Sunday, 20 March 2016
Lesson in not flirting
At a social gathering last Sunday lunchtime my wife thought that I spent too much time talking and laughing with a rather attractive student daughter of one of our friends, who happened to be home for the weekend and was helping her mother host the party.
At one point S took me to one side and told me to stop flirting and act my age. She hissed at me that she would deal with me when we got home.
As it turned out the party went on for most of the afternoon, so it was getting dark as we walked home.
"Don't think I've forgotten," my wife said as I turned the key in the front door. "Go upstairs and wash and bend over the bed."
A few minutes later I was in my pants and standing with my legs spread and hands on the mattress waiting for her to appear.
She marched in to the bathroom and I heard the ominous rattle of the bath-brush against the tiled walls of the shower cubicle.
My pants were yanked down and she swatted one cheek very hard with a sharp crack that reverberated around the room. "You made me squirm watching you chat up that young girl and you probably made her squirm as well. You obviously need a lesson in how to behave so you better be prepared to take it."
There was no further conversation, just a hard continuous spanking. My bottom grew redder and hotter and my breathing between stroke became more puffy. Those of you have experienced the bath brush delivered in earnest will know it is painful.
After getting close to a hundred spanks my knees began to buckle with the strain of taking the punishment and I began to ask her to stop and tell her that I had learned my lesson.
She refuted that claim and carried on swinging the brush and told me to stick my bottom out and higher by arching my back.
When she stopped at last she told me to stand and face her. She lectured me again and then flicked the bath-brush up between my legs and into my crotch. I buckled over with the deep stomach churning pain.
She waved the brush in front of my face and told me to go and stand in the corner of the room until she had finished changing her clothes.
When I was finally allowed to dress and go downstairs I was quite penitent and told my mistress that it would not happen again.