Strict

dominant wife, punished husband“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.

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