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Sunday, 22 January 2012

Sunday spanklet - An appointment

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

This time he had come too far. He was inside her house now and his heart was beating fast. On two occasions he had made an appointment and each time he had cancelled at the last minute. She had given him a hard time when he had called to book again but that had spurred him on. Now he had to say sorry in person.

He had his face turned into the wall whilst she read his note. This had been a condition of their meeting. She wanted to know why he felt he should be punished and for what. Describing his errors and omissions had taken longer than he had expected, when he had first sat down with a pen and a blank sheet of paper.

She had received him with a smile at the front door and the agreed token had been handed without embarrassment on either part. Courteously he presented his letter. He was ushered into a shower room and told to knock on the door further down the corridor when he was clean and prepared.

Once inside the room they looked each other over. The two of them could not have been dressed more differently. He was in a plain cotton T- shirt and thong underpants which he had to buy especially from a "boy" shop in Soho. She was wearing a crisp white shirt  and a black skirt which reached over the knees of her long legs.

The sitting room was large and airy and like most Edwardian spaces it had a high ceiling. The furniture was modern and her style of decoration worked well against the light wood finish of the laminated wood floor. There were rugs scattered about and their bright colours contrasted  with the white painted walls. An untrained eye would not have identified the alternative use of some items of furniture. For example the ottoman at one end of the room was a few inches higher than normal and had a solid rolled end, the Victorian wooden chair against the wall was sturdier than most, the curtain rail was fixed rigidly to the wall and had silk ropes hanging down from each side of the shuttered French door windows that led into the garden. The coffee table was plain oak with four solid legs and was kept  clear of magazines and books and the footstool by the side was covered a tan leather cushioned top and was slightly larger than is usual. Guests could be received here without any awareness that it was also used for spanking and discipline sessions.

On entering the room he had seen that the large paddle, riding crop and a long cane were laid on the top of the footstool, alongside a strap on dildo and lubricant. He had a flash of second thoughts but steeled himself for what was to come. She took charge immediately and told him to stand in one corner and wait with his hands on his head. The scolding began and she paced around the room, holding the letter in one hand and reading it aloud whilst occasionally swishing the cane through the air in an arc from high to low. Once or twice she stopped behind him and adjusted his posture with a tap from the end of the rattan stick.

After many minutes of lecturing and warnings she called him over to bring the chair and place it in the centre of the room. Slowly and carefully she told him how he was going to be punished. His erection burst through the top of the elastic waistband of the tiny pants and his brain went to mush with excitement.

As he bent over the back of the chair to receive the harsh strokes of the paddle, he marvelled at his wife’s ability to role play and savoured his heartfelt submission to her. Her work might take her away from home for long periods but that was because she was good at her executive job. 

He took a deep breath as the hard wood smacked into his bare cheeks and surrendered himself totally to their playtime.

                                     The end - for a while at any rate.

Friday, 20 January 2012

Not quite gone.

Before I leave blogspace for a while I have one Spanklet for this coming Sunday.

I also have this account of a Christmas a few years back, written at a time when I thought I might start to blog but didn't. I came across it when I was sorting out my laptop last night so I offer it now for fun's sake. I think I might have sent it to a spanking blogger at the time. I hope it is of interest.

Over the Christmas season my wife and I  exchanged conventional presents in the company of the our extended family and later that day we gave each other our personal presents in the privacy of our bedroom. In past years these have been gifts of silk lingerie from me to her and her present to me has been to wear the gift whilst performing one sort of sexual favour or another. In early December of last year my wife indicated that she had enough lingerie in her drawer so I should think of giving her something different and she would do the same for me.

I pored over Amazon and came up with the idea of giving her a cheque for a sum of money inside a book. My choice of book was the Mistress Manual: A Good Girl's Guide to Female Dominance by Mistress Lorelei. Amazon delivered it to my office and I wrote a cheque for £200 and wrapped up the package nicely. I admit to reading a number of chapters and was pleased with my choice. Whilst there was nothing startlingly new in the book it is well written and is directed more at Domestic Discipline readers than at the  professional Dominatrix.

Late on Christmas night, when everyone was asleep after a long day with too many drinks, my wife and I sat on our bed and she gave me her gift. It turned out to be the Body Shop bath brush  I held it gingerly in my hands recognising that this was an implement that could deliver a hefty wallop when used on a naked butt. I thanked her with a kiss and made some comment about how useful it would be in the shower. She replied that it might well be but that I could probably guess that wasn't going to be its only use.

My gift to her was handed over and I felt a little nervous as she opened it. The cheque was well received and, to my distinct relief, so was the book. I accepted her thank you kiss and she went off to get ready for bed. When she returned in a rather plain set of pyjamas I realised that sex was off the agenda. Instead she sat up in bed and reached for the book. I must have looked a little crestfallen because she smiled across at me and said that there was no Christmas special that night but that something might happen once we had the house to ourselves. She added that she expected her gift to me to be hanging on its own new hook in the bathroom by the end of the next day.

Three nights went by with no lovemaking until all the relatives had left and we were truly on our own. My wife told me that she was going for a bath and that maybe I should close up the house and wait for her on the bed. She added that it would be good idea to be in my shorts and that I might want to get a few toys ready. I needed no second invitation and did as she said. I took her a glass of wine in the bath and left her in peace. She was reading the Manual as she luxuriated in the hot bubble filled water.

I showered in the guest room suite and took out our toy bag leaving it in plain view in the bedroom. I lit a few candles and lay back on the bed. I had to wait quite awhile and my fingers kept finding their way into my pants to caress my erection. Unfortunately my hand was in just such a position when my wife came through the dressing room door dressed in a short silk kimono and wearing her high heels. She saw what I had been doing and scolded me that I should be ashamed of myself. She raised the bath brush in her hand and told me she would be sorting me out for all the things that I had done wrong over the Holiday period and for some of the grumpy behaviour that I had demonstrated. My stomach was a mix of excitement and trepidation as I realised that tonight might involve some painful moments.

I lay on the bed as my wife went to get the toy bag. She put the dreaded bath brush down on the dresser stool and slowly opened the drawstring on the velvet bag. I watched with a stiffening erection as she teasingly pulled out the stainless steel butt plug (which I have to wash and keep clean after use) followed by the small multi thronged whip. Turning to me she said that was all we would need that night and told me to get the jelly from the bedside drawer and lie back on the bed. As she stood over me she ran a finger nail across my belly and pulled the front of my pants down until the elastic waistband was hooked under my scrotum. She told me to put my hands behind my head and then trailed the leather thongs of the whip down over my chest and across my penis which started to take on a life of its own in sexual anticipation. I was in ecstasy as she tickled my penis, balls and inner thighs with the whip although I knew that this intense moment of pleasure would be a fleeting one.

With small almost casual movements my wife changed tempo with the whip and began to lash it across my penis and down to my inner thighs. She moved the whip up and down between these areas and I held my breath against the stinging pain. For me this form of slow, almost gentle, whipping is an indescribable mix of pain and pleasure. I could not help myself begging her not to stop as the pain of the lash of the thong was quickly followed by the stinging sensation of hot skin. My fingers were laced together above my head so that I could resist the urge to protect my genitals but my hips seemed to buck up and down to search for the next lash.

My wife spoke to me about how naughty I had been and how she was looking forward to spanking me. For about another 3 minutes she flicked away with the whip and smiled with a wicked satisfaction at my enjoyment and agony.

Her next instruction was for me to stand and remove my pants and bend over. I thought that she might whip me again but instead I felt cold fingers push my legs farther apart and I heard her squirt some jelly from the tube. Gently she pushed the tip of the plug into my anus and turned it slowly until the bulbous part of the plug slipped through and it was in place. I squirmed with the discomfort and wriggled as I tried to keep bent over. I was told to stand up and walk about and my wife giggled as she followed me giving me little swipes with the whip across my white cheeks. When she was satisfied that the butt was firmly in place and she had had her fun she turned in front of me and slowly removed her kimono. Asking me if I liked what I saw I said yes and she stepped away to give me a spin showing off her cute bare bottom. I gazed at what was on offer and promised my eternal devotion. She moved over to the bed and plumped up the pillows before sitting on the bed completely nude except for her shoes.

She gestured for me to climb onto the bed and indicated with her finger where she wanted me to focus my attention. As I lay down with body at a right angle to hers, so that my head was between her legs, she reached for the bath brush. My bottom was in easy reach of her right hand in this position and as I started work with my tongue she ran the back of the brush up and down my legs and over the curve of my cheeks. I concentrated on the job in hand and clenched my buttocks a few times in anticipation of the spanking that I knew was coming. My wife squirmed on the bed and got herself comfortable and then I sensed that the brush had been lifted off my rear. It came back with a sharp slap and I jumped with the shock of the pain. This bath brush was indeed a fearsome instrument and much worse than any hairbrush. The next five strokes came hard and fast and I was amazed at how hard the spanking felt. As I shifted around and got comfortable I began to lick her with a passion and she started the spanking again, this time on the crest of my other cheek. Another six strokes were delivered and my bottom felt incredibly hot. I was told to lie still and take another twelve strokes which she delivered hard and fast. Obviously I couldn’t concentrate on her pussy; I was much too busy stifling my groans as each swat was drummed onto my red cheeks. I quickly passed into that numbing stage where the endorphins had kicked in and each stroke felt pleasurable just before the pain kicked in. When the last smack was delivered I lay quietly with my head on her thigh and listened to her tell me that she hoped I would be better behaved in the future. I quickly agreed that I would and my wife told me to get on with what I was supposed to be doing. She added that I was going to get a smack every thirty seconds until I completed my mission so it was up to me to perform. I set to work with my tongue and I could almost sense her resisting a climax so that she could smack me some more. Normally I can get her to an orgasm within two or three minutes so I was surprised to get ten more smacks with that dreadful brush before she finally gripped her thighs together and groaned with pleasure. We both lay there panting with the exertion. I was gasping for a breath whilst sporting a very red hot bottom and she was breathing hard with a nice tingling pussy. As I rolled my tongue slowly inside her, drawing out a second orgasm, she whispered that I had at last been a good boy. I managed to give her the second orgasm and then a third until I finallyI pulled away to roll onto my back. The sheets felt cool on my rear end and I grasped my flaccid prick to rub some life into it.

I was told to leave my erection alone and to put the toys away. I collected up the whip and the brush and left her alone. Once in the bathroom I eased the plug from my sore bottom and wiped it down before putting everything else away. When I got back to the bedroom my wife was dozing, close to the edge of a deep sleep. As I crawled under the sheets she leaned over and kissed me and asked if I had had a good Christmas present. I kissed her back and agreed that it had been special. Her last words were for me to leave my prick alone and that she would attend to it in the morning. I am glad to report that she did just that!

Thursday, 19 January 2012

An intermission

 I am going off line for a while. My brain has turned to melting chocolate with worry about work and finance in my business and I have lost the interest in blogging. I leave you with a couple of favourite images.

I will be back one day I hope.
Thanks for your support and interest.

The teacher I would have respected.

 Time to sort things out.

Sunday, 15 January 2012

Sunday spanklet - Turning things around

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

Are you angry?

Disappointed really.

Look I’m sorry.

Maybe you are but that’s not the point. I am not working to put you through college, just to have you out drinking with your friends and lounging around at home.

I know.

Do you? Do you know what that place is like? Full of pre historic chauvinist men who think it’s funny to laugh about tits and bums. God, they drive you mad. And now I’m getting the same treatment at home.

Not really.

Yes, really. You’re supposed to be working your butt off studying so we can get a better life once you graduate and here you are spending our money faster than I can make it. I’ve been to see your tutor you know and she agrees that you aren’t handing in stuff at the level you could be.

My tutor ? You can’t ask my tutor things!

Well I did. And I talked to Katie about our problem.

So now you’re discussing me with my tutor and my godmother ?

Yes I am, and she had some good advice and sent me something helpful in the post. Do you want to guess what it is?


Because you already know don’t you. She says it worked a treat when she caught you taking money out of her purse. Well here’s the deal. If you want me to stick around and marry you then things are going to change. No more drinking with the boys, you do your share of the housework and we both go to your tutor every month to talk about your studies.

Oh come on.

I mean it. Either that or you leave right now.

OK. OK. I agree.

Good and there’s one more thing. Drop your trousers and bend over that table. It’s time you got reintroduced to Katie’s hairbrush. Like I say, there are going to be changes round here.

Sunday, 8 January 2012

Sunday Spanklet -Bedroom capers

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

I was lying under Sandra as she impaled herself on my manhood. Her breasts hung down in front of me and I lifted my head off the pillow to take one nipple in my mouth.

“Nip it. Nip it with your teeth.”

I took the hard tip of flesh between my teeth and bit, gently at first and then with more force, rolling my tongue around the ring of pink tissue.

“Spank me!”
“What?” I asked.

“Spank me, now.”

Sandra let herself down on her elbows, bringing the soft curve of her bottom cheeks within reach of my hand. I moved underneath her to get in a better position and then without warning I brought my open palm crashing down on her butt. I could feel the warmth in my hand as I rested it on the soft skin.
“Do it again. Harder.” Sandra demanded.
Smack, smack.

“Both sides.” She urged me on.

My back arched and my penis slipped further inside her, the tip touching the walls of her insides. I tried to support her weight, at the same time as freeing both of my hands to caress her bottom. I rubbed her with a few circular motions over her pink skin as I made upward thrusts against her hard mound.

Smack, on one side, then smack on the other. I beat a tattoo on her ass as she wriggled on top of me.

“Harder, smack the middle bit.” Sandra demanded as she squirmed and wriggled on top of me.

“I can’t,” I complained. “I can’t reach far enough to smack you.”

“OK. Wait a minute.” She slid to one side, keeping my cock inside but letting her bottom fall slightly to the left of me. My right hand could now extend across the full width of both cheeks. As she lay there, half on top, half by my side, I resumed the spanking, adding a thrust of my pelvis each time my hand slapped down. Our groins met and she pushed down hard to rub herself against my pelvic bone.

“I’m very naughty,” she whispered in my ear. “I’m your very naughty girl.”

“I know.” I grunted “And naughty girls get a good spanking.”

I spanked and spanked as we both started to climax.

 “Me.” she said, “Just me. I want you to stay hard. Don’t you dare come”

I tried to do her bidding and moved again so that I could push against her but not feel quite the same grip on my penis. I tried to think just of her bottom and pushed the sensation in my glands out of mind. I saw in my head the deepening red hue in her bottom as I pushed and pulled back, pushed again and pulled away, smacking her rhythmically in time with my thrusts.

She gave the first shudder which signalled her pent up orgasm. I ground my pelvis more vigorously and slapped harder. We were both tense with the effort and I felt her clench her buttocks tightly, increasing her grip on my prick. Her vagina was slippery and the first of her juices slithered onto the hairs of my crotch. Sandra lifted herself slightly and then groaned.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” She moaned.

I slapped and pushed and then pushed some more. With an audible groan Sandra gave one more shudder and then collapsed on top of my chest.

I lay still as she panted her appreciation. I knew that one small movement of her hips might have me gushing my come in to her soft satin-like labia.

“Tongue.” Sandra urged as she lifted herself off me and rose on to bent knees.

I shuffled down the bed until my face was directly under her hips. As she lowered herself I offered my tongue into the hidden folds and wrapped my mouth around the edges of her vagina. She moved slowly at first, then more rapidly and I composed myself to match my breathing in turn with the fall and rise of her athletic body.
Lick, nuzzle, breathe.
Lick, nuzzle, breathe.

We fell into a routine based on two years of comfortable experience of lovemaking. Sandra came again within a few minutes,  then she arched and came once again. I brought one arm up and then the other and slid both hands under her hips. I began to make slow circulations of my palms over the skin of her hot bottom cheeks. This had her groaning and writhing in seconds.

“Three,” she cried as I licked her. “Four. Oh God enough.  No, forget that. Don’t you dare stop!”

I forced my tongue inside her until my jaw ached with the effort.

“Five. Six. Don’t stop, again, don’t stop.” Her thighs were clamped tightly around my head.

“ Seven!” Sandra practically shrieked as she wilted on the sheets like a rag doll.

She rolled over and curled up so that her scorched red bottom was in full view. I pulled myself up the bed and lay by her side with our heads close together and the warm cheeks nestling into my stomach.

“Seven. Seven glorious times,” she said breathlessly. “Your turn now.  Soon, I just need to rest a minute.”

My prick had gone soft with all the concentration of effort but I thought I knew a way to get it back in action.

“I’ve been bad too.” I whispered in her ear.

“I know darling. You need to be punished. Why don’t you go and get the paddle so I can sort you out?”

Monday, 2 January 2012

An interesting start to the year

Two things happened yesterday which were out of the ordinary. When we were getting ready to go to the pub in the evening with the friends who were staying in our house, my wife called me into our bathroom and locked the door. I did not have a clue what was going on. She told me to strip and lie on the floor. With one foot on the back of my neck she said she told me to beg and crave submission to her. I had done something similar a year or so back when we were in bed and it was very arousing at the time.

I lay there on the cold tiles and told her precisely how I would like to live as her servant and to be controlled by her in everything I do. When I had run out of things to say she asked me if I was playing a game. I said no, this is what I wanted above all else in my life. She said that she hoped that was true and I was left to lie there whist she carried on applying her make up and dressing.

When she went downstairs my wife told me to stay on the floor for 5 minutes and then get dressed. I was in a good place in my head.

The four of us went to the pub for a drink and when I ordered a wine for myself at the bar, my wife said in a loud voice that I was not to have alcohol for a month. The look in her eyes said it all. 
“Submit or else. “

Back at the house my wife did nothing to help as I rushed around preparing the evening meal. It was only a pasta dish but there was still quite a lot of work involved. She poured plenty of wine for the three of them during the evening, whilst I sipped at my water. When one of them said that they admired my New Year’s resolution to detox in January, my wife intervened and said it wasn’t my idea, she had told me to do it. Again I got that look from her and this time I think it was noticed by the lady guest.

We played Monopoly and had a few laughs, as only good friends with a shared past can do.

I have a feeling that 2012 is going to bring some more surprises from my wife. 

Sunday, 1 January 2012

Saturday's session

We had the house to ourselves on Saturday. Some friends were due to arrive at around 7 to drop off their car and then go with us to a party. They  were to stay the night at our place and then go home on New Years Day.  

Back to Saturday afternoon. My wife went off to town to buy some things for the house and for herself. I was left catching up on the ironing and floor cleaning and sorting out all the detritus of a Christmas week. At around 4pm I received a call from my wife telling she would be home in 30 minutes and that I should prepare things. She wanted her bath run and me ready, with 3 toys of my own choice. I put the phone down with a rush of blood to my head and that sinking feeling in my stomach, both of which are the usual reactions when I have just been told I am to be spanked.

 I love the excitement of the anticipated pain (and pleasure).

By the time she arrived back at the house I was standing in the corner, in my pants and T shirt and hands on my head. Her bath was drawn with her bath salts and the bathroom was warm and candlelit.

The large holey paddle, a cane and a strap were on all the bed and the room was nicely lit with the curtains drawn. I was left waiting a further ten minutes or so, whilst my wife busied herself downstairs and then I heard the creak of her footsteps on the stairs.

There was an intense silence as I felt her presence behind me. Slowly she ran her hands over my bottom and around to the front and then back to my bottom again. I was wriggling with the stimulation and I pushed my bottom out to meet her hands.

“So shall we make you wait or get on with it?” 

Teasingly she put her fingers into the waistband of my pants and started to pull them down. I didn’t dare say anything.

“You’ve been such a good bad boy this week that I think we’ll just start now, shall we?”

She pulled at my ear and turned me round.

“Get over the bench and pull your pants down.”

I doubt if there is a more electric phrase in a spanko’s vocabulary.

Just as I had dropped my pants and was about to get over the end of bed blanket box she gave another instruction.

“No wait. That’s too comfortable for you. Bend over and touch your toes instead.”

My touching toes days are behind me, but I got my hands down as low as I could. Then with no warning the paddle thwacked my bottom and the spanking had begun. Thirty strokes later I had lost my balance a few times but managed to remain in position so there were no extras. I had fully entered sub space and when the cane came next it was quite pleasurable to begin with, landing on  my well reddened bottom. I had put out the thin whippy cane which my wife finds difficult to control, but I like to look at the weals it leaves once my punishment is over.  

When she was satisfied with her work I was ordered over the bench to receive the strap. This is the instrument which I like the best. I ground my hips into the padded top and pushed my bottom up high. Carefully, with a long pause between the slaps, she gave me the 30 strokes. Each time the strap lands my wife drew it flat across my cheek in slow motion and I was in an ecstasy of submission. I was groaning with pleasure by 25 and the end of the strapping came all too quickly.

As I tidied up the bedroom and toys she went off for a long bath and to get ready for our friends arrival. I admired my well marked cheeks in the mirror in the guest room and then went downstairs to finish the preparations for drinks and nibbles.

Although I hadn’t expected it to be, the dinner and dance that night was actually good fun. We all got a quite tipsy and my wife  was in the mood for sex when we finally tumbled into bed. After some foreplay however, she said that she had off the boil so we both just went to sleep. As I drifted off I recalled the events of the afternoon with some pleasure, allowing my imagination to picture the scene of my wife standing over me whipping me hard.

It is now late afternoon on New Years Day. My wife has gone for an afternoon nap and our friends have gone for a walk. Since tomorrow is also a holiday in the UK, we have asked them to stay an extra night.

It would be nice to have some afternoon delight right now, but I don't think I should disturb my wife.

Sunday Spanklet - House guest corrected

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

George knew that he had overstepped the mark of decency with his cousin Lydia and was about to pay the price.

He was down from university for the holidays, whilst his family was travelling in India. His Mother had closed their house for the time being and he had been to told to go to his Aunts at Winslock Manor so that he could cram for his forthcoming exams.

When he learned that Lydia was out on a foxhunt he had made his way to her bedroom to snoop around. Finding the underwear in her chest of drawers he had been overcome with a desire to touch it and to finger his erection at the same time.

Lydia had burst into the room, after her horse had gone lame and she had retired from the hunt, and gave a small cry of horror at the sight of George standing there with his trousers and pants round his ankles.  His nudity appalled her but then the look of surprise on his face amused her.

George was given an alternative – either she would tell her Mother everything and he would leave the house in shame or he would take a whipping from Lydia.

She had heard and occasionally seen her brothers being thrashed and had been excited by the whole business of corporal punishment. Now, as if it was a gift from heaven she had the opportunity to turn a fantasy into reality.

In truth there was no option and George had gone over her knees, without a murmur, to receive a childish spanking with her hairbrush. Lydia was far from satisfied with this as a punishment and left him in the corner of her bedroom whilst she went in search of a cane in her Papa’s study. Back in her room she told George to strip and to help her out of her riding habit, since he was so keen to learn about female undergarments she hoped this would satisfy his curiosity. 

As he helped her undress Lydia went into great detail about the whipping he was about to receive. She told him that he would be gagged to keep him quiet and that his hands would be tied behind his back with his own trouser belt.

The whole process of undressing was prolonged by Lydia and the tension in the room was electric. Finally, when all her clothes were put away neatly and she was bare from the waist up, she pulled the belt out of the loops in the trousers and turned on George, instructing him to move across to the ottoman, and lay himself over the cushioned armrest.

Forcing him to cross his arms behind his back Lydia wrapped the belt in a turn around his biceps and fastened it tightly at the hasp. Then she took a thin chemise from a drawer and stuffed one end into his mouth to keep him from crying out. When all was ready she slowly approached the young man’s bare bottom with the rattan cane in her hand, swishing it vertically in practice strokes .

It was going to be a long lesson, but one that George was sure to remember.

Thanks to Otto for the drawing