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.

For our tomorrow

They gave their today

Welcome Lurkers

Bonnie, over at My Bottom Smarts, has for some years been co-ordinating a “Love our Lurkers” day and today is the sixth anniversary day of that event.

Blog writers know that there have many readers who just cruise by silently and leave no evidence that they have viewed the site. A few people might comment but most do not. These passers-by are the Lurkers.

So today we ask you, the silent majority, to leave a comment below, anonymously if you wish, but better to leave your name.

What to say when you comment?– Well, that’s up to you so long as it is fairly agreeable. You might say if you are keen on FLR or F/M relationships and why, or if you like/dislike this spanking blog.

You have nothing to lose, so go ahead.

Thanks

Michael M

Deviation from the subject

Just occasionally I may go away from the main thrust of this blog and head into M/F or F/F arenas.

Sometimes you can come across an image which is just so perfect in it's composition, that  it portrays all there is to say and more on the subject of spanking.

I came across it whilst cruising the blogosphere and encountering   Through Arianna's Looking Glass.  Her blog is more than peachy.

Back to FLR in the next post I can assure you

Musings - OBB - Bullet bras and other stuff

We enjoyed a great weekend away but it may take a day or so for me to write it up.

In the meantime can I point out that the people over at  OUR BOTTOMS BURN have just completed a great redesign of their blog and it has some fascinating new viewing gadgets. Take a look.

Talking of OBB I know they are a big fans of bullet bras and corsets and in the great film The Help, which was recently released in the UK, the bullet bra plays a prominent part of the wardrobe.

I would certainly relish a spanking from Ms Emma Stone, the leading actress in said film.

Aficionados of this style of underwear, who are thinking of Christmas presents, might want to take a look at a UK shopping site  WHAT KATIE DID. 

Nothing could be better than a "good seeing to"  from a suitably attired woman.

Sunday spanklet - Accidental damage

Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.
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Alex was new to the world of work. A friend of his mum’s, a landscape gardener, had taken Alex on as a fourth pair of hands. Not exactly what he might have hoped for after 3 years of college.

That morning he had been dropped off at the small family hotel, along with the large ride on mower and grass strimmer off the trailer. His boss had told him that he would go to another job and be back in 4 hours, so Alex was under pressure as the grounds were quite extensive. He didn’t stop for a break but got a little careless when he was trying to light a cigarette. As he was mnoevering the  mower at the end of a run near the car park he clipped a BMW with the heavy front wheel frame. Unfortunately for him the lady owner was returning to the car and saw the whole thing.

She ran towards him and went ballistic at the large scrape on her beautiful car. Alex stopped the mower and stood there as she shouted at him. He gave her his name and the name of the business and she drove off saying she would call his boss about the repair costs.

When he explained all this to Tony later on he got another telling off and Tony said Alex would have to pay, as he wasn’t going to put a claim on his insurance and when the lady rang he would tell her that Alex would go round to sort things out.

The next afternoon after work Alex walked despondently up the drive to the large house. When the woman came to the door he explained that he had no money to pay for the repair. She had figured as much. Alex was invited into the hall and given another telling off about his carelessness and he was told that since he was such strong young man he would have to work weekend jobs for her, for nothing, until the repair was paid off. Alex nodded agreement. 

There was one more thing the woman went on, he would be punished for what he had done and punished severely. She pointed at the door to a study.....

Don't be too helpful

Last night proved to be more interesting than I had anticipated and it might have gone very badly indeed.

I had a snack then got changed and set about the pile of ironing. Half an hour into it, the door bell rang. I thought my wife must be back home and didn’t have her key with her. My problem was I was naked except for a pair of silky knickers and a T shirt and I thought she might not be best pleased at my presumption. I ran upstairs and pulled on a pair of jeans and the doorbell rang two or three times more. Trying to look calm I opened the front door but it wasn’t my wife on the porch, it was our next door neighbour, Claire. Thank God I didn’t chance it with my clothes, I thought.

After our greetings Claire told me that her car wouldn’t start again and she had to collect Nick from the station. Could I come and do something, she asked?

I said yes and went back inside to turn off the iron and put on some shoes. As I left the house I thought I had better tell my wife where I was so I sent a quick text and drove my car round to Claire’s. I figured I could jump-start the car. 

To be honest I was a bit peeved that Nick had not bought a new battery after the last time I had helped out. I did tell Claire but obviously nothing had been done. I had my head under the bonnet when I heard the sound of a car pull into my own drive. With the wires fixed it didn’t take long to get the other car started and I tidied everything away and accepted Claire’s profuse thanks. A few minutes later I was home.

My wife was standing in the hall with a bit of a sour face.

“So where were you?”, she asked.

“Next door,  Claire couldn’t start her car.”

“Ooh , next door with Claire were you, how cosy is that when I am out working?”

I knew where she was headed with this so I reminded her that the last time I helped with the car it was because she had suggested I do so.

“And anyway,” I pointed out, “I sent you a text saying what I was doing.”

Grumpily I walked past my wife and headed for the kitchen, intending to get on with the ironing. I had a feeling that the events of the last thirty minutes might  just have spoiled the whole weekend I was looking forward to.

“Come back here at once!” The tone of her voice stopped me in my tracks.

As I turned back to face her she was pointing at the floor.

“Get on your knees.”

A rush of submission at her instruction came over me and I did as I was told.

She took her phone out of her handbag and spent a moment looking at it.

“OK there is a text here so I accept your explanation. But you have no business helping other women without my permission and you certainly should not be talking to me like that.”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” I looked down at the floor.

“You had better finish the ironing. Go on and I’ll get changed into my pyjamas and you can pour me a drink.”

“Yes ma’am. “ I said, with some relief that the air was now clear.

Later on when we were in bed, we cuddled up and she whispered that she would sort me out for seeing other women, probably with a good thrashing this weekend. I stiffened immediately  and closed my eyes thinking about what might happen.

All’s well that end well.

Something for the weekend

I was on my own last night, so no Wednesday maintenance. On the other hand we are going away for a long weekend in a country cottage and I had a message to say that I should pack something useful. We have been to this place before and there are one or two pieces of adaptable furniture.

I harbour a desire to go to one of those BDSM rental cottages that are dotted around the UK but I am not brave enough to suggest it as I don’t think she would like all the heavy stuff.

Anyway, my wife should get home late tonight I will get on with some chores  and dream about what might happen this weekend.


I might treat myself to doing the chores in just a pair of knickers. They make me feel more like I am in service.

Alas and alack

I may need to add another event to the punishment book, after the suggestion by a female HOH that I should report to my wife the fact that I had been following a plaid mini-skirted woman around the supermarket.

I had a spare afternoon today and took the opportunity to go for a swim at our fitness club. After I was maybe 10 lengths into my routine, this stunner of a blonde female appeared pool side, wearing a dark blue bikini. The bottom half of the bikini resembled the nicest kind of gym knickers, slightly large but not too big.

A bit like those netball pants of many years ago.

When she got into the water I made a gradual sideways change of lanes until I ended up swimming behind her. Thank you Zutto, for inventing those clear view swim goggles.

As she and I both swam breaststroke (great word) I paced myself for another 10 lengths to avoid overtaking her, so that I could enjoy the view of those opening and closing thighs and that delicious blue clad bottom flexing with the movement.

Now that I am back home, I know that I should add this voyeurism to the Punishment Book, but to be honest I am worried that my wife might curtail my visits to the Health Club if I do. 

Just an update

There has not been much in the way of CP and spanking over the weekend and last night. I don’t think that my wife saw the need for it. This might not be strictly true because, as a female HOH has pointed out in a comment, I should not have been trailing around after women in short plaid skirts.  I have therefore added a confessional note in the Punishment Book which I will have to explain to my wife, the next time it is studied by her.

A lot of chores got done by me when I was on my own on Sunday and this was commented on positively when she returned home. 

I cleaned and polished all her shoes and boots and tidied up the backs of the heels, where they get scuffed when she is driving. Because these are all back in the cupboard this job went unnoticed. It is good to just do something because you know it should be done, not because there might be a reward.