Disciplining Ford

Touching and caressing each other is something we certainly seem to do – often. Any occasion on which we pass within range during course of a day is typically the excuse to touch each other in some manner, and the more private the situation, the more intimate and enjoyable the mutual caressing tends to be. There are also definitely times when DW will deliberately present an opportunity – for example by finding an excuse to bend over nearby – that I am absolutely expected to exploit. On those rare occasions that I happen to be too otherwise engrossed to take advantage, it will draw a comment from DW such as “…so, the honeymoon’s over is it?”

As DW also happens to be extremely ticklish, we have quite frequent teasing discussions about what constitutes the distinction between tickling and caressing.

Nevertheless, there are a few exceptions when my attentions of this sort are less welcome, one of which was fiercely reinforced to me recently when we were preparing for bed and DW was in the process of cleaning her teeth.

Just when DW bent right over to rinse at the sink and her short nightie rode up to reveal the silky blue nylon panties that she was still wearing, I responded in the way that I might commonly do in those circumstances. Once I’d deftly positioned my thumb and middle finger on each side of her pussy to gently grasp its thinly covered bulging softness, I simply stroked my first finger along its full length from front to back – very nice.

Well DW’s reaction was certainly spectacular, although not quite of the nature I’d been anticipating. After a considerable amount of spluttering as she disengaged her mouth from the tap, she reeled around as she stood up, quickly wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Ford, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you NOT to do those sorts of things just when I have my mouth at the tap – you know my reactions to your touch and I could just as easily have cracked my teeth or inhaled some water.”

Unfortunately for me, DW was quite right. In my enthusiasm to exploit her rather tempting pose, I’d overlooked the fact that just at that moment, her mouth had been in close proximity to the tap. Also unfortunately for me, we were alone together in the house and DW was striding back into the bedroom to where the hairbrush always sits on the low chest of drawers in readiness for immediate use on just such occasions as these. With hairbrush now in hand, DW ordered me over the back of the bedroom chair, quickly grasped in turn the elastic of each leg on my underpants to reef them up out of the way and after briefly laying the cold back of the brush on my right butt-cheek, set to work with total enthusiasm.

The forceful strokes that DW applied as she alternated between the sensitive “sit spot” on each side of my butt were absolute stingers that immediately set me gasping.

“You had better count – or I won’t be able to decide when to stop!”

In the light of that statement, I made my best endeavours to do exactly that, intermingled with the involuntary responses that the ferocity of each stroke was eliciting from me, and with DW’s reiteration of her earlier comments. Given the intensity and location of the spanking that I was receiving, I was more than grateful when DW determined that 20 strokes would be sufficient for this particular infringement.

Cradling my now very sore backside, I repaired to the bathroom to now clean my teeth, while DW returned the hairbrush to its resting place, finished undressing and climbed into bed.

Once I’d somewhat gingerly done likewise, DW moved across to my side and cuddled in so close behind me that I could feel her shaven pussy pressing against the most painful area of my backside.

“Hmm, your butt is so nice and warm.”

With that DW attempted to cuddle in even more closely, reached over with her other hand and wrapped it around my now rapidly hardening cock.

Happy New Year’s!

As a suitably private opportunity to administer a prompt spanking for an infringement is quite rare, DW has become progressively more adept in the use of panties as an interim method of discipline. She considers panties not only as an integral part of my mental preparation for a spanking session, but also for what she perceives as their beneficial effect on my demeanour. So where an immediate spanking is not practical, an infringement of our Disciplinary Agreement will most often earn me a quick trip to the bedroom to initiate some “attitude adjustment”.

“Can I speak to you in the bedroom for a moment please Ford?” generally signifies what’s to follow. Once the bedroom door has been closed behind us, I’m instructed to remove my shoes, trousers and underpants while DW makes a selection from the punishment panty drawer that she feels most befits my infringement and that I’m required to wear under my usual clothing. Other times I may think that an infringement has been overlooked, only to find DW’s selection of panties on my pillow or when I peel back the covers ready to climb into bed for the night. Some quiet time facing the corner in panties may also be in store before I’m permitted to join her in our bed.

Over time, I’ve experienced most of the panties to be found in that second drawer down and have come to realise, as has DW, that they represent various grades of severity in panty discipline.

Despite their silkiness and lace trim, the high-cut day-of-the-week “Manties” constitute a relatively mild form in that they are at least reasonably comfortable and brief, with a fairly low risk of becoming visible above the waistband of most trousers. Nonetheless, they do have the basic design of women’s panties with a cotton gusset that, combined with their nylon material, impart a decidedly foreign feel that serves as a fairly constant reminder of my disciplinary status. They also leave me with the niggling concern that the rear seam of the gusset or lace leg elastic might form a visible panty line through some trousers and thereby give a hint that my underwear may not be of the conventional male variety.

Regrettably this collection also includes 3 pairs of “Fancy” high-cut Manties that are a quite different proposition – with generous flounces of lace stitched around the legs and across the butt that are relentless as a constant reminder of my “pantied” state. DW generally reserves these for occasions such as corner time, disciplinary weekends away or if she feels that some escalation is warranted of a panty discipline that’s already in progress – the latter intended as a deterrent to committing any further infringements. DW selected from these for my work wear on two days of last week.

Quite a few panties have also been purchased on expeditions instigated by DW to the lingerie departments of local department stores. It is with some care that she has selected panties that are specifically for disciplinary use and that I’m required to pay for. Perhaps the worst example is a set of three brief, lace bikinis that, whilst marked as being the nearest female equivalent of my size, actually turned out to be a VERY snug fit. Although they are just wearable, they are extremely confining, definitely not accommodating of an erection, and cut so high and tight across my butt cheeks that a glaring panty line is obvious, irrespective of my choice in trousers. Essentially these represent the ultimate sanction in panty discipline from DW that I do earnestly seek to avoid. They also reveal so much butt cheek area that there really is no point in lowering them for a spanking.

DW originally purchased another set of three for her own wear, but then bequeathed them to me as more suitable for disciplinary use. Although these high-cut, high-waisted nylon panties are ostensibly my size and appeared as if they shouldn’t be too uncomfortable, one experience of wearing them was enough to understand why DW was not interested in retaining them.

“So how are the new panties Ford?”
“I think you know already – they give a whole new meaning to the term ‘wedgie’”.
“So you noticed eh? – well do please enjoy!”
“Thank you Ma’am.”

Even worse, they are high-cut to such an extent that any over-enthusiastic movement results in a “containment” issue (let’s say), an additional feature that DW wouldn’t necessarily have foreseen.

DW also has her subtle ways of ensuring that I remain mindful that I’m undergoing a panty discipline:

• while showering in the morning, I can’t help but notice when DW is selecting my panties for the day and then laying them out on the bed;

• resting her hand on my clothed backside and subtly rubbing her fingers where it is traversed by the rear gusset seam, especially cute when we are in company;

• reaching with two fingers inside the waist of my trousers and tugging gently on waist band of my panties, as if threatening to expose them;

• although 24 x 7 panties do not amount to chastity, DW likes to ration our lovemaking so that I remain somewhat horny, the sight and feel of my bulging hard-on in panties obviously giving her more than a little satisfaction;

• little SMS or email reminders while I’m at work during the day.

I may not welcome the spanking when the opportunity for it finally arrives, but at least it gives some prospect that the punishment panties will remain in the drawer, at least for a time.

“Ok, I want you over the back of this chair”, said DW as she drew one of the wooden dining chairs away the table and slid it across the floor into the middle of the room, “but first, drop your track pants”.

Once I’d stood behind the chair, I slid my pants down to my ankles, revealing the white nylon panties that DW had selected for the occasion and then made to lean over the back of the chair. Presumably because DW anticipated that I’d be in position for some little time, she had me pause while fetching a towel, folding it, and placing it as cushioning over the top of the chair’s hard wooden back. It was of such a height that I needed to rise slightly onto my toes in order to get my hips at just the right height to bend fully over the improvised padding. I then firmly grasped the front of the chair seat and waited.

“Now lower you elbows onto the seat.”

This proved just possible by rising a little higher onto my toes and then bending the extra distance so that the entire lengths of my forearms were now resting flat against the wooden seat. It felt like I couldn’t have been more rigidly pinioned across the chair if I’d been tied to it, and as I bent further, I could feel my panties riding up slightly further – adding to my feelings of exposure and vulnerability.

“If your elbows come off that seat, we’ll be starting all over again, understand?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

It was now Sunday night and we’d been staying in this cottage since we’d arrived early Friday evening. I knew that the spanking I was about to receive was the result of multiple infringements over a quite period and decidedly overdue – there simply had been no previous opportunity for DW to administer it with sufficient privacy at home. As the weekend away was also for the purpose of participating in a sporting event, DW had determined that discipline would be scheduled for the final night, the only exception being 50 stinging swats with the hairbrush she had delivered on Friday night while I was positioned over the side of the bed, “just to give a taste of what’s to come”.

About an hour earlier, DW had disappeared off to the bedroom and returned clad in her dressing gown with Spencer Paddle and hairbrush in hand, placing them in readiness, one atop of the other, on the dining table. Once she’d again sat down with me on the lounge, DW queried whether I knew the reasons for the spanking I was about to receive. As often seems the case, my powers of recall had largely deserted me at the imminent prospect of one of DW’s spankings, and the best I could offer were some comments about bad language, and lateness to bed. DW was ominously non-committal in her reply.

“Well yes, but let’s see what else comes to mind as we go along shall we?”

With that DW stood up and removed her dressing gown to reveal the bright red lace, nylon teddy that was hugging every delicious curve of her body. I recognised it immediately as one that I’d bought for her some years ago and if anything, DW now looked even more stunning in it than she had originally. Supported by thin shoulder straps, the front revealed plenty of cleavage whilst its high cut showed her milky smooth thighs and bulge of her shaven mound to perfection. As DW had gone to fetch the dining room chair, I was also reminded of how well it revealed just the right amount of her butt.

It was shortly after that I was following her instructions to pinion myself across the back of the dining room chair, to the accompaniment of her lightly tapping the Spencer Paddle against the palm of her hand. Once I was positioned to her total satisfaction, she laid the flat cool oak paddle across my butt, just above the lace leg elastic of my panties.

Even though I had expected nothing in the way of warm-up strokes, the pain of the first when it landed still took my breath away, “Ah! … one … mm!”, this being just the sort of involuntary “verbal” feedback that DW was seeking.

I quickly realised that my immobility across the chair’s back was ensuring that I would feel the total force of each stroke. DW then followed up with 19 equally painful landings of the Spencer Paddle across both cheeks, pausing only momentarily here and there in their delivery to renew her grip and to ensure that the severity of each stroke was maintained. DW then decided that it was time for my panties to be lowered. This she did by gripping their lace waistband at each of my hips and peeling them down just far enough to expose my rapidly reddening cheeks. I renewed my grip on the front of the chair in expectation of what was to follow.

This amounted to another thirty absolutely blistering strokes from the Spencer Paddle that DW delivered in steady, measured fashion, again pausing just sufficiently to reassert her grip on this intense instrument of my punishment and to maintain its painful effectiveness.

After fifty strokes with the paddle, DW casually laid it aside and took up the hairbrush. With her swinging arm and wrist now fully warmed up, the snap of her wrist that accompanied the delivery of each stroke had me gasping anew at the sting it could impart, even in comparison with the paddle. By the time my counting had finally reached fifty, I was, as usual, perspiring profusely from the effort of managing the pain and remaining in position, lest the whole exercise be repeated.

“Now stay right there!”

From my prone position it was difficult to see what DW might now had in mind, but “thankfully” it was simply her intention to record the results of her labours with the digital camera. This step completed, I was permitted to stand and gingerly pull up my panties.

“Now turn the chair around and be seated.”

As I eased myself onto the hard wooden seat, DW sat back on the lounge facing me.

“You also must learn not to lose your cool unnecessarily – remember – yes, thought you might, and you really must stop being so negative on occasions. Just think about that while you sit there for another half an hour – no, you may not take any weight on your arms, sit up straight and fold them behind your back.”

As the minutes slowly passed, I could feel the lace hem and seat of my panties progressively impressing themselves onto my well-blistered butt. Meanwhile, DW clicked the TV back on and made herself comfortable with her feet up on the lounge, the ample central heating ensuring that neither of us felt the cold.

Finally DW motioned that I come and join her on the lounge and, not before I had eased the panties away from my backside, I carefully set myself down beside her.

Soon afterwards I came to realise that I was now the one to be sat upon.

The month of August has been a very busy one in our household, with a family member returning from a long-term absence overseas, combined with hectic times at work and business providing virtually no opportunity for DW to administer discipline – or even for me to attend properly to this Blog. Finally we did manage to schedule a weekend away to participate in a sporting event and then stayed over an additional night, primarily so that DW could ensure I received the very severe spanking for which by then, I was well overdue.

About one and a half weeks later, with my backside still bearing some visible evidence of that spanking, we were travelling together in the car to pay a surprise visit to some friends and fell to discussing our relationship and in particular, just how relaxed and comfortable we are in each other’s company after some 16 years together.

Obviously there are many aspects of any relationship that would contribute to that situation, and we had discussed quite a few before we came to our Disciplinary Agreement and its role.

We had to conclude that our particular journey has not been into a more general D/s lifestyle arrangement, but “simply” one that, on those occasions when my behaviour warranted, gives DW the right to pull me into line by the administration of an agreed regime of Domestic Discipline, to which I have consented. Furthermore, DW made it absolutely clear that she values that right very highly, whilst both agreeing that it is by no means the raison d’être for our relationship.

So while our relationship may appear to outside observers as proceeding no differently than usual, that may well be the case – but on the other hand, it’s quite possible that DW has only recently meted out some severe bottom medicine or has me in the most humiliating pair of panties she can find as a direct result of some behavioural infringement on my part. If my offence is committed in public however, she has her way of subtly communicating that there will be consequences.

Probably as a result of this discussion, DW and I have taken the opportunity to review our Domestic Disciplinary Agreement, originally drafted in July 2000. For those interested, and with DW’s agreement, the updated version (now at Draft C) can be found here.

“If you want to be really good at something you need to make it a priority and work at it. You need to practise. This is true in sports, in music, in any craft or area of knowledge you wish to master.” Seemingly sound advice that DW is now applying seriously to the further development of her skills in application of the cane to my backside.

DW’s renewed enthusiasm for this implement appears to have arisen primarily as a consequence of the delays to my most recently scheduled punishment. Although a suitably private opportunity to administer this particular spanking did occur at the expected time, as it turned out, DW had by then succumbed to a rather heavy cold that necessitated its postponement… and hence a considerable extension of the time that I was required to spend “on notice”. Although DW was not well enough to perform the spanking I so clearly deserved, this didn’t prevent her from ensuring my heightened anticipation of the event by dictating that I spend the remainder of my time “on notice” 24×7 in white, day of the week panties.

Under the terms of our Disciplinary Agreement, the intent of this measure is to provide me with an incentive for submission to a scheduled punishment as soon as practicable, remembering also that lovemaking can only be at DW’s initiative during a period of notice. As no suitably private opportunity for use of the hairbrush or paddle appeared likely for some time after the postponement, DW resolved that it was time to further develop her competency in the use of a much quieter implement – enter the cane. We currently possess two relatively light canes, one being straight with a woven leather grip, the other being very slightly heavier with a traditional crooked handle. To date, DW has shown a marked preference for the former.

As you may have read in some of my previous posts, DW has often employed the cane to quite good effect as an adjunct to a spanking, but the real and lasting after-effects have been more a consequence of her skill and persistence in use of the hairbrush and Spencer Paddle. It seems the time has now arrived for a caning alone to meet DW’s Measures of Effectiveness in a way that demands less effort, less privacy and hence less delay between my infringements and punishments.

Our previous research of the web has identified two particular articles on the subject that have helpful to us – one is still to be found on Aunt Kay’s DWC site, whilst retaining a link to the other has been more elusive. At the time of writing, it can be found here (unfortunately without the diagram on another site that has only recently shut down). On the basis of this information, DW appears to have set the goal of achieving a nicely parallel set of individually identifiable tramline bruises from top to bottom of my backside that last for up to a week. Consistent with the advice in the articles above, her initial focus has been on accuracy, but I can also vouch for a progressive improvement in the power of her strokes.

So once DW’s cold had sufficiently improved, over the week that followed I was to be found with panties lowered and providing DW with the opportunity for some practice with a live target. After some experimentation, it’s become apparent that my positioning over the back of a chair facing away from the bed will provide DW with a totally uninhibited swinging space. After some 4 “practice” sessions, DW was finally content to release me from panties.

Our Disciplinary Agreement identifies a number of specific behavioural infringements that entitle DW to administer punishment. One of these is my tendency to agree on a specific time that we’ll retire to bed of an evening but then, for whatever reason, fail to keep to it. Although I’ve received more than a few severe spankings and spent extended time in panties as a consequence of this particular infringement, it has remained perhaps the most frustratingly intransigent aspect of my behaviour for DW. Even as I write this post, DW has me confined in some purple nylon panties and “on notice” to receive a spanking for precisely that behaviour last night. That spanking is scheduled to be administered tomorrow evening, and given my previous history in this area, I can rightfully anticipate a pretty severe blistering.

The very understandable source of DW’s frustration is that when she goes to bed, she really wants me to be there also, intertwined with her – and if she does elect to go off to bed at the agreed time before I do, too often it’s only to find herself lying awake wondering just when I AM going to come and join her. The result is that far too often, we both stay up, usually working in the office, well beyond the time we should simply have quit and retired to bed – together. My offense is only compounded if I interpret DW’s continued presence as implicit agreement that she has agreed to a delay in our retiring to bed – WRONG!

Given how much I enjoy being in bed with DW once I get there, even I find this behaviour difficult to fathom and can really offer no excuses.

In light of the apparent difficulty in overcoming this aspect of my behaviour, DW has determined that it needs to be corrected by applying an appropriate and clearly defined penalty that will be covered in a newly drafted Addendum to our Disciplinary Agreement. As this particular infringement relates to time, it seems appropriate, that the defined penalty also be time-based. In essence, the duration of the time penalty will equal the accumulated minutes by which I have been late arriving in bed after the agreed time. Although DW has imposed simple corner time on occasions, this new Addendum will formalise the application of time-based penalties.

So at this stage, the draft of the Addendum reads as follows:

PREAMBLE
In view of Ford’s persistent and intransigent behaviour in failing to comply with an agreed time to retire in the evening, DW has been granted the right to impose time-based penalties for this category of infringement.

BEDTIME
Whenever practicable each evening, DW and Ford shall discuss and agree on a time for retiring to bed. If such a discussion and agreement has not occurred, the default agreement shall be for a time of 10:45pm.

RECORDING AND DURATION
A progressive record shall be kept of the accumulated number of minutes by which Ford has been late in complying with the agreed bedtime. The duration of the penalty shall be the number of minutes that has progressively accumulated by the time the penalty is scheduled to be served. There shall be no credits for any time by which Ford has retired before the agreed time, and DW retains the right to impose all other forms of discipline for this infringement that are her entitlement under the existing Disciplinary Agreement.

SCHEDULING OF PENALTY
The penalty shall be served at a time of DW’s sole choosing, taking into account other commitments, accumulated duration of the penalty and maintenance of privacy.

NATURE OF PENALTY
The nature of the penalty shall be entirely at DW’s determination with respect to Ford’s:

• state of dress;
• level of discomfort;
• physical constraint;
• ability to communicate; and
• location.

As might be gathered, this now leaves DW with the discretion to apply virtually any measures that she deems appropriate for the duration of the time penalty that can include feminisation, bondage and use of a gag. Consistent with the principle behind this penalty, it also means that I will effectively forfeit any time I may appear to have gained by delaying bedtime beyond our agreement.

The practical outcomes of this addition to our Disciplinary Agreement now remain to be seen.

So, turning now to the long weekend’s spanking summary.

Friday saw Ford in panties for the day as part of mental preparation for his participation as a contestant in the much-anticipated weekend of spanking action – and under strict instructions to be home early so as to depart for the tournament venue well before the evening’s rush hour traffic. Already named in Team Discipline that he would be facing were Hairbrush, Spencer Paddle, and both Canes, along with Panties. Noticeably absent from the team line up was Male Underwear – and even then, it was strongly tipped that Panties would be dropped for at least some of the tournament matches.

The Team’s tournament accommodation was located some two hours from its home base where, after a friendly reception from the locals for DW as the Team owner and for Ford as the other contestant, all participants checked into their comfortable quarters and settled in for the weekend.

Friday night saw a warm up match in which Hairbrush and Paddle scored 100 solid hits between them, leaving the other contestant somewhat breathless and contemplating the intensity with which the remaining matches of the weekend would be played.

Hairbrush was the sole scorer during Saturday morning’s game, stinging the other contestant with 50 rock solid hits scored from both sides of the field, once again demonstrating its ability to overcome any opposition with embarrassing ease and to redden a few cheeks in the process.

The surprise recruitment to the Team of S.T. Whip during Saturday afternoon caused more than a little consternation for the other contestant who could only wonder whether such a new import to the Team would play a significant role in the tournament so shortly after joining.

Saturday evening’s match was preceded by a players’ conference at the local spa, the highlight of which came when DW as owner of Team Discipline outlined the previous infringements by the other contestant that she expected her Team to redress during the evening’s match. The whole of Team Discipline obviously took this to heart in their efforts against a now softened-up opposition with each of the longer-standing team members playing a decisive role in its emphatic score of more than 100 hits. Just to emphasise her team’s domination over the other contestant, the team owner dropped Panties for the second half of the match, serving only to intensify the opposition’s suffering at the hands of her team that was now completely on target to take out the tournament.

As it turned out, Whip played only a minor role in match proceedings, but showed some strong potential to become a key player in future team selections.

By Sunday morning it was clear that Team Discipline had achieved virtually all of its goals for the tournament, but this didn’t prevent it from handing out yet another thrashing by another 100 hits to a now completely submissive opposition.

Interviewed back at home base after the tournament, the owner of Team Discipline indicated she was well satisfied with the Team’s performance with her only regret being the lack of a further match on Monday that with hindsight, would have provided the opportunity to give the other contestant an even more lasting message of her dominance in this field of spanking endeavour.
No injuries were reported to the understandably drained but untroubled members of Team Discipline who will now be rested until the next match.

Standing nearby and appearing decidedly less comfortable was the other contestant – who declined to comment on the outcome of the tournament other than to suggest that he obviously needed to lift his game.

The 2nd weekend of June was a long holiday weekend here and regrettably, the last one to occur until November. As winter has well and truly arrived, fewer folks were inclined to go away for this particular holiday; so DW and I decided to make the most of the opportunity by renting a quiet and private cottage in the nearby mountains for some long overdue time, just to ourselves. The weather may well have been cold and damp for practically the whole weekend, but this was really of no consequence to our plans for simply enjoying each other’s company and rekindling the loving chemistry between us. Once we are freed from the need to consider others in the household, we never cease to be surprised at how little time this takes and how our desire for each other builds in direct proportion to the amount of time we can spend together.

So this was a weekend of relaxing, enjoying red wine, spending time in the big double spa, DVD watching, impulsive and passionate lovemaking, sleeping, reading and yes…I was also due for some remedial discipline, from which my butt has really only just now recovered.

On the only day that we felt inclined to venture outside (after DW had administered a morning spanking), we spent some of our time wandering through some second hand shops in a small nearby country town. In the backroom of one particular shop we came upon a couple of pure leather surprises that made my already sore backside “hurt just thinking about it” to slightly paraphrase you know who. The owner of the shop is a leather worker who specialises mainly in saddle repairs and leather pet accessories such as leashes and muzzles but there, also on display, were two formidable woven leather whips – one a single tail about 1.5 metres long and the other a nine-tailed affair with a rather threatening knot at the end of each tail.

The fact that they had become the immediate focus of DW’s attention was more than patently obvious to the shop owner who explained that they were not of her making, but came from another craftsman interstate who specialised in the manufacture of woven leather items. SO obvious was DW’s interest, the owner also felt compelled to add that we could have anything we wished made specifically to order and, that “she was very open-minded about it”!

After some little discussion, we settled for the single tail (although with hindsight, I suspect that DW now wishes we had bought both) and it was duly rolled up and packaged. It would be an understatement to say that the price was reasonable but as is customary, it’s my responsibility to make or purchase the instruments for use in my discipline.

Saturday evening saw DW’s first brief and tentative use of our newest implement – with DW confessing that “L” plates may be appropriate for a time until she fully learns its use. Irrespective, it made a great accessory to the outfit that DW ambushed me with later that same night.

After the demise of our original pine Spencer Paddle (as related in my earlier post “Over Again”), I’ve now had a couple of experiences on the receiving end of its much more substantial replacement. In each case, DW has taken advantage of a holiday period for the “running in” of her new implement, so to speak.

My first paddling with DW’s brand new oak Spencer Paddle came on the eve of a public holiday back in late April when the rest of the family happened to have left us to ourselves for the night. My first serious inkling that a spanking was in the offing came late in the afternoon when DW sent me off to the bedroom for a change into panties and some lightweight track pants, “… so they can be easily pulled down when I’m ready to spank you”. Some 5 minutes later I’d returned to my desk in the office having changed in accordance with DW’s instructions.

“So what colour panties are you wearing?”

“Monday’s panties are red Ma’am.”

“Umm… it sounds like the colour of your butt will shortly be matching them.”

However, it was only after another two hours’ of work at her computer that DW pushed back from her desk and wandered out of the office for a break. When she returned soon afterwards it became apparent that this break was also to include the promised spanking. It was only once I’d lowered my track pants and presented my panty-covered backside in a well bent-over position, that the reason for the spanking was explained. DW reminded me of a specific request she’d made on Sunday that I help with the preparation of a rather large and heavy item for shipment on Monday. In the end the request had been forgotten, and DW and her casual staff member had been left to package the item themselves – with some difficulty and in some haste on Monday morning. While in the process of this reminder, DW had taken up the new paddle and was rubbing it sideways across my vulnerable, nylon-covered butt.

As DW started to apply some pretty solid strokes, it was quickly becoming apparent that this paddle bestowed a quite different character of pain to that of its predecessor. Whilst there could be no denying the VERY severe sting from the impact of each stroke, the additional density of the oak and its slightly greater thickness also wrought a much more deep-seated feeling that this was also to be a very bruising encounter – despite the fact that DW appeared to be exercising some initial caution in her application of this new instrument for my punishment.
After she had administered fifty strokes across both cheeks, DW decided that it was time to lower my panties and inspect her progress to date. This she did by running her finger down my back, hooking it into the waistband and simply following through until they were down to knee-level. After then running her hands gently over the target area, my sharp reaction to her sudden grab of each cheek confirmed immediately to both of us the now very tender state of my backside. Another twenty somewhat stronger strokes my now bare cheeks then followed in fairly quick succession.

“Stay there.”

Just for good measure, DW had also brought the hairbrush into the office. After briefly rubbing its cool smooth back across my bare backside, she launched into a set of what turned out to be 20 absolute stingers that REALLY gained my attention. It seems to me that whenever DW has swapped from the paddle to the much lighter hairbrush, she tends to put much more “wrist” into each stroke – and my butt pays the penalty.

Still not content, DW re-applied the paddle for a further 20 hard strokes that rounded out my counting to 110 in total.

Then, after she had indicating that I was permitted to stand, DW added, “You are to remain in panties tonight and for the holiday tomorrow. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am”, I replied somewhat breathlessly.

“That’s good Mister!”

The christening of the new paddle came a little later when, in response to one of DW’s characteristic queries about the state of my butt, the best description that I could come up with was “thoroughly tenderised”. After that, DW didn’t need to think twice about the name of her new implement for my discipline!

Even more ominous was the still tenderly aching state of my backside some 3 days later, even when seated on my normally very comfortable office chair.

I can most readily separate my memories from the Saturday and Sunday of that first disciplinary weekend by recalling the markedly different state of my backside on those two days. Whilst Saturday morning had certainly provided some distinct reminders of the 100 hairbrush strokes I’d received on Friday night, Sunday morning was a wholly new experience of spanking after-effects that ensured a virtually constant reminder of the three butt-blisterings DW had administered during the previous evening.

Perhaps in an effort to provide some protection for my severely tenderised flesh, I had retrieved and re-installed my panties at some stage during the night. I had slept rather well in the afterglow of our lovemaking but now, come morning, even relatively small movements tended to re-intensify the stinging from the worst affected areas of my butt. Judging from the extent to which the nylon material of my panties tended to adhere to the blistered area on each cheek, DW had very nearly achieved her objective of an even treatment for both the left and right sides. After gingerly extricating myself from the bedcovers and climbing sideways out of the bed, I carefully lowered the back of my panties to survey the damage in the mirror. The two damp and slightly red patches in the seat area of the panties simply confirmed what I could make out as a clearly distinguishable area of raw flesh on each cheek. After carefully restoring my panties, I donned my dressing gown and wandered out of the bedroom. Meanwhile DW had set about making some breakfast.

After we had exchanged a warm good morning hug and a kiss, and being in no hurry whatsoever to sit down, I decided that a shave should be next on the agenda. Just as I was getting that underway in front of the bathroom mirror, DW wandered in, and with somewhat exaggerated casualness enquired, “How’s your butt?”. I suspect that my reply must have been along the lines of “pretty damn sore, thank you” because with that, DW lifted the back of my dressing gown to inspect the outcome of her handiwork. As the state of my butt was quite apparent without the need to lower my panties, DW simply commented, “Well I’d hate to think that all my exertions were to no benefit. Perhaps THAT will teach you to behave.”

“Yes Ma’am, I certainly hope so.”

A delicious breakfast was ready by the time I had finished shaving, and I can remember sitting on one of the soft living room lounge chairs to eat it from the coffee table as I leaned well forward. After leisurely enjoying DW’s coffee, I announced my reluctant intention to go and shower and stood up – carefully. Just as I did, DW reached forward from her seat, deliberately grasped the paddle and said, “Well… just one thing before you do”.

For some reason, I didn’t attempt to argue. Perhaps it was my total surprise that, after all that had been visited upon my extremely tender backside, DW now planned yet more punishment – or perhaps it was an instinct that the future of our DW lifestyle depended on my willingness to submit this one further time. Instead, I shed my dressing gown, eased down my panties, and with the aid of that same lounge chair, assumed once more the now familiar position – absolutely knowing that this was about to hurt far more than any previous spanking I had ever experienced. As DW laid the paddle across my already desparately sore butt in preparation, I gritted my teeth in readiness.
DW applied herself just as enthusiastically as on the previous evening, mitigated only a little by the fact that she chose to apply her strokes to both cheeks at the same time. Even so, the intensity of the pain from the very first stroke was enough to make me gasp at its arrival, and I only managed to count it after a long swallow. As the paddle strokes just kept on coming I think the agonising pain simply transformed into a blurred continuum as I felt the blistering from the previous night being freshened and then rapidly aggravated. I must have been counting largely from instinct, because I seemed to have lost all sense of how many had gone before, and how many might be to come with the shear effort of coping with the pain and remaining in position. But after 50 strokes, DW did finally desist and carefully replaced the paddle back on the coffee table.

“NOW you know what will happen if you don’t behave – you know it’s for your own good.”

“Yes Ma’am”, I gasped while still trying to get my breath.

After some little time I’d recovered just sufficiently to consider standing. Rather than face the prospect of having to bend over again, I grabbed my panties as I straightened and pulled them up to about thigh level. I then very carefully lifted the waistband over my flaming backside and adjusted them for the least discomfort that seemed achievable.

The agony provoked by the shower was almost as traumatic as the spanking itself, matched only by that of the antiseptic DW insisted on liberally applying as unwelcome but essential aftercare. Once again a fresh pair of white nylon panties was waiting on the bed as I returned from the bathroom – at least these were somewhat less scanty in front than the previous day’s. By the time I had managed to ease my jeans over the panties and zip them up, the stinging of my backside seemed to have settled to a slightly more manageable level. I think my movements for the rest of the day could best be described as “careful” in an effort not to reignite the intense stinging that sudden movements would provoke. Climbing out of the driver’s seat once we had arrived at home was just one of those occasions.

With regular treatments of antiseptic lotion, it was still to be some 3 or 4 days before the red raw areas of my butt showed no further signs of their weeping and meanwhile, thick cotton underwear was a necessity! Not content with that, the outer layer of skin then dried out and gradually peeled off over the course of the next 3 weeks, just as would sunburn or a blister. Now when anyone talks of a blistered butt, I can be in absolutely NO doubt as to their meaning.