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Tuesday, 21 October 2014

October weekend

Last weekend was one of mixed weather, a dreadful night out at the theatre and some mild discipline to remind me how to conduct myself..

I placed the remaining bulbs in the garden and re-potted some dying shrubs, so that was all positive and earned me some points. I then turned my attention to jobs inside the house.

On the way upstairs I dropped the contents of a paint pot sample on the kitchen floor. Fortunately it contained water soluble wall paint, but even so it took a lot of mopping and scrubbing out of the hardwood floor, so that as all negative comment from my wife.

 I went off to the shop to get another sample pot. In the end my wife decided she did not like the colour. Hey ho.

That evening we saw a play at the local theatre which generally has some good stuff on, but this particular drama was appalling with  bad acting, bad lighting and inaudible voices. I grumbled halfway through the first act and my wife told me to stop it. At the intermission I suggested we leave but the friends we were with wanted to stay. When they had gone off to the bar my wife turned on me and told me to behave. She herself thought it was rubbish but we had to stay. 

"I'll deal with you later, she said, in a lighthearted but stern sort of way, "so you had better stop carrying on like this."

So I kept quiet and we went off for supper after the show. When we reached our car my wife told me to open the door for her. As I turned to let her in she swung an open palm hard up and under my crotch. I yelped as the pain flooded my testicles and shot up into my head.

"When we get to the restaurant I want you to say how much you enjoyed the show and be good company. Understood ?" 

She smacked me again, hard, between my legs.

"Yes ma'am." I muttered between gritted teeth.

The late supper was a better success and we drove home in a good mood.

Once upstairs I was expecting something to happen but my wife got into bed without any indication that I should expect either sex or a spanking. 

We both went to sleep and the next day she went off shopping with a friend whilst I did paperwork. When she returned she showed me her purchases and then retired to the bathroom for an hour long soak.

I was downstairs preparing a supper when she called down to me from the landing. As I climbed the stairs I could see she was in her robe and holding the long cane in her hand. I felt that drop in my stomach as the sense of dread and anticipation flooded through me.

"Go and shower and then you can meet my cane and learn a lesson in good behaviour."

She had me touch my toes, legs together, and gave me twelve no-nonsense strokes with the cane on my bare bottom. Between strokes she made me apologise for being silly at the theatre.

I felt quite sorry for myself as she landed the final stroke with a flourish that caught my right flank  when the end of the cane whipped around my bottom.

"Stay bent over. "

She came around in front of me and tapped my calves with the end of teh cane. I thought I Knew what was coming.

"Stand up."

"Now cover your balls and spread your feet apart."

She caned me three times across the top of each thigh and I jumped in agony.

"Get on the bed."

I pulled back teh cover and enjoyed the sensation of cool sheets on my hot bottom.

My wife climbed on top of my face and ground her pussy on my lips and nose. Whilst I licked with a passion she slapped my balls to and fro and dug her finger nails into my scrotum. As she started to come she rolled off to one side and pulled my head down into position between her legs.

"Don't you dare stop until I say so."

 She rolled and rocked her hips, clamping and unclamping her thighs around my head and I licked every part of her from her ring to her clitoris.

After maybe 4 orgasms she told me to wank whilst I knelt there. Unfortunately I couldn't rise to the occasion so she tried to encourage me with a quick story and spanks on my bottom. That still didn't work so she gave up and told me to take a pill next time she spanked me.

As she fell asleep I started  to harden thinking about what had just taken place but it was too late to come now, the moment had passed and i thought she might waken if I jerked off.

Thursday, 2 October 2014

Shopping return

I took the skirt back to the department store this morning. 

"And don't go buying any underwear !" my wife said as I left the house early. "I have plenty."

At the Returns counter I queued with a line of women and eventually got to the counter.
The assistant helpfully told me that I could only get a credit note on the item as the 28 days had passed.

I thanked her for this helpful information and said I already knew that, but did not mention that so did my bottom.  I had the welts to show that I was now fully conversant with their Returns policy.

I took the credit note and walked through  the lingerie and sleepwear part of the  store on my way out of the store. 

I noticed some tartan pyjamas on a mannequin and recalled the difficulties which a certain member of the UK political establishment had gotten himself into by sharing a picture of his member sticking out of a pair of tartan pyjamas. Oh how we laughed.

Personally I think tartan pj's look best on a woman. I made a mental note to buy some  for my wife for Christmas, which regrettably does not seem all that far away now. 

I thought about using the credit note in my hand to buy them there and then but realised this would not be a smart idea since it was not my money after all. 

Wednesday, 1 October 2014


I was in a spot of bother yesterday. My wife discovered that I had not returned an item of clothing to a department store as she had requested. She discovered it in a bag in the boot of our car. As a consequence she can no longer receive cash for the return, because we are over 28 days, and has to accept a credit note. The finance side is not so much the problem, as the fact that I did not do as she asked.

Retribution was fairly swift. She called me into the bedroom, told me to drop my trousers and then she vigorously yanked down my pants. Using the bath-brush she delivered thirty hard swats to my rear and made each one count with its severity of swing. I was begging her to stop after about fifteen or so and was howling audibly at the end. A bathbrush spanking on a cold bottom with little or no sexual side to the business is a serious punishment. She told me to stay where I was whilst she fetched the cane.

As she beat me slowly and carefully she scolded me to get my act together and be more responsible in future and as she put it, to do as I was damn well told.

She stopped caning me at 24 strokes. The marks are still on my bottom this morning.

Hey ho.