New Years Eve turned out to be a bit of scorcher, in all respects except for the absence of sun, and there was a great deal of fun.
I had been caned hard on the day before, probably more than the 50 strokes which my wife had set as a tariff and that meant that there were 139 strokes still hanging over from the Advent Calendar Game.
My wife called me into the bathroom early that next morning and delivered 20 hard whacks with the bath-brush over my bare bottom.
“That was just to say hello,” she said. “How many strokes do I need to give you before midnight?”
“One hundred and nineteen now,” I volunteered.
“Crikey. Well, let’s get that down to a round one hundred.”
“Nooo,” I whined. “Not with that.”
She ignored me and smacked me for another couple of minutes without stopping.
“Now run along and get breakfast. I want to hit the shops and still have time for a walk this afternoon.”
The glowing sting in my bottom felt good all morning. When she got back from the town I had prepared the food for her sister and husband and two of our friends and us, for New Years Eve that night. The intention was to have dinner, play some cards and then go the pub just before midnight to watch some fireworks and have a dram to welcome in the year. This group of 6 of us has been getting together every New Year for years now, ever since our children were small when we couldn’t go out dancing the night away. We could get out now I suppose, since they have left our homes, but it is just easier and more comfortable to stay in and use taxis to get about at the end of the night.
As we left for the walk my wife sent me to fetch the cane.
“Leave it on the table,” she instructed. “You can think about what’s going to happen whilst we are walking.”
The weather wasn’t great but it stayed dry and we enjoyed the fresh air. My wife asked me if I was confident that I could hold the upcoming resolutions for the year ahead and I said I would try my best.
“Well I know how to help you when we get home,” she commented with a grin.
Back in the house, when I had finished cleaning our boots in the yard, she picked up the cane and told me to take down my trousers. With barely a pause in the proceedings she laced me twenty times over my pants whilst I was spread-eagled across the table. She made me count each one and thank her for being such a good wife. The beating was fantastic and I relished each hard stroke. She spent a long time landing strokes on the bare skin at the top of my legs which made me wriggle with the pain.
“There now,” she said when she had finished with me. “That should keep you on your toes this evening. Maybe I should tell everyone tonight how you were bent over this table earlier?”
I knew she wouldn’t but if she got too tipsy I wasn’t sure what she might blurt out.
I busied myself with the preparations but not until I had taken a sneak look in the hall mirror at the red lines on my bottom. They were thrilling to see.
I enjoyed the excitement of waiting for her and kept my face in the corner. I felt her come up behind me and take me by the balls under my legs. Pulling me backwards she placed me in the centre of the room and yanked me hard as she told me to bend over.
“Such a naughty boy,” she whispered sexily, as she continued to pull on my testicles, yanking them into my crack.
I crouched over, legs apart, with my hands on my knees as she went over to the bed. The next thing I felt was the paddle swing up between my thighs and landing on my balls. The pain was sharp but I made no move. She slapped them again and again until she got a reaction. The ache in my groin was sore but I still wanted to show her I could take it.
“ More,” she asked.
“Yes but not too hard.”
“Silence. I will decide on your punishment not you.”
She slapped the paddle hard across my cheeks and gave me another 5 in quick succession. I rocked forward on my feet.
“Now six here,” she laughed as she swatted my testicles again.
The spanking continued in this pattern with 6 on my bottom and 6 lighter slaps on my balls. I could feel the pain throughout my lower half and I was in a rapture of submission.
Just looking at the black stockinged feet of my Mistress was enough but here I was, getting a punishment of my dreams. If it wasn’t for the difficulty of remaining bent over I could have wished it to continue all night.
I think that’s thirty but I don’t know,” she said as she stopped and rubbed my bottom with her cool hand.
“Neither do I ma’am. I lost count a long time ago.”
“I need to get a move on now so we will see what happens later. I am not sure we will get through your calendar before the New Year. You can stand now.”
As I moved carefully I protected my sore balls with one hand.
“Do you really like that,” she asked. “Being smacked on the balls?”
“Yes ma’am. It reminds me who is in charge”
“You had better believe it. Now run along and get dressed. Here you can wash these since you’re so submissive.” She threw me a pair of knickers which she had been wearing that day.
“And make sure they are dry and back in the drawer by tomorrow.”
The evening went well. Everyone enjoyed the food and we had a laugh over the card game. One of the guys suggested strip poker but the girls told us we were way too out of shape for that to interest them and they were not about to sit round the table in their panties. We gave up on the fireworks because it was raining too hard. Instead everyone got stuck into the washing up so it was a communal effort. When the place was tidy again we had coffee and a drink and the taxi arrived about 1'ish.
“So that’s that,”I said as I closed the door behind them. "Another Christmas over.”
“Not quite,” I heard the voice behind me and turned to see my wife had slipped off her skirt and top and stood in her sexy underwear and heels.
“Yes ma’am.Right now ma’am,” I said with a military salute as I set off upstairs in a rush.
So that was New Year. The whipping she so generously gave me over the settee and the cunnilingus and fucking which followed gave us our own firework show.