Cracking time

I started this post last Saturday morning, whilst sitting on a well whipped bottom, feeling satisfied that I had expunged my naughtiness and relieved that my wife had cleared the air between us. I re-started the post on Sunday when there were still some deep red marks across my cheeks. There is no evidence now, on what was done to my bottom, but I can still recall the extent of sore caning quite clearly.


It is Friday, almost a week after I was dealt with  and I feel I must finish this post today. I may have to bare my bottom once again soon for a maintenance spanking I am due with a bathbrush, for not polishing Mistress' Autumn boots on Monday night before a big meeting with a new client. 








I made a supper before my wife got home last Friday afternoon  and then went to shower and change into pants and a sweatshirt. I knew what I had to do and I wanted her to be just  a little bit pleased with me. I left her a note that I was in the bedroom. When S arrived home I was standing in the bedroom facing into the corner. Punishment, for not having paid a cheque into the bank, was about to commence.

I heard her come into the house and then there was a pause whilst she did a few things in the study and kitchen.

Come down here with the cane, she called up the stairs. And the paddle..

I collected the instruments from the chest locker and made my way sheepishly down the stairs. Her outstretched hand took the rod and she frowned at the way I had presented her with the paddle.
I quickly turned it round so that the handle and not the flat blade was toward her, I had chosen the long thin paddle made from sycamore and only a couple of inches wide. I had cause to wonder if that was a good choice later on.

Go to the garage and get the work bench ready.

This was only the second time she had chosen this place and I went out shivering in the September chill.

I placed the folding work bench in the centre of the garage and waited by the side with my hands on my head.

In a few moments she came through the connecting side door from the back yard.

You know why you're here

Yes ma'am.

You not only cost us money with your forgetfulness but one of those cheques which bounced was for the credit card so now we probably have a black mark as a  late payer.

Yes ma'am. I'm sorry ma'am

You will be .. Pull your pants down.

I struggled to get the waistband of my pants  over my horizontal half-erection and took the pants off over each ankle.

S placed the cane on the workbench and turned to me holding the paddle across her chest.

Step away from the bench and spread your legs and bend over.



I assumed the position and rested my hands on my knees.

That first crack was vicious and I stumbled forward.
The next stroke was a surprise. She swung the paddle between my legs and spanked my balls. The deep pain spread into my groin.I shut my eyes tight trying not to moan.

Stay very still or you'll get all the strokes there.

The paddle landed again across my bottom and I held my stance. She was being particularly tough with the spanking and I stumbled again on the fifth stroke. When I was steady on my feet I knew what would happen and my knees trembled waiting for the paddle to hit my balls once more. The paddling recommenced and I got to twenty without moving. Another ball smacker and we moved on.

When my bottom was totally roasted she told me to stand. Just to see the fear in my eyes I think, S brought the end of the paddle in contact with my balls, this time from the front. She tapped them ever so gently many times and then not so gently with one quick smack.  I jumped in the air with the pain.

Don't ever forget to do what I tell you to do in the future.

No ma'am.

She walked over to get the cane and placed the paddle on the floor.

Tapping the bench top I knew what to do. When I was over the length of sawing platform I pushed down with my toes to try and lift my hips up to avoid the sharp edge soft the wood. I think maybe I could make a more comfortable top  but I am not sure how to suggest it without S getting mad at me.

The cane end tip tapped on my bare legs.

How many ?,she asked.

Seventy five, Miss. I mean Ma'am.

Right answer on both counts. I will be going slowly to make sure you feel each one. Just say the the stroke and the word pound. That will get the message through.

S pulled away to get the length of the cane just right. She had told me the other day how the book on caning that I had given her for her birthday had some useful points. She had not known how often she had wrapped the cane around the flank of one cheek. Now she always took care to land the cane on the crown of my bottom and it hurt a good deal more on that point.

With a whizz and a crack the first stroke landed and I called out one pound.  In this fashion we continued. She taking her time and landing excruciating strokes and me calling out teh number of pounds I had cost us with my stupidity.

I was finding breathing and speaking difficult by the time we came to twenty pounds and the delay in my uttering the count was not acceptable so she decided to dispense with my contribution.

Twenty one she intoned in a flat voice and then whack the cane landed on the back of my kegs. Twenty two, once again a scorcher near the crease. She moved the landing zone up and back down my cheeks and I struggled to get into a sub zone. The caning was just too painful to enjoy it.

When she had inflicted the seventy fifth stroke I was exhausted and lay still over the bench. 
Every part of my body ached from my warms where I had been gripping the metal frame to my bottom, and also in the backs of my calves where I had strained every muscle to keep my balance.

I hope I don't have to do that again. She flung the cane down to the ground where it rattled on the concrete surface and marched off into the house.

Pushing my self off the bench I put my pants on and picked up the paddle and cane. 

In the kitchen I was about to walk past my wife, who was sat at the table starting to do e mails, when she told me to leave the instruments on a chair and get back to making supper since she was hungry.

I said something about getting some trousers, but she said I was to stay as I was and to stop arguing. I did what I was told. The air was frosty over supper whilst she continued to be mad with me. I served her as a dutiful submissive, placing the food carefully in front of her, backing away before asking if |I could sit and eat. She enjoyed the game I think because she got into towards the end of the meal. As I topped up her wine glass she turned in her seat and played with my prick and balls under my pants. When I got aroused she tpld me to stop being naughty and to fetch a wooden spoon. I was spanked hard whilst kneeling in front of her. The session picked up speed and she moved into the sitting room so that I could remove her dress and knickers and go down on her.Once she had come I was told to run her bath and then wash the dishes.

We both slept well and friendliness was the order of the weekend. She says I still have to think of something to make up the £75.00 which she will then spend on some underwear. I thought I might do one of those car share journeys on the internet, the next time I have to travel long distance on work. It might take one or two trips but I will get the money back and ask if I can go with her to choose the lingerie.