Both Robert and I are fond of music, especially classical, blues and some jazz, so this Christmas my present to him was a pair of high quality noise cancelling headphones. When he tried them out he was surprised how effectively they worked. He was listening to Wagner, and he said that all he could hear was the music, and if he closed his eyes he was oblivious to everything that was going on around him. I tried talking to him, and he didn’t hear a thing.
One of the things about being thrashed by me that excites Robert is the suspense, and that got my wicked imagination going. I’d already told him that I was planning a Boxing day whacking for him, and he was anticipating that with a mixture of excitement and dread. On Boxing day morning I informed that he would be secured over our whipping bench at 5.00pm, and that I was going to try something different, and it would be a surprise. No amount of pestering from him during the day persuaded me to give him even a clue as to what my surprise would be. At 4.30 I instructed him to have the whipping bench ready for use by 5.00, and that when I entered the punishment room, I expected him to be in place, over it, naked, and ready to be strapped down.
On punishment days, Robert is usually wise enough to comply with my instructions, and this was the case on Boxing day. He was well bent over the whipping bench, naked, with his bare bottom nicely presented for punishment. An array of my collection of implements was arranged on a nearby table. I spent some time strapping him in position with the numerous, sturdy, leather restraining straps, making sure they were tight enough to keep him in place, but not so tight as to restrict his circulation.
“The surprise, Robert,” I then told him, “is that you are going to be punished while you are effectively blind and deaf, so you will have no idea what is going to happen to you, or when.”
I left the room, then returned with a blindfold and his new headphones, already tuned in to a classical music station, and set to play loud. I had the streamed music turned on quietly in the lounge, so I was just able to hear what Robert was hearing at full blast.
“To make it more fun, Robert, I want you to make a mental note of your punishment because, when I remove these, I will test you. I will question you on what implements I have used and how many strokes with each. Wrong answers will incur penalties. Understood?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“No buts Robert,” I interrupted, as I slipped the blindfold over his eyes, then tightened it securely
This was followed by the headphones, and I was ready to start. I picked up a senior kooboo cane, then took my position to his side. Robert, of course, was oblivious to this. I placed the cane gently across his helpless bare bottom, and saw him tense, preparing himself for the burn of the cane. I gently tapped the cane, to hone my aim, as I often do, and was pleased to see him further tense. Then I giggled, put down the cane, and left the room for a cup of Earl Grey.
About fifteen minutes later, I slipped back into the punishment room, picked up the cane, and without any preparatory taps, and while Robert was listening to a soothing melody from Dvorak, I administered a superb, blisteringly hard stroke across his unsuspecting, up-thrust bottom. I think he would have hit the ceiling if he hadn’t been strapped down. He emitted a shrill squeak, and the whipping bench almost jumped. I watched his bottom clench and unclench rapidly, waited until he was just beginning to calm down, as the fierce sting would have begun to fade, then administered another eye-watering stroke. He wasn’t quite so shocked this time, but he still entertained me with his energetic bottom cheek clenching. As soon as he had calmed down. I sat down to watch the weals mature. Robert wouldn’t have known where I was.
I gave him a ten minute break, then rose to my feet and picked up my heavy, oval, ebony hairbrush, the one he hates. He especially hates the hairbrush when it’s administered hard and brisk, in the same place, so this is what I usually do. Without warning, while now listening to Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks, he received a flurry of six, very hard spanks on the centre of his right bottom cheek. His entire body jolted, the mad bottom clenching resumed with urgency, and he squealed in agony. Within a second of putting down the hairbrush, I picked up the cane, then gave him six of the best. Robert always did like surprises.
He would obviously have been expecting six hairbrush spanks to his left cheek, as he knows I like to keep things tidy, but I decided to leave them until a bit later. The six cane strokes had him gasping and his bottom dancing delightfully.
After putting down the cane, I made a note of strokes so far, so I could test him later. While doing so, I could hear that Robert was ‘enjoying’ a Christmas carol at full blast. Only to be expected at this time of the year. It seemed inappropriate music to thrash him to for some reason, so I sat it out. Next up was a delightful Chopin nocturne, so I rose to my feet and picked up my Lochgelly tawse, marked ‘H’ for heavy. A nice hard six with that had him yelping and wriggling.
The next piece was a waltz, and that seemed to be wonderful whacking music, so I decided to make that the finale of part one of his boxing day whacking. During the waltz, Robert ‘enjoyed’ a random number of strokes from a cocktail of implements. It was almost continual, with me pausing briefly to make a note of implement and number of strokes. I concluded with the six outstanding strokes with the ebony hairbrush. Then I removed his headphones and blindfold.
“I’ll give you a minute, or two, to acclimatise, before we move on to part two,” I said.
“I’m very sore, Annie. I’m not sure I can take any more,” he complained, breathlessly.
“Then you had better make sure you do well in your test,” I replied.
Poor Robert did so badly in his test, so his very sore bottom ended up even sorer, but at least he was able to see and hear what was happening to him.
In summary, it was a cracking boxing day whacking. We might make it an annual event.
I’ve just published two short stories called ‘Maintenance and Revenge Canings’:
The first (not so) short story describes what happens when Hugo inadvertently sends an email to the wrong address, and discovers that his secret need for discipline is a secret no more, with exciting results.
The second is about Eleanor, who shares a dark with her wealthy neighbour, Jeremy. She regards him as an enemy. When an unfortunate event prompts Jeremy to seek Eleanor’s co-operation, she uses the opportunity to get her revenge.
The new publication is available via my website: https://www.anniebeebooks.com/short-ebooks