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Sunday, 29 April 2012

Sunday Spanklet - Preparations

Tony  Grantlace had been elected to serve on the City Council as an Independent. He would take his seat at a Council meeting in less than two weeks and there were a number of things he needed to arrange in preparation for that day.

He had opened a new account at a different bank so his financial history would be clean and he had placed his two rented properties into a blind trust so his rental income would not be questioned. He had cleaned out the house where he lived and bought a new computer. The old pc was opened up and the hard disk destroyed with blows from a hammer. The sex toys and videos which he had collected over the years had all been taken to the dump, which was a pity, as they were all quite expensive when new.

Tony was nothing if not a careful planner. He had conjectured that if he had an accident or was taken ill then, inevitably, a friend or colleague from his political party or from the council might enter his house on some helpful mission and discover his passions, which might then make public life very difficult.

Now that his journey into politics was finally started, and it was one which he hoped  would lead eventually to Parliament, he did not wish some extraneous noise about sex and a perceived kinky deviation to come out in the press. From now on he had to be squeaky clean.

At his age, now 32, it was still just about OK to be a bachelor, but in a few years time this would be questioned as lacking commitment. He had noted in his mental agenda to start looking for a girlfriend in a serious fashion.

So, now that the planning and cleaning up of his affairs was nearly complete, all that was left to do, before he took on the persona of  a Mr White, was to pay one last visit to the person, who in the recent past, had satisfied his Mr Black needs.

If this was to be his last participation in the spanking scene, at least for the foreseeable future, he wanted it to be a very satisfying experience and a long lasting one in his memory. He sent an e mail to book the appointment at The Study, received the confirmation and then closed this e mail account which had only been used for ordering goods on the net and for contacting the specialist service providers and spanking video sites.

The Study was a favourite of his. The domain of a consummate professional in the arts of  discipline.  It was a 100 mile road trip so he usually stayed over at a B&B to savour the pleasure of his visit. When he arrived on time at the Edwardian villa house, in the Hertfordshire town of Smallsbury and rang the bell, the door was opened by Madeline wearing a subdued outfit of black skirt, grey sweater and high heeled shoes.

Tony placed his monetary tribute in an envelope on the silver platter in the hallway on top of the dresser unit. He followed Madeline to bathroom and proceeded to get ready. He was already wearing the long grey trousers, blue blazer, crisp white shirt and regulation necktie, which might be considered as smart weekend attire for an adult, but also presented him nicely in the schoolboy role he would soon be adopting. He removed his trousers and pants and washed himself thoroughly using water and wipes. Then he took the new packet of ladies tights from the carrier bag and placed his own pants back inside the bag. Sitting on the lavatory he pulled on the nylon tights and stood to adjust them. His legs and genital area were shaved of hair as required by the patron of the house. Adjusting the waistband of the nylons he luxuriated in the warmth and tightness of the fabric around his bottom. He pulled on his clothes again, checked that his shoes were shiny and made his way back down the hallway.

In response to his knock on the study door Madeline called out to enter. For this afternoon she was to be the School Secretary, Miss Watfield, and she adapted to the role admirably.

“Ah, Grantlace – here again I see.”

“Yes Miss.”

Tony stood in the centre of the large front room on a rug of Indian or Persian origin. The large desk was placed across the front of the bay window and the rest of the furniture consisted of a dark brown leather armchair and a long bookcase against one wall. Fixed to one of the walls was a large wooden cupboard.

Madeline spoke again in clipped tones, so that each word penetrated his brain like a dagger.

“We have the note from your class teacher. You have been persistently cheeky I understand and have answered her back during two lessons. This is not the first time you have been sent here by Mrs Marshall is it?”

“No Miss.”

“I understand that your parents are moving house and you will be leaving school at the end of the term. So we had better try and instill some manners in you before you depart had we not.”

“I suppose so Miss.”

“You had better buck your ideas up young man. Supposing is not good enough.”

Tony stood there. The icy fear of what was about to happen enveloped him. Not for the first time in this room he wondered whether he should try and escape the consequences of his visit.
“Remove your blazer, shoes and socks.”

He started the disrobing process, folding each item carefully onto the arm of the leather chair, placing his shoes nearby on the floor. Eventually he stood in just the shirt and tie and the tights.

“Go to the desk.”

Tony moved across the room to stand about eighteen inches from the edge of the large desk.

Madeline came up behind him and unfastened the belt buckle of his school trousers. As she pulled them slowly down her fingers passed leisurely over the erection which was trapped in the tights.

“You boys do seem to get excited about punishment don’t you?” she whispered in one ear. “I am sure it will disappear soon enough.”

She pushed his back and he bent in position, knees locked, legs straight and his elbows on the top of the desk with the palm of his hands flat on the leather top. Madeline took a look around the room and then pressed a small button the wall to indicate that all was ready.

Tony knew that they would both have to wait. He stared at the window and thought about the other times he had been in this position waiting to be thrashed. Not for the first time he wondered what on earth he was doing. As the minutes ticked by he remembered the two occasions when he had paid extra fees to watch Madeline receinving the cane. The scenario had been that they were Seniors at  school, older  pupils caught in flagrante, kissing, drinking and smoking.  As he thought about her blue knickers being slowly pulled down when she was bent over this same desk, her pale bare bottom being gradually exposed, his erection stiffened. This was indeed the stuff of memories.

His day dreaming stopped when he heard the click of the door, opening and then closing. Then there was the noise of the cupboard latch and the rattle of the cane as it was lifted from its hook. He could identify each cane in The Study by the swishing sound it made in the air. As the selected cane was swung once, twice, three times through the air he knew this was the thin, senior dragon cane. It hardly made any noise as it disturbed only a small amount of air when  it curved and then straightened out in the vertical swipe.

“We have a rather naughty boy here,” the secretary spoke. “He is due 24 strokes.”

As Tony lifted his head and straightened his back he caught sight of the tall figure behind him, a reflection in the glass of the window. He tensed his cheeks as the point of the cane tap-tapped against his bottom. This was it, he thought, no going back now. 

He rose up on his toes presenting his nylon wrapped cheeks in a tightly stretched curve.

“Very well. Thirty second intervals I think. Be so good as to count the strokes Miss Watfield.”

Tony had very little time to understand what the The Headmaster had just said, before the first searing stroke landed perfectly central across the crown of his bottom and the pain exploded in his mind.

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Tales about hot tails

There are many good stories over on  Disciplinary Tales  and the one just posted will appeal to F/M people.

Have a good day, particularly if you get your tail warmed. I have a Maintenance session coming up this evening so am feeling chipper. 

In my dreams the session might be in front of my wife's friends but the reality will be just one-on-one.

Saturday, 21 April 2012

World of dreams

You hold me in a world of dreams
Enthralling me with pain and fire
Leading me into submission
Encouraging me to be my best

Taking hold of my weaknesses
And turning them into strengths
Making of me more than I could hope
Forcing me to go beyond my best

You guide my spirit with discipline
Pain and love you make as one
Pushing my boundaries to extremes
Training me to be at my best

Today and today and then tomorrow
I will lie quiet at your feet
Knowing you will leave your mark
I am minded always to be my best

Friday, 20 April 2012

A Good Friday all round

When I took a cup of tea through to my wife on Friday morning, two weeks ago, I was in a good mood and ready to face the day. As she sat up against the pillows she told me to drop my pants  so that she could check on my bottom. Apparently there was a dull red colour but no obvious marks of the sound spanking I had received the night before. She tut-tutted and then asked me to turn to face her. My prick had risen slightly as a reaction to her dominant tone and she asked if I had played with myself. I was able to answer truthfully that I had not. Sipping her tea she instructed me get a cane from the blanket chest. When I went to hand it to her I was told that it would be used but that I must take it downstairs and leave it on the dining room table, so it would be handy if it was needed during the day.
Over breakfast she outlined the day. It was Good Friday, a UK Easter holiday, and we were both off work. We were going shopping at the city Mall and in the afternoon she would be staying in town for a beauty treatment whilst I returned home to get on with some chores. I was to pick her up from a friend’s house when she called.
Whilst she was upstairs I tidied up the living areas and then heard her call me into the hall.  The cane was in her hand.

“Bend and touch your toes. I want you to have something to think about whilst we are out.”

Our hallway has a high ceiling but is not particularly wide so I had to stand facing the wall if she was to get a half decent swing. She managed to do so – believe me.
Feeling a bit like a naughty schoolboy I took six hard strokes on the seat of my trousers.

“Right lets get off,” she instructed . “And remember, no playing up.”

As we left the house I complimented my wife on how she great she looked. She on the other hand ignored me and complained that her car was not washed and tidy inside and added that to the list of my weekend chores.

I followed her around the shops, fetching and carrying clothes for her to try on and kept returning to our car with the purchases. I was a little concerned about how much she was spending but it is her salary so there was nothing I could say. After a couple of hours I had had enough but I kept up a jovial demeanour. At long last she suggested lunch. We had a pleasant time and she told me how much she was enjoying my company since I was being so cheerful.

As I may have mentioned before, her favourite lunch place when shopping is a café/restaurant in a major store. You have to go through the lingerie section to get to the entrance to the café. As I was paying the bill for food my wife told me to stay put and have another coffee, since she wanted to get some fresh bra and panty sets.
When she reappeared she handed me another shopping bag telling me there was a surprise gift inside, amongst other things, but that it would have to wait until the next day. I was cautioned not to look inside the bag.
We parted with a kiss and I set off to drive home. All was well with the world and I got quite a few household jobs done and prepared a meal. At around 5’ish I heard the ping of a text and retrieved my mobile.

“Pick me up at Sarah’s at 6.30.   Go and cut a switch.”

This sent a buzz into my head. Excitedly I checked around the house to make sure all was well and dashed off to the nearby woods. I found a suitable tree and took off 3 fairly whippy branches with a knife. They needed cleaning down a bit as the buds are just starting to form in the spring warmth.

 Before I was due to leave the house I placed the switches on the kitchen table, had a quick stand up wash and changed my pants. I wanted everything to be ready for my wife’s return. Just as I was about to leave the front door bell rang. It was Claire the woman from next door whose car I had helped to fix a few weeks ago. A neighbourly act that my wife was not too pleased about, as it happens.

Normally I would invite an acquaintance into the house and not keep them standing at the porch but since I was on my own I decided that would not be such a good idea.  I did not want another misunderstanding.
Claire asked if we would like to go round for a drink on Easter Sunday, as she planned on having some friends and a few people from the village?  Now, my wife does not like me making social arrangements so I played it cool and said I would have to consult her and we would get back to Claire.

“Make sure you do,” she said. “It would be great to see you both.”

“I will and thank you.” I responded positively. “I am just going to pick her up and we’ll get back to you.”

As she made a move to go she said, “OK great. Have fun, whatever you do.”

I closed the door and turned to fetch my car keys. In a flush of embarrassment I saw the cane lying across the chair in the hallway. I wondered if Claire had been able to see it from the doorway.  It was the crook handled one, so she would have guessed that it wasn’t a bamboo cane used for tying up plants. In a hurry now, in case I was late for my wife  I quickly picked it up and took it through into the dining room.

When I arrived at Sarah’s I was asked in for a drink. We chatted for a bit and then my wife announced that we had to leave as there were some things that needed her attention!
 I had a feeling that statement was addressed to me as much as to Sarah. One we were in the car I was quizzed as to the progress I had made on the chores. I mentioned Claire’s invitation and was met with a slightly frosty response.

“I am not sure about that woman,” she said. “She keeps coming round when I am not there. I hope she is not after you.”

I laughed this off.

“Well I have only have eyes for you Mistress.” I confirmed in my most submissive manner.

“You had better keep it that way.”

Back at the house my wife inspected the switches I had cut and promised me that they would be used before dinner. She asked me what food I had prepared and told me that it sounded great and much better than an expensive meal out. She left me to carry on whilst she went for a shower. I finished my preparations and also went upstairs to freshen up.

Back downstairs I busied myself at the oven and poured drinks. My wife appeared in a red T shirt and black leggings. Her feet were in some sort of thong sandal and I whistled softly in admiration.
She acknowledged my attentions with a nod.

“You can kiss my feet if you like.”

I knelt down quickly on the hard wood floor and began to kiss each perfectly manicured toe one by one.

“Should I whip you?”

“Yes Mistress.” I mumbled the words in total submission.

“Well then, undo your trousers and take down your shorts. Stay on the floor.”

I struggled with my clothing and bared my bottom. She went over to the table and I heard her sampling each rod by swishing them through the air. Walking back to stand in front of me she told me to get down on all fours and lift me head up. She gripped the side of my head between her calves and began the whipping. Each stroke fell vertically down my bare cheeks and the tip of the switch landed painfully on the upper part of my legs. When I started to wiggle my bottom she told me to stay still. As she flicked the whippy branch in a steady rhythmic fashion she told me how red and striped my skin was getting. She increased the pace and laced me steadily for over 5 minutes. At the end I was ordered up and told to compose myself and sort out my clothes. The feeling in my bottom was fantastic and I was in love with my Mistress.

After the meal and an hour or so of TV my wife peeled off the black leggings and revealed that she was knickerless. She pointed to the floor and I was back on my knees with my head buried between her legs in a matter of seconds. After a few minutes of heavy kissing and licking it became obvious that the position wasn’t going to work for her, although it felt wonderfully submissive for me. We went upstairs and she jumped quickly on to the bed. The right result came speedily, once I was in my usual position kneeling by her side.

A spanking good start to the holiday and there was more on the Saturday. We are gradually getting back in the groove.

Thursday, 19 April 2012


My apologies to those nice people who have been leaving Comments.

I have not been attending to my duties and forgot to "publish" them after reading them.

Sorry - please don't give up on the comments.

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Whiling away a Sunday afternoon

I could be wrong but I have a hunch that readers of this blog, be they male or female, will enjoy an hour or so looking at a new magazine publication from the USA - Treats.

If you are not busy this Sunday you might care to spend some time at

Certainly worth a spanking if your partner discovers where you have been in "history"

p.s. if everyone knew about this magazine except me, then I apologise for being behind the times.

Monday, 9 April 2012

Last Thursday

I arrived home from my business trip last Thursday ,in time for the Easter Break which in the UK consists of a Friday and a Monday holiday. For a change the mood in the house was good and my wife and I exchanged some friendly conversation. After our meal we discussed the family plans for the weekend. We would be on our own for the Friday and Saturday, then out to dinner with her sister and husband (both whom irritate the hell out of me). On the Sunday our children would arrive and we would be a family until the Monday night.

Once I had cleared the dishes I set out to do some ironing whilst my wife went for a bath and relaxation. An hour or so later I closed down the house and went upstairs. After a quick shower I started to get into bed.

“Not so fast,” my wife said. “Go and get the bath brush. We have to sort you out for tomorrow.”

Coming back with the long brush I was nervous. There is always that time of butterflies in the stomach when I feel like backing out of a spanking. My wife swung her legs out of the bed and held out her hand for the brush. She yanked down my pyjama bottoms and my erection leapt to attention. Taking my wrist she pulled me over her lap placing me so that my head and chest lay on  the mattress and my legs were trapped beneath one of hers.

“If this is what you need Michael, then this is what you will get. “ The brush smacked into one cheek and she set off spanking at a relentless pace. I don’t know what it is about the bath brush but it delivers the hardest spanks ever. There is no getting used to them – they are just painful and in this position my wife can smack everywhere with ease and not much effort. I reminded myself that severe punishment was what I had asked for in my Dear Mistress letter to her, so I had only myself to blame. After maybe thirty spanks I had gone through the pain barrier and entered sub space. I just lay there accepting each strong smack on my bottom. That feeling of warmth of submission was only temporary when she stopped spanking my cheeks and started on the backs of my legs. This was too painful and I began to wriggle, only to be told to stay still and that she was a long way from finishing. On and on went the smacking and I just lay there in agony. Eventually she moved the brush back onto my bottom and delivered a final crescendo of spanks.

“Now get up and go and sleep in the guest room. I expect you to be well behaved tomorrow. Right now I just want to read my book.."

I crept out of the room holding my pants. My erection was long gone.

Sunday, 8 April 2012

Treatment for the blues

Some small but significant steps along the road to a return to Domestic Discipline have been made in our household in recent days. Financial and other worries had expunged marital sex and disciplined submission from both our minds since Christmas and I have not had much interest in updating this blog, other than the odd Sunday Spanklet.

I have kept my eye on the blogs of spanking people whom I have come to know and enjoyed what they were writing, even adding the odd comment sometimes,  but I could not get my head out of the quicksand of depression and failed to write anything useful myself.

Bit by bit, however, a sense of normalcy has returned to our lives so I decided that April would see a change in our affairs, if I could make it happen.

As Shelley put it,

"And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest."

I resolved to write to my wife and apologise for my gloom and doom attitude over the last few months and tell her that I had resolved to alter my ways. To make a start I wrote out a  “Dear Mistress” letter and sealed it in an envelope. On the day when I was supposed to travel on business I left the house after she had departed for work and placed the envelope on her dresser. I had also written out by hand this poem by Rumi and had arranged with a local florist for the card to go with some spring flowers to my wife’s office that same day.

Oh Beloved,
take me.
Liberate my soul.
Fill me with your love and
release me from the two worlds. 
If I set my heart on anything but you
let fire burn me from inside.

Oh Beloved,
take away what I want.
Take away what I do.
Take away what I need.
Take away everything
that takes me from you. 

As I waited for my plane at the airport I wondered what my wife’s reaction would be and I daydreamed myself to sleep on the plane imagining the spanking I might receive later in the week. I was assisted in my thoughts by the sight of the cabin crew’s nylon encased calves emerging from below the hem of their tight grey skirts. It was unlikely that they would be wearing stockings but the thought was appealing.

By the time I had landed there was an e mail from my wife on my Blackberry, thanking me for the flowers and the poem. She wished me a successful trip and told me to behave myself and not to go to bars. Since this was her first clear cut instruction to me in many months, I wondered if she had twigged what I was alluding to in the poem.

Later that day, when I was in my hotel room, I thought of her arriving home at about that time. She would probably not see the envelope for an hour or so. I showered and then lay on the bed doing what one does when one is alone. An hour later I left to meet my customer for dinner.

At about 9pm my phone buzzed with a text. The message was that she would call me in an hour and I should put the mobile on silent and not pick up the phone. When I got back to the hotel I should listen to my voicemail.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur. It was all I could do to concentrate on the business and the customer but eventually I was back in my room. I washed and lay on the bed and with a glass of wine to hand. I could see her call on the phone and I called up the voicemail on 121 with the loudspeaker function on. I place the mobile on my pillow and lay back to listen. Her voice sounded sharp and unforgiving.

“First of all do not touch yourself at any time from now on, without my permission. I have read your letter and you are right that you have been a pain in the butt for weeks now and I should have done something about it before now. I did consider leaving you. However I can think of better ways of dealing with the situation. You will not drink anymore more alcohol from now on unless I allow it. I hope that is clear. You will come shopping with me on Friday and you will take me for lunch. You will then return home and do the chores which I have listed. On Saturday you will clean the house from top to bottom. I will spend the day with friends. At 5pm you will be thrashed. I will decide what will happen. In the evening we will go to Jo and Richards for dinner and you will be an exceptional attentive husband and pleasant company. On Sunday we will discuss what lies in store for you in the future. I have been doing reading about treating depression with a good caning so you should be careful what you wish for.  Now send me a text to say you have got this message, then go to sleep and leave your prick alone! “

As I lay back on the pillows I fingered a rather impressive erection and looked at the wine glass. I decided I did not need another drink so I picked up the phone and sent a text of acknowledgment. I took my hand away from my penis. In quick response came the message,

“Good. 30 with each of whatever I select. You are warned. Behave”

That was last week and now there is a tale to tell of this weekend.