All to often, when times get rough, the solace of being a man in my position is lost in the hubbub of daily events. I am no less deferential, but I am distracted and Hannah, quite rightly, is worried. The skies were very dark a couple of weeks ago, now they are clearing a bit.
“Go and have a shower,” said Hannah as we returned from garage sales.
I hastened to comply and when I emerged, sleek as an otter, Hannah was waiting. I stood, naked, before her as she sat on the bed.
“I’ve been neglecting you,” she said. “Or at least your proper discipline. Today we’ll correct that.” She held the salad paddle and pointed to her lap. I love the intimacy of being over her knee. A few warm up hand spanks and down came the paddle. Not terrifically hard. But quickly in the one, two, three four rotation which creates a red, throbbing bottom. I have no idea how many strokes she took. At least thirty, probably more. I was squirming and my legs seemed to lift of the floor on their own. At last she stopped.
“Now, stand up. Bend over, hands on the bed.” I turned and braced for the cane. I was well warmed up an the lines of fire as Hannah found her pace and weight were like the grill marks burned into an already cooked steak. She did hald a dozen mild strokes but really began to line my botton with her next half dozen. Six more for light welts….
“There you go darling. That should make you feel much better. And we may have to have another session before dinner.”
She left and I dressed deeply in love with the woman who takes such very good care of me.