It was lovely to see them both again, we resolved to do it more often.

What a week. Thank goodness the weekend is here. Have a fun one.

Ronnie

xx  

The Swish

I've always, in my fantasies, loved the swish of the cane. Even in cartoons the writing of the word ...SWISH...or SWISHHHH!!! with a few extra letters for emphasis... has always appealed to me. Yet I've had the cane many times, as you know, and hardly noticed the swish, I was thinking about it on the weekend, where did all the swishes go? I mean I can remember a few but by no means all, nowhere near in fact, and yet swishes must have been there. I suppose my mind was preoccupied with other considerations, my bottom not the least.

Well I got caned on the weekend, it's why I was thinking about swishes. There were quite a few of them, more than thirty I know for sure because I kept count in sets of six up to that point and there were a few after because my husband thought my bottom needed some diagonal lines and a few before it started, for theatrical effect and, as he put it, to get his swing in, whatever that means.

But back to swishes. It was the pre-caning theatrical ones that got my mind going, they were louder than I could ever remember them being and they made me shudder, in fact I didn't want the caning and I was whimpering at each swish and thinking how mad I must be. Then it started and it was 'Swish...Crack', of course, the extra sound of cane on bottom and the awful bite to distract my thoughts. As you can imagine, or those of you who have been caned will know, it got more intense as wriggling and pleading and 'Be quiet girl' and 'You're having your bottom caned because I said so' and the like came into it all of which add to what makes a caning an 'experience' for me.

After it was done and I'd been caned to my husband's satisfaction and left to get over it while he went downstairs to start preparing a wonderful gourmet meal for two, I thought again about the swishes. I got up, my bottom flesh was tight which made me smile and wince at the same time, and picked up the cane he'd just used then retrieved our curly handle one and the otk one with the detachable handle which we took to Ireland. I swished each one of them a few times and the sounds were different. Then I did the same in the office and again in our son's occasional room and noticed the sounds were different not just between each cane but in each room, presumably because of size, furnishings perhaps even whether the windows or door were open, I didn't try every permutation. The 'swishiest' sounding cane was definitely the one he'd just used, you can bend it almost double, the least swishy sounding was the curly school cane which is much more rigid.

I told my husband what I'd discovered over our starter (baby squid plus my first ever scallop - which I didn't like) and he said it was good analysis. Good fucking analysis, I thought, this wasn't a business meeting for christssake, then he asked me what was wrong with my scallop and I told him I didn't like the texture so he had it and gave me some squid in return, then he asked me how my bottom was and I coyly told him it hurt. He seemed pleased with that.

We had a Portuguese dish of clams with crispy belly pork as a main course, it was delicious did I ever tell you my husband is a decent cook? Oh OK. I brought up the swishing thing again, only briefly, to let P know it had quite frightened me hearing it before he'd caned me, he told me it was right that a girl should be quite frightened before she's caned, then he asked me if there had been any other feelings in with the fear. I went coy again and felt myself blush, I didn't answer, I didn't need to. Then we reverted to other stuff. He helped me clear away and do the dishes, touched my bum a couple of times in the kitchen, fuck it does things to me, and we watched a movie later with a bottle of Rioja.

We went to bed early and I sucked him off, god he was full and I swallowed as much as I could, then we went to sleep me with my caned bottom pressed into his lap. P was awake early he always is Sunday morning, he still fetches the newspaper from down the road even though he can read several on line, he woke me too with his hand between my legs. It didn't take me long to respond and I reached across to find his cock standing up like a pole, perhaps it was the shellfish, anyway I climbed aboard it not to waste such an invitation and orgasmed within minutes. He left me in an afterglow to snooze for a while.

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

Caned for Nagging

I could have entitled this post 'Afternoon Delight' or 'Mauve Knicker Caning' (there's a separate story to those knickers) or '30 Strokes of Pleasure' or all sorts of things to attract attention but, down to earth soul that I am, I decided to just say it plainly, just what it says on the wrapper as they say.

Canings don't happen all that often, and punishment ones hardly ever although I've often tried to create perfect circumstances to qualify for a punishment caning but not cause friction between us and I've never got it quite right. Ridiculous isn't it, and I've posted about it before but anyway, mustn't digress too much about what I'd like to happen, stick to what did happen, Ronnie, and be grateful for it.

So on Saturday I got caned with the long whippy one, 

it wasn't punishment it was for nagging, or that's the reason I was given. On Saturdays we have a kind of established pattern, like most people, of doing things. P usually works for a few hours while I sometimes do a bit of work if necessary plus some housework, then there's a period when P will fix this or that, practical things, then there's usually a shopping excursion of some sort, then a gap followed by whatever we're doing that evening which could be cooking for ourselves or others, visiting or eating out with friends (we hardly ever eat out of our own volition on Saturdays, having worked in the industry we figure it's the worst night of the week to eat out). The afternoon gap is an interesting time, things happen in it, I should keep a diary then I could analyse it objectively, but I don't so just take my word.

I had to work on Saturday, quite a few orders came in late Friday and I wanted to get them cleared and let my customers know I'd done my bit and got them away, the rest was in the hands of Royal Mail. It didn't take me long and then I went home, I asked P not to be too long and reminded him he's got a job to do in the kitchen, a hole has appeared in the corner of the ceiling where we had an old water heater removed, don't get me wrong it isn't very big but it lets draught in and needs to be investigated anyway as to why it's happened, apart from covering it. I know P doesn't see it as a priority because I've mentioned it a few times with no action. He grunted acknowledgement as I left the office.

About an hour later or so later he came home and I asked him if he wanted a mug of tea while he took down a wall cupboard to give access to the ceiling hole. He said yes to the tea but the hole didn't get his attention, instead he went out to the garage to fix the door which has gone a bit lopsided since a Naked Wines delivery man dropped off earlier in the week (they're very good, not knocking them but it does seem a bit of a coincidence). He came in later without his toolbox, I asked him about the hole, didn't ask him how he'd got on with the door. He told me anyway, he'd fixed it temporarily but it needed further attention and a trip to a DIY store, then he turned his attention to what we were going to serve for dinner later, we had his brother and new girlfriend visiting. I told him I was sure he'd come up with something but what about the hole in the ceiling. He said not to worry about that, he'd deal with it but he didn't make a move, instead he started making a little list of items he needed to show off his culinary skills later. I was annoyed and went to the garage and returned carrying his heavy tool box and said I'd take a look at the kitchen then if he couldn't be bothered (I could hardly carry his toolbox let alone tackle the job). P was amused but also irritated.

He got up and came across, took his toolbox off me easily and stood it on the dining table. I said he couldn't put it on there but he said he could and would and it wouldn't do any harm and then he took a grip on my upper left arm and marched me upstairs telling me I needed a good spanking. In the bedroom he went to his side of the bed and felt under the mattress, he obviously couldn't locate whatever he thought should have been there and he looked up at me accusingly and asked what had happened to his 'bogey paddle' 

(Oh it's his now is it, even though it was sent to me), I couldn't help laughing and told him it would be wherever he left it as he was the one who used it. Anyway his momentum had been broken and he did look a bit silly having propelled me manfully up to the bedroom to give me a good spanking and then not being able to find his spanking implement. I'm sure he was aware of the fact but he wasn't going hunting for it, instead he reached further under and his hand came out holding his long whippy cane. My eyes widened. He said he'd soon wipe the laughter off my face. I had to think very quickly, I told him he couldn't and that I hadn't done anything wrong and then, as an afterthought, he better not dare use that on me .....which probably sealed my fate.

As you can imagine with my husband, he did dare thank goodness. He came over and undid my jeans, pulled them roughly down and manoeuvred me over to the bed causing me to trip onto it, almost centrally as it happened, because my jeans were restricting my legs. He pulled the bottom of my hoodie jacket up over my bum, I still had my knickers on but I felt the cool air in the bedroom. Then his hand went to the waistband of my knickers and I was on the edge of a gasp when his voice said 'No need, they don't give you any protection'. Then he started caning me. Six from the left of the bed and six from the right. No warm up. Fiercely stingy biting strokes which made me squeal.

"Not laughing now are you," he said. It wasn't a question and thank god he couldn't see my face.

"No," I managed in a tiny voice trying to keep the elated huskiness out of it.

"And you'll find that paddle for me after I've finished with you, won't you," he said as he returned to the left of the bed and started on another six.

"Owww!" I exclaimed as the first one landed, "Yes P I'll find it.....OUCH!...really I will," I whimpered after the second stroke followed too quickly. I don't like the strokes to come too fast, I prefer to savour them.

I got another four with him standing to my left, which had me wriggling cstatically painfully trying to bury myself into the mattress but keep my buttocks raised for more strokes at the same time. Another six wickedly searing strokes were delivered from my right and then a pause and I froze, listening, ears tuned for a clue as to what would come next. I felt his hand on my bum, lightly, feeling across both cheeks. He told me I'd got little lines creeping out from either side of my knickers. I made some whimpering noise. He said he'd have to take them down and see if the lines went all the way across and I felt the back pulled down far enough for his fingers to tease my punished buttocks. The lines weren't adequate, he said, and I needed another six, three from each side, on my bare bottom. I didn't notice any difference in intensity but just the words 'bare bottom' were enough to set me off and I squealed and wriggled for all I was worth. When he was done he gently pulled the back of my knickers up and told me to let that be a lesson to me not to nag. I didn't move, I was hoping he might join me on the bed but he didn't, instead I heard a camera click, he must have had his phone in his pocket, then on his way out of the bedroom he reminded me to find his paddle if I didn't want a second dose. 

Ten minutes later, horny as hell, I went downstairs. His toolbox had gone off the table, he'd looked at the kitchen ceiling and declared it was nothing, no need to remove the cupboard he could fix it easily and I'd never even know a hole had been there. We had to go out, so he dropped me in town while he drove on to a DIY store on the outskirt, we met an hour later in a local cafe. Sitting with a coffee P asked me how my bum was, I said it still stung, in a snuggly way and I touched his hand. We queued in the (real) butcher's, not the supermarket, because P wanted some proper meat and he squeezed my bottom as we shuffled along the counter. When we got home and put stuff away, P asked me if I'd remembered to find his paddle. When I said not yet, he said 'Right young lady', I like it when he says that, and told me it was back upstairs for me. I thought another dose of the cane would be delicious the mood I was in, but I didn't get it. Instead I got fucked, with my jeans and panties around my thighs, bending over the foot of the bed and I came and came as my husband pumped hard into me telling me I was a very lucky girl not to be getting another caning.

Later he sent me the photo he'd taken. Photos never seem to show things as vividly as you imagine they must have been but you can definitely see little lines tracing out from my knickers. With the photo he'd said don't forget the paddle or it'll be worse next time. What paddle?

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Pre-dinner Cocktail

Forget it, I've discovered a pre-dinner caning can be far headier, last longer, cost nothing and promote sizzling conversation.

Well to the extent that my conversation can be sizzling at all. Perhaps I should have said animated conversation and reserve sizzling for the condition of my bottom, because it was, from the moment we got into Rob's car (no driving yay!) and I kept sitting forward, then to this side and that, then shuffling back again, I'm sure Linda thought I was livelier  than ever, good company eh, and really interested in all the usual small talk that passes between friends when they join up. If only she'd seen me twenty minutes before they collected us and if only she could see my husband's hand cupping my scorched cheeks alternately as I shifted around on the back seat of their car, she might have twigged that my mind wasn't entirely focused on the weather or her new outfit.

You see my husband had caned me before we came out. He'd waited till I'd showered, dressed, applied a drop of Chanel and a smear of lippy, checked my bum in the mirror (I can get into a pair of RL Weekenders which I haven't been able to without a shoe horn for ages) and then told me he wanted me to come into the office. I knew what it must be for, after all he had threatened it yesterday, but this late? Linda and Rob would be here any time, I was dressed and couldn't be disturbed, it wasn't right, better postpone it till the next day or the day after, I suggested. Not a chance. P told me this was exactly the correct time to cane my naughty bottom, as he'd promised. He told me this as he was walking me to the office.

Whatever babble I came out with to try and wiggle out of it had no effect at all. He stood me at the desk by the window, I could see Maureen across the road swilling her car and I thought must make a smile and a casual wave if she looks up, not easy to do when you're having your trousers undone and wrestled down to your knees. I had a thong on, I never wear them normally although I have a few, I put one on just because I was so pleased with the RL fit nice and snug and didn't want a line. Well I got some lines and the RL fit got snugger.

P made a comment about the underwear, he said good, didn't have to waste time removing it. He pushed my back forward and down until my tummy and hips were against the desk surface and I couldn't see Maureen any more because my head was flat against the desk top, below window height. P was standing to my left, I don't know how much of him might have been seen if anyone had been looking from outside, I thought probably not much, perhaps just his arm swinging into view a few times, quite a few actually, but they wouldn't know what it was doing, I doubted if they'd see the cane unless they were rude enough to stare. Then I felt the first stroke, well I heard it first then felt it then there was a delay while my brain worked out how bad it was then there was an almighty gasp from me, shock at the pain and a long muffled Ooooooh Noooo all within a second or so. Shuffling and stamping of legs to make it obvious to my husband that it hurt. Wishing Maureen wasn't doing her stupid car so that I could shout louder. P probably enjoyed the stomping and the noise I made, nice little show for him I supposed as my bum wobbled atop my protesting legs and an angry red line emerged. I thought I'll just keep still and not make any sound and don't give him the satisfaction. Then the next stroke landed and I stomped even more and Pleeeeeaaase-Ooh-not-so-hard-ooh-it-stings came out or words to that effect.

My husband must have enjoyed all my activity and vocalising I'm sure but he must have known it was hard and he certainly knew we didn't have much time. He helped me a bit by placing his left hand gently but firmly in the small of my back and telling me to try and keep still, there's a good girl. Then he whipped me a number of times in quick succession, so quick it took my breath away and the pain sort of merged and I could hardly respond individually instead I just writhed and moaned across the desk until it stopped, then I squealed and shuddered and lay still. I heard P putting the cane on top of the cupboard then his hands were on my shoulders and he was helping me up. He kissed me on the back of my neck, patted my bottom which made me jump, and told me to put myself straight, didn't want to be holding things up. Cheeky sod. As he went out the office door he looked back and told me my bum looked nice. It didn't feel nice as I struggled back into my RL's, I'm quite sure bottoms get bigger after they've been thrashed, they certainly feel it.

So that was what happened. I put myself straight as he put it, checked myself in the mirror, checked my bum again to see if it looked as if I'd been caned, I did look from the left and the right because of the light, I couldn't see anything that would suggest I'd been caned it was just in my mind that I feel conspicuous after a good spanking. Ah well, in its own way it's a curiously nice feeling once the initial shock has mellowed, and this evening was no different and P's prediction that we'd have an enjoyable time came true. And when we got home at the end of it, after a drink or two more than normal because of the no driving, I could hardly keep my hands off my husband. It's funny what a pre-dinner caning can do for a girl, I had the strongest urge to drain my husband's cock that I've had for a long time so I lay on the settee with my head in P's lap and did him while he watched the tail end of Newsnight. 

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx