Yesterday was a long day. I knew that the Punishment Book was going to be called for, I just did not know when. The fact that I was going to be bending over for the cane at some stage was irrefutable but my wife teased me by not giving any indication that this was anything other than a normal Sunday. I did some chores and then we went out for a pub lunch with friends. We came home and put up some Christmas decorations. I did a few e mails and then set about the ironing at around 6pm.
I was maybe half way through the pile of clothes when my wife put down the phone to her Mother and told me to stop what I was doing and fetch the book and the large paddle with holes. I very nearly questioned her as to which book she was referring to, but thought better of it.
As I handed the black book to her, open at the current page, and laid the paddle on the sofa she did not look up.
“Strip and get down on all fours.” she commanded.
I got naked quickly and knelt on the carpet in the centre of the room.
“There is so much here it is difficult to know where to begin.”
I said nothing and kept my head low between my arms on the floor.
“I will start with 50 strokes with the paddle for flirting and another 30 with the paddle for missing that appointment with the dentist.”
She stood over my head facing towards me.
“Kiss my feet and apologise and ask me to punish you”
I shuffled forward and did as I was told.
“Now crawl between my legs and get your bottom up high”
She gripped my waist between her calves and swung the paddle high and hard landing it vertically down the left cheek of my bottom and the top of my leg. It was hard, very hard, and I grunted.
“Be silent or it will be worse for you. I don’t like whinging boys.”
She swung again and the paddle cracked against the other cheek. She paused maybe only a few seconds and then it was the third stroke. The whoosh-smack of the paddling continued relentlessly. I tried to keep count in my head to begin with but found that all I could do was concentrate on absorbing the pain. I quite enjoy the flat broad strokes of the paddle when it is used across my bottom in a maintenance spanking, but the ferocity of the pain when my wife does each side in this fashion is excruciating. It is a serious punishment and I know she knows it.
The seconds and the minutes passed slowly with the steady whack, pause, whack, pause and my legs were blazing with heat. I started squealing at one point and was told to be quiet. I had my head resting on the carpet and my weight was on my elbows as I strained to stay in position.
“Fifty. You have a very red ass. In fact in places it is quite purple.” My wife stopped smacking my behind and rested the end of the paddle on my back.
“Thirty to go. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry ma’am. Thank you for teaching me a lesson ma’am.”
“Well let’s just see how much more sorry I can make you shall we?”
She released her grip on me and came round to my side. I took a deep breath as the paddle was raised and then cracked diagonally across my two cheeks. The pain exploded in my head again and the paddling continued. When she reached fifteen my wife took up position on my other side and started again. Surprisingly those thirty strokes passed in a blur, one stroke seemed to blend into another. I was deep into the punishment by this stage and I felt that the only things in my existence were my painful swollen bottom and that whacking sound as the paddle landed time after time.
Finishing with a flourish she gave me the final smacks with extra effort and then dropped the paddle down in front of me.
“Get up and finish the ironing. I am going for a shower. Then I want a snack whilst I watch a programme.”
Slowly, achingly I got to my feet and picked up the paddle. I laid it on the arm of the sofa and watched her leave the room. I put my hands on my bottom and felt the heat of roasted skin. Naked, I went off to the kitchen to prepare a soup and salad and then resumed the ironing.
When she reappeared my wife had a dressing gown on and I was intrigued as to what might be underneath it. I served her the meal on a tray and then ate my own meal standing at the kitchen island (our kitchen and family area are one room). When I had cleared everything away she asked to inspect my bottom, which she declared as being nicely red and still marked, and then sent me upstairs to our bedroom to clean up and wait for her in the corner. She handed me the punishment book and the paddle and told me to get the cane and crop out from the chest.
What happened later on that evening will have to wait for tomorrow’s blog as this one is already long enough.