We have a Maintenance Spanking arrangement, which I appreciate is not something all of the readers of this blog will understand, but it works for us.
On another occasion I will explore how this all got started.
The regular night we have chosen for these maintenance sessions is a Wednesday. If we have to postpone the event then my wife will indicate which day it will be.
Last Wednesday was fairly typical. I arrived home early, did a few chores and then made the preparations. This consists of laying out a selection of spanking instruments on our bed, placing a chair in the centre of the room, taking a quick shower and then putting myself in the corner to wait. I usually wear a T shirt and pants, but sometimes I might opt to wear a thong.
I have to wait in the corner for as long as it takes. This might be only fifteen minutes or so until my wife gets home or it might be an hour or more, if she has gone out for a drink with colleagues after work.
So the other night there I was in position, hands on my head, when she breezed into the room. She said nothing and I heard her undress behind me and then go into the bathroom. A further ten minutes passed until I heard the click of the door and she ordered me over the back of the chair. As I turned and went across the room I saw her standing there in bra and pants, holding the riding crop, which was bent in a curve between her hands. Silently I went over the chair and tried to adjust myself against the hard wooden back as I stretched out my legs, to get in a well balanced position. Not for the first time I wondered why I was thrilled to be submitting myself to the pain that was to follow.
My wife commented that she was pleased with my behaviour in the past few days so she would award strokes accordingly. To start she said I was going to get 25 with the crop. Standing by my side she spanked me hard with the tab of the crop and then stopped and ran the crop up the insides of my legs. After a few moments of teasing she resumed the spanking and finished the strokes. She threw the crop on the floor in front of me and I heard her go over to the bed. My shorts were pulled down to my knees and she pronounced that I was to receive thirty with the paddle. I had put out the long thin one, with the series of small holes, which is a hard one to take, but rewarding. Her strokes were deliberate and steady with a pause between each so that she could see the redness and judge where to place the next smack. When the paddle joined the crop on the floor my head was ringing with the pressure of staying still and absorbing this harsh spanking.
I relaxed my body over the chair until she tapped me with the cane. I figured correctly that it was the thin, whippy one which quickly leaves ridged red lines. As she caned me with maybe two dozen strokes she cautioned me to lose some more weight and do some exercise. She thought I had over-indulged on our holiday. I took her point or rather I understood what she meant and agreed to do better. The caning was almost pleasurable after the stinging smarts of the paddle. When she was finished and I was told to stand, she handed me the cane and went off to shower. I tidied everything away and went to admire the lines and redness on my bottom in the mirror. I felt restored and lightened of my worries, as I usually do after a good thrashing.
We ate out at a restaurant that night and I was full of attention for my gorgeous wife. When we got back home and prepared for bed she asked me to show her my bottom, expressing some disappointment that the marks were already fading a bit. She lay back on the bed and pointed between her open legs. It’s my time now, she said, and I eagerly went down on her to show my appreciation.