The rest of the spanking that DW had so generously promised at the completion of Thursday’s exertions had to wait a few days, again because of unscheduled arrivals by various family members. Even on Thursday, we hadn’t realised just how tight the window of opportunity would be and exchanged some rather knowing looks as we emerged from the bedroom and heard the sound of the front door opening not long afterwards. But come Saturday, DW managed to catch me unaware with a well-improvised ambush.
I’d been out playing sport (thankfully whilst temporarily exempted from panty-wearing) and rather than diving straight for the shower on arriving home, had sat down for about 10 minutes to catch up on some email. Once done, and finding that DW was no longer at her desk, I wandered toward the bedroom with the vague intention of heading for the shower – where I found DW standing at the door – “Coming to have your shower are you?” Thinking that this was a not so subtle hint that I should really get serious about doing so, I entered the bedroom. It only took a few seconds for me to conclude that certain ‘preliminaries’ were to be conducted first however.
Four pillows were back in the position that had become familiar from Thursday, only this time accompanied by the hairbrush, Spencer Paddle and one of our two canes – the straight one with the leather grip. Up until that moment, the serious spanking that all this portended was possibly about the last thing I was expecting but nevertheless, my submission to it was absolutely what DW was requiring. I left my top on, but pulled off my shoes, socks, shorts and underpants before once again assuming my position over the pile of pillows and taking firm grip on the end of the bed.
The hairbrush was to be first and DW set to work, alternating from one side of my butt to the other with real enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I struggled to maintain an accurate count of the strokes and by fifty, the brush had done its usual job of turning my knuckles white as I reflexively gripped the end of the bed and was breathing quite hard. DW then paused, and reached for the cane. This is a fairly new addition to our relatively small collection of implements, and its full ability to inflict pain and create longer-lasting marks is still largely an unknown quantity to both of us. It’s approximately 8mm in diameter, just over 900mm in length and reputedly of rattan – a combination that seems to put it at the “sting” end of the sensation scale. I’ve also read of the alleged potential for such a cane to cut flesh and wrap around. Although this has not been our experience to date, it also leads me to suspect that we have yet to realise its complete potential as a quiet achiever (certainly quieter than the hairbrush and paddle).
After 20 quite rapidly applied strokes, DW had turned the stinging in my backside to a feeling that it was radiating heat like a fire.
DW then reached for our homemade Spencer Paddle. Fashioned out of knot-free pine about 10mm thick with three rows of holes to ensure that no cushion of air spares the recipient, I am well and truly familiar with its potential for pain and lingering after effects. DW has made a specialty of applying it either across both butt cheeks, or much worse, to one cheek at a time. After about 15 absolutely ringing strokes, DW decided that she might even up the effect a little by trying her hand at some backhand strokes from the other side of the bed. I slid across a little grudgingly to facilitate this and away she went. After about 5 strokes, it happened – our old, tried and true Spencer Paddle, veteran of many a punishment campaign had had enough, and split into two pieces! We were both more than a little stunned.
DW chose to make up the rest of the 100 she had mentally allocated with the hairbrush and left me to recover some composure.
“I think you were about to go and have a shower?”, DW mused. That had certainly been the plan before I was waylaid – but with the thought of how the hot water would amplify the stinging pain in my freshly tanned butt, the urgency for it somehow seemed to have subsided.
spanking, domestic discipline, paddle, submission, caning, hairbrush
Ford, I must say that I can see the British influence on Australian culture reflected in the way you accept your spankings with such equanimity. We Englishmen know that the adult male needs to receive discipline from an intelligent and resourceful female. The man fortunate enough to be married to a woman who understands this, relishes his experiences at her hands, and despite the sting, and the difficulty sitting (afterwards)… is proud to be a spanked man
Thanks Evan, yes I think that intelligent and resourceful well describe my DW and her ability to spring surprises. She certainly keeps me on my toes (literally and metaphorically) and we find something very special in the shared confidences of our disciplinary lifestyle.
Ford, I wholeheartedly agree with Evan. A male who understands his place and need to be disciplined by a woman is indeed a wise male…and you should consider yourself quite fortunate to have found a lady who understands the need to keep males controlled and disciplined!