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Tag Archives: whipped husband
“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.”
“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.
We moved just before the holidays and then were caught up in the festivities.
However, just before Christmas Hannah sipped her wine and said, “Now darling, you’ve been very sweet working on the move but it is time to get back to your routine. You can go to our bedroom and take your position.”
I went, stripped naked and put my hands down on our bed.
“Perfect,” said Hannah coming into the room a few minutes later. “Now this is just maintenance but, as it has been a little while, I will give you a double dose.”
She warmed me up with her hand and then, without further words, rained down a dozen, fairly fierce, strokes of the cane. Quickly. I was nearly vocalizing at the end.
“There, that’s the first half..these will be a bit firmer.”
I could hear the cane hiss through the air. A bit?? No, these were very nearly full on.
I was grunting by the time she was done.
“Lovely, I see no reason why you should not have a few welts from your maintenance. This year I am going to be a good deal stricter. Now, get dressed and fetch me more wine.”
All is well.
“Go to your corner, right now!” Hannah was not at all pleased. Not at all. I had been a bit, well quite a lot, cheeky with her over cocktails. Now I was standing in a dark, cold, closet naked with my nose pressed against a bra (all her panties had been washed). I knew I was wrong and, as I stood there shivering, I was hoping she would come upstairs so I could apologize. I had a long wait.
Finally I heard her heels clicking down the hall. I could tell by the sharp pace of her walk that I was not quite done. I heard the door to the closet where the canes are kept open. Then my own closet was opened.
“Get over to your spot.” said Hannah swishing the cane. I took my position, hands on the settee. No warm up. Just eight, full swing strokes of the cane delivered quickly.
“Done.” said Hannah, “I will not be spoken to with that attitude again. If it happens again you’ll get two dozen of those. Now get dressed and come back down. The fire needs tending.”
I looked at the parallel raging red strips across my bottom. This was pure punishment, very much deserved, from the woman I loved more than anything in the world.
I am a very lucky man.
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. Continue reading
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.
“You know darling, wonderful as having you submissive and chaste and wonderfully attentive is, I think we need a bit more routine in our lives. Or, more accurately, you need more in yours. I noticed how wonderfully you responded to your paddling the other day. Not a punishment, just a reminder.
I think you need more of that sort of thing. So, starting today a few new rules.
First off, I’d like you to make a real transition from your work day to our home. If I want to know about your business I’ll ask. And to signify your transformation from the man of business to your real position from now on you have a little beauty ritual before you lay out the cocktail things. First, you shave and shower. I want you smelling lovely and I am thinking of getting you a bit of scent.
Then, quick as you can, I want you to put on a little bra, panties, one of your girdles and hose. Then some of your nicer, softer clothes. And I will be buying you a few things I’d like you to wear. Then you’ll be ready to greet me when I get home.
Second, I don’t think you have been getting enough corner time. You’ve been much too busy to take the fifteen minutes in the morning and, beside, the house is do busy that if I want to give you strokes after your corner time it is a bit awkward. And I do want to give you those strokes. I’d really forgotten how much nicer you are when you’ve been whipped.”
“So, the one time around here that it is quiet is when I wash my hair. So, from now on, no matter what you are doing, when I tell you I’m washing my hair I want you to drop what you are doing, go up to my lingerie closet, strip naked and press your nose into my panties. It is a pretty safe bet you’ll be caned or paddled afterwards. And just about certain you won’t be allowed to come.”
“But I might.”
“That’s all dear.”
All I could say was “Thank you.”
There is no question that I submit to the lady of the house. My well striped bottom after my latest, fairly minor, transgression, attests to that. But a person may submit to another person while holding back a part of themselves. The entire concept of power exchange turns on this crucial fact. And that withholding is what, ultimately, I found dissatisfying the first time Hannah took charge a couple of years ago.
I’ll put it another way, in our previous attempt, I was chaste and constantly longing for Hannah sexually. Now I am chaste and constantly longing for Hannah. Sexually, no longer comes into it as my own sexuality is rapidly ceasing to exist as an independent force. When Hannah wants pleasure I try my best to give her pleasure. And, sometimes, rarely, my own sexual energy is of use to her pleasure. Mostly it is not. Mostly, if I have release at all it is into an iron saki cup guided by my own hand and, if I am particularly lucky, brought on by her teasing and then pinching my nipples – hard. And this is precisely how it should be.
I am not reconciled to my chastity, I embrace it. I do not submit to my whippings, I adore the hand which wields the cane. Her attention and consideration are all that I can want and all that I need. My greatest flaw, a surrendered man, is that I want more. Which my sweet Hannah understands but does not feel in the least bit inclined to give.
I am delighted with the scraps from her laden table.