John was slightly taken aback at the way she spoke to him, but tried his best to subdue his spluttering.

Caroline held out her cigarette at arm’s length and waited.  A long tip of ash teetered on the edge.  Then, after a few moments, John got the message and crawled across the room to get her an ashtray.  She held out the cane and tapped his arm until it was in exactly the correct position for her to tap her cigarette ash into.

“Get down,” she ordered him, pointing at the floor with the sturdy stick.  “I want to put my feet up. 

John played the game and obliged her, thinking only of the fuck which he would shortly be having with her.  Her feet rested on his back as she slumped in the comfy chair and smoked.  She held out her cigarette again and he had to twist awkwardly around with the ashtray, being careful not to dislodge her feet from his back.  Although most of the ash fell into the ashtray, a few specks floated down onto the wooden floor. 

“Be careful, you idiot!” she admonished. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” he protested.  “It was the way you flicked it.”
Caroline brought her cane swishing down across his back.

“Don’t you dare answer me back!” she hissed.  “Do you understand?”

“Don’t hit me!” John insisted.

The cane lashed through the air and caught him across the back again.

“Respect,” snarled Caroline.  “I demand it and you will give it.  Understand?  Understand?”

She raised the cane and John agreed to show her respect.