Incapable of following instructions

Monday nights can often be dull affairs. I was doing the ironing when my wife burst into the kitchen, wearing just her bra and pants.

My blouse for tomorrow is not in the cupboard.

I felt sick with panic . It was still at the dry cleaners.

That does it, she yelled. You say you want to serve me and yet all you do is let me down.

The silk blouse had gone in last Thursday and it would have been ready ready in plenty of time had I not been so forgetful.

I could get it early when the shop opens and drive it to your meeting place. She had an important client meeting at 11 in an office about 30 miles from our home.

You better just do that then.

When we were getting ready for bed later that night she stopped me from pulling my pyjama bottoms on.

You know I don't think you're trying with this submission and wanting to please me. In two days we have had a show of insolence and completely forgetting to perform an important task.

I am sorry ma'am. There is no excuse. I just messed up.

So on Wednesday night we will try once again with the cane and see if we can make a difference. If not we had better  stop all this nonsense since you seem incapable of following simple instructions.

No ma'am. Please don't give up on me. I can do a lot better. Please would you cane me now  so I can show how sorry I am.

No I will certainly not. Stop pushing your desires onto me. I am teh only one with needs around here. You have none and if I choose not to discipline you that will be your punishment. 
Now cover that cock up and get my nice toy from the drawer and go and sleep in the guest room.

As I handed her the vibrator from the bag she made a comment that at least she had one prick that did what is was supposed to do, without argument.

Pushing back not recommended

Every once in a while I am foolish enough to push back on submission. Some little thing might suddenly become a line of resistance. This happened on Sunday morning when I was asked to do something that I should have done a few days ago. My rejoinder of "I'll get round to it when I am ready" was met with a glare that would have frozen a polar bear.

My wife spun me round against the kitchen counter and took the extra large wooden spoon from the utensil jar. This spoon is meant for jam making which we don't do so its sole use is spanking.

In seconds she had my bottom blazing and this was over trousers. She stopped and undid my belt in a hurry letting the trousers fall to the floor.

The spanking continued over my pants and it was not long before I was jumping about and asking her to stop.


I, spank, will, spank, when , spank , I, spank , am, spank, ready, spank!

These were hard whacks given slowly on the backs of my legs.





She did not let up spanking my bottom for a long, long time and there were tears in my eyes when she did.



I learned my lesson and normal submission was resumed.

Hey ho.

No visit to the country.

Well yesterday was a wash out in our part of the UK. It rained and rained. We had taken the day off to go into the country for a meal and a walk but when we saw the weather forecast we both decided to make it a work day and save the day for alter.

I finished at around  4 p.m. and came home to get on with some chores to lighten the load over the weekend. I sent a text to my wife S offering her a bath and a foot-spa for when she came home. She accepted immediately.

Whilst she luxuriated in soap and suds I cooked a meal and then went upstairs to wash an scrub her feet as she sat in a dressing gown in the bedroom chair. After spending an age creaming and massaging her feet and ankles I painted her nails whilst she read a magazine.
At the end S complimented me on my work and then undid the belt and opened her dressing gown.


The invitation was self explanatory so I knelt and did her bidding with my tongue whilst she wrapped her thighs and legs around my head and shoulders. In my mind  I projected a fantasy onto he, as I worked away on her lips.






She enjoyed the experience but said she couldn't come in that position so we would leave it until later.

Instead she told me to get the long cane and get back in position so that she could whip me.

The stokes were overhead ones and quite stingy as they criss crossed the very top of my bottom. S was having to lean forward to make the strokes so she asked me get a pillow to support her back. 

Once she was comfortable she said me she could go on for ages in that position and so she did. I loved every minute of the stinging cane and submissive position.

After dinner we watched some TV and then retired to the bed where I was able to satisfy her more successfully.

So the day turned out better than we both thought it would.

Fuzzy balls

I suppose that I may be the only person in the spanko world who did not know this already, but a professional tennis player Ashley Harkleroad posed for Playboy magazine, with some nudity.

Good for her, and great for those who would love to give that bottom a few taps, is all I can say.

Hope you get some solid ground strokes  this weekend .

Imagination

Sometimes all you need is a picture and you can make up your own story.

Benefits of being good

We were at a BBQ on Sunday at a friend who lives quite a distance from us. The weather was kind and we had a good car journey chatting about this and that.

My wife mentioned how much better our relationship had become in the last few weeks and how much she enjoyed my attention toward her and the sex. There was one thing however that she wasn't happy with and that was my drinking. Apparently she had spotted that bottle of wine from the previous weekend in the garbage. 

She wasn't sure, she asked in a guileless manner, but hadn't I said I had only drunk beer when she was away?

The game was up, so I said I must have forgotten about the wine.

Well, we will just have to add it to the next session, won't we and in the meantime you can go teetotal for a month.

I started to remonstrate that that wasn't fair but she stopped me in my tracks.

I thought you were doing what I said from now on?

Yes ma'am . I struggled with my submission but accepted her position as the person in charge of my life.


The friends house is in a country village which is wealthy, to say the least. The cottage they own is actually three cottages knocked into one and it backs onto a public area for sports, bowls and for people to walk in and children to play. In the medium distance, over the wooded parkland, is the Saxon church. You get the picture - all very English.

In recent years the village committee had raised lottery funds for a tennis court and clubhouse refurbishment and the new hard court and club house was less than a hundred feet to the left of our friends garden.

There were about 30 people  some of whom I knew and some not. A couple of the younger women were attractively dressed in summer dresses and one twenty odd year old had on nothing more than a chemise and some silky shorts. She looked as though she was in her nightwear not out in public. The high heels and long brown legs made it very difficult for me not keep staring. I enjoyed moving around and chatting to people and just regretted that I did not have a beer in my hand.











At one point I looked over the garden wall and there were two girls playing tennis. To increase my blood pressure one of them was wearing what looked to be gym knickers and a white T shirt. I kept on looking over other peoples shoulders as I socialised and watched the bending down and serving actions of the tennis match with a keen interest.


















It was no wonder my friend had said how much he enjoyed looking after his garden, if this was a typical afternoon's activity in the park.

As you may have already guessed my attentions had not gone unnoticed and when I made my way inside to the bathroom at one point in the afternoon my wife sidled up to me.

Having a good time? she asked.

Oh yes it's a great BBQ and a lovely set of people. Makes a change from our usual crowd.

Good. Now stop staring at the tennis. I have noticed you know. She gave my balls a secret squeeze as we stood in the hallway.

If you're a good boy I will tell you a tennis teacher story tonight. The one where the tennis coach gets very angry with her pupil and ends up using a hairbrush on his bottom.

I spent the rest of the  day with my eyes averted from shorts and tennis courts and my wife was as good as her word back home. I went naked over her lap as she sat on the bed and received a very sexy spanking, with a butt plug inserted by her  for good measure. 

Being good can bring its own reward.

Keys problem put to bed in a new way

Well then, last Wednesday finally brought settlement of the "keys" account and it wasn't easy on my behind.

We strolled to the pub on a nice sunny evening and my wife, S, restricted me to a salad and a non-alcoholic drink. We found a quiet part of the garden and settled down to enjoy an infrequent UK summers day. We are  known at the pub so I didn't need to collect one of those wooden spoons with numbers written on, which indicate to the serving staff where you are sitting when they bring they food out. They are quite large spoons in this bar and as I stood waiting my turn to order I had a fleeting thought handing one to to my wife and her spanking me in public. 

I carried the drinks into the garden. It was early and there was only one other couple at the other end of the garden, out of earshot.

S told me that the house and garden had looked good when she had returned from the girl's weekend. She asked me what  naughtiness I had got up to whilst she was away and I said hardly any, which received a doubtful look.

Better I know about it now rather than later you know.

I told her that I had worn some panties whilst cleaning, had drunk  a bit too much beer and that was about it. I left out the part about self spanking, the blogging and  drinking a whole bottle of wine, for self preservation.

Did you come here?,  meaning the pub.

I admitted I had. It would have been easily checked up on.

Anything else? Did you play with yourself?

I admitted that I had, just the once on Saturday.

So what with making us late on Friday and and all your badness over the weekend how do you think I should deal with you?

I said that I didn't know.

Well, you will soon find out and I am sure you have a pretty good idea.

The meal arrived and we discussed family matters, some finances and a bit of gossip from her girlfriends and then we left the pub and walked home.

S wasted no time in dealing with me.

Strip down to your pants in the kitchen and go outside. I looked puzzled but did as I was told.

She pulled out the garden hose from its reel and laughed at me as she sprayed me with a jet of cold water. I danced around as she humiliated me about  my unmanliness at taking a cold shower. S approached me and pulled open my pants at the front to squirt my front with the nozzle. As she did so, she stared hard into my eyes and threatened me.

I just don't want you t be excited by your spanking she said. A cold shower should do the trick. Now go into the garage and wait for me. I will be back to warm you up.

I slunk off through the rear door of the garage and stood against the cupboards with my hands on my head, shivering with the chill of the water. The car was still parked outside as it hardly ever makes it into the garage because of the household stuff . 

It was maybe 10 minutes before she appeared carrying the long paddle and the cane.

Get that workmate bench!

This was new. The workmate is a fold up metal trestle with a hard wood surface and I had no idea she had ever considered its use for discipline, still less using the garage as a spanking venue.

I retrieved the  workmate from against the wall and set it up in the middle of the garage. 

My wife pointed to my wet pants which I peeled off and then with a wave of the paddle I knew that I should bend over. 

It's got sharp edges, I complained.

I know. That's good isn't it, for someone who is about to be punished.. I don't want you to be comfortable Now hurry up before I set your balls in the clamp. I am sure you would find that a lot more painful, but it might be fun for me.

I stretched over the metal frame and the first crack of the paddle resounded through the empty space. I took my paddling without complaint. Once the heat built up in my bottom it became rather enjoyable. It is always a challenge for me to show that I am strong enough to take my punishment when it is due. S did not hold back and I soon forgot about the sharp edges of the bench digging into my hips.and tummy. Just to show she was having an effect I did start to groan as we reached fifty swats. (I had been told to count in 5's)

S said nothing as she walked over put the paddle down and I heard the rattle of the cane. The tip tap of her aiming and distance measurement as she positioned her feet left me a bit more concerned about what might come next.

I think I said a hundred strokes in my text to you, didn't I?

Yes, ma'am.

Well stretch out your legs and keep your position.I am going to teach you  a  lesson to remind you to follow instructions in future.

The whipping was pretty ferocious. The roominess of the garage gave her more space for a sideways swing and that in turn gave her greater accuracy for horizontal stripes on my bottom and backs of my legs. Each time the cane landed I could feel its energy flooding into my skin. I could not keep a stroke  count and I don't think that S did either. 

My bottom became so sore that I  felt the tears build up in my eyes and I started to say sorry each time a stroke landed. S has never stopped a punishment once it has begun, so I knew it did not  matter what I said during the caning as she would continue just the same, ignoring me until she was satisfied. That meant that I could mutter phrases like Please maam, please stop ma'am, and it would not make the discipline end any sooner.

 The only words I must never use are expletives like fuck or bitch. That would be disrespectful. So I limit my curses and try to get my head in the right place to take the pain and in my own way enjoy the submissive feeling.


When  the caning ended and I lay over the bench catching my breath. I thanked  her for taking the time to punish me so severely and said I would try to stay out of trouble in the future.





S ran her hand over my blazing butt and fingered the many ridges which the cane had left.

I don't think I have caned you any  harder than that in the past, so I hope you remember it and  behave.

She left the garage to relax in a bath before bedtime and I put things away. 

Once in bed she asked  to look at my purple and red bruises one more time.I stood at the side of the bed and pulled down my pyjama bottoms and turned around. 

 Definitely my best effort, she said. Is it really sore?

Yes ma'am.


From now on I think all punishments  will be given in the garage and only maintenance spankings will be in the house. 

Yes ma'am. Could I get a different bench ma'am? 

No, don't be silly. We are not spending money on stuff like that. The workmate is just fine.
Now get into bed and show me how much you appreciate your Mistress.

Just a snap

She's not that interested obviously!

Would you spank me?

(hardly ever happens in my experience)

Wondering about who reads this blog

I was looking at my blogger stats the other day, wondering if my page views are growing and which sites are referring me.

I was surprised to see Spanking as Therapy still up there as one of the top search phrases attracting visitors. Reducing tension and stress through a spanking seems to be on a few people's minds. If I lived in Washington USA I might be tempted to visit Spankingforwellness

Studying the country location of my readers I saw that somebody (or bodies) from New Zealand are regular daily visitors.

If you read this post and come from NZ, maybe you could make a comment and say Hello. It would be good to have a spanking tale from so far away.


NZ archery looks like fun.











I have heard that New Zealand people are  more "English than the English" so I wondered if the English Vice is prevalent down there.

A bit of web surfing tells me that adult spanking is definitely a pastime on those South and North Island. There are Mistresses aplenty and an intriguing site called Spanking NZ - Spank your way around New Zealand. 


Further investigation brought up some  spanking accommodation and general playfulness at The Tawse Manor. This looks like a fun and friendly  place to stay on a NZ holiday trip. 

I found one blogger who is keen to say she is from NZ and writes aboout  Spanking  Saturday Spankings.

There was quite a lot about spanking in educational establishments or the home  (regrets about it being banned or supportive of its demise. So far as NZ stories about spanking I came across this one which might appeal to MM spankos but probably best not to link to it.

A spanking artist from NZ found on Spankingart  is Funbun on disciplinedomestique 

Anyway it was kind of interesting researching the place and I hope you enjoy the links.

Diary doodles

Monday morning breakfast was quite a cheerful affair and we both left the house for work. At home during dinner my wife chatted about her weekend away and although she must have left things out, I got quite an insight into her friends and  their relationships. When I casually mentioned the vibrator she had taken, S told me to stop fantasizing. There had been no female orgy she said.

 She had used it just the  once, on her own, when she had come upstairs in the late afternoon from the spa area and the other girls were either in a treatment room or in the pool. She had just had a very pleasant massage and decided to treat herself to a few leisurely orgasms. I asked her what she had thought about whilst she was on the bed and she told me to mind my own business.

In bed that night S asked for the vibrator to be fetched from the toy bag and under cover of the sheets she played happily, with her own thoughts. I was not invited to participate so I just lay there with my hand on my stiff cock but not moving. Afterwards as she rolled away to sleep she handed me back the vibrator and reminded me that she had not forgotten the business with the keys. I got out of bed, with a tent pole in my shorts and went off to soap the gel rabbit and put it back in the toy bag in the drawer. I got back into bed and fell asleep day fantasizing about being whipped in front of her friends at the Spa.

On Tuesday I worked from home and received a text at lunchtime. Wednesday. Take me to the pub to eat. 100+ DS on return. xxx

So that was decided then. I was to get 100 strokes of something in the manner of her choosing.

I have spent the rest of Tuesday and all of today with mixed feelings of dread and excitement.

More later.

Chilly waters

I heard the car draw up at around 10 pm on Sunday night. There was just the one friend with my wife and due to be picked up by her husband very soon. The others had been dropped  off on the way.

As I opened the door to greet them both, the other husband drove up and in less than a few minutes the friend had gone.

I picked up my wife's bag and followed her inside.

I enquired if she had had a nice time and she said yes, but she was tired from the trip and was going to bed. The big freeze had begun it seemed. I watched her going upstairs and said I was sorry about the car keys and couldn't we just chat for a while?

Maybe in bed, she replied, deal with my clothes and washing first.

I took the bag to the laundry room and sorted out her things into a pile for the laundry, a pile of knickers and bras for hand washing and the still clean stuff to go upstairs. I was surprised to see that she had packed her vibrator as I had thought they were sharing bedrooms. I left  that thought in my head for later.

By the time I brought up her bag and a cup of tea, S was towelling herself dry from the shower. 

Take off those shorts and your pants and kneel down and kiss my feet and tell me how sorry you are for making us late on Friday.

I went back into the bedroom and stripped naked. Back in the bathroom I dropped on to the hard bathroom tiled floor and watched her naked body whilst she was rubbing her hair dry. Her creamy pink skin seemed to be glowing from the effects of the spa treatments. I looked up to admire the freshly trimmed V in her thighs and wondered if she had done that herself or had had help from a beautician.

I am deeply sorry for not leaving the car keys, Mistress and for making you late.

And why couldn't I reach you on the mobile?

Because I was having a drink in a bar Mistress.

And should you be drinking on a weekday?

No Mistress.

So what should happen to you?

I need to be punished severely, Mistress.

I agree but that will not happen tonight. It may not happen for a while in fact. You will just have to wait until I am ready.Now get your head on the floor and open your legs and stick your bottom in the air.

I did as I was told and stared at the floor my arms and elbows resting on the tiles and forehead down . Behind me there was a clinkety- clunk of something hitting the wall tiles in the shower. I was not sure what it was and what was going to happen but I soon found out.

With a mind blowing streak of pain in my groin I realised that S  had swung the end of her bath-brush between my legs and onto my balls. I tried to control myself but when she hit me again I struggled not to yell with pain. I knew I deserved this agony but it was tough not to cry.

The brush landed once more and that horrible muscle shrinking pain of bust balls engulfed my groin.

That was just a quickie, she said. Now get my pyjamas and get yourself ready for bed.. I will talk to you tomorrow. I see that you have been busy in the house so |I will inspect your work in detail. You had better  hope that I like what I see.

I fell asleep, comforting myself with a hand around my crotch and the thought of S in a hotel bed with a girlfriend and her vibrator.

What might happen next?

The "not having left the keys business" has been hanging over the weekend like a wet blanket. When my wife is away from home I usually get some chatty texts about what she is doing and I respond in a similar vein. Since Friday all I have had is two messages that were of " check in" nature. 



I had been looking forward to a spell on my own, particularly with the tennis finals on offer. I thought I would write a couple of stories for the blog bank, do my household jobs, drink a few beers and enjoy the flicker of tennis knickers in the ladies' singles and doubles. 








Instead I have focussed all my efforts on the garden and the house chores and tried to put to the back of my mind how angry S will be when she returns late on Sunday evening. She and her friends are at their annual spa weekend and she confirmed in advance with the hotel that they could check out late after watching the men's finals in one of their rooms.

Maybe watching some tennis hunks and having a giggle with the girls will leave her in a good mood.











I have been extra diligent in the garden and it looks great, if I say so myself. All the plants are blooming, the grass is cut, the edges are straight and everything is well watered.

In the house the laundry was done yesterday so the ironing has to be dome today. I hand washed her lingerie and put it in the drier so that I could fold it today and tidy up her knicker drawer. I am also going to deep clean the guest room and the bathrooms and then go and buy some flowers.

Whilst I work, I am imagining what my wife's temper might be when she gets home. We have only recently got back to a good sex life and an effective and pleasurable (for me) FLR. My worry is that she might take all that away for a while. That would be a punishment indeed. 

I am getting accustomed to having regular bottom warming and doing what I am told around the house. Since she is all too aware of my need to be the submissive in our relationship, she might just decide that my punishment is a withdrawal from this way of life.

Anyway, no good dwelling on the matter. It is 8 am and I have things to do.

Maintenance becomes punishment

Last evening's maintenance spanking has been postponed and switched into a punishment session I believe. I have messed up big time and I knew it the minute I turned onto the drive at home on Friday evening.

I was supposed to have come back at lunchtime and left our car and keys for my wife and then gone back to my shared consultancy  office on foot and bus. 

This was to allow my wife and 3 girlfriends the opportunity to pack the car and get on the road to their weekend away by 5 p.m., just a bit in advance of the usual Friday traffic. This I had done, but where were the car keys? 

You guessed correctly - in my trouser pocket and not on the hall table. And where had I been for the last hour whilst S was trying to phone my mobile? In  a cellar wine bar with no 3G signal. Why was I drinking on the way home from work? Because I thought my wife would have left and I had the whole evening stretched out in front of me, home alone.


I fact I was far from alone. Four evidently cross ladies were pacing up and down my house at 6.30 pm, cursing yours truly. My wife said nothing as she hurried her friends and their bags into the car, apologising to them all the while for my stupidity. They set off in a squeal of tyres.






Inside, I found the note my wife had written before she had  started looking for the keys. I was nice and cheerful and just mentioned the chores I had to do and how I could enjoy the tennis if I wanted. There was a cryptic comment about Friday's exercise being moved to Sunday. This would have been the maintenance spanking session which her absence that night would have  delayed.

I started the chores with a heavy heart. At about 8 p.m. I received a text message

" Stuck on motorway," it read, "You are in such trouble."

It is going to be a long weekend.

Instant obedience

That crazy moment when the shorts are down
The bottom bared and knees shaking with strain
Cane zipping in the background, half light with curtains drawn.
The Mistress heels click on the wooden floor and
Mr Rattan taps his quiet hello.

Happy 4th July

I hope my American readers have a good holiday and that you see some fireworks, outside or inside the home.

Random thoughts

The grey cloud in his mind was lifting slowly,
as the ceiling rope tightened and he stretched up on his toes.
Her darting movements behind gave  notice of
the crack of the whip and the flash of heat.
The kiss of the whip left a ladder of stripes
easily ascended, step by step, to his nirvana.

Back on the ground, the clamp of the humbler
and the slap of palm on ball left a squirming pain.
Crouched and unable to run from the consequences
the white fluffy clouds of his heaven grew darker,
Yet, still he craved the birch that  would deliver calm
in the azure blue open skies.
.

.





.

Word of the day

A reader introduced me to the word Algolagnia 
- sexual pleasure derived from enduring or inflicting pain, as in masochism or sadism.

I had not come across this word before but now when I am getting my scrotum whipped with  leather thongs, I will be able to close my eyes and just keeping repeating "algolagnia, algolagnia, algolagnia" to myself each time a stroke lands.

 It is good to have a focus word to help reach the sub-zone that much quicker.