Whilst long-distance courting I found myself in receipt of several short-sharp-shocks for misbehaviour.
Nothing too serious, (although the chastisement itself was), more the typical “getting to know you” sorts of things that one would expect at the beginning of any new relationship.
The difference being that little niggles were met with straps, paddles and canes!
One of these such instances sticks in my memory all these years later.
I was busy studying, working and maintaining a long-distance CP relationship with the man I was already convinced I was going to marry.
However, I had no chance of marrying and moving in with Mr. James until I had finished my training and possibly even my first fully professional position of a least 1-3 years.
Transferring my training to be near my beau was simply out of the question and I instead prayed that my first ‘gig’ would be nearer to him than where I was, geographically, now.
Alas, maintaining a long-distance relationship of such kind is exhilarating but also time consuming and frequently painful.
Almost all of my visits began with some form of discipline for the various misdemeanours I had managed to rack up in the intervening days and weeks since our previous rendezvous.
I found that leaving 3-weeks between dates was a no-no.
Far too much time to get into trouble! After some early mistakes I had resolved to ensure that I was available for courting at least once every 10-14 days!
This was one such occasion, however it wasn’t the time-elapsed that was the cause of my discomfort.
In the 12 days since I had last seen Mr. James, I had managed to earn myself a thorough OTK hand-spanking for cheek!
Fair enough, it was early days and I hadn’t yet learned that Mr. James really wasn’t into being cheeked! Having already experienced the crop, cane, belt, strap, tawse and slipper, I wasn’t too concerned about the smaller matter of a good old-fashioned hand-spanking.
Out of the blue, Mr. James’ landlords had, unfortunately, returned from their sabbatical and had moved back into the apartment upstairs!
A fact that I did not learn until I arrived, somewhat flustered, after a long drive south.
Sir met me at the door, kissed me, hugged me and kissed me again.
Then, grabbing my luggage, he dragged me indoors explaining the slight predicament. He wanted to take me out for dinner but we first must attend to “business”.
GULP.
‘The problem is, young lady, that my landlord and his wife have just arrived back early from their sabbatical and are now living in the apartment directly above mine.’
The colour began to drain from my face.
‘So, that means either we’ll have to delay your discipline until we next see each other, which I don’t prefer, or we can make it a quieter form of punishment.’
I looked at him already realising where this was going.
‘In the sitting room, I’ve arranged a breakfast-bar stool for you to bend over and I have modified your hand-spanking to six with the junior cane.’
I opened my mouth to say something but rapidly changed my mind.
‘As this was supposed to only be an OTK, you may keep your jeans up’.
This news, whilst welcome, left me tongue-tied. Don’t get me wrong, facing a caning on the bare is much worse than the alternative, however the cane still hurts - no matter how many layers of regular clothing are worn.
My greatest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to tolerate the caning stoically.
Naturally, with sir’s landlord and lady upstairs I couldn’t very well cry out when the going got tough, as that would be as bad as the very obvious sounds of a hand repeatedly striking flesh.
It’s true that I had already received a 12-stroke caning on the bare without making so much as a sound… that was our second date!
However, I had been psychologically preparing for that in the days leading up to the big event. This time, I had only been anticipating a hand-spanking which I knew I’d cope with easily and hence hadn’t really bothered to prepare(!)
Too late now.
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