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Thursday, 21 February 2013

Last weekend - part 1

Last Sunday morning found me reading the newspaper and ranting about Government and taxes over the breakfast table. After a while my wife put down her bit of the Sunday papers and looked at me over the rim of her spectacles.

"Right that's enough carping. Clear the kitchen and then go upstairs and put yourself in the corner. You can put on a thong. I will come and deal with you when I’m ready.”

Ten minutes later I had showered speedily and had my nose up against the wall. It was cold standing there with practically nothing on and not for the first time I wondered what it was that I found so exciting about the prospect of a caning by my wife.

I was pretty hard on, at least for me I was. Nothing like it would have been in my twenties, but there you go.

It must have been thirty or forty minutes before I heard the click of the door and heard her go into the bathroom.

“Bend over the bed”

I turned keeping my head lowered and moved into position. I could see her ankles and feet by the side of me but little else.

“Forty with this brush should be keep you on your toes today and then, this afternoon, I will cane you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The bath-brush hit the underside of my bottom with a force that lifted me on to my toes with the shockwave of pain.

“It wasn’t a question. I didn’t ask you to speak.”

I said nothing in response.

The crisp strokes continued at a leisurely pace and it wasn’t long before I was breathing hard and gripping the duvet tight to force myself to stay in position. The bath-brush, applied on a cold bottom, is the most damnable of spanking toys as the pain is concentrated in such a small round area.

She must have reached twenty or so when the doorbell sounded through the house.

“Stay there. I won’t be long.”

It was a blessed reprieve or so I thought. I heard voices in the hall and I was pretty sure it was my wife’s friend Katie. She has a kind of shriek to her voice, not unpleasant just sharp. Thinking the unimaginable, that they would both come to the bedroom, my erection returned and I supported myself on one hand whilst arranging my penis in the tight thong pants. I heard the front door close and in a few moments my wife was back by my side.

“Now where were we? You’re not looking very red any more.”

“Twenty Miss?”  

“No I don’t think so. We’ll just start again.”

No Miss.” I complained.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry Miss, I meant yes Miss, thank you Miss.”

“I should think so and stop the Miss business. It’s Ma’am and you know that”

The spanking resumed with the same force as before. I was soon in subspace where the smacks seem to be independent of the pain. My bottom just became a single area of soreness and I allowed myself to sink into the feeling of submission. There comes a point where I don’t actually want the spanking to stop.

When she had blistered me exquisitely she suggested a bit of servitude downstairs. I would clean the living room and she could carry on reading the paper.



  1. You have to love a man that knows he has to present his bottom for a good paddling and cane.
    Then to have him wear just an apron after so his bottom is on display is very embarrassing. However during this time the paddle should be handy for extra spanks.

  2. I hate heavy wood implements and the long bath brush affords the spanker with a lot of leverage. Ouch.

    I am looking forward to your next post.


  3. Hi Anon
    Yes I am very accustomed to presenting my bottom and I enjoy it.

    Hi Joey - there is something about the bathbrush that gets straight to the point. Part 2 later today I hope. I could not finish it in one go and thought I had better post something.

  4. This (and the summary attire) is almost exactly the way I am treated every Saturday and Sunday morning when I bring my wife her breakfast, and then have to wait on my knees (and with my bare bottom sticking up) for her to deliver the list of my chores for the day - and to 'print' them of my backside with her martinet or with her hairbrush. Later on, when she drops in to check on my 'performance', she may use the kitchen spoon, the rattan cane - or one of those maple switches I am ordered to bring her every other week (and that she keeps soaking in a jar of water mixed with vinegar)...


    1. ... not to mention what you may need during the course of the week!


    2. Today's sessions -beginning with the Saturday morning ritual, and followed by a couple of snap inspections (involving the kitchen spoon and one of those maple switches) - ended up with a late evening application of the martinet and of the rattan cane... Who knows what Sunday may be like!!


  5. Endorse your sentiments about government and taxes so whatever happened to free speech in your household.

    How perfectly horrid of her to start the count again and swat aside your questioning of the count with a dismissive "pardon" and reminder that it is Ma'am not Miss.



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