Weekend retreat

We managed to get away for the weekend at about 3pm on Friday. I had done the food shopping in the morning, then packed the suitcases and done a bit of cleaning by the time my wife rang to say she was free to be picked up.

The traffic was heavy but no real queues, so we had collected the key and we were unpacking by 9. The idea behind the weekend was that I would do everything and my wife would just relax so I poured her a drink and she sat and watched TV while I unpacked the cases, made a fire and started on a meal. Once we had eaten and I had washed up we went upstairs. In silence I removed her clothes and led her to the shower. Whilst she was standing in the stream of hot water, I stripped down to my pants and then went to soap and scrub her.  After that I towelled her dry and she put on her pyjamas and got into bed. Once I started to massage her feet with cream my wife was soon nodding off to sleep. She reminded me not to touch myself as I left the room and went into the second bedroom. We had agreed to sleep separately so that she could get some uninterrupted sleep.

The next morning I was up and about early, driving to the shop to get a newspaper and then back to make breakfast. Everything was prepared when she came down dressed for a day in the country. She sat and read the paper whilst I tidied away the dishes and then we set off. After a long country walk we came back to the car and headed off for some lunch.Whilst I drank juice she had three glasses of wine. Over coffee she leaned forward and took hold of my knee under the table.

“ I think I am ready for some afternoon delight now, darling.” She spoke in a husky voice

“That would be nice ma’am.” I said with a shiver of pleasure in my loins.

“so pay the bill and we’ll get off.”

As we drove back had her hand on my legs again, squeezing and stroking the inside of my thigh. She talked about giving me a good "seeing to" as it had been awhile since I had been spanked. Needless to say I found it difficult to concentrate on the road ahead.

Once we were back in the cottage I set to work building a fire. Before I was done with this my wife told me to stop and go fetch her hairbrush and two of the  other spanking toys I had brought with us and then to come back with just my pants on. I quickly went upstairs, washed myself and came scurrying back to the sitting room.

The long wooden rustic coffee table had been cleared of books and magazines and my wife was seated on a dining chair at one end of the room. She had  stripped off all her outdoor clothes except for a black roll neck sweater and black wool tights. She looked stunning.

I placed the instruments on the coffee table and stood waiting with my hands behind my back and my head lowered, then I heard her say.

“Bring the hairbrush and get over my knees.”

I scurried over and in a moment I was head down over her lap, staring at the pattern on the rug. She smoothed my pants out with her hand and joked about how much she had been looking forward to this.

“No need to try and count Michael. You will never keep up.”

The backof the brush smacked hard into my bottom and the spanking commenced. She landed the brush hard and fast  and on a cold bottom I struggled to contain the pain. After a time the skin became warm and I entered that space where I could enjoy being over her lap. Inevitably the pain built up and I started to wriggle and turn. I guess that she must have given me fifty or sixty swats before she stopped.

I was told to stand and she pulled down my pants. My excitement had wilted a bit with the spanking but I still had what might be called a horizontal erection. She took hold of it with one hand and ran the other hand back across my bottom.

“I need to see this get more interested.” She said with a smile, “You are such a naughty boy.”

As she rubbed my prick with one hand and squeezed my butt with the other the magic worked. When she saw me become suitably vertical she took a firm hold and pulled me towards the coffee table.

“Get over that.” she commanded “ I want that prick of yours to be uncomfortable whilst I whip you.”

She pulled my pants all the way off and I lay down over the hard surface. I actually ,enjoyed grinding my erection onto the cold hard word. As I saw her l lift the strap off the table, I manoeuvered myself forward a little to make sure my bottom was well presented. Running the tip of the strap down from my shoulder blades she promised me a hard time and then lifted her arm for the first stroke. The whack was audible before the pain and I groaned with pleasure.

“Be quiet. I demand silence from you.”

The strap hit and was pulled away to one side, running across my cheek in slow motion. Then another smack and another trail across my skin. On and on she went, lingering over each stroke and covering my bottom from top to bottom.

The smacks were so pleasurable I found it hard not to moan but I kept quiet. Sensing that I was having too much of a good time she started  to land the strap across the backs of my legs and this was stinging pain not pleasure. After many many strokes the strapping stopped and I lay in silence waiting for the next instruction. I had my eyes closed luxuriating in my submission. I heard a click and tap on the wood so I figured that the cane was being picked up.

After a long minute or so, I felt the tip of the cane against my ankle. Slowly, thrillingly, the tip of the rattan ran up one leg and she made circles over my right cheek, then it entered the area between my thighs caressing my testicles and off again around my left cheek and down my leg. My wife repeated this circular path a second and third time until I was practically screaming  for the caning to begin. One more time the tip of the cane arrived between my legs.I raised my bottom off the table top by arching my back, inviting the cane to go further. Slowly, very slowly she strted to tap my balls. The pain was excruciating but I wanted more. I groaned a little and the tip smacked me harder.

“Be quiet. I will do this as I wish. You are here for my pleasure not yours.”

She tapped the tender skin of my perineum and then started to hit my flattened ball sac harder. I could not help giving little yelps at this moment but she did not reprimand me. Eventually, just when I thought I couldn’t stand any more she stopped and I was told to get up. 

“Stand at the end of the table, legs together and bend over with your hands on the table.”

Struggling a little I pushed my chest and hips off the table and then got into position.

“Thirty six strokes. No messing and no crying.”

I braced myself and then heard the whizz- smack of the cane before the pain shot up through my body to my head. The second stroke landed before I could even take in the first. My bottom felt as though I was being branded.  I gripped the side of the coffee table top with both hands and tried to count the strokes to maintain some sort of mind control. After a dozen or so she landed the cane on the tops of my thighs and my legs trembled with the pain.

My wife turned her attention back to my cheeks and thrashed the cane down hard.

“Not so nice now is it?” she asked. “But it is nice for me. I have been waiting all week to take out my frustrations on you.”

The cane continued with its zipping and whizzing and cracking into my bottom and I lifted first one leg, then the other, trying to ease the shock.

“Keep still.”

She smacked the backs of my legs.

“In fact get up on your toes. That will keep you still and give me a better target.”

I stretched my calves and stood on my toes. I felt terribly exposed as she took a careful aim by tapping the cane near the crease between my legs and my bottom cheeks. I kept up this position for a further 6 strokes until the tariff of 36 had been completed. I felt completely drained with the effort of taking the thrashing but supremely happy at having submitted to her in such fashion. Now all I wanted to do was please her.

Leaving me bent over and quivering a bit as I was still on my toes, my wife went off upstairs. After maybe two minutes I heard her calling me to bed. 

I am pleased to say that I gave her every satisfaction once I was lying on the bed with my face buried deep between her legs.

….to follow.

Sunday morning and Sunday night.