Angela’s story: the cane, the corner and the window cleaner

23Nov09

Angela’s story continues:

The next couple of days where hell on wheels for my bottom, almost every time I even moved I could feel it. Sitting down was definitely not an option. It was an odd experience, but not only did I blush with shame every time I was reminded of my crime, but I felt a little thrill knowing I had been punished and still had more to come.

I still felt guilty though and brought the subject up two days afterwards, when David and I went for a drink at his local. I preferred to stand of course and David could not help smirking when a man offered us an extra barstool while we standing at the bar.

“David I am really sorry for what happened.” I said shyly.

“I know and we will have a few words on the subject this weekend when your tail is more receptive.” He replied with a reassuring tone but with some emphasis on the phrase ‘a few words’.

“I have not forgotten and I deserve it but its not enough. I need to break my fear of exams and I need to be really really punished for what I did.”

“You don’t think you are being?” He replied puzzled.

“Not enough.” I said firmly.

“I could spank you twice a week for a month if that will make you feel any better.” He chuckled.

“Promise.” I giggled. “But seriously I have to regret it, not just a thrashing, something that will really make me learn.”

“I’ll think about it.” He replied.

“Its got to be something that makes me regret asking for an extra punishment. Please be firm.” I impressed on him seriously.

“I’ll think about it.” He said firmly in a tone that made it clear the conversation was over.

On Saturday I got my caning.

About mid morning he asked me if there was something I needed to do.

I nodded sheepishly and looked at my shoes.

“How do you want me?” I asked as humbly as I could.

“Let’s have your slacks and knickers at your ankles and you in the corner noses and toes while I have my coffee and a nice quiet read.” He replied offhandedly taking another bite of toast without looking up.

At that moment I heard a clunk and a clatter outside. It was the sound of a ladder against the outside wall.

“It’s the window cleaner I think.” I looked at the wall diary on the kitchen wall. “Yes, David, it is.”

He looked at me and shook his head in puzzlement.

“David the window cleaner!” I said pleadingly.

“What about him?” David seemed genuinely puzzled.

“He’ll see.” I wailed.

“So what? He is a professional, he sees these things all the time.” David nibbled nonchalantly on another piece of toast. “Besides he has no reason to look in. There are only one or two windows with a view of the corner anyway.”

“David please.” I begged.

David gave me a hard stare and then looked significantly at the corner. With tears in my eyes, I dropped my things and shuffled obediently over with my bare bottom turned to the room. I would never be able to look the window cleaner in the eye again.

In my mind I thought through each window and its angle and what he would and would not be able to see. When he cleaned the large dinning room window there was no way he could miss me I thought frantically.

It was a desperate half hour and I jumped every time the ladder moved against the outside wall. Each time the sound got nearer. By the time he got to the second kitchen window I knew that it was possible to see me in the corner between that room and the dinning area. As I heard him working, it sounded loud right beside me and just out the corner of my eye. Every time he paused in his work, I imagined him doing a double take before continuing. I was so embarrassed and the tears were pouring down my face. I desperately wanted to appeal to David, but it was against the rules and anyway I knew I deserved it.

Then finally I heard the ladder moved down to the large dinning room window. It was possible up until then that he had not noticed me. The angle was not clear and if he were intent on his work, the bare-bottomed girl in the corner may just have escaped his notice.

I jumped half out of my skin at the first splash and squeak on the glass behind me. There was no way he could not see. I glanced behind me. I could not help it. Luckily David wasn’t looking. The glass was all fogged up with soap and I could only dimly make out the cleaner working behind the glass.

Then with a squeak, the top was cleared as he scraped away the soap. He was seconds away from making the window transparent. I turned my nose back to the corner and prayed to be struck dead.

The squeaking came to an abrupt halt and then someone outside coughed. My heart stopped dead. After what seemed the longest pause, there were a few more squeaks and then the ladder was moved away.

He had seen, I knew he had seen. I began to sob quietly so as not to disturb David’s breakfast.

I cried for a while then finally pulled myself together. I still had a fairly long wait in my corner waiting for the main event to begin.

Finally David called me over. He watched me, his sleeves already rolled-up flexing the cane, as I shuffled towards him. He didn’t speak.

I remembered from the other day I had to offer him my bottom. I did so. I bent over and grabbed my ankles. I hated the cane and I hated this position most.

David wasted no time the first stroke cut me across the crowns and I yelped. The second immediately followed the first, only a little lower. There was a pause while I waited for the third, which struck the underside of my bottom just as the pain of the second stroke reached its apex.

God how many? I asked myself. Never less than two dozen he had promised.

I had great difficulty in staying in place and fervently wished I were bending over the arm of the sofa or its back, although I was proud of myself for being able to stay in place.

The caning continued at a steady place as I gasped and groaned. I was crying softly by halfway through and sobbing hard as we got to the last swipe.

“And hold position.” He commanded.

I stood for a good while afterwards bent over and sobbing with my throbbing bottom pointing at the ceiling.

“OK get back to your corner.” He said at last. “No rubbing mind.”

Once I was released, I danced up and down vigorously rubbing the front of my thighs in proxy for my bottom.

“Corner now.” He bellowed.

I hastened to comply.

“Sorry, but it stings.” I whimpered.

I stayed in the corner for a long time. David finally let me out so we could go for our customary pub lunch by the river.

“I guess I’ll be standing again.” I smiled ruefully.

“No doubt.” He smiled back. “I have been giving some thought to your further punishment as you requested.”

I swallowed, me and my big mouth.

“What have you decided?” I chewed my lip.

“I’ll tell you over lunch.” He replied enigmatically.

To be continued.



One Response to “Angela’s story: the cane, the corner and the window cleaner”

  1. 1 Karl Friedrich Gauss

    Nice photo. Nice word pictures too. It sounds like Angela is swimming in the deep end these days.


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