I have been entirely chaste, not even milked, for nearly two weeks. This is typical of the low end of Hannah’s, and therefore my, cycle. For a few days she has no interest at all in sex or teasing or my discipline. And, for a man in my position, that is simply the way it is. There is only one sexuality which matters in our house: Hannah’s and I have agreed to abide by that fact. But it is terribly frustrating and deliciously impossible to change.

However, last night, Hannah began to stir. She hinted at a blow job but fell asleep long before that was a possibility. I fell asleep erect and longing. “I’ll give you a spanking in the morning darling,” Hannah said as she drifted off. Which, of course, made me all the harder.

Hannah arrived in our bedroom as I was making our bed. We chatted for a little while and then she said, “So show me this new position.” I hastened to comply. Now that Hannah is enjoying swinging her cane with a degree of authority, it matters a great deal to me that each side of my bottom is evenly whipped. The last couple of whippings have, shall we say, favoured the right buttock which is the natural consequence of Hannah standing to my left. She can only bring the cane down by swinging forehand. The “new” position puts me on my knees at the bottom corner of the bed and at a 45 degree angle. Hannah saw the advantages of this new arrangement immediately.

“So all I have to do,” she said fastening my wrists to my ankles securely with my soft black leather belt, “is switch sides and use my backhand. Well, let’s see if that can work.” dominant wife

As Hannah spoke she was warming me up with a steady, hard, hand spanking. As Mrs. Spencer quite rightly points out, for a man even the hardest hand spanking delivered by a woman barely registers. A fact not lost on Hannah as she picked up her cane. She began forehand on my left and, as expected, my right cheek was soon warming and then hot. Hannah’s strokes were not particularly hard. This was a pure maintenance whipping and there is plenty of time for welts later in the month. A dozen and a half strokes in and Hannah was satisfied. She switched sides.

A revelation! Until now my right side has always taken the brunt of my whippings, maintenance or punishment. Now Hannah was able to even the punishment. The sweet sensation of her cane biting into my flesh, not terribly hard but constantly, was matched by the heat rising from my well lined right buttock. Hannah’s backhand whipping technique took a few strokes to come in. She was gauging the force of her strokes and it was only after half a dozen that she settled on what pleased her. All too soon, but not soon enough, it was over. Or was it? Hannah made no move to unbuckle my belt. I was in position.

She said nothing but stroked my bottom quite firmly as if assessing her work. Unsatisfied she stood back and delivered three harder forehand strokes and then, switching sides, three stiff backhand slashes. I winced at each of them but the short respite had given me time to collect myself and I did not vocalize or cry. In fact, now that my punishment was evened out, I could easily have taken another dozen hard strokes a side. Which is a great gift. Only then did Hannah release my wrists.

I managed to say “Thank you darling” before she got on with her day and I with mine. It is going to be an interesting few weeks.

Quick and to the point

dominant wifeThere is much to be said for ritual and confession and all the rest of the embellishments of discipline in a female led relationship. But there is nothing wrong with a good old fashioned spontaneous whipping to keep a man on his toes.

I was just coming out of my shower and was in a bit of a hurry to get to a business meeting.

“Not so fast dear. Bring me my cane and then take off your robe and put the belt on the bed.” said Hannah who had been reading a magazine on our bed.

I, of course complied. Naked, I knelt with my wrists at my ankles. Hannah was silent as she cinched the belt tight. No lecture, no scolding. Just a quick hand spanking to warm me up. I still had light bruises from my last whipping and Hannah’s hand stung more than usual.

When she was done she waited a moment and then took a couple of aiming strokes. Satisfied she began to bring the cane down with much more force. Not welting force but the steady tempo of her strokes and her thoroughness had me thrusting forward on my knees and pushing again my belted bonds. I didn’t count the strokes but it was certainly far more than a dozen. More like eighteen and maybe a few more. Hannah gradually increased the force of her strokes, delivering the last half dozen with great firmness.

Then, as quickly as she started, it was over. I felt her unbuckle my belt.

“Off to work you go my darling.” I heard her heels click down the hall as I lay quite still recovering my composure.

It is quite wonderful to be a man in my position.