[Note: this is how I remember the conversations with Paul. He may have different memories.]
Heading home yesterday on the bus, I posted a Tweet along the lines of
The hottest idea I can think of right now is someone giving me a bath, washing my hair & putting me in pjs. & beating me. A bit.
My thought was we might get to play a bit this weekend when my dad goes away. When I got home, I played some Oblivion (more on that another day), Paul solved the dinner problem with a run to Carl's, and I snuck off to take a nice bath.
I was just undressing when there was a knock at the door. Struggling into my robe, I felt annoyed. Is there no alone time to be had in the apartment? But when I opened the door it wasn't my dad suggesting ice-cream. It was Paul.
"if you leave the door unlocked I'll come in in a bit & wash your hair."
"but only if I also cane you before bed."
I protested quietly. My dad was home.
Paul countered. My dad after all sleeps soundly. And the small cane is silent.
I left the door unlocked.
Paul came in and carefully and throughly washed and conditioned my hair, rinsing it with many pitchers of water. I sat in the bath, feeling the warm water run over me, feeling all cared for and clean.
"Clean pjs tonight" he said as he left. I almost retorted that I *always* wear clean pjs as he must know from the laundry pile, but instead was quiet, pouting only to myself. I thought about being caned with my dad in the other room. It felt risky and naughty and I knew, knew that Paul was serious.
Dressed for bed, I sat through some National Geographic program on the Pope (!!!) until my dad announced he was tired and going to bed. Paul was awfully quick to agree with him he would be tired after so much driving. We watched a bit more of the program which seemed designed to annoy Paul.
Finally he reminded me to take my meds (I'd already done so), do any final bedtime things and then go and stand facing the closet. This because I've managed to fill the corner with stuff to take to the dry cleaners.
When he came in he went to the closet. I heard the rattle of the rattan canes, the quiet swish as he found the right one and the he took down my pjs and put me across his knee (this is a "nursery cane" made for otk use). I was warned that my hands would be pinned behind my back if I couldn't keep them in front of me.
The thing about being caned otk is that while it isn't as hard as a longer heavier cane, there can be a lot more strokes a lot more quickly. I gasped (quietly) and drummed my feet at the sting. Paul put up with my wiggling for a bit and then pinned my legs with his. The sting went from painful to close to unbearable. Tears clouded my eyes and I longed to wiggle away or make noise or something.
But between the strokes, I could hear my dad snoring.
It wasn't a long caning but seemed to go on and on.
I slept insanely well last night. This morning, no marks at all.