Fight (2010)

Pulling up to the house after a long day at work my heart jumped, and not in a good way. My husband's car was in the driveway, three hours before he normally arrives home from work. This was not a good sign. Last night we had gone to bed initially quite happy with each other, or so he thought. But, as we lay in bed talking I became more and more frustrated with him over little things I did not feel he was helping with around the house. I did not discuss things calmly, but instead lit in to him to the point that he finally left the room to watch TV until he cooled down. I fell asleep upset but felt justified in what I told him, because I felt I had been doing everything around the house lately, and it was also my busiest season at work, with full days plus meetings every night.

That next morning I woke up at my normal time, but left the house without kissing him on the cheek or much less even bothering to wake him up to say goodbye. Instead, I slammed the front door on my way out of the house and did not make him a lunch, something I do every day out of love. At work, I never bothered to call or text him and he never called me.

I entered the house to see him sitting on the couch working from home. A basket of folded laundry was on the kitchen table. I said nothing, but sat down on the chair next to him in a huff, assuming we would talk it out.

"If that is how your attitude is going to be you might as well go upstairs right now." He said.

I ignored him, watching intently Law and Order on TNT. I knew he was about to spank me, but I still felt I was right and justified in going off on him about not doing his fair share around the house.

"Don't make me say it twice."

I stood up and pounded past him up the steps, refusing to look at him. Upstairs I was fuming. How dare he spank me when he was the one who was not doing his share of the work! I went into the bathroom.

I heard him coming up the steps after me and before I could get my pants all the way back up he was in the doorway. "Leave those off and get over the bed."

"You can't just hit me whenever you want to." (I purposely used the word hit to make him feel guilty.) I said as I walked past him, removing my slacks and underwear and then bunching the comforter and assuming my position, bared bottom high on the bed.

I purposely turned my head away from him, determined to not even flinch, no matter how hard he spanked me.

He sat down on the bed next to me. His large hand came down hard on my exposed bare bottom. Three times hard to the same cheek and then three times to the other cheek. I held my breath, keeping still.

"Now, speak." He said.

I proceeded to tell him how frustrated I was that it felt like lately I had been doing all the housework, plus working almost time and a half as this is the busiest time of the year for me. He listened patiently as I talked.

"May I talk now?"

"Yes Sir" I responded, slowly realizing that I was definitely over-reacting, and maybe PMSing too.

"Tara, did we not just close on the refinancing of the house on Monday?"

"Yes Sir" (gulp)

"Did I not just tie up all the loose ends regarding the fence outside and my mom's nursing care?"

"Yes Sir"

"Do you understand that this is an exceptionally busy time for me at work as well?"

"Yes Sir."

"Well then, can you see why bringing up the laundry from the basement and vacuuming the steps was not high on my priority list?"

"Yes Sir" (Now I felt really tiny)

"Good. Get the lexan."

I stood and retrieved the lexan, heart pounding. I handed it respectfully to him and assumed my position back over the bunched up comforter.

WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK

"That is for not coming to me calmly to talk things out."

"Yes Sir." Wow that burned.

WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK

"That is for your attitude today."

"Yes Sir" My eyes were tearing up a bit now and the fire had definitely taken off in my bottom.

WHACK WHACK - two more exceptionally hard spanks hit right across the center sit spot, taking my breath away.

"Those are because I can and will "hit" you anytime I want. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir" I laid still, catching my breath, listening to him breathe.

"Am I done Sir?"

"You are done, put away your paddle and come here."

I put the paddle under the bed and then rolled over into his loving arms, bottom throbbing, but my heart at peace.

The benefits of a spanking now and then are just wonderful, even if it hurts.

Always Put the Yard Tools Away (2007)

Always Put the Yard Tools Away

I was busy preparing to put up our Christmas decorations on the front bushes and awnings of the house. Prior to adding the lights, and before my husband came out to help I set about pulling out all the dead or almost dead summer flowers from around the front bushes. I threw the dead rooted plants onto the grass.

“Hun, you want some help?” Thomas’ voice surprised me from within the garage.

“Sure. You want to give me a leaf bag and I will throw these plants in there.” I responded.

Thomas came around with the large brown leaf bag and began throwing the plants in.

“I am going to get the rake. One sec.” Thomas said.

My heart lept to my throat. “It’s okay. I can just use my hands.” Before I could finish the statement Thomas had walked back around the corner into the garage.

“Hun,” he shouted. “Where is the rake?”

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s not there?”

“No and neither is the pointed shovel or the clippers.”

I busily went back to pulling plants and raking the dead leaves from around the bushes in the front yard with my fingers, trying to get it done before he came back out.

“Don’t worry about it T. I got it. I am almost done.”

“Do you think the lawn guys took them?”

“Uh, no.” I shakily responded.

Thomas picked up the bag and held it open. As I dropped the last of the dead plants into the bag my eyes caught his gaze, and it was not a happy look.

“Tara Marie, where are the yard tools?”

“I uh, think I might have had them over at Wendy’s new house this summer when we were cleaning her back yard.”

“And it is now November…. Why have they not been returned?” Thomas questioned, voice getting deeper and slower.

I knew I was caught, might as well just come clean. “We uh, used them on her yard right after she bought the house and I guess I never took them back home.”

“You GUESS? Are they in her garage?”

“Well, no. I might have left them sitting out against the shed and then I realized it they were completely rusted, so we threw them out last month. I meant to buy new ones.”

“Tara, this happens all the TIME! This is why I hesitate to buy nice things.” His voice started to get louder.

“Thomas, shhhh… the neighbors.” I warned, as I felt the butterflies bouncing in my stomach, knowing I was in deep trouble, as I had a habit of not taking care of things and allowing them to become broken or lost.  My butt was about to get blistered.

Thomas glared at me and then picked up the leaf bag and walked it to the end of the driveway for garbage pick up. He then returned to where I was by the bushes testing lights in the outdoor outlet. He whispered in my ear, “Upstairs now. Leave your jeans on to start.”

To start….. Daring not answer back I headed through the garage, removed my muddy boots and walked upstairs, crawling on to the bed, kneeling and putting my cheek to the bedspread. He had not specified the position, but I knew him well enough to have a very good guess as to what I was about to receive.

I listened, trying to ascertain exactly where he was in the house. My mind raced… what was I getting… probably the big paddle, which is the usual implement when I am told to leave my jeans on…

I heard his heavy steps on the stairs. Then, he was in the bedroom. In his hands he held three of the long, green, bamboo-like stakes that I use to hold up flowers in the summer. They were the tall ones, probably four feet tall or so, very much like a cane, but more brittle.

Thomas took one of the green canes and swished it through the air. “I found these in the garage in your garden cabinet. I think they will do a wonderful job of reminding you to take care of our tools. Don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” I squeaked.

Thomas placed the cane against my jean clad bottom. I cringed, bracing, thrilled I still had my jeans on.

“Oh, no, these will wait for your bare naughty bottom.  I just wanted to see how they felt.  I think we will start with the heavy wooden paddle.”

My heart sank.

Thomas walked to the closet and retrieved the heavy holed frat paddle that I dread so much.  "Raise your bottom Tara Marie.  Hold position and you will only get six."

I raised my bottom, knowing more would not be wanted given what I still had to come.

WHACK  The first strike landed perfectly across my tender sit spot, shooting shocking pain straight through me. 

WHACK WHACK  WHACK I managed to hold position, but the pain was pounding into my skull. 

WHACK.  

"Please T, It hurts so bad!"

"Hold still young lady.  You are going to learn to take care of your toys."

"Bare your bottom for the last one naughty girl."

My heart sank, he was set on blistering me.  I went up on my knees and lowered my jeans and panties, gauging how severe the paddle was to my bottom.  It was definitely burning now.

He lightly tapped the heavy wooden paddle against my upturned bottom.  I knew it was going to burn like hell.  I held my breath.  He pulled back and WHAP the wood connected with my naked bottom, flooding me with pain.  I held position, knowing I had a long way to go.

His large hand felt my hot bottom and tapped me gently.  "Keep this bottom up young lady.  What happens to naughty girls that do not put their tools away?

"I get spanked Sir."

"That is right."  He picked up the green cane and held it against my blazing sit spots.  Then, without warning, his hand went back and SWISH the first strike hit with good force. The sting from the switch was immediate and rushed through me as it connected with the center of my bottom. He waited a few seconds for the sting to set in and he then pulled back for a second strike. He proceeded to switch me from the top of my thighs to the top of my bottom. When he had finished ten strikes my backside was pretty well lit up and I had tears flowing softly. He did not hit that hard, as the cane did not break, but he hit hard enough for me to definitely feel it with great intensity.

“Have I made myself clear?” Thomas asked, setting the cane against the dresser.

“Yes Sir.” I responded, still holding position.

“Hmmmm.... I think we need to discuss this a little more. Get your hairbrush.” Thomas stated as he pulled the chair from beside the dresser to the space by the bed.

I stood and completely removed my jeans and panties, eyeing my dark red, striped bottom in the mirror as I retrieved the hair brush from the night stand and walked to the chair. I stood before him, scared, but also thankful for the spanking regiment as well. The fact that he spanks me when he knows I need it, no matter how much it hurts, always makes me secure and calm inside. I could tell he was not furious, just determined to get a point across.

Thomas took the brush from me and patted his lap. I climbed over, placing my hands flat on the carpet. He positioned me to his liking and then gently tapped my bottom, tracing a few of the marks from the switch lightly with is fingers. My heart was pounding in my bottom and I held my breath, waiting for him to start.

Without a word he started spanking me lightly with is hand and then harder and harder, keeping a steady pace. He paused and then reached down for the brush, causing my heart to race even more, but I knew not to talk. His left hand held my waist tightly and he held rubbed the cool wood against my bottom.

I braced for the brush, knowing that it was almost over, but that this would hurt the most. His hand went up and the brush came down hard and with a solid rhythm. He alternated cheek to cheek, down to the thighs and then across the center. Not with extreme force, but hard enough to definitely be remembered. I started to whimper and kick and he increased the intensity until I settled back down. He gave me four very hard final smacks and then set the brush on the floor and rubbed my blazing bottom.

He rubbed some of the heat out, tapping now and then and pinching here and there. I calmed down and laid still, focusing on his hand and the security of being over his lap. I also knew that although I was thoroughly spanked, it was not that bad on the scale of discipline spankings in our household.

He tapped my bottom twice. “Who loves you?”

“You do Sir” I responded.

“Good girl. Are you going to take better care of our tools?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good. Up you go. Let’s get the lights up before it gets dark.”

I sat up and he kissed me on my forehead. “You sure you want to do the lights?” I asked

“I am sure Baby. That can wait till later.”

I stood up and he watched me get dressed again. We headed outside and put up the lights and decorations, finishing just as it became dark enough to really appreciate them..

Maintenance (2009)

A few years ago Thomas and I had developed a system of maintenance spankings… every Wednesday at 7pm I was spanked. Time went on and we both were promoted at work and things just became so busy that the scheduled spankings faded away. Well, I asked him if we could start them up again as part of our New Year’s Resolutions a week early (That ordeal is a different story), and here is the true life account of my first maintenance spanking in quite a few years… There have been plenty of spankings, but the scheduled maintenance spankings had not been routine… until yesterday.

What was I thinking asking Thomas to start Maintenance Spankings again? Why do I do this to myself? Oh, yes, it is because I need it.

Well, there I sat at the kitchen table filling in my analysis of the past week. He had given me a checklist to fill in and I was doomed if I did and doomed if I didn’t as far as the answers. To make things worse, the lovely, yet awful ginger plug was securely in place and he was enjoying the view of his bare-bottomed wife squirming in her chair filling in the checklist.

Rate each item on a scale of 1-10:

Bathroom cleaned: 8

Closet door closed: 6

Bedroom/Bath counters clear: 6

Kitchen counters clear: 7

Dishes maintained: 7

Floors Swept: 8

Laundry maintained: 7

Lights turned off: 5

Bed Made: 10

Bedroom picked up: 7

Downstairs picked up: 6

Preparation for maintenance (plug, notification): 10

Cupboards/fridge organization maintained: 8

Respect: 5

Other infractions: 9

Grading Scale:

Hand – 120-115

Belt – 115-110

Wooden Lighter Paddle – 110-105

Wooden School Paddle – 105-100

Bath Brush -100-95

Lexan 95-90

Tawse 90-85

(All subject to change per Thomas)

“Tara Marie, are you finished?” Thomas’ deep voice carried into the kitchen from the den jolting my mind off the ginger plug and back to the discipline session of the moment.

“Yes Sir.”

“Well, bring it up to my office and we will review it.”

I delicately took the paper Excel spread sheet and led my husband up the steps and into his office, making sure to keep my cheeks tightly clenched to hold in the plug as I climbed the stairs. Standing in front of his large cherry desk, I handed the checklist across the workspace to him, eyes focused on his perfectly blotless blotter. (I hate that he is so neat!)

“Well, Tara Marie, I agree that these maintenance spankings are long past due. I hope you are aware that your answers had better not be much different than mine; you know the consequences.”

“Yes Sir.” I swallowed hard, praying that he would not be too strict. My bare bottom was fully exposed and I was scared. My husband is a wonderful man, but a severe, no nonsense spanker. The burn of the plug was beginning to wear off, but it was still very uncomfortable and the anticipation of the spanking to come was eating me inside.

“To the corner young lady and I will input your answers.”

I stood with my nose deep in the corner as we reviewed the list together. (Well, he did all the talking, I dared not argue.) My 7 on keeping the counters clear changed to a 4 and my 6 for keeping the downstairs picked up also was changed to a 4. He laughed at the 10 on making the bed… stating that he would go with it only because he had been off that week and was out of bed after me every day, making it his responsibility for making the bed. My 8 for keeping the refrigerator organized changed to a 4 as well. Finally, the “other infractions” I gave myself went from a 9 all the way down to a 5 as he reminded me of various bouts of attitude, slovenliness, and laziness.

“Tara, I kept the fridge organized and the pantry. You did a great job cooking for everyone, but you never put anything back in the same place it came from. You either left it on the counter of put it on a completely different shelf. That discrepancy will cost you.”

I swallowed hard from the corner. I could not believe he was being so strict. I heard him clicking on the computer as he entered the numbers on the spread sheet. Why do men love Excel and the little formulas so much?

“Tara Marie, your total is 96. Do you know what that gets you?”

“Yes Sir.” My heart sunk as I realized from memory that I was about to receive a thorough dose of the bath brush… and that was a minimum, as everything was to his discretion. I had gone from thinking I was getting the light wooden paddle to the heavy solid bath brush.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I desperately wanted to tell him that it was not fair to be so rigid on the first week back of doing this. I had not known until that day that we were starting this back up, so the numbers would be low. Instead, I kept my thoughts to myself and simply answered, “No Sir, sorry Sir.”

“You will be. Your answers will cost you in severity. Look at me.”

I turned to look at him. I knew from his demeanor that he was not going to go lightly on me. I loved that fact, but it terrified me as well.

“The plug stays in. Go get the brush and wait for me in the corner.”

I turned and left the room and walked down the short hall into the bedroom. I placed the dreaded bath brush on the dresser. I removed the rest of my clothing (the top and socks, I was already bare-bottomed) and waited in the corner.

I heard him enter and pull the chair away from next to the dresser. (He also locked the dogs out, as they get very defensive when he spanks me.)

“Over.”

I carefully lowered myself over his lap. I grabbed the wooden rails of the chair and focused on the tan rug. He adjusted me, secured me in place with his arm and patted my bottom.

“Hold your position young lady.”

He began to spank my upturned bottom with his large hand. Slow at first, then increasing with speed and intensity. He spanked me thoroughly moving from cheek to cheek, down to my lower thighs, to the top of my cheeks and back across both cheeks at once with one hand. He stopped occasionally to rub and admonish me and poke at the plug, but he would then start right back up again. I remained quiet, holding back the tears, focusing on the plug and the deep warm pain pulsating through my entire body from both the spanking and the plug.

He stopped spanking and I felt him release me.

“Go take the plug out Tara Marie.”

I stood quickly and went in to the bathroom and removed the plug. I knew I had plenty of spanking still to come. I caught a quick glance of my already strawberry red bottom and thighs in the mirror and hurried back over my husband’s lap, afraid to take too long. He repositioned me and then waited, resting the bath brush on my warm bottom.

“Tara, I am waiting.” Thomas said as he rubbed and lightly patted the brush against my hot bottom.

My mind scrambled…. I almost stuttered, but then I remembered the routine…“Will you please paddle me Sir?” I asked, genuinely sorry now and truly scared of what was to come.

“And what implement do you deserve to be severely paddled with Tara Marie?”

I paused, sighed deeply and then responded in my most respectful voice, “The bath brush Sir.” My heart pounded in my throat.

Without warning he hit me very hard one time on each cheek in rapid succession. The pain from the strikes took a second to register, and then the sting seared into my backside. I clenched and then relaxed, kicking my legs up and raising my head by straightening my elbows. I knew instantly that those movements just guaranteed that he was about to thoroughly light up my backside.

“Tara Marie.”

Two more HARD whacks met each cheek. I held still this time. Then the rapid fire started. He worked in the same manner as he had with the hand, thoroughly punishing every inch of my bottom and upper thighs. I began to cry and wiggle. He held me tightly and intensified the spanking… fast then slow, hard then soft. I was on fire everywhere. He spread my cheeks and lit up every inch of the tender spots between the cheeks. I started to wriggle and cry. Panic started to set in, but he spanked me through it until I submitted and hung loose over his lap, crying hard. He continued to spank until he knew he had worn me out. I cried heavily as he spanked every bit of resistance out of me.

“Very good baby.” He rubbed my blazing bottom as he spoke. “You are very very well disciplined. You took that very well”

I sobbed as he continued to rub. “Are we finished young lady or do you need more.”

“No Sir.” I replied.

“No Sir we are not finished or No Sir I need more?” (Thomas knows me too well.)

“No Sir, I need more.” I whimpered. (Why I do that to myself I never know… I do not want to say it, but it always comes out.)

He rubbed my bottom. Everything burned and I could feel that my cheeks had already turned hard from the severe spanking. “Your bottom can’t take much more Tara. You will receive four more hard smacks and then you will be finished. You are to count them.”

My crying had slowed to a solid whimper and I braced myself for the strikes. He delivered four solid smacks two to my upper thighs and two to my bottom. I counted all four. When it was over he just rubbed me. I finally sensed that I was allowed to sit up; I kissed his neck and cuddled into his lap.

“You needed that, didn’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” He held me for a few more minutes and then patted my raw bottom as he lifted me off his lap.

“Clean up and we’ll watch a Netflix. Two came today in the mail.”

“What?” I responded back between sniffles. “No sex?”

“No, you know the rules, not after a maintenance spanking under 80%.”

I cleaned up and met him downstairs to watch “The Contract” or something like that. Needless to say, we had no sex last night, but this morning was another story. I have a feeling these Maintenance Spankings will be around for quite awhile.

Why is the Paddle Across My Pillow?

Why Is The Paddle Across My Pillow?

For the last few months I have been working like a fiend. Up until last week, I would leave the house at 6am and return home around 8pm to simply fall into bed and start the process all over again the next day. I managed to make time for friends and for my husband, but housework was not a priority. My husband also works long hours, but in addition he managed to do the housework and shop for groceries, all with just simple reminders to me that I was not doing my share. Each reminder I would promise to do better.

Well, on Monday I called Thomas at work in the morning and told him I would be home early. He was surprised. He said something along the lines that we would finally have some quality time together. I grinned back over the phone, thinking that he was talking about anything but a discipline spanking.

I walked in the door of our bedroom Monday afternoon to find, to my immediate heart stoppage, the three foot, thick, and holed paddle lying across my pillow. I froze in the bedroom doorway. What had I done? The paddle? No way. What had I done?

And then I realized, I was slacking off, and doing nowhere near my share of anything. I knew I was in for it. So, stupid me, I called him. "Thomas, why is the paddle on my pillow?"

He laughed at that question. "I put it there over lunch today to remind me that you are getting a paddling tonight for not doing your chores and putting everything else first. It has been way too long since that bottom of yours had a good dose of that paddle. Now, you have one hour before I get home, I had better be overly impressed with the looks of that house when I get home young lady."

I looked around the house, devastated. He had not done any housework all weekend, obviously preparing for this encounter, and of course I had not done any and I had not even noticed how dirty it could become when left alone. I scrambled, started laundry, managed to clean the kitchen and the bathroom, but really did not even scratch the surface of the mess. I heard the front door click open as I scrambled to empty the washer. He was home and I was dead.

"Tara Marie, come in here." He said in his deep voice. Slowly I entered the living room. "I expect your bottom bared and well positioned over the bed when I get in there. Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir," I stammered back. I headed to the bedroom, took off my clothes and positioned myself on the bed, already dreading the feel of that cold, hard, hole-filled paddle against my bare bottom. Discipline spankings are never, ever fun. There is never a warm up, and they are always delivered slowly and with much force. I know the rules, hold position and make sure that ass does not move from position, because an aggravated 300 pound NY Italian is a scary thing to have swinging a paddle.

I waited, and I waited and I waited, shivering in the cold of the AC blowing on me. Finally I heard him come in, but I knew better than to look back at him. I felt him pick up the paddle and slowly brush it across my quivering, not-yet-paddled-but-soon-to-be-raw bottom. WHACK The first strike took me by surprise. It hurt like hell. Everything burned and it took every ounce of me to hold position.

"Now, Tara Marie, do you know why you are going to be paddled?"

"Yes Sir" I croaked back.

"And why is that young lady?" Again I felt the hard wood of the paddle lingering against my bottom.

WHACK

I guess I did not answer fast enough, because that whack sent me out of position. It burnt, It felt raw back there and we had just started! I quickly raised my bottom back up, knowing another was right behind for breaking position. WHACK

"I have been doing everything but my share of the housework lately. I am sorry Thomas. I promise I will do my share, please, not so hard, please."

Again the paddle lingered, just touching my warming bottom. I felt him lean over to me on the bed and then into my ear he said, "Am I so hard on you that you feel you have too many chores around here?"

"No Sir" I quickly responded. "I knew he did way more than most spouses ever do, plus all the grocery shopping."

"What exactly are your chores young lady?" He asked, still leaning over me with the paddle resting on my bottom.

"Laundry, pick up after myself, the dogs, empty the dish washer and clean the bathroom."

He stood up and took the paddle. I heard it whish through the air. WHACK

"And, Tara Marie, do you think that is too much to ask, even if you work more hours and have a longer commute?"

"No Sir. I am so sorry. I will never slack off again. I know you do way more chores than me. PLEASE THOMAS"

"I know you will not slack off again any time soon." As he said that he wound up and delivered another stinging whack to my bottom.

"I am thinking of a number of swats that you should receive", he stated as the paddle re-aligned itself against my stinging/burning behind. "If you guess under, we add the difference times two, if you guess over, you get that amount. How many more swats do you deserve Tara Marie?"

My heart dropped. I already was struggling to hold position. My head was pounding, my butt felt as if the skin was already gone. I could picture the welts and the blisters forming. I knew I had it coming, but he seemed pretty calm, just disappointed in me more than anything. But, if he really was mad and I guessed under, I was toast.

"10" I stammered, my eyes tearing and my nose running.

"Well, I would have said eight, so ten it is. DO NOT BREAK THAT POSITION, Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir"

WHACK

"One, Thank you Sir." My butt was on fire, he was hitting hard, really hard. My face burned.

WHACK

"Two, Thank you Sir." Yep, definite lasting marks. Sitting will be a problem.

WHACK

"Three---WHACK WHACK

"Five. Thank You SIr." "Please T, no more, I promise" I was sweating now, my legs quivered from presenting my bottom for punishment.

WHACK

Sobbing now, "Six Thank You Sir."

WHACK Your chores are to be done each week by bedtime on Sunday. I will not tolerate this selfish behavior any longer.

"Yes Sir, Seven Thank YOu Sir."

WHACK "You will be paddled each and every Monday if they are not done, and, Tara Marie, it will be worse than this."

"Yes Sir, Eight thank You Sir."

WHACK "Do not break that position"

"Nine Thank You Sir" (I am sure I breathed a sigh of relief, because the last one is usually not that hard.)

WHACK The tenth hit harder than ever. It sent me flopping to the mattress, bawling, hands reaching back. I was on fire.

"What did you just do?!?!"

"No, Thomas, please, no more, no more. I couldn't help it, it hurt so badly." I Cried as I slowly and gingerly thrust my very tight, throbbing bottom back towards the paddle's path.

"You have one more coming."

WHACK

"Eleven, Thank YOu Sir." The tears just burst forth. I felt terrible.

"Alright, you can relax." Thomas said in his now deep and smooth voice. As he said it, he grabbed me in his arms. I curled my naked body up on his lap and cried into his broad chest while he rubbed my head. My bottom throbbed in pain, sending piercing bolts through me each time it touched a blanket differently, but it was a good pain. I had taken my punishment and things were okay. I truly felt closure to the entire situation, and a new commitment to my share of the housework.

Needless to say, today is Thursday and this paddled bottom is finally feeling back to normal. Also, the laundry is almost done for the week and I have full plans to clean the bathroom on Saturday. In addition, a few of his chores have been done for him this week, but who knows if that will last.

Crossing the Line

His right eyebrow went up seconds after the disrespectful comment left my mouth… a subtle yet powerful sign that he was not happy with me. Everyone at the table laughed and continued sipping their after-dinner drinks, but my heart lept to my throat and I knew I had crossed the line. My eyes lowered to the white napkin in my lap and then I continued nonchalantly with the conversation, expertly covering the emotions churning inside me.

Dinner with his boss and his boss’ wife continued uneventfully. We knew them well enough, but there was a small air of awkwardness whenever the conversation dwindled. Although dinner with them could be uncomfortable at times, I always welcomed the opportunity to go into the city, especially during the holiday season. We left the restaurant just before ten and he hailed a cab. Before opening the back door to the cab his left hand reached up and strongly pinched the tender skin behind my right arm, sending shivers through my body, confirming his disappointment in me. I climbed in first, sliding across the vinyl seat, acutely aware of the tingling in my bottom foretelling the spanking that was to come when we arrived home. He climbed in beside me, saying nothing, just placing his strong left hand on my inner thigh. I dared not move.

I followed him out of the cab, saying nothing, longing for him to hold my hand, but he didn’t and we waited in silence for the train home. It was cold, the wind whipping through the terminal. The cold did not bother me; my thoughts were on the discipline session that was sure to occur as soon as we arrived home. How could I have been so cutting?

It was only a twenty five minute train ride but it seemed like an eternity. It was crowded and we were forced to sit separately. As we boarded he pointed to where I was to sit and he moved along farther in the cabin and took a seat near an older couple. I was left alone with my emotions and the tingling in my bottom. I knew I had disappointed him. For many wives I am sure it would be nothing, but for us, making a joke at the expensive of the other is disrespectful and completely over the line. It meant a severe spanking. Having been married for eight years, the boundaries were clear, as were the consequences for crossing them.

We walked out of the station to our car; I led the way, wrapping myself tightly in my long black wool coat. He opened my door and kissed me gently as I tucked myself into the familiar seat. We almost always kissed when he opened the door to let me in the car, and I felt relieved that he did not break that tradition. It had been awhile since I crossed this line and I honestly did not know how upset he was. I followed him with my eyes as he circled the car and climbed in. He started it up and we waited a few minutes in silence before pulling out of the lot. I longed to ask him what I was in for, but held my tongue. His fingers tapped the wheel gently and the engine purred as the warm air from the heater took the chill out of the interior of the car. He seemed calm and composed, but my heart raced.

“You crossed the line Tara Marie.”

“I know Sir.” My heart beat faster, almost choking me.

He nodded, eyes straight ahead, calm.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No Sir. It just slipped out as a joke. I did not mean to be disrespectful, but it was and I am really sorry.” No point in arguing this one. I was toast. Disrespect, especially in public, is not permitted in our relationship.

“And what happens when you are disrespectful Tara ?”

I swallowed hard. “I am spanked Sir.”

He turned left at the light, eight blocks now to our home.

He nodded slowly and then spoke, clearly accentuating each word: “Your spanking tonight will be severe. I am very disappointed. There is nothing funny about making a joke at the expense of others. Do I make fun of you… ever… much less in front of others?”

“No Sir.” Tears forming behind my eyes.

“It was my boss Tara. Have I ever said anything to embarrass you in front of your boss?”

I shook my head.

“Answer me young lady.” His deep calm voice filled the car.

“No Sir, never. I didn’t think. I was just trying to make conversation, but I knew the minute I said it.”

“Well, you should have known the minute before you said it. Do you know now how sore you are going to be when I get done with you this evening?”

“Yes Sir.” I mumbled.

“No Tara , I don’t think you have any idea. Stay right there.”

He pulled into the driveway and walked around to open my door. He helped me out onto the slippery pavement and we made our way inside. He removed my coat and hung it in the front closet. I waited submissively beside him in the entryway, longing for him to hold me tightly, but knowing he wouldn’t, not until after.

“Go upstairs and prepare yourself. I will be up shortly to paddle you.”

I lowered my head and made my way up the steps. The dogs were so happy, bouncing along beside me eager to be pet, but instead I shut the bedroom door tightly, shattering their excitement. I stripped down, carefully hanging my black dress in the closet and removing my nylons, underwear and heels. I quickly used the restroom, checking to make sure I was properly shaven and threw on a little baby powder. I then pulled the large lexan paddle and the heavy wooden paddle from the closet and took out the bag of other implements, placing them all neatly on the dresser. I assumed my position on our bed, bottom up with my knees at my chest, cheek to the comforter, bottom fully exposed. I waited.

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The door opened. I could feel him staring at me.

“Stand up.”

I stood beside the bed; hands locked behind my head, but dared not make eye contact.

He picked up the lexan paddle and walked behind me. I stepped sideways two feet to give him more room. Using the tip of the paddle he traced a line from my wrist to the right arm pit. Thankfully I was properly shaven. He then went slowly down my back and tapped my bottom lightly. He moved to the front of me, still moving the paddle across my skin and went down my naval to between my legs and then down my inner thigh. He tapped the inside of my legs, indicating that I should separate them a bit more and I did, breathing deeply, struggling to contain my emotions.

“Grab your ankles.”

Already trembling from the knowledge of what was to come, I assumed the position. This, in my opinion, is the worst position for a paddling… everything is stretched tightly and fully exposed. I bent over, resting my head on my cool skin and circled my arms around my long bare legs, shivering.

He stepped back and without any warning the first strike of the paddle hit hard, covering both cheeks at once and sending me lunging forward so that I broke position to catch myself with my hands on the floor. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, yet I quickly went back to position.

“One Sir.”

The tears rolled down my face, but I did not out cry loudly. 

WHACK!

“Two Sir.”

His pace was slow and methodical. He landed strike after strike, evenly spaced and very hard. He did not speak, just spanked- the intensity of the paddling serving as words enough. I struggled to hold position, breaking it from time to time due to the force of the strikes. My hair was in my eyes, wet from tears, everything hurt and the strikes continued, seemingly never ending…

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“Twenty Four Sir.”

I was bawling. The searing pain was diminishing because the numbness of a severe paddling was starting to set in. He stopped spanking and placed the paddle on the bed while I gained control.

“Go to your corner.”

I stood slowly, feeling the stiffness set in on my raw, blazing bottom. My bottom felt as if a thousand needles were pricking it all at once and I wanted to dance and rub, but didn’t. I quickly wiped my tears and then placed my hands back behind my head and walked to my corner, burying my nose in the cool paint. I pushed my bottom out and waited, counting my heart beats in the pulsing pain of my bottom.

I heard him sit down on the bed. I felt him studying my backside. I knew the next question that was coming.

“How many penalty strikes did you earn Tara ?”

My heart sunk. I had lost position five times, which meant five additional strokes.

“Five Sir.”

I prayed I was right, but he did not confirm if I was right or wrong. Instead, he lectured.

He reviewed the events of the evening, repeating my comment slowly and expressing the disappointment and embarrassment it caused him. He discussed the quiet cab and train rides and how the trip home was ruined. I only nodded, quietly crying in my corner, becoming more and more convinced that I had a lot more discipline to come.

“Turn around and hand me the wooden paddle.”

I inhaled deeply and turned. I walked to the dresser and picked up the heavy wooden paddle. As I retrieved the paddle I noticed a small present in the mirror. It was about one foot long and quite thin, located on the bed near my pillow. It was wrapped in gold and red paper. I turned and gently handed him the paddle, still daring not to look up to his disappointed eyes but also wondering about the gift.

He took the paddle as I bent back over, tightening the raw bruised skin of my bottom, and again presenting the most tender area of my bottom perfectly for the harsh, heavy frat paddle.

He placed the wood against my red hot bottom, his target, my now very raw and tender sit spot.

“Put your hands on the bed for support.”

I closed my eyes and readied myself for the hard strikes.

WHACK!!!!!!!!

The first strike hit with a loud thwack, lifting me up onto my toes and sending pain straight through me. I cried out and the tears started flowing.

“One, thank you Sir. May I have another?”

WHACK!!!!! The second strike hit in the exact spot as the first. I kicked my feet, struggling to keep my hands on the bed.

“Two, thank you Sir. May I have another?”

WHACK!!!!

The third strike hit a bit higher, perfectly covering both cheeks at the roundest spots, sending a pulse of pain through me.

“Three, thank you Sir. May I have another?” I barely finished speaking the words before the next strike hit. It was softer in force, but across my upper thighs so the pain was almost blinding.

“Ouch, Please, Oh. Four Sir. Thank you Sir. May I have another?”

My eyes closed, the last one was lately always the worst. I clenched and then forced myself to relax and stick my bottom out for the last strike. I trembled as I fought my inner self to keep my raw bottom properly presented for the last strike.

I heard the paddle go back….

WHACK!!!! Right to the underside of my bottom. The wood connected not only with my bottom’s raw skin, but with the even more tender private area as well.

He waited until I was composed enough to breathe normally and then took me by the ear to the straight backed wooden chair by the dresser. He sat me down hard and the needle-like pain pounded in my bottom. I instinctively raised my hands, locking them behind my head and straightened my back. Pain was everywhere. I started crying again, unable to stop trembling.

Ten minutes later I had re-gained control and sat on a very sore, well paddled blazing bottom. He stood and walked over to me from the bed, gently handing me the gift.

“I was going to put this in your stocking, hopefully to be used for a good girl spanking. However, I think your comment tonight warrants that it be used in a not-so-pleasant manner.”

I lowered my arms, they were stiff from being behind my head. I swallowed hard, fingering the paper so as to guess exactly what it was… I knew.

“Open it Tara .”

I opened the festive package, but did not feel any excitement, only gloom. It was a light, thin, foot-long, maple paddle… a slap paddle as we called it, and I knew exactly where it was going to be applied.

“He studied me as I opened it. He knew I knew that not only was my bottom deservedly beaten raw, my inner thighs were about to be paddled as well.”

“Oh, please Sir, not there. I will never do it again.” The tears started up again and true fear mounted within me.

“On your back on the bed Tara .” He spoke very matter of factly and I knew not to argue or plead.

I placed the wrapping neatly on the dresser and climbed onto our bed, belly up, placing the soles of my feet together. I stretched my legs out in the butterfly position, perfectly exposing my inner thighs for the paddle. My hands locked behind my head and I focused on trying to stop my body from trembling and my mind from racing.

He climbed onto the bed beside me, leaning in close as he drew a line down my body with a paddle for the second time that evening. It stopped between my legs, ever so briefly, again checking that I had properly prepared, and then came to rest on my right inner thigh.

“Twenty on each side Tara Marie, and then you are done. I expect you will hold position.”

I nodded, clenched my teeth, closed my eyes and silently told myself to hold position.

Again the first strike landed, sending intense pain through me. A spanking on the bottom is one thing, but a paddle to the inner thigh is sheer agony. He spanked with quick, sharp, smacks, punishing every bit of the tender skin of my right thigh multiple times. I sobbed heavily and with each strike arched my back up slightly off the mattress, but I never closed my legs.

After twenty well delivered smacks he paused, allowing me to regain composure. He stood and walked around to the other side of the bed, again climbing up close to me, further punishing me by being so close but offering no affection.

The paddle tapped the inside of my left thigh lightly. I braced, tightening my hands behind my head and again closed my eyes.

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK………

He delivered twenty solid strikes to the left side. I counted silently in my head, but on the twentieth I cried out, “Twenty!”

I looked into his eyes, still in position. I could see that it was over. Thomas gently straightened out my legs and then stretched out next to me, rolled me on to my side and then held me tightly. I cried as he brushed my tear-soaked blonde hair from my face and kissed my cheek, neck and shoulders. My thighs pounded and my bottom burned, but it was over and now I was safe in Thomas’ arms.

“Shhhhh.”

His voice was soft. He continued to comb my hair with his fingers and cradled my blazing bottom in his strong body, kissing me gently.

“I am soooo sorry Thomas.” I cried softly.

“I know honey. Shhhh, it’s over. You took it very well.”

I snuggled in tighter and was asleep before he turned off the lights.