“Put on your punishment panties and go and make coffee and unload the dishwasher. When you are done I want you to come back upstairs and ask for your punishment.” said Hannah stretching in bed. The good news was that she was well rested and smiling. I was pretty certain she was no longer angry with me. Now it was just going to be a matter of what she thought I deserved.
I hastened to obey. My punishment panties are, in fact a panti girdle with the back very much abbreviated. My “bottom lifter” fits very snug at the best of times and with my caged cock it took a little while to pull on. It does, however, protect my lower back and upper thighs a little which is a mercy. But that protection lets the Lady of the House use whatever force she thinks necessary. I finally got it on and scooted downstairs. Coffee, for some reason, did not take nearly as long to brew this morning.
I took Hannah’s coffee to her in a pretty little cup on a silver tray.
“Excellent.” said Hannah lifting the hot coffee to her pretty lips, “Now, I think you have something to say.”
Without being told I knelt at the side of her bed. “Darling, I was inexcusably rude to you yesterday evening. I humbly apologize. I promise it will not happen again.” I drew in my breath, “And to make sure I remember never to be rude to my darling wife I humbly ask that you whip me a long and as hard as you think is required.”
Hannah took another sip of her coffee and looked straight at me. “I accept your apology. But you are absolutely right. You need a proper whipping. And I have thought about that: The cane is all very well and you will certainly be taking your strokes; but I am afraid dear that I want you to go and get the bath brush first. And take your belt an lay it down. I will have to tie you for today’s session.”
I hate the bath brush. Hannah recently purchased a new bath brush and I had not yet felt the effect of its 16 inches or its relatively small head. I was pretty certain it would hurt…a lot.
“So, darling,” said Hannah as I got into position at the end of the bed and she wrapped the belt around my wrists binding them to my ankles and buckling the belt in one, smooth, motion, “I have not been as strict as I had intended to be this year and here is the result. My lovely man trussed like a chicken and needing a serious whipping. Which you are about to get.”
With that, and no warm up I felt the bath brush crack down on my left cheek and then, almost instantly, my right and then back again. Five a side and then Hannah stopped. “Well, this is certainly noisy. I am just going to close the window. The neighbours don’t need to hear your punishment.”
I tried to catch my breath and just as I managed to Hannah started in again. Not quite so quickly, but with the same, agonizing force. “And this certainly makes your bottom a pretty red quite quickly.” I was twisting in my position. There was no escape and Hannah did not seem to be stopping.
“I know you hate the brush but, other than the noise, it is a lovely instrument. The cane always scares me a bit. It is too easy to break your skin which I don’t like to do accidentally. But I could do this for hours.” I heard her but now I was deep in that place where you have no choice but to meet the pain. Each blow sent a freshet of sensation through my bottom and deep into my brain. I was vocalizing with every stroke. I learned long ago not to fight the sensation but to try to embrace it. To understand that Hannah was punishing me because I deserved it and she loved me all the more for my submission.
The brush went on and on. “And fifty…” said Hannah putting down the brush where I would be able to see it as I was caned.
“Now, would you like to wait for the cane or do you want me to carry on?”
A nasty question. If I waited the pain would die back and I would have to walk back to the place where I could embrace my whipping. If Hannah carried on the pain would be just as intense but there would not be the recovery and relapse. “Please Miss, until you are satisfied.”
“Good choice, I was going to give you more if you took a break.”
I heard the cane swish through the air and expertly slash both cheeks. Where the brush had only hit one at a time, Hannah’s cane technique has improved to the point where each stroke lands with equal force on wither side. Before I really “felt” the first stroke she had landed five more and had switched sides. Her backhand strokes are a little less intense. Which at this point was a huge relief. Another half dozen and she returned to her forehand.
“Almost done darling. Just another dozen or so and then the crosses.” To say I was in agony is just the beginning of a description. I could feel my bottom throbbing and the bruising already was beginning. Hannah didn’t have to stroke hard at all to provoke my vocalizations. I was twisting in my belt but Hannah had pushed my knees far apart and I could not have flipped over for all the trying in the world. I was very close to tears.
“Crosses darling.” The worst. Hannah slashed three lines at forty five degrees to my cane lines. Where the cane met a welt I could feel a little blood blossom form. Three strokes forehand, then she switched to her back hand to reverse the angle.
“Done. You are very brave darling. But you needed every stroke of that. I am going to release you in a moment and I want you to go to your corner for a few minutes while you recover. No rubbing. Your skin is broken in a few places and I don’t want you to do any more damage. Now, what do you say?”
“Thank you for my whipping Miss…I love you.”
“Good boy…now go to your corner.” said Hannah handing me her very damp panties.