caned husband

A quick correction

“Just because your girdle is little tight you have no right to be snippy with me. Get upstairs this minute.”

Hannah was not kidding when she said a couple of weeks ago that she was going to be raising her expectations. I stood by our bed, trousers off, girdle and panties at my knees. Hannah marched up the stairs.

“I expect you to be polite and respectful at all times. You have a nasty tenancy to be flip and I don’t like it one bit. Now bend over and put your hands flat on the bed.”

No warm up. Just six hard strokes of he favorite 36 inch rattan cane delivered quickly and accurately.

“Now pull your girdle back up and get back to work. There are two articles overdue. And you should remember that if you are flip with me you’ll be right back up here and it won’t just be half a dozen.”

(Hannah has been looking for a cane with a little more heft and found this “heel stick“. Frankly I think it looks nasty but Hannah is all for upping my game.)


“So…Darling take down your pants and stretch over the end of the bed.” I did as I was told and heard Hannah pick up her vicious little plastic cane. She began to warm Me up with rhythmic hard hand slaps to my bottom and spoke to me in a firm voice.

“I had you ejaculate last night so you would really feel your whipping this morning. I have let your discipline slip a bit and,frankly, I have not been impressed with your attitude or your work habits lately. You’ve been right on the edge of insolence a couple of times. I should have corrected you then and there. But I didn’t.

It is very clear you need to be regularly whipped. And not playfully either. So I am going to try to make each stroke this morning leave a welt and, for the next few weeks, you’ll be regularly whipped. It is quite clear to me that sparing the rod has been spoiling the husband. Do you agree Elliot?”

“Yes Hannah. I have been missing my punishments.”

“Well we will begin to correct that starting now.” The cane whistled through the air and seared the first of its dozen lines across my quivering bottom. I could tell Hannah meant every word she had said.

Call to Order

dominant wife, whipped husband

Take your postion darling

“Well darling, you certainly have forgotten your place.” Hannah spoke as she sat on the side of our bed. “Imagine going out last night without asking permission. And I have the receipt. $15.00 and, I’m sure, a generous tip. Call it twenty.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I won’t have it. So, today I am going to whip you. One stroke for each dollar. But, if it happens again it will be two strokes. Now, get in position.”

I went to the end of the bed and stepped out of my sleeping panties. Hannah warmed me up with her hand. “I won’t have you wasting our money on the pub and I certainly expect to be asked for permission if you want to go and have a beer.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. You are not going to forget this.”

I heard the hiss of the cane through the air. Hannah was in earnest. After five strokes I was arching my back and after ten vocalizing as the cane sliced. I was shaking as the last three, very hard, punishment strokes were delivered.

“Perfect. I think a few of those welts will be with you for a couple of days. Now get dressed and get to work.” Hannah noticed that my cock was stiffening.

“Oh what a silly man. If you think that little cock is getting any attention you have another think coming. In fact, I might just send you to your corner before cocktails tonight and give you another whipping for cheekiness.”

I am well loved indeed.

Morning Caning

husband caned by wife I knew I was going to be punished for painting without permission and using the wrong, smelly, paint. However life has been busy and this morning was the first opportunity the Lady of the House had for my correction.

“I think we’ll use my dressing room…It will be more private.” Hannah’s dressing room is lovely, overlooking our front garden and with paned mirrored doors on either side of an eight foot wide space. In the middle of the space is a bright red leather round low settee. Perfect to sit on while the Lady of the House puts on her stockings.

“Hands on the settee.” I bent over. “Feet closer, I want your bottom up high. Head down and look to your right so you can watch in the mirror.” I hastened to comply and was rewarded with a glorious view of Hannah in her bright red woolen skirt and pretty sweater, cane under her arm as she began to warm me up with her hand. (more…)


As the seasons change the lady of the house slips from her summer dresses to her more structured fall clothes. Soon the perfect girdle and seamed hose will graciously complement the heels and skirts for cocktails.

I fear I was a bit snappish this morning. “That’s enough of that.” said Hannah slipping off her panties and handing them to me, “Off you go to your corner.”

Ten minutes in the dark pressing Hannah’s scent to the wall with my nose reminded me of my place.

“Now take your position.” No nonsense this morning – I was to be whipped. And I was. Not severely, just a dozen medium strokes of the heavy rattan cane.

“Stand up” said Hannah when she was finished. She took my semi erect cock in one hand. “I’ve been a bit neglectful of your discipline lately. Well, that is going to change. You have been a bit snappy and I will not put up with that. Now go have your shower.”

Balance restored, cock erect with longing, I did as I was told.

The New Regime

submissive husbandThe quiet of the afternoon decended on the house and my business phone had gone quiet. Hannah was on her way up the sun flooded stairs, “Darling, I’m going to wash my hair.”

I knew what to do. I followed her up the stairs, took off my clothes and began to look for a pair of panties. No luck. I’d been too efficient rinsing out Hannah’s lingerie. “Oh, just use one of my pretty bras.” Which is not quite the same thing but I do what I’m told. In a moment I took my place in Hannah’s lingerie closet, closed the door (which turns the light out) and, in the pitch black, pressed my nose into her lovely bra in the corner. I could hear the sound of the vacuum.

Standing naked in the dark, cool, closet I had plenty of time to reflect on how lucky I was to be lead by such an attentive, sweet woman. And I wondered if, at the end of my meditative confinement, Hannah would whip me. Not that I had any say in the matter. I heard her puttering about. No sound of hair being washed. Just lots of work being done. I realized that, from Hannah’s perspetive, my cornertime could be used more effectively pushing a vacuum or ironing. But then the focus of my thoughts would wander. So I took the time to simply be grateful.

The door opened and I was blinking, naked, in the bright sunlight. “Put your hands on the bed and stand on the balls of your feet.” I obeyed and Hannah began a quick warm-up hand spanking. A dozen swats and she judged me ready for the cane. Two ranging strokes and then twelve medium force. They hurt like anything, lines of flaming pain across my bottom.

“You’re done.” said Hannah. I stood up, half errect, Hannah kissed me. “Now, back to work. I’m going out and I’m looking forward to a nice, clean, man for cocktails.”