husband caned

12 strokes

“You darling have been more than a little snarky. Let me just get my downstairs cane. Now disrobe and over the chair.”

No warm up. Just a dozen well placed strokes with a cane I didn’t even know Hannah had placed in our coat closet.

“I will not… Stroke… Have you… Stroke… Become a grumpy old man… Stroke.”

My bottom was blazing and I was deeply relieved when Hannah finally stopped.

“There. Done. And no more snippyness.”


“I don’t like that attitude.” said Hannah, “Go downstairs and bend over the couch…I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Not good. I’d just been whipped a day or two ago. Didn’t matter.

“I want you to do as you are told. No ifs or buts. And there really is only one way you’ll learn.”

Hannah had, thankfully, only a limited space for her back swing but she used every inch of it as she striped my bottom with twelve medium hard strokes of her rattan can in quick succession. After five I was up on my toes and at nine I began to moan as she relentlessly whipped me. At last it was over.

“This cane is too curved. I want it straight. Soak it and have it straight by morning. Now, thank me for your correction.”

I got to my knees and said, “Tahnk you for my whipping Dear Lady. I love you.”

“Well get up and pour my wine.”

A moment’s maintenance

We are having an intensely busy week. Houseguests, business, madness. But the lady of the house knows that a man in my position needs his reminders.

We had upstairs to ourselves.

“I think a quick maintenance whipping darling”, Hannah said directing my to my whipping position. “Now trousers off and put your belt in place.” As I complied she went to get her cane from the closet. I knelt and felt her lash my wrists to my ankles. She was pressed of time and, without a word commenced a quick, but intense warm up spanking. I could see her can in my peripheral vision and it was not long before she began to work my bottom. Pressed for time but more than willing to make time to administer a through whipping. Though, to be fair, she did not switch sides.

How many strokes? I don’t count. Neither does Hannah. My whipping is done when she decides it is done.

Which is how it should be.