My wife announced on Saturday that she had time to deal with me just before we went out with friends. She thought it would be amusing if I was to sit at dinner with a scorched bottom.
“You will be on the edge of your seat,” she said. “And be very attentive.”
When I had done all the jobs for the day I climbed the stairs to find her laying on the bed in her dressing gown, drying the nail varnish on her toes and fingernails.
She took the glass of wine that I offered and told me that the bathroom needed cleaning.
“Not a full clean, just around the bath and on the vanity unit and the small bin needs emptying.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And come back here naked with the long whippy cane.”
“Yes ma’am”
Ten minutes or so later I walked back into the bedroom with a stiffy waving in front of me and the cane offered out in my hands. She tried to look serious but I could see she was laughing at me a bit.
“You won’t be needing that wobbly thing but I am glad you’re pleased to see me. Get down on your knees at the end of the bed.”
I did as instructed and she slid herself down the bed until she was sitting on the end of the mattress.
“Pass me the cane and ask for your treat.”
“Please ma’am? Please could you open box 11 of the calendar?”
“I surely will and quite hard too. Turn to the side and get down on all fours.”
She tapped my bottom with the cane to judge the distance and told me to move a bit further away from the bed. Lowering my head to the ground and raising my bottom high, I waited with butterflies in my stomach. I wanted the cane but didn’t, if you know what I mean.
Whizz and crack, the cane came from on high and zipped into my skin. I buried my head deeper into the carpet and pushed my bottom up higher practically begging for the next stroke. It came quickly enough and she paced herself through the next nine strokes with what I judged to be ten second intervals. The waiting between each stroke was deliciously tense making and gave me time to contemplate where she would land the cane next. My stiffness had gone by the fourth stroke
“Stand up.”
I got to my feet.
“Thank you for the 104 strokes so far ma’am.” I stood there with my head down, avoiding a direct gaze on her quim, which was visible where the robe had fallen apart at her waist.
“Lie on your tummy on the bed.”
I moved round to the side of the bed
“Put some pillows down and lie over those.”
This was novel. She doesn’t usually do comfort spankings.
When I was in position my wife got up and stood to one side swishing the cane through the air.
“I’m waiting.”
I turned my head to look at her. She had removed her dressing gown and was stood naked.
“Please ma’am? Could we open box 12 of the calendar?”
“Oh yes, and I am going to make these count.”
With careful consideration she caned me twice, but they were moderate strokes. I relished the comfortable position and ground my penis into the mound of the pillows. In my youth I might have come very quickly on the bed linen when spanked on my front. My enjoyment was cut short.
“This isn’t working. I can’t get any swing without hitting the ceiling. Kneel up on the bed and put hour hands on your head.”
The springiness of the mattress meant that it was difficult to keep my balance in an upright position. I spread my knees a little farther apart and locked my fingers together on the top of my head.
She swung the cane again this time twisting her body from the hip and delivering the equivalent of a forehand smash in tennis. I yelped as the cane landed across my bare cheeks with a force she hadn’t achieved in a long time.
“Much better. I like this position. Now keep still and I will start again.”
The 12 strokes that followed created sharp waves of pain and I had to close my eyes and clench my cheeks each time the cane landed.
She laid the cane on the bed and came round in front of me to fondle my penis.
“Is this going to come back?”
“I don’t know ma’am.”
"Well in that case you can do me and then we can get ready. I hope you enjoyed your caning "
“Yes ma’am. Thank you very much.” I mumbled this a little as my mouth was already wrapped over her lips and I was licking with gusto.
"How many have you had so far?"
"128 ma'am."
"My, my. And still plenty of boxes."
I nodded my head as best I could given that it was firmly clamped between her thighs.
“You will be on the edge of your seat,” she said. “And be very attentive.”
When I had done all the jobs for the day I climbed the stairs to find her laying on the bed in her dressing gown, drying the nail varnish on her toes and fingernails.
She took the glass of wine that I offered and told me that the bathroom needed cleaning.
“Not a full clean, just around the bath and on the vanity unit and the small bin needs emptying.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And come back here naked with the long whippy cane.”
“Yes ma’am”
Ten minutes or so later I walked back into the bedroom with a stiffy waving in front of me and the cane offered out in my hands. She tried to look serious but I could see she was laughing at me a bit.
“You won’t be needing that wobbly thing but I am glad you’re pleased to see me. Get down on your knees at the end of the bed.”
I did as instructed and she slid herself down the bed until she was sitting on the end of the mattress.
“Pass me the cane and ask for your treat.”
“Please ma’am? Please could you open box 11 of the calendar?”
“I surely will and quite hard too. Turn to the side and get down on all fours.”
She tapped my bottom with the cane to judge the distance and told me to move a bit further away from the bed. Lowering my head to the ground and raising my bottom high, I waited with butterflies in my stomach. I wanted the cane but didn’t, if you know what I mean.
Whizz and crack, the cane came from on high and zipped into my skin. I buried my head deeper into the carpet and pushed my bottom up higher practically begging for the next stroke. It came quickly enough and she paced herself through the next nine strokes with what I judged to be ten second intervals. The waiting between each stroke was deliciously tense making and gave me time to contemplate where she would land the cane next. My stiffness had gone by the fourth stroke
“Stand up.”
I got to my feet.
“Thank you for the 104 strokes so far ma’am.” I stood there with my head down, avoiding a direct gaze on her quim, which was visible where the robe had fallen apart at her waist.
“Lie on your tummy on the bed.”
I moved round to the side of the bed
“Put some pillows down and lie over those.”
This was novel. She doesn’t usually do comfort spankings.
When I was in position my wife got up and stood to one side swishing the cane through the air.
“I’m waiting.”
I turned my head to look at her. She had removed her dressing gown and was stood naked.
“Please ma’am? Could we open box 12 of the calendar?”
“Oh yes, and I am going to make these count.”
With careful consideration she caned me twice, but they were moderate strokes. I relished the comfortable position and ground my penis into the mound of the pillows. In my youth I might have come very quickly on the bed linen when spanked on my front. My enjoyment was cut short.
“This isn’t working. I can’t get any swing without hitting the ceiling. Kneel up on the bed and put hour hands on your head.”
The springiness of the mattress meant that it was difficult to keep my balance in an upright position. I spread my knees a little farther apart and locked my fingers together on the top of my head.
She swung the cane again this time twisting her body from the hip and delivering the equivalent of a forehand smash in tennis. I yelped as the cane landed across my bare cheeks with a force she hadn’t achieved in a long time.
“Much better. I like this position. Now keep still and I will start again.”
The 12 strokes that followed created sharp waves of pain and I had to close my eyes and clench my cheeks each time the cane landed.
She laid the cane on the bed and came round in front of me to fondle my penis.
“Is this going to come back?”
“I don’t know ma’am.”
"Well in that case you can do me and then we can get ready. I hope you enjoyed your caning "
“Yes ma’am. Thank you very much.” I mumbled this a little as my mouth was already wrapped over her lips and I was licking with gusto.
"How many have you had so far?"
"128 ma'am."
"My, my. And still plenty of boxes."
I nodded my head as best I could given that it was firmly clamped between her thighs.
5 comments:
Always use the cane thoroughly. Always have him completely undressed. And if possible shave his private areas and have a friend watch!
Sounds like my wife. She just loves the cane. She has a nice collection of other impact devices but she mostly uses the cane. Usually she will cane me until I am crying. Then she will hold me and comfort me until I stop crying. She then lays back and pushes my head inbetween her legs and keeps me there until she cannot take anymore orgasms. She enjoys it this way the most and in weird way it is a very intense emotional experience for both of us. These are not punishment canings because I am locked in chastity and given one or two orgasms a year. It is more to reinforce her power over me and to break me. I never cried in front of her before so it is a big deal to do so now.
My wife loves the cane too. She uses an eye bolt at the base of our bed and tied my ankles tight to it and then ties my knees tight and my arms together. She likes me restrained and immobile for the canings.
I love to cane my wife as much as she loves to cane me. Given the choice between the two, I prefer her caning me. The sex after each caning is very intense and she once told me: "I have never seen your prick get as hard aqs when I cane you".
love that ,It is more humiliating to have a friend see it , My master made me take out $800 made me buy her dinner. Asked for the cash at dinner and displayed it for all to see ,she said later people were watching ,whispering .If this is humiliating I am numb to it.
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