The concluding part of this story. (Warning – f/m only)
by Dick Templemeads
On the morning following her spanking, Juliet’s bottom still sported a rosy hue, although by the evening this had disappeared. We dined at the Italian restaurant on the Saturday evening and had a wonderful weekend.
The spanking was not referred to again until the evening of the following Thursday, the last day of the school year, when Juliet told me that on the Monday morning she had informed all the school in no uncertain terms of the standards expected and the serious consequences that would befall any who erred in the future. She added that there had been no further trouble for the rest of the week, and that she was sure that if she let standards slip in the future, then she would have to pay another visit across my knee.
As Juliet was due to go away to spend a fortnight with her parents in Cyprus from the following Tuesday, I took Friday and Monday as leave in order to spend some time with her. I was rapidly falling in love with the lady and was not looking forward to spending two weeks apart. More in fact, because the day before she was due to fly back to the UK I was flying to New York for a three day conference and would not be returning until the Friday morning.
We kept in touch while apart, though the time still seemed to drag, at least for me.
The three days in New York were busy and my flight back was an overnight arriving at Heathrow at 7.30 Friday morning, although this would not be too uncomfortable flying Business Class. I’d phoned Juliet on my way to the airport and she said that she’d arrived back late Tuesday night and had simply had a bath and gone to bed. On the Wednesday, she’d done her holiday laundry and a much needed food shop; on Thursday had gone into the school to check a few things so she was planning to spend all day on the Friday at home attending to the garden which had been neglected for three weeks.
This delighted me as I’d decided that I would not go into the office as originally planned. Indeed once in the taxi I asked the driver to head back to Kent and phoned the office feigning a head ache.
Arriving home at about 11.00 I took a half hour doze, then showered, changed into beige chinos and a pink polo shirt and set off for Juliet’s, armed with the presents I had bought her and a bottle of Champagne which had been chilling in my fridge for several weeks.
Arriving at her house just after midday, she answered the door in some surprise. “Oh it’s you!” She said, to which I replied: “Well, you could seem pleased to see me.”
“I am. It’s just that you said you wouldn’t be here until the evening and I’m in my shabby gardening clothes.”
“I phoned the office and said I wasn’t feeling well and just popped home, changed and came over, besides you still look good in your gardening gear.” And indeed she did.
We sat at the patio table where three weeks earlier we had discussed the indiscipline at her school, and Juliet poured me a cold lager and herself a chilled Sauvignon Blanc. We talked about our respective trips, then I gave Juliet her gifts; Perfume and Champagne from the duty free and a bracelet from Tiffanys.
She in turn gave me a bottle of Whisky and two polo shirts. She then changed the subject.
“So, to get here at the time did you played truant?”
“Hardly truant,” I replied. “More the perks of being a senior partner.”
“To a Head Teacher it amounts to truant, now what would you headmaster have done, in that situation?”
“I think we discussed that a few weeks ago.” I replied.
“Exactly, and seeing as you assumed the role of my Head for my shortcomings I feel I should do the same for you. Now I seem to remember when I was in the shed this morning seeing a cane I thought suitable for such occasion.” She walked to the shed and extracted a thin whippy cane of about three feet in length in such swift time that she clearly knew its exact whereabouts.
“Go into the sitting room and wait,” she instructed. “I shall be along shortly.”
I made my way to the sitting room where three weeks earlier Juliet had been draped across my knee, jeans around her ankles and knickers about her knees.
As I waited I recalled previous occasions when I’d been waiting to be caned, the first time with all the nerves and fear of facing the unknown and subsequent occasions when I knew what to expect but still waited in fear, knowing that it was likely to be more severe than the time before and telling myself that I must take my punishment like a man, which I’m proud to say I always did.
Juliet’s arrival stunned me. She had changed from her gardening clothes into a white blouse and black skirt over which she had draped her academic gown. She held the cane menacingly and asked: “Have you anything to say before I punish you?”
“Only that I was wrong to play truant and deserve to be caned, Miss,” I replied.
“Very well,” came the response. “Take your trousers and pants down and then bend over the arm of the sofa.”
I unbuckled my trousers pushed them down to my ankles and then lowered my black Calvin Klein trunks to my knees, reflecting on the difference between these and the hated white Y-fronts which was all that had protected my bottom on the first three occasions I’d been caned, and the gaudy paisley patterned mini briefs I’d lowered for the last caning.
I then positioned myself over the arm of the sofa, pushing my bottom up high to receive punishment in the manner I had last done 16 years earlier.
There was a brief interlude as Juliet took several practice swings and then finally she swished the cane down onto my bottom. I once read that anybody who has ever been disciplined with a cane never forgets the experience and it is true. Thus as the cane landed for the first time I was prepared for the brief time space between it landing and the sensation of stinging pain.
It certainly wasn’t as painful as at school but for somebody who’d never swung a cane before Juliet was effective. She built up momentum stroke by stroke so by the time the sixth landed I was in some discomfort, although the sting dissipated far more quickly than when I was younger.
Moreover once punishment was concluded Juliet provided me with a comfort I’d never previously had after punishment.
An hour later we were back in the garden, Juliet after her exertions sipping a cold gin and tonic and myself a beer.
After a while she went into the kitchen and emerged with a plate of smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels, and suggested I pour some more drinks.
I went into the kitchen and came out with the chilled champagne and two flutes.
“Are we celebrating?” Asked Juliet.
“It’s possible,” I replied, and continued: “I was thinking, with my ability to spank and your ability with the cane, we make a good match and perhaps we should get married?”
“Darling that’s a strange way of proposing, but if you are serious then I accept!”
“I’m most certainly serious,” I replied, and produced from my pocket the other piece of jewellery that I had purchased in Tiffanys, a diamond ring. “We may not be star-crossed lovers,” I quipped. “We are more like cane-crossed.”
© Dick Templemeads 2013