The Morning After

My wife began spanking me two years ago. She had asked me twice to wash the dishes. I kept repeating: "In a minute dear," but kept loafing in bed, reading sports magazines. Finally, my wife silently entered the bedroom in her soft flowery nightgown and got into bed. As we both nodded off, we began to cuddle. She is so beautiful. I love her hips and her bottom and her auburn eyes. I was almost asleep when I thought she murmured, "There will be a new regime tomorrow morning. We're going to discuss your not helping enough, and then I'm going to discipline you.”

This woke me up. I wondered if she'd put me over her lovely, maternal lap and spank me. If she did, I would be easily overpowered, because I'm smaller than her. "But . . .," I turned to her, but she was fast asleep.

The next morning, I awoke with the room suffused in light. The windows were open and the curtains were blowing. My wife was sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching me intently. She looked so lovely wearing her long string of Indian beads. "I thought I'd let you sleep in, so you'd be rested and mindful of why I'm going to spank you. You have not been pitching in with the chores, Carl. What's the problem?"

I looked at her dumbfounded. I thought it had just been a dream.

"I thought so. You were too wrapped up in being self-centered to even know how displeased I am. I'm going to give you a good spanking with my hand and then this Victorian brush. You need a mother's love and discipline, and I intend to provide it to you once a week, naughty or not." 

She very gently took my arm. I hesitated. She said: "You know I love you." I nodded. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. "And you know you're powerless against me physically. I can pin you in two minutes." It was true. My friends used to kid me about how diminutive I looked standing beside her at barbecues. My reverie was interrupted when my wife shimmied her beautiful body back against the headboards and patted her lap. I laid across it submissively. 

"Let's see," she began, and carefully positioned my bottom, now poised for her discipline, to optimize aim and velocity. "You have such a spankable round bottom! I used to love patting your behind when we were standing around at picnics with our friends." She pulled back her hair and clamped it with a clip behind her. She smelled of jasmine.

The hand spanking began very lightly, like feathery caresses, not at all unpleasant and gradually increased until I started to feel slightly warm--then in minutes, very warm. Oddly, I felt loved more than any time in my life. She softly reproached me for my behavior as the spanks got louder and louder. She announced, after 10 minutes, that my bottom was now a very bright pink. She rubbed and scratched it. The blissful feeling was over, and I felt the nerve endings on my bottom jump, retract and pucker. I struggled but she held me firmly in place.

She picked up her brush and spanked at a menacing pace. I writhed like mad. The brush made a 'Tick-Tick-Tick' sound. She said, "I don't like doing this." Tick-Tick-Tick. The spanks were expertly delivered across my entire bottom and my thighs. To my great embarrassment, bereaved snuffles from me became undignified cries. "I'm sorry!"

"Good boy. I want to hear you cry. I want you to become innocent as a baby and dependent under my discipline and care. Then I want to spank you some more. I'm going to spank my authority into your sweet, round bottom. Now, hold very still, sweetie. Can you show mommy how good you can be?"

"Yes," I wept.

She spanked very hard and fast across my cheeks and thighs for another minute. I was howling. Suddenly, it was over. She cupped her hand on my bottom, then gave it a deep massage. She put her glasses on and reached for some lotion on an end-table and kneaded it in. I cooed when I heard the squirt and felt the cold lotion cool the fire. Finally, she let me up and stood me up in front of her. Our eyes met. They were wet with tears. "You will do your chores from now on." I wept and nodded. She held me and I found myself cloying tenderly at her face. 

"Now" she said moments later. You are confined to your bed for the rest of the day. If you get up, you will get a hand spanking. Tonight, we shall discuss the new regime together. Tomorrow you will clean out the garage and boat. Remember, I love you and discipline is an expression of that love." She tucked me in and kissed me good morning or, rather, goodnight. Then she sashayed out of the room with her glasses dangling from her hand and removed the clamp to let her red hair fall down. I lay in the light with my tears and wept from time to time about things of little consequence. She left the hairbrush behind on the bed with me.