It was marred only once, last night, when I was sharp with Hannah. She said nothing. And, I thought, the incident had been dismissed. We had a wonderful Christmas and, at cocktails, as the turkey cooked, a great deal of fun together. Hannah went to put in the leeks and said the turkey needed to rest for fifteen minutes.
“So now I can attend to your rudeness last night.” said Hannah. “You are going to get such a spanking.”
She had a few more things to attend to in the kitchen and I removed myself to the terrace. I realized that, while I was quite sure I had been right, that didn’t matter. Hannah disagreed. And her silence, which I had taken as an admission she had been wrong had meant nothing of the sort. What it meant was that I had made her very angry.
In a few minutes I found myself following Hannah upstairs. As I knelt on the hardwood floor in front of her Hannah proceeded to explain, chapter and verse, exactly how I had been rude. She certainly took her time and by the time she said “Now get into position.” I was almost looking forward to my whipping simply to relieve the pain in my knees. She buckled my wrists to my ankles very tightly indeed.
I could tell from the force of her first warm up hand spank that this was pure punishment. Just a short warm up and she set in with measured strokes of the heavier rattan cane. As I kneel, trussed up, I have no control over my punishment. Hannah and I do not have a “safe word” because we are not playing. She found her rhythm and her force after two or three strokes and I had a full dozen good, hard slashes. Two or three were hard enough to lift welts. I was sweating and my eyes were watering. I was, perhaps, half a dozen strokes from crying.
Then she was done. She unbuckled me in silence.
“Thank you Hannah.” I said as I lay catching my breath.
Her love and discipline are the greatest gifts I get every year and how perfect to be reminded so firmly on Christmas Day.