Broken Cane

So Ronnie got a caning in the hotel recently, and managed to break the cane with her bottom:

My husband was up off the bed immediately. ‘You cheeky girl.’ He pulled my knickers down now, always a sign he means business, and I sucked in air. ‘We’ll see whether a further twelve strokes of my cane across your bare bottom takes some of the cheek out of you and don’t dare move out of position because if I have to hold you down you’re going to be sitting poolside for the rest of the week!’ Oh my, when he uses words like that, and in that strict tone of his, I go almost light headed. So the cane came down again, this time on my bare buttocks, and I managed four without crying out but at the fifth I had to fill my mouth with pillow again because it was so hard and I couldn’t help myself and I didn’t think there could be any part of my bottom left that hadn’t been caned. Then at I think about the eighth stroke, my husband stopped and told me he thought I’d learned my lesson but I hadn’t and I pushed my punished bottom up as high as I could and mumbled ‘what lesson’ into the pillow. He heard me.

‘OUUCHHH!’ There was no warning when the cane came down against my lewdly raised bottom, it really took me by surprise, it was easily the hardest stroke and my legs thrashed wildly but there was no follow up. I heard my husband rummage in our suitcase again then he sat on the bed.

‘Look round,’ he said,’ see what you’ve done, you’ve made me break my cane.’ Sure enough the top eight inches were hanging off

Fortunately, the man was prepared — he had a spare cane handy in his luggage.

  1. Ronniesoul commented on August 4th, 2011:

    Unfortunately he’s always prepared :)

    Thanks for the mention, appreciate it.

    Love,
    Ronnie
    xx

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