Of Hygiene and Canes

Now I was really disconcerted, I fancy myself an honorable guy. Discretion kept my mouth closed. Discretion is an asset to people who wear collars.

“Look at those dirty untrimmed fingernails. You’re unshaven. Your clothes are dirty. You haven’t even bathed or washed your hair.”

Oops. Though a slob to the core I had promised her I’d make myself more kempt. Hard to break the comfortably lazy habits of a lifetime. Know what I mean?

Ordinarily we don’t bring real life to play. I went from disconcerted to completely nonplussed. No good excuses coming to me I just tried to look contrite.

“Look at the big man trying to play the humble little boy. Has that ever worked with me? Now go get in position at the rack.”

I have a tall very simple power lifting rack for working out. They are a great, cheap way to tie a man up. She cuffed my hands to the top and my ankles to the side.

She left the room but returned in less than a moment. A slender rattan rod passed briefly in front of my eyes.

“This is old Number One.”

That was the rattan cane she first used on me. Sentimentally wanting to preserve it we’d bought another one and she rarely used the older one lest it break. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to let me know that she was very serious or it was a small reminder that she loves me.

“Poor plaything, we have fingernails, bathing, clean clothes. I think ten good strokes for each will leave you with a good reminder on your backside.”

I was sure she was right. Every time I tried to sit down for the next couple of days.

Then came the first stinging swat. Even without seeing her I knew the practiced competence with which she was swinging the cane.

The ten blows were worse than I’d anticipated. She kept them within a small area at the bottom of my buttocks and the very top of my thighs.

“You can think about trimming your fingernails before I come back and help you remember to wear clean clothes.”

Really my mind flickered between the bitter bruises on my bottom and the twenty blows that were coming.

By the thirtieth blow I felt I’d be the most scrupulously clean person in town.

I relaxed waiting for her to release me. She came up behind me and stroked me for a few moments. I heard her step away.

“Darn, I forgot something. You haven’t been working out nearly as much as you said you would. Give me just a second.”

“Open your mouth, hon.”

I complied and a she put a gag in my mouth. A rarity. What was she going to do to me?

This time it was the purple Lexan cane that flickered past my eyes. Having no idea how cruel it could be I’d bought it because she likes purple.

“You know your health is important to me. Let’s hope this will get you to take better care of myself.”

When that infernal purple device cut into my buttocks I probably would’ve screamed. Surely I would at each strokes that followed.

“Oh Hell, I lost count.”

I hadn’t but wasn’t in a position to assure her that it had been ten. Just to be sure she gave me three more.

I’d be on that bike first thing in the morning. If I could manage to sit on it.