Friday, 2 December 2016

Remember to Behave

It was the eve of my business trip overseas and I was snuggling up to Pam hoping for a little 'action' before my two weeks away. Pam turned and pressed herself against me and for a long while we kissed passionately.

She leaned back and looked at me. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too."

Her eyes sparkled. "You had better behave yourself on this trip."

"I will."

"You'd better." Her hand dropped down to my bottom and squeezed. "Do you think you a reminder would help?"

Instantly my pulse jumped with nervous excitement. Other things may also have jumped. "Ah... I don't know."

Pam's hand kept moving, teasing. "Luckily I do. A sore bottom will remind you to behave. Won't it dear?"


"Only maybe? Then I'll have to make sure it is a very, very sore bottom indeed." She sat up. "Take your boxers off while I find some things to teach you a good lesson." She turned and started fumbling through her chest of drawers beside the bed where oh so many painful implements were stowed.

In about, oh, twenty seconds, I found myself bare-bottomed over my wife's lovely lap. Pam rubbed and teased only briefly before beginning a sound hand spanking that soon had me squirming. After a long warmup with her hand, Pam switched to a heavy wooden spoon, blistering the underside of my cheeks with sharp volleys. My begs and pleads and promises to be good overseas fell on deaf ears and that wicked spoon burned up my bottom.

"You'll remember this sitting on that long plane ride," Pam said, stopping only to switch to her hairbrush. "Hopefully for a lot longer. A week would be good."

"Yes Ma'am," I whimpered. "I'll be good."

"Extremely good by the time we're done."

And then the brush came, hard and fast and long.
And then the tears and sobbing and promises came thick.

And then whilst I could not sit comfortably for the next four days, and squirmed in my seat for the longhaul flight... I was extremely, extremely good.

Wednesday, 13 January 2016

Not Bossy at all

Pam gave me a punishment spanking last night, though my troubles began over a month ago. Pam and her best friend Helen were talking in the kitchen. Helen was giving Pam a hard time about being bossy sometimes, while I tried my best to stay out of it. Pam was taking offense, and Helen looked to me for confirmation.

Foolishly, I said something along the lines of "Yeah, Pam is pretty bossy." Now despite what you might think from this blog, that's a gross exaggeration. I didn't notice at the time, but Pam was hurt by the comment and for my lack of support in front of her friend.

A couple of days ago I found out by accident when it was mentioned in passing and that Pam had been hurt by the comment. I indicated she should have let me know...

Well last night she let me know in no uncertain terms. I was made to bend over on all fours while Pam spanked me thoroughly. After a brief warm-up with her hand, she gave me at least one hundred smacks with a small hairbrush. But Pam wasn't finished. She moved onto a larger hairbrush, repeating the treatment, enjoying the feel of this one even more.  Most of the hairbrush smacks were directed to the bottom half of my bottom. Even at the time, I knew I'd struggle to sit for days.

By now my bottom was already very sore. But Pam wasn't finished. She reached into her drawer for another implement, pulling out a Scottish spanking strap I'd procured from ebay a few months ago, but it had seen no use until now. It will get a lot more use. Pam really liked the strap and gave me over hundred strokes of it. Tears had started formed in my eyes by the time she was done, and I was giving what I thought were sincere apologies, though they fell on deaf ears.

But Pam wasn't finished. She said that since the incident had occurred in the kitchen, it was only fitting to get the wooden spoon, just to make sure I was really sorry. She used one of the more painful spoons with a small head but fashioned from an unforgiving wood. After about thirty smacks I was crying softly, promising never to call her bossy again and to be more supportive in front of her friends. That didn't end the spanking straight away. Whilst I cried, I received a few dozen more with the spoon, then a short finale with Pam's hand. It was the most I'd cried from a spanking, but the tears were from her comments while she disciplined me as well as the hard smacks.

Then it was cuddles and kisses while I thanked Pam for the discipline and told her how much I loved her.

It was one of the few times I've been spanked for a real offense, and punished thoroughly too. I certainly deserved it and was squirming on my chair all day at work today.

I think I'm going to be in trouble next time I upset Pam though.  She confided today that she liked how the spanking made me cry, though I'd rather a hard spanking than let issues simmer between us, which is far worse than fixing it quickly with a sore bottom and some tears.

Saturday, 9 January 2016

The Wife with the Wooden Hairbrush

This story is fairly close to what happened on our wedding night. Yes, Pam really did pack her hairbrush :)


The black limousine pulled away from the quay. Our friends waved us off with knowing smiles, though I doubt any of them could have guessed what would transpire over the next few hours. I placed my hand on my new wife's thigh, and she smiled at me.

 "Everyone had a great time," Pam said, "don't you think?"

"Well they drank enough that they were certainly having a good time by the end."

We laughed together. Pam put her hand on top of mine.


We reached the honeymoon suite. Roses and a bottle of French champagne on ice waited for us, though to be honest, getting my lovely new wife into the bed was far more appealing. But I put my carnal desires away for the moment and poured a couple of glasses. We sipped and we smiled and we made small talk about our big day. The weather, which had threatened rain earlier, had cleared to blue sunshine. The ceremony had gone off without either of us stuffing our lines, and the harbour cruise with friends and family under the stars had been the perfect end. But it was not the end. The evening, the more private entertainment was about to begin.

I put my glass down and took my wife in my arms. We kissed, gently at first, then more urgently.
"You looked gorgeous today," I said. "Stunning."

Pam kissed me. Then she put her hands onto my suit collar. "You know," she said, "you rocked this suit too, husband."

We resumed kissing, breath quickening. My jacket found its way to the floor, followed by my shirt and pants. Pam's dress took longer, a complex contraption of zips and buttons and insane twists of lace that seemed designed to hamper removal.  But underneath, below the cream bejewelled dream, she wore something much sexier - a white lace teddy, her lovely legs enclosed in suspenders. My hands began to research this wonderful gift life had granted me.

One of her hands found my buttocks. She squeezed, something that never failed to further arouse me. "Hold on cowboy," she said. "It wouldn't be right if I didn't spank you on our wedding night."

"I suppose not," I said, though I smiled, looking forward to a sexy trip over my wife's lap.

Pam sat on the edge of the bed and tapped her thigh. I knew the drill. I shuffled to her side. She lowered my boxers, ran a teasing hand over my bulging erection, then guided me over her lap. She did not begin spanking straight away. She rubbed her hand all over my bottom.

I looked back up at her from my prone position. "Are you going to be a strict wife?" I asked.

"Very," Pam said.

The first stinging smack rained down. Loud slaps echoed through the room. Quickly the intensity of the spanking increased and soon I was getting what all naughty boys deserve, a sound spanking, my new wife's supple wrist delivering a stream of steady but firm spanks. I began to squirm, unable to hold still under Pam's strict palm.  Dimly I thought that this was a little harder than I'd expected, without any rubbing or respite. The spanking didn't stop, or diminish, rather it got harder, covering my entire bottom but focused on where I'd be sitting, or probably not sitting, tomorrow.

"Ow," I cried out for the first time.

Pam chuckled, "I've barely started." But she didn't miss a beat. My squirming and protestations grew as my backside turned redder. Soon I was gasping and flinching.  Pam stopped briefly to tug me tighter against her, but resumed at once. I imagined her long blonde hair swinging across her face as she disciplined me, her hand rising up to her shoulder, the crisp noisy spanks surely heard in adjoining rooms.

Pam stopped, running her fingers over my hot bottom, bringing the relief I'd hoped for. "You can get up now," she said.

I stood up, a trifle gingerly. I gave my stinging bottom a quick rub, until I realised I hadn't asked for permission and put my hands back at my side.

"My hairbrush is in my overnight bag. Be a dear and fetch it for me."

"You brought your hairbrush?"

"Of course. I planned every last detail, including your spanking. I intend to give you a good one. Now back over."

I found Pam's hairbrush - a thick wooden affair I'd felt on many occasions - and lay over my wife's lap.

The brush slammed into my cheeks. Pam brought the brush down again and again, determined to make this first spanking as my wife a memorable one. By now I was bucking and writhing, making the pointless side to side squirm of every naughty boy trying to avoid a sound and well deserved spanking, and finding he cannot avoid it, squirms anyway. But though this was the first spanking I'd received from my wife, it was far from the first spanking Pam had given me. She peppered away, burning and scalding and blistering my bare cheeks, using the skills she'd honed from years as my girlfriend, knowing to concentrate on my sit spot, knowing to give several in a row on the same spot, and most of all, knowing to ignore my pleas and promises. No, Pam was no longer the unsure girl of eighteen I'd met; she was strong-willed, firm, and knew naughty boys could only be cured by roasting their bottom to a flaming scarlet.

By now I was begging for mercy, promising to be good for all eternity. Pam had none of it and reapplied the hairbrush until every scrap of my bottom was red and blistered.  I clutched her ankle with one hand and held on, but when the spanking did not stop, nor the pain lessen, I flung my hand back to cover my bottom, almost relieved when Pam grabbed my wrist and pinned me down, for even though I knew it might earn extras, I could not lie still under her hairbrush.

She paused. "I'm starting this marriage on a good footing. You'll get this whenever you are grumpy, lazy, or give me attitude. I want you attentive and obedient."

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, my voice quivering.

Then came the finale, three dozen shearing strokes of the brush, turning my bottom an even shade of bright red, peppered with scarlet-red dots. I promised to be the best behaved husband on the planet, a model citizen of the universe, but Pam ignored my tearful pleas and gave me every last smack.

At last, Pam let me up. We hugged and she held me for a long time.  "You'll be good now, won't you?"

"Yes Ma'am," I said. After a moment, feeling the familiar closeness and atonement that follows a sound spanking, I kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"I can think of better ways you can thank me," she said, pulling me down to the bed beside her.

The Finale

I have told you before that my wife gives hard spankings that make it difficult to sit for days afterwards. One of the tricks she employs, one she came up with by herself, is the "Finale". After she has already given a long spanking and my bottom has been royally roasted, the Finale still awaits me.

At some point, usually after I'm already promising to be good and tears are forming, Pam will announce, "Time for the Finale." She will make sure I'm securely in position and rub her implement of choice over my burning bottom, teasing before blistering. "Are you ready?" she asks, though, it doesn't really matter if I'm not. It is a reason for me to say "Yes Ma'am", and acknowledge acceptance of her discipline.

For a Finale, she usually employs whatever implement she used for most of the spanking, but as it must be able to be delivered fast, it is generally either a hairbrush or wooden spoon. Occasionally, when she feels I may have already learned my lesson, the Finale will be delivered with her hand, though given her hand falls firm that is only a minor concession.

Then the Finale begins, hard and fast with no stopping once it starts. Sometimes a sentence will be announced beforehand, a number of smacks, though it is only a rough guide and Pam will continue until she's happy. Typically a Finale lasts a minute or two, or around another hundred smacks, though they are given fast and I have more pressing matters to consider than counting them. There may be some simple conversation during the Finale, along the lines of...

"Are you going to be good?"

"Ow, ow, ow. Yes Ma'am."

"How good?"

"Extremely good."

"I'm not sure I believe you yet." Her hairbrush continues to fall. "How good?"

"Extremely, extremely good."

"You'd better be." She delivers the final two dozen or so hard smacks.

And at last the Finale ends, the icing on the cake, the climax long and hard enough to be a spanking in itself, and certainly, sitting will be difficult tomorrow. But now is time for the aftercare, for cuddles and kisses and thanking my wife for disciplining me.

My Wife's spoons are used for more than cooking