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Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Surprising events on Saturday

Last Saturday night turned out to be a lot different to what either of us might have expected. We drove out to have dinner at the house of some friends. There were just the four of us. They live in the country and I was supposed to stay off the drink so as to be able drive back home.  That didn’t happen. The wine flowed and my self-discipline failed me so by 11.30  it looked as if I would have to call an expensive taxi to come and take my wife and I home. Then we would have to come out for the car early on the following morning.

 When I said I was going to call a taxi our friends suggested we stay in their guest cottage, which they rent out to holidaymakers. There was no-one there that night. At first my wife protested that it was too much trouble but after a while their insistence that it was a good idea wore her down and she accepted, but not without giving me a hard stare, as if to say that I should not have put her in this position in the first place.

We all drank some more and finally decided to call it a night. We helped tidy things away and then Katie led us out the cottage and left us to it. She told us that she would cook some breakfast at about 9.30 and handed us a bottle of orange juice and some milk for the tea and coffee.

She also gave my wife a plastic bag with what she called some personal stuff.

Once we were inside the cottage and I had switched on a few lights my wife got a bit angry, telling me that she felt embarrassed about putting Katie to so much trouble and that I should have stuck to the bargain about not drinking. I said I was sorry and we made up with a kiss.

I  had no nightwear so once I was washed I hit the bed naked. My wife then appeared from the bathroom in one of Katie’s T- shirts and a pair of her pants.
Now T -shirt and knickers are about the sexiest thing around in the right circumstances and my erection showed my excitement. I went down on my wife almost as soon as she was in bed and spent a good few minutes sucking and licking her through the cotton fabric of her pants.

I was going for gold and about to try and slide the knickers down her thighs when she turned me over on my back and sat on top of my face. My wife started to slap my balls with the outstretched fingers of one hand and I squirmed with pleasure. I have no idea why I find this such a turn on but there it is. I was still licking away at the cotton gusset and she reached back with her free hand to pull the fabric away from the soft lips between her legs. I went into crazy mode, licking and sucking with all my energy and she continued with the ball slapping, but harder now and a lot faster.

After  some more bucking and groaning from me, my wife knelt and then stood up on the bed. Standing over me she slowly pulled down the pants and stepped out of them and then squatted done again, but this time with her anus over my mouth.

“Go on. You like this so lick away, naughty boy.”
I was rampant with excitement and forced my tongue into the hole with as much energy as I could find at this stage in the proceedings. She started to slap my balls and inner thighs hard, really hard and yanked away at my cock with her other hand, practically pulling it off me. Usually she would stop this after a few minutes but that night she just went on and on and I covered her vagina and lips with my wet kisses. Just when I thought I would at last be ready to come she stopped suddenly and rolled off me.

“I can’t get there,” she said. “I have had too much to drink, so if I can’t come neither can you.”

I lay there gasping with my groin aching. She hadn’t been that severe with her ball smacking before but it still felt great.

“Get off and go and get me some water.”

I did as I was told and climbed back into bed.

“Goodnight,” I said and “thanks.” I kissed the back of her neck.

“If you’re a good boy we will do something in the morning. But leave your cock alone.”

I did and she was as good as her word.

Sunday, 27 November 2011

Sunday Spanklet - School Twelve

Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.

The handsome sixth form boy, from the boarding school a few miles way, was led into Miss Hargreaves study by the School Secretary, Mrs Jackson. 

“ Good afternoon John, come here.”

The headmistress waved a hand to direct him to stand in front of her.

“Thank you Sarah. That will be all, for the moment anyway.”

The other woman left the room with a backward glance at the boy, which might almost have been sympathetic

The Headmistress of the Girls Boarding School stared hard at the young man from other side the large desk.

 “You know why you are here then?” she quizzed the teenager.

“I think so Miss.”

“You think so. I would have thought Jennifer would have told you every detail. You seemed to be very close to her the other night, according to Miss Watkins’ account of what she saw.”

“Yes Miss?”

“Yes, you were seen with cigarettes, a bottle of vodka, kissing and with your hands groping each other. I will not tolerate that sort of thing and neither would your Headmaster.”

“No Miss. I am sorry Miss. It was my fault Miss.”

“So it might have been, but Jennifer was punished for her part in the sordid business and now we have to decide what to do with you. Do you wish me to tell Mr Robinson?”

“No Miss, please Miss.”

“Why should I not do so?”

“Because I will be expelled Miss and I need to finish my exams Miss. I have already been caught smoking twice this term Miss.”

“Ah yes, his three strikes and you're out rule. So if I don’t inform your Headmaster what do you suggest I do. You must be punished, you do know that ?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Did Jennifer tell you how I dealt with her?”

“Yes Miss, some of it. Something about a School Twelve?”

Miss Fletcher stood up. She was a tall striking woman in her early forties and her presence dominated all who had the misfortune to be in her study, be they  a parent, staff member or pupil.

“Yes,” she said as she stepped to one side and opened a cupboard door.

”Yes, the School Twelve. Do you know what that means?”

“Not really Miss.”

“ Well I will tell you. It means twelve strokes with this whilst you are bent over with your hands on your knees.”

She showed him a very long wooden paddle which she placed down on the desk in front of the hapless boy and then turned again and retrieved a leather strap.

“And then twelve with this tawse with you bending over there..”

 Miss Watkins pointed to the roll end leather sofa against the wall.

“And finally.” Miss Fletcher announced with a hint of drama.

There was a pause as John watched her hand go into the recess of the cupboard one more time. Then the Headmistress turned holding a long thin cane in one hand.

“Last, but not least, there are twelve extremely hard strokes with this cane, bent over the desk and perhaps with Mrs Jackson back here and holding you down if you can't stay still.”

Placing the last instrument on the desk she looked over at John and asked of him.

“So what is it to be John? A visit to Mr Robinson or a punishment from me?”

“The School Twelve,” John spoke hesitantly. “Your punishment please Miss.”

“Very well. You have probably chosen for the best, given your parent’s expectations of you but I warn you, you will learn your lesson with me."

"Take your shoes and trousers off and we will make a start. Your pants will also come down, as a School Twelve  is always on the bare”

"Yes Miss." said John with a mixture of resignation and excitement at his predicament.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011


We are both travelling today so no Maintenance Session tonight.

My wife has suggested a review of the Punishment Book tomorrow or over the weekend.
This was prompted by me taking our account into overdraft again, resulting in a call from the bank to her, because they could not get through to me. Drat it.

She has not yet advised the tariff  for this error.

  I had a business meeting this morning with forceful lady client dressed like this.

            I couldn't help wondering what she might wear at home.

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Sunday spanklet- Satisfaction in the office

Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.

Caroline stood in the executive elevator and looked over at the secretary who had come to fetch her from the lobby. 
Nice tight bottom she thought, he is still selecting them for their physical attributes as well as their brains. The doors slid open into an office suite which was quiet at 6 in the evening and she followed the skirt and heels to the Chairman’s office, even though she knew her own way there blindfold. One sharp knock and they were both inside.

“Miss Roberts, sir.”

The tall man behind the large desk did not look up.
“Thank you Nicole. I will call you when I need you. You are not going anywhere special hope.”

“No sir.”

The door closed behind the woman and Caroline walked slowly to the desk. Five mintes passed whilst he carried on working and she stood silently waiting.

“So have you made a profit yet?” he asked, as he sat back in his chair looking at her face, his blue eyes boring into her soul.

“Not yet, sir. But we are making good progress. We are still on track with the business plan.”

“So why are you here? I made my investment and now I want a return. I didn’t let you go from here just to so you could squander my money in your business idea.”

“I need it, Sir” Caroline spoke quietly, her eyes cast down at the desk top.

“Need what?”

He always made her ask, it was yet another way of asserting his control.

“The cane Sir, I need the cane.”

“Very well. You know where it is and what to do. Thirty six I think, this time ”

Caroline turned and he resumed his work at the computer. She slid open the wide drawer in the bureau and took out the long thin rattan cane.  Holding it  in two outstretched hands she carried the instrument to the sofa table and laid it down with care.

Turning to face him she waited until he was looking and then slowly removed her suit jacket. She spun around and began to raise her skirt. Inch by inch the hem climbed past her knees, then up the thighs, revealing the pretty design of her stocking tops. She paused teasingly and then bent forward slightly to emphasize her rounded cheeks as she lifted the skirt to her waist. Her bottom was delightfully framed at the sides by the suspender straps. In one fluid motion she lay over the back of the sofa. The black lace V of her g-string disappeared into the cleft between the white cheeks, which were now perfectly positioned for him.

As she lifted her head out of the cushions she saw him take up the cane, zipping it up and down through the air a few times The  bulge in his crotch stretched his trousers and she imagined that she could actually taste the salty head of his penis.

“Nicole looks very efficient. Good bottom too. You haven’t lost your touch at hiring the best.” Caroline added a touch of sarcasm to her voice.

“Don’t sass me young lady. You are in a lot of trouble as it is.”

Caroline smiled at the thought of the extras that might be awarded and braced herself for the first swing of the cane as it tap-tapped on her left cheek. She was certain that Nicole would be listening. 

Saturday, 19 November 2011

Caught and spanked

Last night looked like being  just a regular night. We both got home at roughly the same time and I went to shower. Whilst I cooked a meal my wife had a shower and did some e mails. We chatted nicely over our dinner and drank two or three glasses of wine each.

At one stage she commented that I seemed to be in an upbeat and cheerful mood. I responded that the spanking on Wednesday probably accounted for that.

“I needed the discipline, “ I said.

“Then I shall make sure you get it regularly ,” she replied. “You know that  I can’t stand grumpiness."

We continued our chat, mainly  about the stupidity of the people who set up the Euro and we drank  off the bottle of wine..

Whilst my wife made some phone calls I did the washing up and then went through to the study to do some work. I had only been there a few minutes when my wife came through and told me to stand up.. When I did so I saw she was holding a long wooden spoon in her hand.

“Take your trousers down.”


“Don’t argue with me young man. Do it now.”

I was worried. I was about to be found out. I couldn’t refuse, but I did think of saying I needed to go to the bathroom. She glared at me and I undid my belt and opened my trousers. As they fell to the floor my shirt tails did not cover the  problem.

“What on earth are you wearing?” my wife asked in cross voice.

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Are those mine?” she demanded, staring at the black lacy knickers which hugged my bottom.

“No ma’am. I bought them on the internet. They are size 16”

I have no idea why I thought that last bit of information was important.

“Oh I despair of you. Why did you put them on tonight?”

“They just feel nice, ma’am, and I did not think anything would happen tonight and that you wouldn't see them.”

“Oh for goodness sake.” she said in an exasperated voice. ” Get over the back of that chair.”

I shuffled with my trousers round my ankles and as I bent and held on to the chair seat she lifted my shirt and yanked down the panties.

“I was just going to give you a few spanks and then invite you to fuck me.” she said. “But now you are going to get it good and hard and then you’re going to stand in the corner for the rest of the evening.”

“Yes ma’am, I am sorry ma’am”

The smacking with the wooden spoon started and I was soon jumping about. It might be a small instrument but it hurts lie hell everywhere it lands. After an unrelenting five minutes of spanking  she took me by the ear, pulled me on to my feet and forced me into the corner.

“You can stay there until I tell you and no touching. I want 50 strokes written into the punishment book. You will only buy and wear knickers when I tell you.”

Two hours or more of staring at the wall went by until she came to get me. I followed her upstairs feeling a bit foolish that I had spoiled a happy evening. I tried to make amends when we were in bed and I eventually had her giggling about how silly I had looked with my trousers down. We kissed and made up and I went down on her for a considerable amount of time. As we drifted off to sleep my wife whispered that the punishment book would be studied very soon and since I was so keen on wearing ladies underwear she would make me buy some tights next time we are out shopping.

Friday, 18 November 2011

Meanderings - Toulouse Lautrec

I was browsing through  Otto's spanking art  the other day and it struck me that a couple of his images had the same sort of feel to them as the paintings of Toulouse Lautrec.

On a whim I followed this thought and googled some of Lautrec's paintings.

Lautrec was definitely into women in a big way – I wonder if he was also a spanko?

Take a look.

"Sore, but content that she is loved"

                                                   "The sooner this is over the better."

"But why did he have to whip me so hard?"

                      " I know I was late for practise, but surely not the cane?"  

"When he gets home!"

                                                  "Studying the Punishment Book"

"Well, bring me the hairbrush and get over my lap!"

                                    " It's my turn now, you know what to do!" 

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Maintenance evening

I arrived home early yesterday afternoon, with time to spare for the preparations involved in  a Maintenance Spanking. Last Sunday she had spelt out which instruments she would use and  added that she wanted to use a birch. Apparently this idea had come to her when she noticed the leaves falling. The light was failing even at 3pm so I set off  for the local woods with some haste. It did not take long to get to the field maple trees that have very similar branches to the birch tree and are more common.

I fashioned the birch with some  tape, then a nice piece of cord to give it a good grip.

By the time my wife got home I was in position in the corner of the bedroom in my shorts and T shirt with my hands on my head. The paddle, cane, strap and birch were lying neatly on the bed.
I was made to wait for nearly half an hour as my wife busied herself downstairs. I spent the time fantasizing about different spanking scenarios and occasionally rubbing myself with the excitement of my predicament.

When she got to the room my wife was very brisk and business like and I was over the bench before I knew it. She started straight in with 30 of the cane and I was in sub space after 20 or so strokes. I really needed this maintenance session and my head felt woozy with the submission.
Next up was a long hard paddling across every inch of my bottom followed by two dozen strokes with the strap.
I lay with a throbbing butt whilst she picked up the birch and made some comment about how nicely it had been made. Then she told me to stand, pull off my pants and get on all fours with my head down.

She stood over me facing my ankles with her long legs gripping my waist tightly and started to whip me. The stinging pain was exquisite. She went on and on birching my bottom and the backs of my legs for over 5 minutes. Finally she was done and threw the birch down in front of me.

She told me to clear the things away and come back to give her a back scrub in the bath. As I was soaping her she put a hand into my pants and rubbed me hard. I asked her if I could come and she agreed provided none of it went into the water. Whilst she teased me about  how she had enjoyed whipping me I pumped hard and finally came into the palm of my free hand.

So I stood there, legs trembling with the pleasure, she made me to swallow the cum and lick my fingers clean.

I went off to get changed into some going out clothes and about an hour later we were in the pub having a meal in a relaxed and happy mood.

Monday, 14 November 2011

Hotting up

After going to a service yesterday, we returned hone to change and go out for a late lunch with some friends.

Apropos of nothing, whilst my wife was walking about in bra and pants and I was getting out of my clothes she told me to fetch the bath brush and bend over with my hands on the bed.

She pulled my pants down very slowly and teasingly, until they were just above my knees and then took aim with the brush. Because of the weight at the end of the brush she can swing this in a very relaxed fashion but the momentum of the swing makes it crack hard into my bottom. After only a few strokes I was jumping.

When she was satisfied with her handiwork she told me to stand up and went off to the bathroom.

She then sat on the edge of the bed facing me and showed me the  tube of Heat Rub (Icy Hot in the US) .in her hands.

“Now you’re going to behave over lunch aren’t you? “ she asked.

“Yes ma’am”

“Good – and this is going remind you.”

She squeezed quite a lot of the cream onto her fingers and then rubbed it into my balls, penis and in between my legs on the skin around my anus.

She smiled up at me.
“Thank you for telling me about the effect this cream has on your bits. I shall enjoy knowing you are hot both front and rear.”

For a good few minutes there was no reaction but gradually the heat of the muscle cream built up until it was stinging like mad.

It was still smarting when I sat down in the restaurant. It is painful yet pleasurable to know she is in control, even in public situations.

Sunday, 13 November 2011

Sunday Spanklet - Hotel room

Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.

Stephen returned to his hotel room,  after a long day of sales meetings,  at around 5pm.

The room was tidy and the bed made up. As he reached into the mini bar he froze with a feeling of embarrassment and shock deep in his mind. The spanking magazine, Obey, was placed carefully on the top of the dressing table along with the customary wallet of stationery and the City Guide. 

With a rush of blood to his face he recalled spending last night with the magazine in one hand and an erection in the other. After he had fallen asleep it must have slipped under the bedding and been there when he had left in the morning.

Then he saw the handwritten note by the telephone.

“If you call this number, I will come back to the hotel and you can explain yourself. 

Saturday, 12 November 2011

Weekend retreat

We managed to get away for the weekend at about 3pm on Friday. I had done the food shopping in the morning, then packed the suitcases and done a bit of cleaning by the time my wife rang to say she was free to be picked up.

The traffic was heavy but no real queues, so we had collected the key and we were unpacking by 9. The idea behind the weekend was that I would do everything and my wife would just relax so I poured her a drink and she sat and watched TV while I unpacked the cases, made a fire and started on a meal. Once we had eaten and I had washed up we went upstairs. In silence I removed her clothes and led her to the shower. Whilst she was standing in the stream of hot water, I stripped down to my pants and then went to soap and scrub her.  After that I towelled her dry and she put on her pyjamas and got into bed. Once I started to massage her feet with cream my wife was soon nodding off to sleep. She reminded me not to touch myself as I left the room and went into the second bedroom. We had agreed to sleep separately so that she could get some uninterrupted sleep.

The next morning I was up and about early, driving to the shop to get a newspaper and then back to make breakfast. Everything was prepared when she came down dressed for a day in the country. She sat and read the paper whilst I tidied away the dishes and then we set off. After a long country walk we came back to the car and headed off for some lunch.Whilst I drank juice she had three glasses of wine. Over coffee she leaned forward and took hold of my knee under the table.

“ I think I am ready for some afternoon delight now, darling.” She spoke in a husky voice

“That would be nice ma’am.” I said with a shiver of pleasure in my loins.
“so pay the bill and we’ll get off.”

As we drove back had her hand on my legs again, squeezing and stroking the inside of my thigh. She talked about giving me a good "seeing to" as it had been awhile since I had been spanked. Needless to say I found it difficult to concentrate on the road ahead.

Once we were back in the cottage I set to work building a fire. Before I was done with this my wife told me to stop and go fetch her hairbrush and two of the  other spanking toys I had brought with us and then to come back with just my pants on. I quickly went upstairs, washed myself and came scurrying back to the sitting room.

The long wooden rustic coffee table had been cleared of books and magazines and my wife was seated on a dining chair at one end of the room. She had  stripped off all her outdoor clothes except for a black roll neck sweater and black wool tights. She looked stunning.
I placed the instruments on the coffee table and stood waiting with my hands behind my back and my head lowered, then I heard her say.

“Bring the hairbrush and get over my knees.”

I scurried over and in a moment I was head down over her lap, staring at the pattern on the rug. She smoothed my pants out with her hand and joked about how much she had been looking forward to this.

“No need to try and count Michael. You will never keep up.”

The backof the brush smacked hard into my bottom and the spanking commenced. She landed the brush hard and fast  and on a cold bottom I struggled to contain the pain. After a time the skin became warm and I entered that space where I could enjoy being over her lap. Inevitably the pain built up and I started to wriggle and turn. I guess that she must have given me fifty or sixty swats before she stopped.

I was told to stand and she pulled down my pants. My excitement had wilted a bit with the spanking but I still had what might be called a horizontal erection. She took hold of it with one hand and ran the other hand back across my bottom.

“I need to see this get more interested.” She said with a smile, “You are such a naughty boy.”
As she rubbed my prick with one hand and squeezed my butt with the other the magic worked. When she saw me become suitably vertical she took a firm hold and pulled me towards the coffee table.

“Get over that.” she commanded “ I want that prick of yours to be uncomfortable whilst I whip you.”

She pulled my pants all the way off and I lay down over the hard surface. I actually ,enjoyed grinding my erection onto the cold hard word. As I saw her l lift the strap off the table, I manoeuvered myself forward a little to make sure my bottom was well presented. Running the tip of the strap down from my shoulder blades she promised me a hard time and then lifted her arm for the first stroke. The whack was audible before the pain and I groaned with pleasure.

“Be quiet. I demand silence from you.”

The strap hit and was pulled away to one side, running across my cheek in slow motion. Then another smack and another trail across my skin. On and on she went, lingering over each stroke and covering my bottom from top to bottom.

The smacks were so pleasurable I found it hard not to moan but I kept quiet. Sensing that I was having too much of a good time she started  to land the strap across the backs of my legs and this was stinging pain not pleasure. After many many strokes the strapping stopped and I lay in silence waiting for the next instruction. I had my eyes closed luxuriating in my submission. I heard a click and tap on the wood so I figured that the cane was being picked up.

After a long minute or so, I felt the tip of the cane against my ankle. Slowly, thrillingly, the tip of the rattan ran up one leg and she made circles over my right cheek, then it entered the area between my thighs caressing my testicles and off again around my left cheek and down my leg. My wife repeated this circular path a second and third time until I was practically screaming  for the caning to begin. One more time the tip of the cane arrived between my legs.I raised my bottom off the table top by arching my back, inviting the cane to go further. Slowly, very slowly she strted to tap my balls. The pain was excruciating but I wanted more. I groaned a little and the tip smacked me harder.

“Be quiet. I will do this as I wish. You are here for my pleasure not yours.”

She tapped the tender skin of my perineum and then started to hit my flattened ball sac harder. I could not help giving little yelps at this moment but she did not reprimand me. Eventually, just when I thought I couldn’t stand any more she stopped and I was told to get up. 

“Stand at the end of the table, legs together and bend over with your hands on the table.”

Struggling a little I pushed my chest and hips off the table and then got into position.

“Thirty six strokes. No messing and no crying.”

I braced myself and then heard the whizz- smack of the cane before the pain shot up through my body to my head. The second stroke landed before I could even take in the first. My bottom felt as though I was being branded.  I gripped the side of the coffee table top with both hands and tried to count the strokes to maintain some sort of mind control. After a dozen or so she landed the cane on the tops of my thighs and my legs trembled with the pain.

My wife turned her attention back to my cheeks and thrashed the cane down hard.

“Not so nice now is it?” she asked. “But it is nice for me. I have been waiting all week to take out my frustrations on you.”

The cane continued with its zipping and whizzing and cracking into my bottom and I lifted first one leg, then the other, trying to ease the shock.

“Keep still.”

She smacked the backs of my legs.

“In fact get up on your toes. That will keep you still and give me a better target.”

I stretched my calves and stood on my toes. I felt terribly exposed as she took a careful aim by tapping the cane near the crease between my legs and my bottom cheeks. I kept up this position for a further 6 strokes until the tariff of 36 had been completed. I felt completely drained with the effort of taking the thrashing but supremely happy at having submitted to her in such fashion. Now all I wanted to do was please her.

Leaving me bent over and quivering a bit as I was still on my toes, my wife went off upstairs. After maybe two minutes I heard her calling me to bed. 

I am pleased to say that I gave her every satisfaction once I was lying on the bed with my face buried deep between her legs.

….to follow.
Sunday morning and Sunday night.

Thursday, 10 November 2011

Welcome Lurkers

Bonnie, over at My Bottom Smarts, has for some years been co-ordinating a “Love our Lurkers” day and today is the sixth anniversary day of that event.

Blog writers know that there have many readers who just cruise by silently and leave no evidence that they have viewed the site. A few people might comment but most do not. These passers-by are the Lurkers.

So today we ask you, the silent majority, to leave a comment below, anonymously if you wish, but better to leave your name.

What to say when you comment?– Well, that’s up to you so long as it is fairly agreeable. You might say if you are keen on FLR or F/M relationships and why, or if you like/dislike this spanking blog.

You have nothing to lose, so go ahead.

Michael M

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

Deviation from the subject

Just occasionally I may go away from the main thrust of this blog and head into M/F or F/F arenas.

Sometimes you can come across an image which is just so perfect in it's composition, that  it portrays all there is to say and more on the subject of spanking.

I came across it whilst cruising the blogosphere and encountering   Through Arianna's Looking Glass.  Her blog is more than peachy.

Back to FLR in the next post I can assure you

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Musings - OBB - Bullet bras and other stuff

We enjoyed a great weekend away but it may take a day or so for me to write it up.

In the meantime can I point out that the people over at  OUR BOTTOMS BURN have just completed a great redesign of their blog and it has some fascinating new viewing gadgets. Take a look.

Talking of OBB I know they are a big fans of bullet bras and corsets and in the great film The Help, which was recently released in the UK, the bullet bra plays a prominent part of the wardrobe.

I would certainly relish a spanking from Ms Emma Stone, the leading actress in said film.

Aficionados of this style of underwear, who are thinking of Christmas presents, might want to take a look at a UK shopping site  WHAT KATIE DID

Nothing could be better than a "good seeing to"  from a suitably attired woman.

Sunday, 6 November 2011

Sunday spanklet - Accidental damage

Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.

Alex was new to the world of work. A friend of his mum’s, a landscape gardener, had taken Alex on as a fourth pair of hands. Not exactly what he might have hoped for after 3 years of college.

That morning he had been dropped off at the small family hotel, along with the large ride on mower and grass strimmer off the trailer. His boss had told him that he would go to another job and be back in 4 hours, so Alex was under pressure as the grounds were quite extensive. He didn’t stop for a break but got a little careless when he was trying to light a cigarette. As he was mnoevering the  mower at the end of a run near the car park he clipped a BMW with the heavy front wheel frame. Unfortunately for him the lady owner was returning to the car and saw the whole thing.

She ran towards him and went ballistic at the large scrape on her beautiful car. Alex stopped the mower and stood there as she shouted at him. He gave her his name and the name of the business and she drove off saying she would call his boss about the repair costs.
When he explained all this to Tony later on he got another telling off and Tony said Alex would have to pay, as he wasn’t going to put a claim on his insurance and when the lady rang he would tell her that Alex would go round to sort things out.

The next afternoon after work Alex walked despondently up the drive to the large house. When the woman came to the door he explained that he had no money to pay for the repair. She had figured as much. Alex was invited into the hall and given another telling off about his carelessness and he was told that since he was such strong young man he would have to work weekend jobs for her, for nothing, until the repair was paid off. Alex nodded agreement. 

There was one more thing the woman went on, he would be punished for what he had done and punished severely. She pointed at the door to a study.....

Friday, 4 November 2011

Don't be too helpful

Last night proved to be more interesting than I had anticipated and it might have gone very badly indeed.
I had a snack then got changed and set about the pile of ironing. Half an hour into it, the door bell rang. I thought my wife must be back home and didn’t have her key with her. My problem was I was naked except for a pair of silky knickers and a T shirt and I thought she might not be best pleased at my presumption. I ran upstairs and pulled on a pair of jeans and the doorbell rang two or three times more. Trying to look calm I opened the front door but it wasn’t my wife on the porch, it was our next door neighbour, Claire. Thank God I didn’t chance it with my clothes, I thought.

After our greetings Claire told me that her car wouldn’t start again and she had to collect Nick from the station. Could I come and do something, she asked?

I said yes and went back inside to turn off the iron and put on some shoes. As I left the house I thought I had better tell my wife where I was so I sent a quick text and drove my car round to Claire’s. I figured I could jump-start the car. 

To be honest I was a bit peeved that Nick had not bought a new battery after the last time I had helped out. I did tell Claire but obviously nothing had been done. I had my head under the bonnet when I heard the sound of a car pull into my own drive. With the wires fixed it didn’t take long to get the other car started and I tidied everything away and accepted Claire’s profuse thanks. A few minutes later I was home.

My wife was standing in the hall with a bit of a sour face.
“So where were you?”, she asked.

“Next door,  Claire couldn’t start her car.”

“Ooh , next door with Claire were you, how cosy is that when I am out working?”

I knew where she was headed with this so I reminded her that the last time I helped with the car it was because she had suggested I do so.

“And anyway,” I pointed out, “I sent you a text saying what I was doing.”

Grumpily I walked past my wife and headed for the kitchen, intending to get on with the ironing. I had a feeling that the events of the last thirty minutes might  just have spoiled the whole weekend I was looking forward to.

“Come back here at once!” The tone of her voice stopped me in my tracks.

As I turned back to face her she was pointing at the floor.

“Get on your knees.”

A rush of submission at her instruction came over me and I did as I was told.

She took her phone out of her handbag and spent a moment looking at it.

“OK there is a text here so I accept your explanation. But you have no business helping other women without my permission and you certainly should not be talking to me like that.”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” I looked down at the floor.

“You had better finish the ironing. Go on and I’ll get changed into my pyjamas and you can pour me a drink.”

“Yes ma’am. “ I said, with some relief that the air was now clear.

Later on when we were in bed, we cuddled up and she whispered that she would sort me out for seeing other women, probably with a good thrashing this weekend. I stiffened immediately  and closed my eyes thinking about what might happen.

All’s well that end well.

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Something for the weekend

I was on my own last night, so no Wednesday maintenance. On the other hand we are going away for a long weekend in a country cottage and I had a message to say that I should pack something useful. We have been to this place before and there are one or two pieces of adaptable furniture.

I harbour a desire to go to one of those BDSM rental cottages that are dotted around the UK but I am not brave enough to suggest it as I don’t think she would like all the heavy stuff.

Anyway, my wife should get home late tonight I will get on with some chores  and dream about what might happen this weekend.

I might treat myself to doing the chores in just a pair of knickers. They make me feel more like I am in service.

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Alas and alack

I may need to add another event to the punishment book, after the suggestion by a female HOH that I should report to my wife the fact that I had been following a plaid mini-skirted woman around the supermarket.

I had a spare afternoon today and took the opportunity to go for a swim at our fitness club. After I was maybe 10 lengths into my routine, this stunner of a blonde female appeared pool side, wearing a dark blue bikini. The bottom half of the bikini resembled the nicest kind of gym knickers, slightly large but not too big.

A bit like those netball pants of many years ago.

When she got into the water I made a gradual sideways change of lanes until I ended up swimming behind her. Thank you Zutto, for inventing those clear view swim goggles.

As she and I both swam breaststroke (great word) I paced myself for another 10 lengths to avoid overtaking her, so that I could enjoy the view of those opening and closing thighs and that delicious blue clad bottom flexing with the movement.

Now that I am back home, I know that I should add this voyeurism to the Punishment Book, but to be honest I am worried that my wife might curtail my visits to the Health Club if I do.