Lockdown Caning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ronnie
xx

Pork with clams never tasted better

I got my bottom caned last Saturday evening, then sat down to a meal cooked by my husband, yes the same husband (I only have one) who caned my bottom. I think they tasted better than I can ever remember and the frisson brought about by the caning, not to mention the heat in my seat and the slightly awkward conversation with neither side referring to what had earlier happened but both sides obviously highly conscious of it, made it a totally delicious occasion.

There are only three more Saturdays to go before Christmas and they are all taken up, this was our last Saturday evening twosome for a while and I doubt if the next few will match it. The meal had been planned, the caning had not. It all came about because I'd been out on Friday, I went into Birmingham with a friend and shopped, lunched, saw a ballet (the Nutcracker) in the afternoon and then had a couple of drinks while we waited for the going-home people traffic to subside before getting the train home. Jan had never seen a ballet and loved it, we'll repeat some time in the new year but an evening performance probably with our other halves. Anyway to cut short on my usual waffling, I was later than planned getting a train back and when P texted me to check if I'd be on time I was still in a bar in the Mailbox. So when he kindly picked me up from the station I was an hour and a half late and he wasn't very pleased, he'd eaten without me and told me I was inconsiderate. I told him time had just disappeared, 'you know how it is when girls get together' I said. Apparently he didn't.

Anyway nothing happened until Saturday afternoon after we'd been shopping and he'd got what he wanted from Waitrose which seems to be the only place near us which stocks live clams. He referred back to the previous evening and made a comment about my lateness, I brushed over it and told him we should go to the theatre more often and we should make a foursome after Christmas, Jan would like to and he enjoyed her husband's company on the few occasions they met, he didn't say yes or no, just that 'oh, been making arrangements on my behalf have you, no doubt over drinks in that yuppie bar'. It doesn't mean my husband is angry when he talks like that, just that he's got a little grumble to let out of his system.

So later, when he was in the kitchen doing a bit of prep, I went in and tried to cosy up to him and ask if any particular days would be favoured by him if I arranged something with Jan, she'd already spoken with Ron, her husband, and he preferred a weekend because he had early starts most weekdays. P told me he hadn't even agreed yet and couldn't I see he was busy and to ask him another time and he'd think about it. What an awkward sod. I slid my arm around his waist from behind and squeezed his balls through his jeans and asked him if he was just trying to punish me for last night. 'Ah, so you acknowledge you were out of order then,' he said quick as a flash. 'Well you haven't even had the good manners to apologise, have you?' It was more a statement than a question and I didn't answer, sensing an opportunity. I took my hand off his balls, it wasn't doing any good so I could tell he was still simmering a bit. I told him not to be silly over a bit of forgetfulness, I didn't apologise, I said if it was such a big bloody deal why not just spank me for it and clear the air. He just 'humphed' and carried on working.

I pushed myself up and sat on the work surface, there was flour on it but I didn't care, he doesn't like me doing things like that and he glared without saying a word. He said the oven was on and stuff was in it and he had a timetable to keep to, and I said 'Well why don't you grow up then and just answer me about the theatre, I'm staying here till you do.' I meant it too. My husband said 'Are you indeed, we'll see about that.' and he stormed out of the kitchen.

Two minutes later he was back, he'd been upstairs to the bedroom and brought his cane down, he held it in his left hand and pulled me off the worktop with his right. He marched me into the lounge and up to the dining table where he bent me over and started caning me. I shouted out STOP! in such a way that he did immediately. I'd got flour over my sweat pants and it had left a trail on the carpet and I said if he kept caning me it would fly off and be even worse. I was serious too, he just said 'Well we'll soon stop that from happening no problem at all,' and pulled my sweats down to my knees and resumed caning me over my knickers. He told me I'd been thoughtless and a simple call or message when I'd decided to go for drinks would have been polite, an apology after would have helped too and calling him silly and childish wasn't doing me any favours, he wouldn't be spoken to like that and perhaps a good caning would teach me a lesson. I wasn't counting strokes but it would have been almost impossible to anyway while he was verbally reprimanding me too, I suppose thirty or maybe forty perhaps and they came very fast after my sweats had been pulled down. They hurt and I was squealing 'Sorry!' and 'Please!' soon enough.

When he'd finished he put the cane down on the table and told me to put it away and hoover the flour off the floor and he had work to do and he didn't want to hear any more about the theatre for the rest of the evening. He went back into the kitchen and I hoovered up and laid the table with a sore bottom. Half an hour later my husband was delivering two hot starters to the table and I was sitting down red faced on a thin sofa cushion, as he sat opposite and waited for me to say something. 'That looks lovely,' I said without catching his eye and we started eating. Conversation built gradually and awkwardly. It was really sort of entertaining in its own way and by the time we'd finished and cleared up and were sitting sipping a glass of wine I was feeling positively horny. I didn't say it though, a girl has to know when to keep quiet:)

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx   

Four Poster Caning

Have you ever been caned in. Or I suppose on, a four-poster bed? Yes I thought you probably had:) well I hadn't, at least not until our recent trip to Ireland.

We (meaning I) had some trouble booking accommodation, Dublin was 'FULL' so it seemed on all the booking sites, unless you were prepared to pay upwards of £200 a night, well you can imagine my husband's response to that prospect, I couldn't understand why it was so busy although later we found out AC/DC were playing a sellout concert and that had squeezed accommodation. Anyway I found us a nice guest house which was three Georgian houses joined together and looked really nice, walking distance to the city but in a leafy suburb. When we got there we were delighted, it was full of character, lovely staff and the rooms were massive, we had a four poster bed, 

high ceiling, antique furniture and Impressionist prints around the walls, it put to shame many a standard 4* or even 5* we've stayed at, the only small point it didn't have aircon but the room was so big and airy, and with huge sash windows which opened fully, we didn't need it. I got us the last available room, which was actually a junior suite but we got it for the double rate, I don't know why.

My husband told me within minutes of being in the room that he would be caning me on the four-poster. I told him he'd have a job without a cane, then he told me had an otk cane with him, I laughed and said he wouldn't have dared go through airport security with one. Then he said he hadn't...both of us had. Apparently he had pulled our otk cane apart and the handle grip was in my overnighter (unknown to me) and the cane part was in P's bag, just a 'kids flagpole' or whatever if he was stopped and searched and, if I'd been stopped, well I genuinely wouldn't have put two and two together and would just have said I didn't know what the handle was doing in my bag but what business was it of theirs anyway. I mean it's quite ridiculous the trouble we go to to hide or camouflage things which aren't illegal or anybody else's business other than our own, but I know we're not the only couple who do it.

So there's the background, all the ingredients were there, all it needed was a catalyst and my husband provided it, he doesn't normally indulge in a lot of spanking talk (more's the pity for me because I like it) but on this occasion he did. He did it alongside making some phone calls and answering some emails, it was matter of fact, as if what he'd said was going to happen had to happen, it was a given, it was just a case of when and how and how hard. He said it would be an almost criminal waste of opportunity not to be caned in such a lovely room. Full of history, he said, he imagined I wouldn't be the first person to be caned in the property, he asked me if I could imagine wives, girlfriends and domestic staff dressed in the style of the days in which the property was built, the courtesies and protocols they used, I told him I could (thinking Downton). He told me he could too, and he could also see the formally attired gentlemen of the day, doing business, taking charge of affairs, doing what had to be done...he kept throwing little bits like this in, adding stuff about discipline and how important it had been to maintain it in those days, he looked up at me from time to time and asked 'didn't I agree?'  and 'I could just imagine it couldn't you?', I answered with a 'Hmm' or a nod of the head and I think once a 'Oh yes definitely' at which point I was struggling to keep the hoarseness out of my voice. I know my knickers were damp, I wondered if Victorian girls got damp knickers.

Then he told me he was going into town and I should come with him, he had to go to a Chinese restaurant, not to eat, he said it wouldn't take long, it would be a nice walk the weather was lovely and he said he'd treat me to tea or ice cream on the river. I went with him because I didn't want to spend the next few hours reading or dreaming about Victorians or getting on and off the four-poster bed wondering if he really would do it. P didn't talk about spanking on the way into town, he was mentally running through a list of things he had to cover with the Chinese client, he always does that before meetings, he did pat my bum a couple of times though and I rubbed against him in appreciation. His meeting took an hour, I found a shopping mall in St Stephens and killed time. We didn't have ice cream but we did sit on the river bank after and have coffee and chocolate, there was a kiosk with alfresco seats and it was lovely in the sunshine. I asked about his meeting and it had gone fine, I could tell that anyway from his relaxed attitude, and then spanking returned to the conversation when a couple of girls in tight shorts walked past and I smiled and said nice, and my husband said they wouldn't have thought it nice if they'd dressed like that in Victorian days, he rested his hand on my knee as he said it. We crossed over the river and got a taxi back to the hotel, we were coming back into town later in the evening we had a table booked at Fire Restaurant but we both wanted showers and he had some emails he wanted to send too as a result of his meeting.

I showered while P did his mail, I came out with a large bath robe wrapped round me and took the spare hairdryer off its hook to start drying my hair. P got up and went to the bathroom and as my eyes followed him out I noticed our otk cane had been reassembled and lay on the bed. Oh god he was going to do it then, I dried my hair as quickly as I could, wondering as I did it whether I should stay naked under my robe or fish out the best underwear I'd got with me and slip some tight fitting trousers on (I remembered his comment about the girls). In the end I slipped some nice knickers on, satin peach with a lace trim, they shimmered as I moved. I put trousers on then took them off. I didn't wear a bra or top, when I heard the shower stop I scurried to the big bay window and stood looking out, there were groups of people making their way along the road to a nearby stadium, I didn't think they could see me if they looked up but I did think my silhouette from behind, set against the light from the window would be a seductive sight for my husband when he came out of the shower, I think a TV ad had influenced me although I don't suppose I looked like the girl in the ad. I heard P walk into the room and pretended to be startled, I didn't turn round though, I though he might come up and put his hand on my bottom but he didn't. Instead he told me it was time for my caning and to turn round and come over to him, he had a bath towel around his waist and he looked tanned against the white of it, his body always looks tanned. He let the towel slip when I got close and I could see he was rigid, I went to touch it but he told me I couldn't I was having my bottom caned and there would be no hanky panky. I thought surely to god he's not going to waste that after caning my bottom but I didn't say it.

P got on the bed with pillows stacked up behind his back and told me to crawl up and get across his thighs. I could feel his cock hard against my left hip and I could feel myself wet between my legs, I thought the material of my knickers would probably show it and the thought made me wetter. He asked me how hard a caning I should get, he said he thought it should be hard. I asked him what it was for and he said it was because he'd told me he was going to and then, with a flash of inspiration, added that standing by the window exposing myself was another reason, in fact it was shameful exhibitionism and in his opinion deserved a severe thrashing. I felt the butterflies in my stomach and whimpered my complete agreement.

So I got thrashed, I don't know if it was severe, I doubt it because the otk cane isn't as long or swishy as full length ones but it still hurt, in the most wickedly delicious way you understand and I wriggled and bucked and clenched and pleaded across my husband's thighs for several minutes while he caned my bottom. When he stopped I felt disappointed but I needn't have, it was just to shuffle me further down his legs so that he could get a better swing. And pull my knickers down. Oh my! Round two really packed a sting and I had to hold on to P's ankle with one hand with the other over my mouth to stop me crying out. I tried to slither into a position where I could rub against his knee but he spotted me and parted his legs under me so I had a void under the bit I wanted to rub. I cried in frustration and the caning continued until my husband decided I'd learned my lesson and asked me if I'd be standing in the window again any time soon. I said no in a small weepy voice. He told me to pull my knickers up and sit next to him, I thought he was going to make me service his cock which was still hard, but he didn't, instead he put his arm round me and asked me how I'd enjoyed my first (and probably only ever, I thought) caning in a four poster bed. I snuggled against him and placed his hand between my legs and said he could find out for himself but he didn't, he told me to get dressed we needed to be out within twenty minutes if we were going to make our table booking, he intended to walk into town as it was such nice weather.

So I went out horny and we had a lovely meal, I can recommend Fire to anyone, and I still had a sting in my bum as we sat chatting over dinner and I loved it. We had cocktails too and on the way back we stopped at a real Irish bar, the sort where they have 'the craic' not an internationalised bar, and we both drank Guinness and talked for a while with some Aussie backpackers who thought we knew our way around but got fed up of us when they realised we didn't:)

Back at our hotel I was ready to be fucked but P wasn't, he said it was far too quiet, it was too. So we waited till morning when traffic was on the road and the local train had resumed its service and staff were turning up for work, the TV did the rest. Apart from the fucking of course.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie

xx       

Happy Birthday Heart and Soul

Yes it's Heart and Soul's 6th Blogiversary. Where does the time go.

I really thought it would be a couple of months max when Bonnie found me (thanks Bonnie) back in 2008, but no, here I am still blogging and loving it and that's all down to you my loyal readers because without you I wouldn't still be here.  So a big thank you to everyone who has ever stopped by.

I'm out with a friend shopping and lunch but I wouldn't mind ending the day with a little celebration caning - if I can persuade P.  

Well he does owe me one.....or two.

Catch up with you when I can.

Ronnie
xx

A Deal's a Deal

Twenty pounds

and two canings

That's the cost of returning items to Ralph Lauren after Christmas, or at least it's the cost to me. I've paid the twenty quid and been caned once, one still to go if he remembers......but I got my returns sorted, didn't have to drive up the M6, which I hate, and (I think) almost persuaded my husband on the drive back that we should take a winter break.

The deal was made after a couple of glasses of wine (I'd have negotiated out of the twenty quid in favour of a third caning if I'd been thinking clearly:)) and it came about after my pre-xmas trip to Chester and the designer outlet at Cheshire Oaks. I bought quite a lot of stuff, amongst it a RL jacket for myself and a Polo sweater for P as a Christmas present. I was delighted with the jacket until a couple of days after buying it my son showed me some Barbours online which looked much nicer and he gets discount. I sent for one and it was brilliant, much better all round than the RL, sorry RL. Then the sweater I gave P on Christmas day had a tiny snag on the front which I hadn't noticed in store and he said didn't matter but I said no way. 

So I said we need to go back, notice we not I. P said it was hardly worth a trip, the jacket looked good so why not keep it and use it, and as for the sweater why not take it into Bham next time I go and swap it for a snag free one. I told him that couldn't be done, the outlet store goods aren't interchangeable with high street stores, he said I could sweet talk a sales assistant into doing it but I assured him it wouldn't work. He wasn't convinced. Then I told him how much the RL had cost and that changed his perspective, he said he thought I'd told him it was cheap at the outlet and I said I did and it was and it was a very good deal but I wouldn't feel happy keeping it now I'd got the Barbour. He said he should think not and that's when he agreed to drive up there with me but he said I had to pay the petrol about 30 pounds and buy lunch. I reminded him there was an item of his to be exchanged too so he said OK reduce the petrol cost and take a caning instead, this was all light hearted banter you understand. I must have agreed too quickly and with poorly concealed enthusiasm because he followed up with 'Make that two canings now that I know how much you spent on the jacket'. I said is that the final offer and he said yes, and that was it we shook hands on it.

  

On Saturday morning I was up bright and early, before P for a change, I put a crisp twenty under his wallet so that he couldn't miss it. He noticed it right away when he came downstairs and said he liked that, a woman of her word. Then he got himself a mug of coffee and said if we set off early we could stop off in Chester, he didn't think the outlet stores open before 10am anyway so I agreed, then he told me I should accompany him upstairs, he had a little job to do before we left, he wanted me to know he kept his word too. I guessed what the little job was and said didn't he want to sit and drink his coffee and it would make us late and what about the drive it would be uncomfortable. He just said it wouldn't be uncomfortable for him and smirked.

In the bedroom he told me to stand by the bed and take my jeans down. 

I heard him take another slurp of coffee then the wardrobe door slid open, I presumed he'd put a cane in there.

"Take your knickers down too," he said as he came and stood at my left side, "and bend over with your hands flat on the duvet."

I closed my eyes and scrunched the duvet with my hands, I hadn't expected it and didn't really want it. The stroke seemed to take ages coming and I thought he must be drinking his coffee or something and I made to get up, I was going to suggest perhaps he kept his word some other time. Then I heard the swish and my husband's cane bit ferociously into my bottom causing me to gasp out loud then 'Ooooouw P that was hard' as I turned my head towards him intending to ask him to please be lenient. Unfortunately another stroke landed before I could make my plea and I squealed 

and thudded my feet on the floor stamping from side to side.

"Keep still stop making such a fuss, only another four," said my husband, "a deal's a deal." 

I took the next four strokes better, they were lighter then the first two but still left my backside raging. Then my husband's hand patted my bum and he told me to pull up my knickers and jeans and we'd get going. He pecked me on my cheek as I stood up and then he was off downstairs. Ten minutes later we were heading for the M6, me a bit wriggly but that eased off after half an hour or so and before we reached Chester I'd started to feel a bit horny. I really hadn't wanted to be caned but the afterglow in my bum and the prospect of a shopping expedition with my caner had set me up nicely. We had an enjoyable day, or part day actually, and on the way back I started talking about holidays and P didn't change the subject for a change, in fact when I told him about the discounts some of the travel firms were offering on low season breaks he said they sounded interesting and I should send him a few links. Whoopee.

I don't know if or when I'll get the other caning, I won't remind him. But if I do get it, if it's the same as that one Saturday morning, and if I'm in the mood, I think I might like it because although I made a fuss it wasn't really too severe and not too long either, just about right.

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

Let me know if the second or fourth picture belongs to you.

How soon is "soon enough"

I suppose it depends what it refers to. In this case it was my husband's assurance that a short otk cane, which lay in my underwear drawer, remember

would get used soon enough.

So, now that you know what I'm talking about, you'll no doubt appreciate there are lots of variables to take into account in deciding whether 'soon enough' might be actually too soon for one but not the other but anyway it's academic now because it happened, the timing chosen by P, I had no say in the matter.

Had I told you our son was in Cumbria? I think probably not, he was on a course so we had the place to ourselves. I had a doctor's appointment for 9.15am, routine check nothing nasty, so I'd told P I wouldn't be in the office till after 10am. I decided I'd have a teeny snug little lie-in, well why not, I couldn't have breakfast anyway not even a cup of tea because of the blood test. Unfortunately, or not, it was a day when P had several things on including receiving a potential new client at the office, it was a collar and tie job for him, not his usual preference. It was also a morning when he couldn't find things, his charger cable had gone missing, he couldn't find any black shoe polish, he couldn't remember if I'd reserved a reception room (I had).  

Not much after 7.00am he came into the bedroom, apparently he'd been waiting downstairs listening for me to come out of the shower which obviously didn't happen as I was curled up in bed. He asked if I was ill, I mumbled no, then he asked why on earth I was still in bed, I reminded him of my appointment. That was no reason for idling in bed, he said, especially when I knew he had a lot on. I told him I knew he had a lot on, at least as he saw it, but that I did not, then I told him where to find things and turned over, expecting to hear him leave the room.

Instead I heard a drawer open and then felt the weight of an extra body on the mattress behind me, the duvet was pulled down and I was turned flat onto my stomach. I looked up to object at the rude disturbance but the sight of my husband, suit trousers and crisp white shirt and tie, cane in hand, 
made me melt. He pulled my knickers down and started laying into my bottom very forcefully causing me to wriggle and squirm like a fish out of water, 

he held me in place with his left hand in the small of my back and kept telling me that lying in bed was lazy and no good for me except on weekends and holidays and that it showed a deterioration of mental attitude or words to that effect, oh and a lack of self discipline, I don't know where he finds the words sometimes but they do have an appropriate effect on me when a cane is being wielded. 

Something about bedtime punishment, I mean either end of bedtime, has always appealed to me; I'd love to be spanked really thoroughly at bedtime and then told to go to sleep with a sore bottom, nothing else, it hasn't really happened to me but I'd like it to. I feel the same attraction to morning spankings (which have happened to me) and on this occasion I very quickly started wanting something else and by the time my husband had stopped caning me I just wanted him to get into bed so that I could rip his shirt and tie off and fuck him.

That didn't happen.    

He told me he hoped I'd learned my lesson (I had - must have more lie-ins on week days) and he wanted me to come and find what he was looking for. So I pulled my knickers up, threw a t shirt on and went downstairs, a few minutes later I was straightening his tie for him before he went out the front door, everything in order. Just before 9 o'clock I got a txt message......."how's your bum, hope the doctor doesn't notice the marks"    

My bum had stopped tingling by the time I got into the office, P was already with his visitor, I popped my head in and asked sweetly if they'd like coffee or anything, I'm such a good girl after I've been disciplined. Later, after we'd left work but before we had dinner, I made sure I got what I'd been fancying during the latter part of my caning and very nice it was too. 

Was it soon enough? Well I'd say it was unexpectedly soon, with the emphasis on unexpectedly, and probably all the better for it. The cane is no longer in my drawer, I rather hope I'll be seeing it back again though, I quite liked having it dominate my underwear drawer.

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx