She opened her lunchbox, nestling next to the sandwiches, fruit and yoghurt was an envelope.
This weekend they were going to play from Friday when she arrived home until Sunday evening. The envelope contained her instructions for Friday evening.
Coyly she removed the envelope, she glanced around to make sure no one was watching. She opened the flap and removed the note.
"You will come directly home from work. When you arrive home you will stop in the hallway, you will immediately get undressed. You will stand in the nude, facing the wall, hands on your head, legs slightly apart. You will wait until I give you further instructions. TXT to agree and confirm."
Her mouth felt dry, and her cunt felt wet, at the expectation of the weekend. She reached for her 'phone and send the text. "Yes Sir, I agree and confirm."
A few days before she had told him that she wanted to be pushed to her limits, to go outside her comfort zone.
"Are you sure? Really sure?." He had asked.
"Yes, I am sure."
He was waiting, dinner was cooking, the wine was chilled, he had a plan. But she was late. Not late enough to worry, but he thought that she should have arrived by now, even through the North London Friday evening traffic.
The sound of a car door slamming, the beep from the central locking, a key in the lock. The front door shut. A thud as a bag hit the floor. He waited for a few minutes before going into the hall.
THer clothes were on the floor in a heap, her smart work uniform discarded and replaced by her play uniform, the nude. Her hand bag and a shopping carrier bag were next to her clothes. She was facing the wall, hands on her head, legs apart, in the nude, as instructed. He went over to her and wrapped his arms around her, cupping her breasts in his hands and kissing the nape of her neck. She pushed her bottom back against him.
"You are late, I expected you half an hour ago."
"The traffic was terrible, M25, Friday evening at it's finest."
"There are rules for this weekend, you will remain nude the whole weekend. No privacy. Sit with your legs open. You must ask permission to do anything. Understand?"
"Yes Sir. May I use the toilet please?"
"You may, hurry up then join me in the lounge."
She went into the bathroom. He picked up her clothes and dumped them in the washing basket, then he picked up her handbag and shopping basket and went into the lounge.
She appeared a few minutes later. She stood, waiting, legs apart, hands on her head.
"When did you go shopping?" He asked.
"i went at lunchtime, its new knickers and a bra."
He opened the carrier, removing the underwear. "These are nice, good choice." He looked at the till receipt. "Expensive! Hmm, you said you went at lunchtime?"
"Yes I did." It was a guarded response.
"The till receipt has the time on it, 16:23. You texted me at 13:12 when you found my note in your lunchbox."
She looked down at her feet.
"What time did you go shopping?" He asked.
"I told you to come directly home."
"I know, sorry, I wanted to surprise you with the underwear."
"He went over to her, then ran his hand down her back and onto her bottom.
"Disobedient, lying." He smacked her bottom at each syllable. I will have to deal with you before dinner. "Go and stand in the corner, hands on your head, legs apart. Don't you dare move."
She stood in the corner, close to the wall. She could hear him moving around. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a cane going into a long ornamental vase on the table, then he poured in a jug of water, the last third of the cane was soaking. She felt him putting leather cuffs on her ankles, then her wrists.
"I will be back in a few minutes to punish you." He smacked her bottom in few more times to driver the point home.
She could hear him in the kitchen, the 'fridge door opening and closing, the oven door. After a few minutes he returned.
"Turn around, come over here." He pointed to the chair he had placed in the middle of the room. This looked like any other ordinary chair, the sort you might have in the corner of a bedroom, indeed this was its usual location. But this chair was special, special to them, it was the punishment chair. The one he sat on when she went over his knee. But this time it was to bend over.
"You know the drill, get in position." She went over to the chair and bent over, it was just the right height. The legs had been shortened slightly so that she fitted it perfectly. Eyelets had been screwed into the legs and the back in strategic locations. He attached her ankles and wrists to the eyelets with carabiners.
"Comfortable?" He asked.
"Yes Sir." The exchange was nothing to do with comfort, it was code that translated into consent.
"I'm going to thrash you with the cane. I didn't expect to be doing this so soon, but you have been exceptionally naughty. Six for disobedience, six for going shopping after work and twelve for lying. You don't have to count."
He fetched the cane and swished it a few times. The he tapped the top ofmiddle her bottom.
"I will start up her and work my way down." He tapped the middle of her bottom then in the sit spot. "Them I will continue down to just above your knees." The cane tapped the route down the back of her thighs to her knees.
"Twenty four strokes in quick succession. Are you ready."
She wasn't, probably never would be. "Yes Sir."
The first stinging stroke on the top of her bottom was agony, she hated the cane up there. It was more bearable as the stroke moved down to the fleshy part of her bottom. Bearable is relative, it was excruciating. The punishment was halfway by the time she strokes were on her sit spot. Her delicate and vulnerable thighs were next. The strokes were especially painful on that tender flesh. Then it stopped.
"How many strokes have you had?"
She had not been counting." "Twenty four Sir?"
"No, have another guess."
"Correct, so there is one left to go, what's special about the final stroke?"
"It's always the hardest and hurts the most."
The final stroke landed full force in the middle of her bottom. She screamed in agony.