This February, my Head of House planned and executed a wonderful surprise for our anniversary - a skiing trip to Switzerland.
Being super-posh, he’s from a skiing background. I, however, haven’t spent quite so much time on the slopes. My sporting endeavours kept me away from the snow and ice as the risk of potential injury was deemed too high and winning cup finals and league titles was very much my priority… not to mention that of my coaches and superiors.
No matter, any time away with my HoH is precious and our anniversary is always the most exciting of times. Wherever we are and however we choose to ‘mark’ the occasion, a wonderful time is had by all and I’ve even become accustomed to looking forward to the obligatory ceremonial caning that goes with it… kind of.
Each year we celebrate my very first caning as that is how it all began!
That was the day when he found out that I was made of the real stuff and I learned that he was good for his word - not a man to be trifled with.
The caning I received that day will be with me always.
The marks lasted a full 3-weeks… so don’t let anyone tell you that ‘they don’t mark’, it is total bullshit. If you are caned hard enough, you WILL be marked. The last ‘ghost’ from that epic caning vanished on the 22nd day. Those of us who’ve been disciplined with the cane for real are all in agreement; it hurts a lot and the marks are vivid.
It was severe - it needed to be - and it established the ground rules for our relationship; an extremely successful partnership that is well into its second decade.
Our marriage is founded on an intense disciplinary caning and all that that entails. Hence, once per year there is a ‘renewal’ of our vows to one another and we tread the exact same path as we did the very first time.
The build up to each anniversary is a heady mixture of excitement and dread.
I love that we remember and celebrate the beginning but I dread the pain and worse; the fear of not being able to manage it. However, the value that we both draw from each and every year’s re-enactment is always far greater than my apprehension… and I’ve never once bottled it. The worrying is almost its own part of the proceedings.
Traditionally, sir and I take our anniversary vacation alone, even our trusty dog spends the time with our dog-sitter and we almost never leave him out of anything. Our beautiful beast goes pretty much everywhere with us.
Everywhere except ‘the big one’.
This year, my HoH arranged to take this pilgrimage of ours with his friends - it makes sense that he didn’t arrange everything without my knowledge all by himself! (Just saying!) So, this was very much a departure from the norm and I was half-wondering whether or not he might just let the swishing slide this year or maybe wait until we were home.
Any hopes along this line of thinking were dashed when I saw him packing the implements!
My breath always catches and my stomach markedly tightens whenever I see him do that, no matter how many times we’ve been away together… if he’s packed them, he’ll use them!
Nervousness was fleeting and I was more concerned about the skiing than the caning, if truth be told, as I’m still only a beginner on the snow. My main worry was that I’d be left in ‘ski-skool’ with all of the spoilt, snot-nosed brats. The horror!
Anyway, I needn’t have worried. Sir prefers to do the ‘horror’ himself and so had booked me a 1-2-1 instructor - a silver fox - so that I wouldn’t resent being left on the nursery slopes too much.
Besides, he knew that I had enough to worry about.
The first day was horrible. I spent most of it on my backside and by the end of play my thighs were shattered. The last couple of years or more have been plagued by injury and so my physical training has almost been non-existent.
Consequently, I’m ashamed to admit that I found the first sessions exhausting rather than exhilarating and on waking on the second day I could hardly move!
Normally, my HoH would tease me for being so out of shape, however this time he wisely kept his counsel!
Somehow by the second afternoon the aches and pains had disappeared, or more precisely, the mind had put them to bed so that the action could continue and it was a good job as Mr. James, that night, revealed that our whole party would be taking snowboarding lessons the next day.
I was not thrilled.
Another set of snow skills to learn and I was still nowhere near getting off of the nursery slopes on my skis!
I ate my dinner quietly that night - too quietly - and I noticed that my sir’s jaw muscles were pulsating. An ominous sign of things to come.
By Wednesday morning, I’d reasoned that the middle day of the trip was probably the best one on which to try snowboarding as our anniversary wasn’t until the Saturday and I figured that I’d most likely be caned then immediately prior to taking dinner.
We haven’t exclusively canned me on the precise date of our anniversary every year since records began, however I have always been caned during that week. Alas, as this year the date landed on a Saturday and that that was to be our last big night in Switzerland, it was looking very much as though it was a foregone conclusion that Mr. James would take care of business on the big day itself.
Hence, I had done some calculations and figured that any hard landings on the buttocks from our snowboarding antics would be clear by the time Saturday evening’s challenge presented.
I swear sometimes these gentlemen forget that we ladies only have one bottom!
Anyway, my apprehension towards trying snowboarding soon evaporated as I realised that none of our skiing party had ever been on a snowboard before. It was a real leveller! Up to now, I’d been the only one falling over, losing my skis, crashing into stationary objects. Now, however, all of sir’s friends couldn’t stand up, nor even begin to find a level of control over the snow-equivalent of a skateboard.
Well, I was in hysterics!
What a gift it was. Each time one of the seasoned skiers bailed, I roared with laughter. It felt like getting my own back for the past couple of humiliating days. Having everyone reduced to the level of novice was delicious.
Best of all, it turns out that sir is GOOFY!
🤣🤣🤣
Oh, how I laughed until my sides hurt! My Christmas and birthday arrived all at once with this particular revelation.
Allow me to explain. When snowboarding, it is customary to ride a board with one’s left foot in front and one’s right behind. This is because it is the back foot that ‘controls’ the snowboard (not that there was very much control on show out there!)
There is a small number of the population, however, who are destined to ride their board ‘right foot forward’ and this is referred to - officially, I might add - as ‘Goofy’!
🤣🤣🤣
My Head of House did NOT like being called GOOFY!
I, on the other hand, couldn’t believe my luck.
Best. Day. Ever.
🤣🤣🤣
Trust my HoH to be different and thank you to all of the boarder-dudes out there who coined the term ‘Goofy’ for those who lead with the right foot! What a gift!
Suffice to say, I had a wonderful time out on the nursery slopes with ole Goofy and friends - all of whom were woeful snowboarders!
In fact, I ended up being the least bad boarder - I think it was because I’d already spent two days learning how to balance, (falling over), and so I had direct recent experience of ‘primal balancing’ methods.
Boy, was I like the cat who’d got the cream!
My utter humiliation on skis had been whisked away by the mighty snowboard and Goofy!
Before I land myself in any further trouble (and yes, I’m about to tell you all about that very particular kind of trouble that you and I know so much about), I must just add that Goofy - er, I mean my HoH - did gain a reasonable level of competency by the end of our day’s snowboarding experiment.
However, that didn’t prevent yours truly from flying past Ole Goofy and yelling “I’m still standing (yeah, yeah, yeah!)” at the top of my lungs and howling with laughter as I turned my head to see him topple onto his backside for the umpteenth time!
My snowboarding farce was, alas, relatively short-lived.
Whilst trooping back to base full of my new found love for the slopes, Goofy and the spirit-lifting snowboard, I was served with a summons.
“Those salopettes will be coming down VERY soon, young lady.”
I swallowed hard at sir’s tone and knew right away that this wasn’t going to be some holiday time naughty/good girl spanking.
The only question in my mind was would it be the big one or just a big one?
What with our official anniversary only 3-days away, how would I ever manage punishment now and a serious swishing then?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
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