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.

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