Boys and their toys

I was suppose to be at work since last week, but have been in bed with acute bronchitis.Yesterday morning however it was back to work, and as normal, once I have secured the largest cup of coffee, communication to the outside world commenced, including my good morning greeting to HH. Now keeping in mind that I had a parcel or two to deliver to him, and which I knew he has been looking forward to, his reply was his happy, chirpy self...okay, well, sort of.

It was made quite clear to me that his shoulder is not available to cry upon about my blues regarding Uncle Nick and me not occupying the same space, never mind the same country. Fine! I understood that we all have our blue Mondays, don't mind me, or the fact that I have had a blue life since last week Saturday. Based on his requirement that he only wanted to meet with me if I am happy, I gritted my teeth, and assured him that I was cheerfully and gleefully depressed. 

At the arranged time, I parked my car in front of his offices. The tawse and cane were lying on the front seat, ready for delivery. With the possibility that there might be the odd soul still lingering around, it was clear to me that I might get very strange looks strolling into an office building, bearing the gifts openly. The tawse disappeared quite nicely into my over sized handbag, but the problem was the cane. I eventually did manage to bend it that it could fit into the bag, but had to walk with my hand slightly inside the bag, resting on top of the cane, in order to stop it from popping out. The added benefit of this all was the fact that when HH opened the office doors the anticipated gifts were nowhere in sight, and I exacted some small measure of revenge for all the sympathy he has shown me earlier in the day. 

Once inside and while HH was getting the drinks, I unpacked the gifts and the expression on his face upon seeing a slightly not-so-straight cane and the tawse displayed on the table, was enough to brighten up my day considerably. We had a drink, a friendly conversation filled with laughter, but underneath the chatter, tension was slowly building up. I brought gifts, and I know that HH will want to play. The phenomenon of boys and their toys never cease to amaze me, you can actually see the hidden two year old within, barely contained, unable to curb the joy of having a new and bright shiny toy to play with. I have to add though, he was the perfect gentleman, stating with concern that I had still not recovered in full from being ill, and in addition was still marked from the last caning received from Uncle Nick. 

In the end though, an agreement was reached, he could play with the tawse only. The blinds were dropped, the windows closed, and I assumed the normal position, not willing for the tawse to be used on my hands. Bending over the chair, my bottom bare, the first swat of the tawse was not that bad. However, HH quickly established a rhythm, a hard one at that, I might add, which resulted in me quickly verbally indicating that it was starting to hurt. The impact of the tawse against my bottom was a sharp stinging burn, which left a tingling painful sensation. After a couple of very painful swats, I asked in desperation how many more?

I could hear the satisfaction of being able to play in his voice, as he told me quietly that when I had enough. He placed another couple of hard swats and by now, it felt as if a hornet's nest had been broken open on my behind. When he announced that it was the last one, I heaved a sigh of relief, only to yelp a protest when the last one turned out to be two. Something to do with me not getting up quick enough? As I gingerly covered my bottom with my hands, I saw him eyeing the cane. 

 With every inch of me ready to beg, I pleaded my case fervently, there was no way I could face the cane yet, not with my last punishment session under the administration of Uncle Nick still so fresh in my mind. Relief washed over me as he relented, especially as I could feel the heat in my bottom, the stinging and burning pain caused by the tawse not subsiding, the rubbing of my knickers against the heated skin seemingly aggravating the pain even more. 

In the end, I had delivered the gifts and HH could play, however, I also know that with my unique ability of landing myself up in trouble, I will be facing the cane again, more specifically; MY cane...and at that time, no playing will be involved.