husband corner time


pretty stockings, pink nipplesThe nights are really cooling now and Hannah has had me sorting her stockings, garter belts and girdles. Soon we will settle into our winter ritual – in the absence of a maid – where I assist Hannah as she dresses for cocktails.

It gives us a very intimate moment alone. If there are any disciplinary issues they can be dealt with then and there. If Hannah wants her privacy, I am sent to my corner with the pretty panties she has worn that day. She can bathe, wash her hair knowing that I am standing, in her dark lingerie closet, my nose pressed tightly against the panties I will soon be rinsing out.

What a treat. And here are a few pictures of stockings in all their wonder.

A Conversation

dominant wifeHannah had something on her mind.

“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.”

A Fine Reward

There is always the danger that this journal sounds as if I am constantly misbehaving and being corrected. In fact, most of the time, I am a devoted and obedient husband. And sometimes, when I am lucky, I have a fine reward.

“Go up to your corner,” Hannah said a smile on her face. I hastened to obey not entirely sure what I was being punished for or if I was being punished at all. I stripped naked, found a very pretty pair of beautifully scented black panties (which I really should have rinsed out the night before but hadn’t) and pressed my nose into my corner. It was cold in our bedroom. Cold enough that I was shivering when, ten or fifteen minutes later, Hannah came upstairs.

“I hadn’t realized it was so chilly….oh well, we’ll soon warm you up. I want to get in some practice with my cane.”

I took my position on the bed and felt Hannah tighten my belt to bind wrist to ankle. She began with quite a long and firm warm up hand spanking. And then she took her cane and got to work. The first dozen strokes were quite light.

“What I want to do, darling, is practice so that the cane hits both sides equally. This is where I usually stand and I can see that is not ideal.” And she was quite right, even with her light swings my right cheek was quite sore while the left was largely untouched.

“So what I think I need to do is stand a little further forward….like this.” Another dozen lightish strokes landed somewhat more evenly. “No, not quite right…try this.” The cane was balanced now and Hannah delivered another 12 strokes with minimum force.

“Now dear, you really were excellent yesterday and I have a surprise for you; but before I give you your surprise, and as you are so nicely bound up, I am going to give you twenty four reasonably hard strokes just to remind you of your position. And, of course, for practice.”

When Hannah whips me I can tell by the whistle of the cane how far back she is drawing her arm. Where her earlier, lighter, strokes were swung from her elbow, this set was in earnest and Hannah swung from her shoulder. It was, short of full punishment canings, the hardest I have ever been caned. Line after line was burnt into my already flaming bottom. I was vocalizing thoroughly by the fifth stroke and gasping by the end of the first dozen. I don’t really remember the last dozen. What I do remember is Hannah’s sweet voice exclaiming “Much more even. Much better” as she swung the rattan.

At last it was over. I managed a somewhat choking “Thank you darling.” Hannah let me recover a little.

“So darling, now for your surprise. I know I have not let you come for nearly two weeks and I am very much liking how attentive your chastity has made you. I was thinking of having you make me come this afternoon but I am really not in the mood. And I certainly don’t want you coming until I can use you for my greater pleasure.” Hannah walked over to a closet and rummaged for a moment or two.

“You were so very good with my ice water idea that I really thought you deserved a little reward so I am going to milk you.” Hannah returned to the bed with the little makeup bag which contained the bulbed black flexible vibrator she likes to use to stimulate my prostate. “So Darling, if you just lie on your side I’ll get you nice and wet and then I’ll slip this in and, in a few minutes, you make a nice wet mess on this tissue.”

Usually when Hannah milks my prostate she simply pushes the vibrator into my bottom, turns it on and then leaves me to squirt on my own. Not today. I felt her warm hand massage the Astroglide up and down between my cheeks warming me up before she began to use a couple of fingers to gently stretch my backdoor. Soon enough I felt the firm pressure of the well lubricated bulb of the vibrator pushed firmly into me. Hannah kept the pressure on until the vibe had lodged itself right where it could coax my emission.

Hannah flicked the switch and I felt the subtle pulse of the vibe.

“Now darling, I am going to help you a little today. However, I do not want to see any erection and I certainly don’t want you doing any thrusting.” As she spoke Hannah was establishing her own rhythm with the vibe; a gentle, back and forth, back and forth. It was no more than a few minutes before I began to feel the extraordinary sensation of fullness and then the urge to trust my hips, “None of that darling.” said Hannah using her other hand to hold me still, “Being milked is not about any of those urges. It is about my sweet darling obeying me and making his little mess without any of those more masculine jerks or an erection. Plenty of time for that when I want my greater pleasure.”

At the word “pleasure” I overflowed. Hannah kept up her rhythm until I was completely drained.

“Lovely darling.” Hannah said standing up and leaving the black vibe buried in my bottom. “When you have cleaned up join me downstairs.”

I lay, spent, my bottom pulsing from my whipping and my milking, completely, utterly and fantastically happy and in love.

At the Lady’s Direction

I knew I was to be punished this evening. And I knew that the lady of the house had decided to have our maid participate again. So I made sure I was showered and shaved and when Hannah came home ensured that she was greeted with her glass of cold water and that her wine was set to chill.

Hannah summoned Tanyia to her bedroom and I was left to wait. I could hear the gentle feminine sounds of Hannah stripping off her jeans and slipping into her hose, girdle and skirts for cocktails and dinner. Our maid assisted – as I well know, the back garters on Hannah’s zip sided black girdle can always use another pair of hands. I sipped my beer. Madame’s transformation complete I heard the click of Tanyiaia’s heels down the hall.

“Sir, Madame would like you in your corner.” I obeyed silently. The lady of the house’s maid had conveyed an instruction, no more. Her interest was concealed or did not exist. She walked up the stairs behind me and past the open door of the sewing room where Hannah was occupied. I knew the drill. I stood in front of the bed and stripped naked. I pulled my belt from its loops. One hand on my sex, the other holding the belt I set out to my corner.

We have a large bedroom and the walk of shame was a dozen steps or more. Tanyia had her back to me. I handed her my belt and picked up Hannah’s freshly worn panties. I pressed them to the corner with my nose. Tanyia could see I was ready in the dressing table mirror. Silently she looped the belt and slipped it up past my elbows. She cinched it tight. Not quite as tight as it would go but tight enough that it would come off and denied me any access to my half erect cock.

“Ten minutes I think Tanyia…set the timer.” said the lady of the house coming into the bedroom to see that all was well. “We’ll use the clips tonight, Tanyia. He’ll simply have to learn that I will not tolerate rudeness.”

“Oui, Madame.” replied Tanyia, I suspect with a perfect curtsy. (She has been curtsying a lot since reading this.)

I was left alone to consider my slightly disrespectful behaviour toward the lady of the house. tightly bound arms begin to be uncomfortable after a while. Which is the point really, and I was delighted to hear heels coming down the hall. No relief, it was the lady of the house looking for something. I did not know where the something was and so she left. I flexed my legs, breathed in my lady’s scent and, eventually, as I lost a good deal of feeling in my hands, the maid returned and undid the belt. I let the panties drop to the floor. Once again the maid turned her back demurely as I walked to my clothes and dressed. She waited and then walked behind me as we rejoined the lady of the house who was engrossed in her Edith Wharton novel.

I knelt and thanked Hannah. “Well, no more of that sort of talk.”

“No ma’am.”

“Tanyia will clip you tonight.”

I lifted my shirt and teased my nipples erect as Tanyia fumbled with the unfamiliar antique lingerie clips. She has lovely warm, soft hands and no hesitation. Which is best; better a short, sharp bite than three or four as the clips’ position is adjusted. At last they were on and, for a little while, my humiliation was abated. I stood up and looked to Hannah for permission to sit. Tanyia curtsied and left. Hannah called after her,

“Twelve minutes I think.”

Tanyia turned, dropped a large curtsy, smiled and said, “Oui, Madame.”

I would not be at all surprised if Hannah taught the maid how to cane me. Which would be as deeply pleasing as it would be humiliating.