Waiting
Joan looked out of the window of her small bare room for what seemed to her the hundredth time. She imagined she had been locked in that room for hours, but it had been in fact not quite an hour. She hated being sent to this room, there was nothing there to occupy or distract her from her worries.
Those worries were centred on what her Husband had planned for her on his return. She knew of course she would get the cane, but which one and how many and would she have to spend ages in the corner afterwards, or maybe have to sit her tender bare bottom of the hard wooden chair and write out lines?
He always gave her plenty of time to wonder and worry, so that by the time he had taken her knickers down and tapped the cane on her bottom cheeks she was already feeling the tears on her face.
Joan looked out of the window of her small bare room for what seemed to her the hundredth time. She imagined she had been locked in that room for hours, but it had been in fact not quite an hour. She hated being sent to this room, there was nothing there to occupy or distract her from her worries.
Those worries were centred on what her Husband had planned for her on his return. She knew of course she would get the cane, but which one and how many and would she have to spend ages in the corner afterwards, or maybe have to sit her tender bare bottom of the hard wooden chair and write out lines?
He always gave her plenty of time to wonder and worry, so that by the time he had taken her knickers down and tapped the cane on her bottom cheeks she was already feeling the tears on her face.