Posted at 18:58 on 23 Aug 2011 by Pandora / Blake
"I've got a plan," D told me, some weeks ago. "I'm going to put you in your collar, and deal with it all at once, everything you'd accumulated up to the point where we swapped over."
One of the reasons my exercise accounting was transferred to Tom was that D and I hadn't had the opportunity to clear the slate in some time. I was substantially overdue.
Two days ago, we finally settled the score.
Wrists bound to the head of the bed. Ankles bound together and tied to the foot. He didn't want me going anywhere.
My collar, just in case I hadn't appreciated the gravity of the occasion.
200 strokes with the bathbrush.
I think it was out of kindness that D powered through them as quickly as possible. I have to confess that at the time, I struggled to appreciate his generosity. Unable to leap up and run headlong out of the room like any sensible person, I sobbed, buried my head in the pillows, bit back tears.
Halfway through, he leaned over and asked in a low voice, "Are you still going to be speaking to me after this?"
"That depends on what you do next," I replied, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.
It turns out that 200 strokes of the bath brush earns you a hell of a lot of snuggles ... among other things.
Whatever you do, don't click here.