As she entered the bedroom, her throat tightened and the trembling began. It had always been the same, would always be the same, and there was no point in fighting it. She stared into the full length mirror as always before slowly unfastening her dress, letting it drop slowly down around her ankles. She stepped out of it, her eyes never leaving the mirror as she performed the same operation with her slip and then her pantyhose. She looked at herself in the mirror once more contemplating her body as she stood like a statue in just her bra and knickers.
Five minutes he always gave her. Five minutes to get herself completely naked and in position before he walked through that bedroom door, cane in hand. If he walked in and found her unready, and it had only happened once, the punishment would be doubled. She had never wanted to repeat that experience. It was usually twelve strokes anyway.
Swallowing hard once more she turned and knelt up on the bed, her bottom towards the mirror, then pulled forward the two pillows over which she would lie, raising her bottom higher for punishment. Before taking up the position she reached into her bedside cabinet and took out a hand mirror which she placed beside her on the bed.
Imagining she could hear his footsteps on the stairs, she rested her stomach across the two pillows bringing her knees up as far as she could so that her bottom was fully elevated then she reached for the hand mirror beside her and looked at the reflection of her rear through the tall mirror behind her. As always she found the spectacle exciting and very lewd, bringing her knees just a little further up so that the angle widened her bottom cheeks. She gasped aloud as she gazed at the view that he must have seen every time he punished her and wondered if it had ever aroused him. Between the plump,stretched cheeks of her bottom, the tiny wrinkled button of her anus was offered up and, underneath, the tight salmon pink slit of her vagina seemed to almost demand attention. She felt her heart begin to beat even faster. She had taken about four minutes so far and there would normally be one minute for her to lie in this demeaning position as she contemplated her wickedness and her humiliation as every private place a modest girl possessed was graphically displayed. She put the small mirror away and lay forward, her head resting on her arms as he had always demanded.
She thought about what always happened next. He always walked into the room quietly without knocking and cast his gaze over her as she lay there with her bottom raised, trembling with fear and anticipation. Nothing was said unless he found fault with her posture or state of readiness and then it was one terse word... 'double!'. She would tense her buttocks as she felt the cold rattan laid against the cheeks of her backside and then, seconds later, she would try to suppress a scream as a line of burning fire raced across her bare bottom. He would pause then for maybe half a minute as she absorbed the full pain and terror of that first stroke before revisiting his target with the second. She never knew if he would lay the next over a the first weal or on a new patch of virgin skin which added to the fear and torment in her mind. As the caning continued and the pain began to mount it was all she could do to hug the soft coverlet, burying her head into her arms in order to suppress the wild scream that was striving to be released. Screaming was not permitted and usually led to additional strokes. Woe betide her too if her self discipline failed and she rolled over onto her side for then the punishment would begin again. She had trained herself to bite into her wrists and absorb the dreadful, sickening agony of the caning, almost crying with joy when she heard him sit down on the bedside chair having spoken just four words 'Five minutes crying time!' for now she knew it was over.
This meant she now had five minutes to lie, unmoving, in this degrading position as he sat and watched while the pain and humiliation of her beating sank in. Five minutes where she was allowed to open her heart and her lungs to cry out all her shame and her naughtiness as he watched in silence. It was five minutes which she always put to good use, weeping her heart out at the pain and indignity she had suffered and was suffering. Five minutes while she reflected on the misdeeds which had brought her to this state. Five minutes too where the violent agony of her caning began to diminish slightly, becoming a pervasive warmth which spread like a forest fire across her buttocks and into her loins where sudden, shameful and unexpected feelings began to vie with the dreadful pain and embarrassment. She would cry and blush in her shame and agony before he said tersely 'Get up!'
Then she would climb painfully from the bed and dry her eyes for now she was expected to be back in control and attentive. She would stand facing him with her hands on her head, still completely naked, as he lectured her on her misdeeds and tell her that even worse would follow should she misbehave again. Then, the lecture over, she would get into her night clothes as he watched impassively and clamber into bed regardless of the time of day. She would stay in bed until the following morning with no meals. Tomorrow he would kiss and cuddle her with a tear in his eye but tonight, content with proceedings, he would rise from the chair and leave her room without a word.
She lay still as she contemplated his arrival. There would be about ten seconds now and she could almost hear his footsteps on the stairs ...nine, eight, seven... then brrrrrrrr!!! ...the doorbell rang!!
She nearly had a heart attack as she clambered from the bed and looked at her watch. 11am ..Oh God, they were early. She shouted down through the bedroom window and, flustered, began to climb back into her clothes. Through the open window she heard her son's cheerful reply and the lively giggling of her two young granddaughters. Her face lit up with delight for to see her son and daughter -in-law and the two beautiful girls brought warmth into her lonely life. How times had changed, she thought, for the two youngsters had grown into lovely children without experiencing even a punishing hand in their lives. Spanking to them was some word in history books from a bygone age. .
Before finishing her dressing she reached into the bedside cabinet once more and found the creased sepia photograph of a slim stern man with swept back hair and a neatly waxed moustache. She kissed it tenderly as she always did, a tear not far away, as she replaced the photograph of her father in the drawer. Still tense with excitement and before replacing her knickers, she explored betwen her legs and found as always after these re-enactments that despite her sixty eight years she was extremely moist. She reached for a tissue and dried herself before replacing her underwear. Moving now to her bedroom door, she allowed herself a guilty smile. Perhaps those wonderful little girls standing on her doorstep had everything going for them but they WERE missing something exciting in their lives which could never be explained logically.
Perhaps they would find out for themselves one day across the lap of a lover or husband but they sure as hell weren't going to find out from Grandma!
