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 :)

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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.