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Monday, 17 October 2011

Crime and punishment

On Saturday, at around 4pm, I was surprised to have my wife tell me to go upstairs and strip off to my shorts. This was not the usual prelude to a spanking, either maintenance or punishment.

“What, right now?” I asked.

“Don’t argue with me, unless you want more trouble. Just do as you’re told”

My wife wagged her finger at me and I practically stood at attention.

“And get the long paddle out, the one with holes.” Her voice carried into the hallway as I set off for the bedroom.

Upstairs I stripped quickly and cleaned myself up in the bathroom. There was no time for a shower and my wife is fussy about hygiene. She had not said what I should put on so I decided on clean blue shorts – she did not seem in the mood for punishment panties somehow. I retrieved the paddle from the chest  and went into our bedroom. With no indication of what was to come or how she might want me, I placed the paddle on the bed and put myself in the corner with my hands on my head. I stood staring at the wallpaper for what must have been ten minutes or so until I heard footsteps on the landing.

An angry voice behind me said,

“Get the dressing table chair and bend over it.”

Once in position my shorts were pulled to the ground and my bare bottom exposed.

“Do you know why you are here?”

“No ma’am.”

“Do you know where you were at 5.26 yesterday evening?”

My brain had gone a bit mushy with the surprise of the last few minutes but I mentally rewound the video of yesterday in my head until it came to me.

“I was on the motorway ma’am”

“Yes, you were driving home. When I got here you were upstairs, but you had left your mobile in the kitchen and it was ringing. It rang off before I got to it. I saw who the caller was and then I decided to look at all your calls, just to see what you had been up to this week. Guess what you think I saw as your last call?

Ah, problem, big problem, it dawned on me quickly. I stayed silent as this is sometimes the best thing to do with my wife.

“No, well I’ll tell you? You phoned the office at 5.26. Were you on the hard shoulder, parked up?”

“No ma’am”

“No indeed. So now you know why you are here.”

I shuffled about a bit trying to ease the pressure of the top stile of the chair from digging into my waist.

“Yes ma’am. I am sorry ma’am”

“I am sure you are sorry I found out, but not that you did it. If you were sorry you had done it you would have told me wouldn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

From the corner of my eye I saw her move to the bed and I watched her long legs walk back to the chair until she stood to one side of me.

“I am so angry with you. Aside from killing yourself you could have killed or injured someone else. You have seen enough adverts about this and you and I have dealt with this before, or I thought I had?”

Yes ma’am. I am sorry ma’am. The traffic was dead slow in a queue ma’am.”

“Be quiet. I hate excuses and I don’t care if there was an elephant on the road. You don’t use the phone when you are driving. Clear?”

With that one word she swung the paddle hard into my bottom and I rocked forward with the impact. The pain flooded up from my bottom. This paddle is a Beast. It has 6 pairs of holes down its 20” length and the wood is as dense and unforgiving as any I have come across.

“I am not counting strokes. I am going to go on until I am satisfied that you have learned a lesson. You will not count but each time I pause you will say in a loud clear voice – I will not use my mobile phone when I am driving. Understood?”

The paddle hit me hard again across both cheeks and I used all my mind control to stay in position.

“So, what is a good way to start this punishment?”

My FLR training over the recent years had taught me to respond quickly.

“I am sorry ma’am. I will not use my mobile phone whilst driving. I deserve your punishment ma’am.”

“Correct. Now stay put and take what is coming to you.”

Within a few seconds I had been smacked four or five times. These first strokes on cold skin are the worst.

The strokes became more spaced out but no less severe. I sensed that she was raising her arm high and letting the paddle do most of the work on the downswing before she used her wrist to speed up the stroke and slam the paddle into my bottom.

I concentrated my vision on a small area of carpet in front of me and gripped the seat of the chair. The wooden blade practically lifted my feet off the ground and the ferocious pain swamped my brain. Silently I cursed whoever had tried to ring me last night.

After what may have been 25 strokes my wife paused for quite a long time. I knew what to do from my training and I repeated the mantra.

“I am sorry ma’am. I will not use my phone whilst driving. I deserve your punishment ma’am”

The paddle whacked into me again.

“So now we will carry on until I am sure you have got the message”

The punishment continued at a slow and deliberate pace. She moved her aim to the tops of my legs and smacked hard, first the right leg then the left, then the right and the left and so on. I was jumping trying to absorb the pain. My bottom can take quite a lot of spanking and caning but strokes on the backs of my legs are stingers.

She paused again after maybe 10 strokes to each leg and I only just remembered to say the mantra.

“I am sorry ma’am. I will not use my phone whilst driving. I deserve your punishment ma’am”

“I hope that is true. Now stand up and bend over and touch your toes.”

I did as I was told and moved the chair out of the way. I had a feeling that this next bit was going to be even harder to take. I heard my wife walk out of the room and the click of the wooden chest top. In a few seconds she was back standing behind me.

You know what I am holding?”

“Yes ma’am – the cane ma’am” My muscles were straining to keep in position.

“No wrong. I am about to use the loop on your sorry bottom.”

I had not anticipated this and was more than a little worried.

“Well what do you say?”

“I am sorry ma’am. I will not use the phone whilst driving. I deserve your punishment ma’am.”

In an instant the loop of plastic shot across my bottom and the tops of my legs. I jumped and desperately wanted to rub the hot line of fire.

“Get back down and stay down.”

As my fingers stretched to meet my toes (which I cannot do) the loop swished down again and again. In a few moments I was wishing that mobile had never been invented. The overall soreness from the paddle was now a background of burning for the thin plastic strip to do its very particular stripey work. My mind was fuddled with trying to cope with both the ache in my stretched calves and the razor sharp pain of the loop. I counted about twenty strokes in my head and still she did not stop. As the whipping went on and on I had no choice but to ask her to stop. I cannot remember the last time I had begged for a punishment to come to an end. I can normally take a good thrashing without a murmur, particularly when I know I deserve it.

There was no response from her, just the continued thrashing of the loop.
After what might have been another 30 or 40 strokes she told me to stand with my hands on my head. With the end of the loop resting under my chin she stared at me with a hard penetrating look.

“Don’t you ever use that mobile in a car again? Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I am going for a bath and get ready for tonight. Tidy up this room and go downstairs and get on with cleaning the downstairs bathroom.”

I bent to collect the paddle which she had thrown on the floor together with my pants. She handed me the loop.

“One more thing. We will not be using a taxi tonight to get to the restaurant. You can drive and not drink as part of your punishment. I rang Sarah to say that we would pick them up so that saves them a taxi as well. Do not step out of line tonight.”

“No ma’am.” I said and left the room.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as I went through some household chores. It was about an hour before the throbbing in my bottom eased off. I took frequent furtive looks in the mirror with my shorts down to survey the red marks.

We drove into town in a good humoured silence and I deliberately placed my mobile phone in the glove compartment before we set off. When we picked up our friends there was the usual exchange of greetings and the “what have you done today?” sort of thing.

“Oh, this and that.” My wife said “A few chores and I had a communications problem to sort out but it was quickly resolved.”

Yes, I thought wriggling in my seat, she did sort out that problem


  1. Excellent post Michael. Well told account of the events of the day. Being whipped with something that is stingy and plastic when your bottom is tender from a wood spanking is agonizing. Ouch.
    Thank you,

  2. Hi, My word your wife really knows how to punish you! I expect she planned your paddling and 'looping' before hand!
    How could you take such a hard paddling with the loop after?!
    I am surprised you could sit down to drive and would have thought with you bottom so sore it could be a little dangerous! I wonder if you had some awkward questions at dinner, as surely you were fidgetting about !

  3. Having (so may times!) experienced a similar treatment, I sympathize with your predicament! My British girlfriend liked to use a rattan cane. My first (French) wife favored the "martinet", and my second/current (Swedish) wife is fond of wooden paddles and freshly cut switches! All in all, my backside has had its share of marks and bruises -all of them gratefully received...

  4. Michael,
    Another excellent writing exercise from you, and what a vivid retelling! Thank you, again, for sharing these great stories.

    - Dana Kane

  5. Hi,

    You're a very lucky man; your wife is wonderful.


  6. Joey- the loopy johnny does not appear often but when it does it means business. I can take a hard caning more easily than this instrument.
    Anon 1- thanks for stopping by. Yes it was uncomfortable to sit through a dinner, but it was also nice to know that I had been dealt with.
    Anon 2- to find one partner who will spank you is fortunate but to then go and have two wives who are interested in whipping you is outstanding food luck.
    Miss Dana- thanks for gracing me with a comment. You are too kind.

  7. Oh man... yes, I can picture this very well! :) Thanks!

  8. Michael M:

    It wasn't so much luck as the fact that my British girlfriend, my (future) French wife and I were studying at the same university - or that (years later) my wife and her Swedish friend were colleagues in the same institution...
    I guess those three women must have shared some intimate tidbits, and that the word was passed from one to the next!


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