Catching up

Sorry to have been offline for a while. A family crisis involving travel has meant that I was without my laptop for a few days. It also took me away from my wife, which was a shame because we were getting on very well.

We spent the days before New Year together in our home. No guests, no meeting people, just the two of us and we were happy to be so. We dodged the weather and took in a few walks and went to the cinema and I did some household chores.

We had reached Box 16 on the advent calendar by Christmas time and it looked as though that would be as far as we would go. Last Saturday we enjoyed a great session and on the Sunday I made some sort of comment that it looked as though Christmas was over.

Maybe, maybe not, my wife had said.

On the Sunday we took down the festive decorations in the house because there was no going out in the rain. I cooked a roast dinner and my wife did some paperwork in the study. At one point she called me in and handed me a piece of paper and a pen.

“ Sit on the floor and work out how many strokes you need to finish the Advent Calendar,” she instructed..

The answer, I told her was 189.

Looking down at me she asked if I really wanted all those and I responded  in the affirmative.

“In that case we are going to be busy.” She pulled the cane out from under the desk. I had no idea it was there. It usually resides in a box upstairs.

“ Stand up and bend over the desk. I will give you fifty now and the rest tomorrow.”

There was no preparation, no big lead up I just got thrashed. 

She took down my trousers but left my pants on. The strokes were hard and fast. I did not count so I figured she would just stop when she was ready and that’s exactly what happened.

It only took me a few seconds of the cold caning for me to enter sub-space and to be honest I could have taken that cane for an age. It had been such a surprise and my wife had acted so strictly that I felt truly submissive.

Afterwards she put the cane away had told me to get back to the kitchen. It was as if nothing had happened and the last few minutes were a dream. I fastened my trousers back up and went off to cook.

“Good boy,” she said as I left the room.”There might be more tomorrow.”

There  was and I hope to get round to recounting our New Years Eve in a day or so.