This story follows on from my story The Awakening which is best read first. It contains graphic description of strapping and caning. If this offends you please do not read on.
Helen's Story
It was August and six weeks after I had I had disciplined John for his episode of drunk driving and life had settled into a routine. Instead of him driving the car to the station and parking, I did it. Following this, on workdays, we took the eight o'clock train to Waterloo together and then went our separate ways to work before meeting up to catch the half past six train home. If I was going to work late and John caught the train before me he would take a taxi home.
To be honest, I am a nervous driver and do not enjoy it and we do not socialise quite as much as we used to. Before he lost his license John and I used to share the nominated driver role, but it became boring never being able to have a drink whilst socialising with friends.
Invariably we have seen a little more of Anne and Graham since they live no more than one hundred yards away down the narrow lane on which our houses lie. After a few bottles of wine we can wend our way, hand in hand, back home.
After our conversation which happened the evening I caught John wanking whilst watching a punishment video Anne's curiosity had not let up. Initially she had made comments implying she was suspicious I had taken her advice and caned John, but I had said nothing. Then her questioning stopped, and I had thought she had stopped thinking about it. I was wrong.
One early Saturday evening Graham and John had not yet returned from a football match in London. It was the first Premiere league game of the season and Watford were at home to Liverpool. Anne had popped around to keep me company and we were sitting in our kitchen drinking coffee. After my second cup I needed to have a wee and excused myself and went to the toilet. When I returned Anne was nowhere to be seen.
My first thought was that she had simply gone home but then it dawned on me. She must have gone looking in the den and shouting, "Anne. Anne. Where are you?," I ran down the stairs to the den door, switched the light on and looked inside. The room appeared empty, but I walked into the centre of the room and peered around. I was convinced Anne had decided to take a look there, but I was wrong, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The punishment trestle with its padded red leather seat stood against the wall and my strap and canes hung untouched on hooks beside it.
And then as I turned to leave the den I heard footsteps descending the stairs and Anne walked in.
"I've been looking for you....." And then "Ohhhhhh Helen you bitch. I knew you'd cane him, but this is something else"..... as she looked over my shoulder at my spanking equipment.
It was useless to protest my innocence and the damage was done, I couldn't even accuse her of spying. She had been in the lounge looking for a cookbook I had borrowed from her and which she was now carrying.
She walked past me and looked at the bench and then the leather strap and the canes.
"I see you took my advice," she said.
"What can I say?" I replied. "Now if you've seen enough let's have a glass of wine."
"Oh.... There's much more I'd like to see..." and she let her comment hanging, but I ignored her.
"And before you ask Anne. I'm not about to tell you anything. He's my husband and what goes on between us is our business only. You're my friend. Please let's keep it that way."
***
A few weeks later, one Monday morning, the builders came in to start our kitchen extension. I drove home one evening to find a skip sitting at one end of our U shaped driveway and immediately understood this would mean I would have to back out of our driveway to get back onto the lane instead of simply driving through.
Our driveway is narrow, as is the lane outside our house, and as I have explained I am a nervous driver. The following morning, when we were about to leave for the station, John reversed the car out of the drive and onto the lane and then, very gratefully, I drove to the station.
When we returned home that evening I locked the car and turned towards the front door, keys in hand. It was then that John called after me, "Give us the car keys love. I'll turn it for you. Ready for the morning."
And so a precedent was set. Every weekday evening when we pulled into the driveway after returning from work John reversed out into the lane and turned the car around.
It was about two weeks later that the accident happened. I didn't see it but heard it. One evening after work I had just unlocked and gone inside the front door and was taking off my shoes. John was turning the car. Suddenly there was a loud crash outside followed by silence, and then a few seconds later the sound of excited voices.
Hurriedly I put my shoes back on and ran outside and could see that Graham's vintage Mini had run head on into the side of our car which was sitting with the passenger's side of the car stove in. I could hear John apologising to Anne who was standing looking at the front of her car which appeared to have a badly dented front bumper and damage to the bonnet.
"Are you both OK," I shouted across to them.
"I'm OK," said John.
"And so am I. I think," said Anne angrily.
"What the hell were you doing John? You backed out into the lane without looking. Are you even meant to be in a car on the public highway?"
"I didn't see you . The hedge was in the way."
"I don't care! You're to blame! Fuck! What's Graham going to say? This is his pride and joy."
I could see how upset how Anne was, so I stepped in to try to calm things down.
"Don't worry Anne. The important thing is nobody's hurt. The cars can be repaired. Now,.. Is Graham about?"
"No. He's away for a couple of days on business."
"Were you going anywhere important?"
"Just for some bread, milk, and eggs from the local store."
"OK. Then put your car back in your garage . I'm sure we've got some bread in the freezer and I know we've got some long life milk... and I can spare you half a dozen eggs. I'll bring them around in ten minutes."
***
We sat together. Anne had already finished her first glass of gin and tonic, poured herself another large glass and gave me one.
"I've been thinking Helen. Do we need to inform the police? If John was driving you won't be insured because he's been disqualified. I can claim for the damage to Graham's car on his policy. Its fully comprehensive with no claim discount insurance so he won't lose out. Trouble is they may need an accident report or at least my dashcam recording. And that means you can't claim you were driving to claim on your insurance. I'm afraid whatever happens you'll have to pay for your own repairs.""
I thought quickly and replied. "We can't tell the police. John will be arrested. Technically he was driving whilst disqualified and would incur a criminal record and I'd rather the dashcam footage wasn't seen by the insurance company. We'll pay for all of the damage to both cars." I paused..." If that's alright with you?"
"If you are sure you want to do that I guess that's fine. I'm sorry it's going to cost you but if it keeps John out of trouble I don't see why not."
At the time I remember feeling grateful, but I shouldn't have been.
***
The following day both of the cars went for repair. We used taxis to get to and from the station each morning and evening.
I didn't see Anne until three days later. It was Thursday evening and John had gone to play table tennis when I saw her again. The front door rang and when I answered it she was standing there...and wearing a neck brace.
I showed her into the lounge and switched off the television then offered her a cup of coffee.
"I'd rather not thank you," she said rather stiffly. Before I could enquire further she continued. "I've got whiplash. The GP told me it often happens after this kind of crash, and it will need a collar and anti-inflammatory drugs for a few weeks and some physio but no lasting damage.... Just pain and inconvenience."
I could tell she was quite angry and decided to wait to see what else she had to say. In a cold voice she continued.
"My first instinct is to sue him. But he's not insured, and it won't be worth my while. Suing him will not result in significant damages being awarded to me and will hurt both you and John together since you'll have to pay. That would not be fair to you, and I don't want that. You are my friend. But I want him punished for what he's done to me. I plan to go to the police and report him or....... he can suffer pain with no lasting damage just as I am. ..... He has a choice. He can receive a severe judicial thrashing on his bare buttocks whilst tied naked across that trestle or... I will report him. We can discuss the details if he accepts my offer. Can you let me know tomorrow. When you do I can let you know what the bill for the car repair is."
A few minutes later she was gone, and I sat alone in the lounge waiting for John to return, to tell him what had happened, and to give him the choices Anne had offered. I already knew what he would say.
I thought I had known Anne but obviously I had been mistaken. I wondered at my apparent ability to be surprised by people . I had not known John was a masochist, and now that Anne was a devious and rather nasty sadist.
***
The following evening I gave her his answer. She smiled. "These are my conditions. Twenty four strokes of the punishment cane. I will watch. You can punish him... or if you don't feel capable of hitting him hard enough we can find a dominatrix to do it. We don't have to tell her why he's being punished. But If you cane him you'd better make sure you hit him hard enough. I want to watch him suffer."
I had started to dislike Anne immediately after her ultimatum the previous evening. It was blackmail pure and simple. I also knew that if I fought with her over the punishment it would be worse for John. Don't misunderstand me... I have given John some very severe discipline which both he and I welcomed because he deserved it. This was different and I wanted to assuage hers and my treatment of him. I pretended to act conspiratorially.
"You're right Anne," I said. He's due a sound caning anyway. I'd recommend twenty four strokes of my leather punishment strap first. It hurts like hell, and he'll mark up lovely before the cane."
Anne was only too happy with my suggestion. She thought I was making his punishment more severe. I knew it was a small mercy and would warm him up prior to the cane strokes.
"And we don't need a dominatrix. I have become very proficient."
