"You wouldn't be able to take a real caning, you're all talk!" Leanne, my wife snorts derisively.
We are in the lounge of my late Mother's house, and it is rather warm. I have a feeling that it is about to get somewhat 'warmer' for me soon.
I am three years older than Leanne; she is just twenty-nine, but there is no doubt as to who is the senior partner in our relationship.
"You think I'm a wimp, don't you? Okay, if I can't take four hard strokes of the cane I'll give you forty quid - a tenner for each whack. But you'll get nothing if I do take them!"
"Deal!" she says.
In all the years I had been with her I had never known Leanne to pass up the chance to make an easy buck.
I take out my wallet, count out four brown ones and place the notes carefully on the arm rest of the sofa.
"Right, you'd better strip off, it'll be far more painful on bare skin!" she smiles wickedly.
Despite her protestations in the past to the contrary she is a sadist.
"I'll be back in a mo, don't go away," she says breezily before walking out of the lounge.
I remove all my clothes in compliance with her instructions and await with mounting tension her return...
The door to the lounge swings open and a few seconds later I feel a chill breeze over my unclad body. I shiver but only partly due to the sudden draft of cool air.
She is clutching a bamboo garden cane in her hand: "This will do the trick, I reckon!" she announces evilly.
"Right, I'll take my top off, I don't want anything restricting the power of my swing!"
She does this in part to torment me further as she knows how I lust after her; she is a sexy and beautiful lady and knows it too, uses it to charm men to her advantage.
