The saga of morning canings continues, except now it has passed from the realm of Abel’s fantasy to the realm of ‘Haron’s bottom is too sore to sit, because she’s just had a week’s worth of caning in one morning’.
(To recap: first Abel fantasised about a girl getting caned just before school, then Pandora on her blog posted about a girl getting 12 of the best every morning for a week; Abel, inspired by the latter, fine-tuned the ritual to his own taste, incorporating the counting of strokes that continued from the previous morning. Unsatisfied by the effect of all of the above, he then threatened to give me to the milkman introduce a dawn punishment service.)
Anyway, this morning Abel was going away to Brussels for 4 days. His taxi was due to pull up at 6am to take him to the airport, but a good hour before he had to get up, we both found we couldn’t sleep. We cuddled and talked of perverted things, and at some point he decided it would be a good idea to give me a caning to remember him by.*
“I wonder how many strokes I should give you,” he said, warming my bottom with a few initial smacks over his knee. “Six of the best, I think. For every day I’m away.”
A bright spark that I am, I blurted: “That seems like a fair number” – because I felt bluesy that he was leaving, and also, I hadn’t quite woken up yet. The reality of what he had just suggested didn’t hit me until it was quite, quite late to protest.
Abel grabbed a cane (second from the right on the picture), and instructed me to bend over the edge of the bed. Which I did with some trepidation.
The first few strokes were fairly light, and I began to think that not running away screaming at the suggestion of this caning might have been a good idea. I held on to the bed covers and quietly hissed as Abel counted six. “This is for today,” he said. “Let’s move on to Saturday, shall we?” I swallowed and managed: “Yes, sir.”
It didn’t take long to recognise that tomorrow’s strokes were much crisper than the first batch. Each burned like a little individual knife slash, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from yelping. (It would have been impolite to wake the neighbours at 5am, I thought.)
“Time for the hard strokes,” said Abel. “This is for Sunday.” The next six were proper scorching licks of the sort that would fit into any school scene we might play. I swallowed my screams with a great feat of willpower, and after each one it took me several long seconds to return to the proper caning position.
The Monday half-dozen would be coming next, and Abel confirmed what I knew anyway: these strokes would be the hardest of all. My eyes watering, I dug my fingers into the bed covers, and pressed my mouth into the soft duvet, hoping it would muffle the screams I couldn’t hope to contain. The most challenging part of a hard caning is that out of the corner of my eye I can usually see Abel draw his hand right up, as high as the size of the room allows it**, and this can be more terrifying than the pain itself. I held on as well as I could through the great cracks of wood on skin and the branding pain, counting down until all twenty-four were done.
And then it was time for more cuddles in bed.
Except, it would be a mistake to think it was over. I made this mistake too, but a little while – and much bottom-squeezing – later, Abel said with quite a pensive look on his face:
“You know, I don’t get back until quite late on Tuesday.”
Huh? What? Before I could give him a good kick for even suggesting evil things like this, he was out of bed, and had a cane in his hand again, and I was on my tummy, clutching the pillow and counting the swoosh-cracks, and gritting my teeth in pain. Admittedly, these strokes were not as hard as the Sunday portion, but neither had they lightened up by much.
I let out my breath after the last one and looked at Abel over my shoulder. He had that pensive look again, like an ogre who had just eaten a little girl who wasn’t quite agreeing with his digestion.
“That was five lots of six-of-the-best,” he said. “You know about that schoolgirl who got caned every morning before her lessons? On our blog? If I gave you another dozen, you would have had her whole punishment in one go. I think that would be quite cool.”
I thought that it would be quite a sacrifice for the sake of I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I was the one with an upturned bare bottom, and Abel was the one with the dragon cane, and thus he seemed to be at a rhetorical advantage.
I had never had a dozen stripes delivered quite so fast. Not harsh individually, together they grew into a long, continuous stretch of sharp pain. I cursed the day I ever showed Abel how to use WordPress for blogging. When it was over, I decided not to point out that the schoolgirl in the fantasy had received a dozen strokes every morning, but he knew that, and didn’t seem to mind.
We had just enough time for our final cuddles before his alarm clock started bleeping. I was sore, but content with what I had taken – and glad it was all over.
And it wasn’t even dawn yet.
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* Because obviously a girl is capable of forgetting her husband the minute he’s out of the door. Obviously.
** The Ralph Lauren polo-player logo always reminds me of Abel’s cane at the apex of its rise. This makes department stores quite disturbing.
Having recently been through the same scenario as the girl in the story, the reality of your post may not be as bad as it sounds. I felt relief for the first half of the day, but then dread for the second half as I thought about the next ‘set’ to come, and that went on for 7 days. So the dread part is over already. Would you classify this as a ‘reassurance spanking’? (asked with the greatest of due deference, and no cheekiness whatsoever)
It might have been stupidly early, but I’m guessing you were more than a little awake by the end of it?
The early hour is the scariest bit of this, for me – I’ve taken 5am canings before, but always at the other end of the day, if you see what I mean.
Lovely story (and ouch, your poor bottom!) Tthankyou for sharing
Yeah, brutal, I agree. I can’t function before 8 am, let alone get excited.
I love early morning, like this one… especially this one as I have a car boot filled with canes and other ‘fun’ things and I’m about to head half way across the country to see my wonderful man so that he can use them… a lovely tale to take with me too, thanks Haron!
Rob – given a choice I’d definitely take the lot in one go. I’m calculating like that: there’s no way they can all be hard strokes if I’m getting them all at once. Six each morning? Can be pretty hard individually. An easy choice
(Oh, and I’m not sure what you mean by “reassurance” spanking, but I wouldn’t necessarily class this one as anything but a sensual experience with not very much mental component involved.)
Pandora – I’m so not into being caned much after 10pm! Early morning is a lot easier.
Amber – Hehe, being caned wakes you up pretty quick, I can guarantee 😉
Sarah – Sounds like fun! Enjoy yourself… Hope you’ll have trouble sitting down afterwards.
Haron, are you sometimes tempted to take pictures of your blistered bottom and post it here? You guys are so super discrete and I love that about you, so I imagine that you will never do that.
I thought I’d never want to post pictures of any part of my body on the internet, but I actually got such a lovely caning/whipping/strapping last night that my bottom looked like an apple tart it terms of totally beautiful stripes and welts. But I still resisted the temptation, it just wouldn’t be a good idea. I just wondered what you thought about that.
Haron: We have ‘borrowed’ the term “reassurance spanking” from Fireman Chris actually. I think others might call them maintenance spankings but ‘reassurance’ sounded a far better description to us. That is, the spanking you get when you have done nothing wrong, but wouldn’t feel right without one; where, afterwards you feel at peace with one and all, know that you are loved, and all is right with the world. Does that fit the description of the ’42 of the best’ that Abel left you with to remember him by? (PS Let me know if you want one of these again and I’ll be sure to be ‘cheeky’ again and you can take the spanking for me. It’s complicated isn’t it – but it’s YOUR husband’s mind at work – oh buggar, what that cheeky too??)
Amber – Nope, no temptation to post any pictures here. Besides, a dragon cane doesn’t leave much surface damage. Two hours after the caning, you wouldn’t have been able to tell what had happened, unless you actually touched my bum – at which point I’d squak.
Rob – Hmm, it sorta does fit the description, though for the most part it was a sensual thing with a hint of experimentation going on. (“I wonder what will happen if we’ll do it like this?”) I’ve always been slightly bewildered by the term “maintenance spanking”. I don’t need maintaining, I ain’t no tractor! 😉
(P.S. No offence, but if you think that somebody else joking around on the blog is actually likely to get me caned, you’ve been reading too many spanking stories!)
Haron: What s pity!!!
To tell you the truth, I just got the time to read the whole story, and I must say that [as usual] it is sublimely written [but you knew it]. Thank you! I mean, how tempting is that to get into caning after reading this and other of your accounts? I certainly couldn’t resist.
Haron – if you could please to take care to answer this question, I would love to know whether the dragon cane is heavy by the virtue of being denser (I do believer it’s denser than rattan). Does it give you any thud or is it all just white-hot blazing cutting thing? Is it worth owning, like, does it make a difference [the dragon cane]? Thank you!
Haron: Actually, you are right. I HAVE been reading too many spanking stories!! It just came to me – some time ago I read this long story about a girl sent to a strict boarding school with lots of corporal discipline and for the first 10 days or so she was in the care of a fellow student who was responsible for her behaviour (learning the rules etc.) If the new girl didn’t meet the grade in some way, the other girl had to take her punishment for her. Thus when she failed the test about the school rules,the other girl was caned. I remember thinking how bloody ridiculous and stopped reading, but the thought obviously lingered. How unfortunate that I was just starting to get interested in the concept when you knocked it on the head…….