The Spotless Bench

They say if it doesn't rain in pours, and at least in my case, rains a flood of smacks on my bottom.

It was Thursday night, just three days after Pam had spanked me for leaving the kitchen in a mess. For the past three days my bottom had gradually recovered from her strict hand, though I'd still had a mild tingle on the train ride home from work that day.

We were lying in bed when Pam's hand snacked down to cup my bottom.

"It's been sore for the past few days," I told her.

"Good," she said. "And the kitchen has been cleaner too. But I want you to come home early tomorrow night so we can discuss the finer details."

***

On Friday's I often go out for a few drinks after work, but not this week. I declined an invitation to meet up at the pub and was on an early train wondering what was in for me.

That night seemed to drag on forever. Pam was watching Orange is the New Black with her friend Helen while I wasted time on YouTube. When they started a second episode that would take the time to eleven PM, I figured I wasn't in any trouble and may as well have gone out after work.

At last, after about the tenth yawn, I closed down my computer, kissed Pam, and went to bed. Activity seemed to accelerate from there. I'd barely laid down in bed when Pam came in, wearing only a T-shirt and a pair of panties. Clearly, something was going to happen tonight, maybe even some love-making action!

Pam quickly put that thought to rest. She reached into the drawer beside her and retrieved a pile of implements. She sat up on the bed and patted her lap. After years together, I obeyed without question, knowing Pam would explain if I'd done something wrong, but also knowing she could spank me whenever she felt like it.

I adjusted my hips over my wife's firm thighs. Her palm rested on my bottom. I wasn't sure whether this was maintenance or discipline yet, though the difference is typically only one of duration. Pam always spanks hard, always.

"What's this for, Ma'am?" I asked.

"Well, the kitchen has definitely been an improvement the past few days. The plates have been cleaned and put away. However, there were pasta stains splattered near the cook top on Wednesday. Nobody cleaned the benches."

 "Oh," I said, remembering that was the part of the chore I always forgot about.

Nothing further was said before Pam started spanking me. She started with "Mr Floppy", a black rubber paddle we'd acquired online. Rubber paddles sting like crazy and soon was squirming on my wife's lap.

"No hand tonight," Pam said as she spanked. "Too loud. Besides, this is only a little reminder but I want it to sting."

After warming me up with Mr Floppy, Pam reached down for another implement.

"What's this?" she asked, getting me to look at the paddle she had chosen.

"It's new," I said. "It should be quiet. I packed it when we went on holidays but we didn't get to use it."

"It's thick... and heavy," she said, resting it on my warm cheeks. From the delight in her voice, Pam was clearly looking forward to applying it.

"It's called the Cry Baby. The website said it is good for making naughty boys cry."

Actually it had said it would make the strongest willed bottom cry like a little baby and beg for mercy. I'd bought it from cane-iac in a moment of aroused stupidity. Pam did not need any help making me cry from a hard spanking, but the thought of truly bawling like a baby from one of her spankings had my Visa card out. I'd tried it out on my bottom and had discovered new levels of sting, but I couldn't spank myself like Pam does.

"It's so shiny too," Pam said, still admiring the paddle. "This is how shiny I want my benchtop, or you'll be getting a good spanking with the Cry Baby."

Pam started tentatively. At first the Cry Baby felt similar to Mr Floppy, a nasty burn that would bring tears after a while. Then Pam started spanking harder. Oh my, what a fool I'd been to purchase that paddle. It was hell on earth. I was sobbing after a dozen or so smacks, with tears coming shortly after. Pam just pinned my hand behind my back and really gave it to me.

Ladies, if you want to keep your man in line, the Cry Baby is the tool.
Gentlemen, if you've never been able to cry from a spanking or think your wife spanks too softly, the Cry Baby is the tool.

I must have only received about fifty with the Cry Baby, but it left me crying my eyes out over Pam's lap. Even my experienced bottom couldn't cope with the thick rubber strap with holes in it.

As this was more of a maintenance spanking than a "Pam is super angry" spanking, she rubbed my bottom for a while before continuing. Slowly I calmed down and stopped crying. However, I knew she wasn't finished yet. It's a rare spanking when only two implements are applied.

"Where is my favourite spoon?" she asked, talking to herself.

The wood was cold on my bottom, though it wouldn't be for long. The heavy wooden spoon was my wife's preferred implement for leaving nests of little blisters carpeted over my sit spots.

"Give me your hand again," Pam said. "I'm going to make sure you feel this sitting down at the cafe tomorrow morning. Let's see if I can get some of those tears back too."

And she did, on both counts.

[And here is that nasty Cry Baby paddle! I'm sure it will get a lot of use now Pam knows how effective it is.]