Sorry for the delay between entries, but … I'm pregnant! I'm so excited.

With doctor's appointments and other things going on, new posts may be a bit slower for now. I'm putting up part 1 of an interview today, and before that, I wanted to give one tip for something I found really useful. 



Tom recently started his own business, which has been great except that we lost the health insurance he had through his work. We started off paying about $800 a month for not very good insurance through Esurance. I was looking up options that would be less expensive and saw one called Medi Share which is Christian healthcare.

We're now paying under $200 a month and everyone there is so nice. When you call up you talk with someone who actually seems happy to help and they ask if you would like to pray with them. Everything has worked so well with it.

This site on Medishare is the one I found on Google that talked about how it worked since it's different from other insurance plans. So I know it doesn't have anything to do with domestic discipline, but it's made a huge difference for us and that's why I'm putting it in the blog in case it can help other people too :)

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Like in my last spanked wife interview, Rachel and I met online and realized we had a lot in common, from being in a DD relationship to both teaching kindergarten. We chat now a couple of times a week, and her own domestic discipline situation has one interesting wrinkle! So I had to get her to give us the details :)

Me: Hi Rachel, thanks for doing this interview! Tell us about yourself.

Rachel: My pleasure, I've never done an interview before :)

Me: Tell us about yourself.

Rachel: I'm 26, recently married to a wonderful man, and about to start my second year as a kindergarten teacher. 

Me: You know the title of my blog Rachel. And you probably know what I'm going to ask you next :)

Rachel: Lol yes

Me: You're involved in a sort of spanking triangle right?

Rachel: OK, so my sister Lynn (she's 22) has been making a real mess of her life recently. I wanted to invite her in to live with us and get back on her feet. DH agreed but with one condition: she would be subject to the same rules and discipline that I am.

Me: So your sister could move in as long as he got to spank her for breaking the rules? And from the picture I saw of you guys, would you say these two look like you and your sister?

Rachel: Yes, well either of us would spank her for breaking the rules. And lol thanks, but I'm definitely not as pretty as that brunette! Lynn looks a lot like the blond girl though.

Me: OK so what did you tell your husband about spanking your sister?

Rachel: That it was a great idea. She's a nice girl but she can be pretty bratty and stubborn sometimes.

Me: Haha I know what you mean about sisters. What did she say when you sprung that on her?

Rachel: Well, like you Katie we were both spanked well into our teen years, so it probably wasn't as surprising to her as it would've been to most 22 year olds these days. She just kind of laughed it off and agreed, I mean she didn't really have much choice, and I think she thought it wouldn't come to much.



Me: Was she right about that?

​Rachel: ​No not at all! Since moving in, between my husband and I she's gotten her butt whipped with a belt, spanked with a hairbrush, paddled, and everything in between. Truth be told, I've really enjoyed correcting her attitude ... I just wish I could have done it when we were growing up :)

To be continued!

I talked before about a spanking memory I had with my mom, where she gave me a long session with her hairbrush for brattiness when I was 15. After a recent whipping from Tom, my mind went back to one of the last spankings I got growing up, this story involving my dad when I was 16.

​I had a strict curfew when I was a teenage girl. If I had permission to go out, I had to be back at home by 9 pm. Sometimes of course they let me stay out later, like if I had permission to spend the night at a friend's house. If I didn't get that permission though, it was 9 EXACTLY.

So one Thursday night I was out with one of my best friends. I wouldn't normally have been allowed to go out on a school night, but she had just gotten her driver's license and my parents eventually gave in and said I could go out for a short ride.

We were driving around playing music and laughing, having a good time. I don't know how, but I completely forgot about the time and she didn't drop me back off until close to 11. Walking to the door, I suddenly realized just what I had gotten myself into. 

Walking to the front door, I was just praying that one of them (most likely my dad) wouldn't be waiting for me when I got in. 



But as soon as I opened the door, my dad was instantly there. I froze. He hugged me and told me how worried he had been. That took me slightly by surprise and made me feel bad. I also thought for a moment that I actually had a chance of getting out of this one, even though I clearly deserved it. Satisfied that I was alive and healthy though, the questions started.

"Where did you go? Why did you stay out that late? Why didn't you at least call? And on a school night too!"

I had no good answers, and started crying when he told me to go to my room. He followed and when we got there he told me to bend over the bed. He raised the bottom of my dress over my back, and pulled up on my panties giving me a slight wedgie to expose more skin ... he always did that to give a thorough punishment without making me take down my panties in front of him.

I started crying even louder when I heard him unbuckle his belt. I looked back and started to say "No daddy please don't..." when he cut me off.

"I'm sorry, but no daughter of mine is going to have so little respect for the rules. Take your punishment now Katie. You're getting two dozen."

And with that, my terrible sentence had been handed down. Two dozen with the belt. I couldn't believe it. One dozen was bad enough but two dozen would be beyond bad. How was I possibly going to ...

Whooshing noise and instant pain. Then another three one right after the other. 

Let me tell you, I just howled to high heaven. Even screaming that loudly, I could still sense him moving farther to my left so that the belt would next slap the left side.

I tensed and then felt it explode into my butt four fast times. LASH LASH LASH LASH

I screamed even louder, pleading futilely with him to stop. I'm not sure how many times in my life I've been bent over a bed begging someone to stop spanking me, but this time I really meant it!

"Pleeeeeeease pleeeeeeeease pleeeeeeeeease..." 

He went right back to work at my right side, this time aiming lower and whipping my tender sit-spots and upper thighs. It was too much to handle. I jumped up and reached back, which was a big mistake as he pushed me back down against the bed and said the last two hadn't counted. I yelled "Noooooo" as he gave me two even harder ones at the top of my legs while I wailed in misery.

And that was just the halfway point.

You can imagine how I felt as he got ready to deliver the next set of four. I was bawling so hard I had no idea how I would take it. I had no choice though, it was completely up to him how long he wanted to whip me for. And I knew whether I liked it or not, another dozen was coming.

LASH LASH LASH LASH

I again wailed "Nooooooo" at the top of my lungs, and collapsed against the bed as he continued the next four licks on my other side. I cried and cried hysterically, the pain was so bad. There was no way I could take any more. I tried pleading again but the words wouldn't even come out. He gave the final four lashes as I continued bawling, far past the point where I thought I couldn't take any more.  

I collapsed on the floor, a sweaty tear-stained inconsolable mess. He leaned down to hug me and said, "Now there's a good girl, I don't want you to ever stay out past your curfew again, do you understand?"



"Yes sir I promise," I cried out through my hysterics.  

After about ten minutes of laying on my stomach crying, I finally made it to the bathroom and looked at my butt in the mirror. It was covered in bright red belt marks with raised welts.

The next day at school my first class was geometry. I sat down next to my friend from last night and winced painfully as I sat down. She smiled and said, "You too?"

She told me later that her mom had paddled her when she got back the night before. We had all the same classes together, and spent the whole day comforting each other and whining about how painful it was to sit :)    

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I just showed this post to Tom because he was asking me about the blog. He said, "Your dad really knew how to discipline you, it looks like I'll have to use the belt more often." Sigh ... I guess that is the price of my journalism!
​

While standing in the corner a few afternoons ago, I spent time thinking about whether I would post this hairbrush spanking story on the blog or whether it was just too embarrassing. I decided that the reader has the right to know :)

I've talked about my first domestic discipline spanking before, and the punishment he gave me with the brush. Most of my punishments recently though have been with his hand, the belt, or the spoon. 



Sunday was different. I had walked into our bathroom to get ready to go over to a neighbor's house to see the garden she had just planted. He was in there shaving after his shower, and asked me if I had done the laundry yet. I told him I'd do it as soon as I got back. Can you already tell where this story is going? :)

He told me that I would do it now. I childishly told him that I would do it when I got back. He said, "OK, that's it."

Cue the lightbulb over my head flashing what I had just gotten myself into.

He grabbed the brush from the bathroom counter, took me by the ear, and walked me over to the bed while I whined and complained. I was wearing a pair of his shorts (fancy Sunday attire!), and as soon as we got to the bed, he pulled them down and yanked me over his lap.

He started slapping my butt over the panties I still had on, hard and fast with his hand. I cried out. He must have given me at least three dozen and they hurt like heck.

Then he told me to stand up, pulled down my panties, and dragged me back over his lap. The warmup spanking over, he grabbed the brush and got down to business.

I heard the loudest splat before I felt the intense pain. Instantly there was another, and another ... this one on my upper left thigh! I had really thought the brush was better than the belt, but it sure didn't feel like it at that moment.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

He was just roasting my butt and upper thighs. Spanking faster and harder than normal, he wouldn't let up. There was no lecturing, no pauses, just hard swats up and down my butt and the tops of my thighs. As usual, I screamed hysterically and begged him, which (also as usual) did no good. 

Now I did not enjoy this spanking one bit, and like anytime a guy has you begging over his lap, it was embarrassing. But here was the wrinkle with this one. I've talked before about getting sweaty during spankings. So much twisting, wriggling, yelling, bucking and crying. By the time he had finished though, I was really sweating hard. More on this in a moment.

He eventually let me up, and sent me to the corner with my hands clasped behind my head. I dutifully obeyed, shuffling over with my panties and shorts at my ankles.  He told me I had 20 minutes there. 

I gently sobbed. My butt still hurt like crazy, and I was sure it was covered in red oval brush marks just like my poor upper thighs had to be. I also knew that I had sweated through the gray t-shirt I had been wearing. I even remembered then that I had forgotten to put on deodorant that morning ... I hate when that happens! 

I thought back to a time when something similar happened after one of my mom's whippings when I was 14 or 15.

​

Back then, she had commented after my corner time how sweaty I was, which was so embarrassing. The idea of my husband -- or any man -- seeing me like that was too much to bear. I came up with a plan. 

When he released me from the corner, I quickly dropped my arms so he couldn't see. He was having none of it though.

"Did I tell you that you could put your arms down young lady?"

He still had the brush in his hand, bent me over while holding me around the waist, and gave me half a dozen hard swats while I yelped and picked my legs up over and over in a little spanky dance. Those extra swats stung like crazy!

When he was done, he said, "Now let's try this again. Back in the corner."

When he released me for the second time five or ten minutes later, I stood in front of him with my arms still clasped behind my head. He lectured me about doing chores when I'm supposed to and not talking back, the entire time being able to clearly see the small pit stains where I had sweated through my shirt.



Even though he didn't say anything about it, I was totally humiliated. I just hung my head and cried during his lecture.

It was a good lesson though of a few things that, at this point in my life, I really shouldn't have needed any reminder of:

​1. Never talk back to Tom.
2. Always do my chores on time.
3. Don't forget to put on deodorant!

So there you have it. My single most embarrassing domestic discipline spanking to date!
​​

​Tom paddled me the other day.



When I was growing up, I never got the paddle. Maybe an occasional spanking when I was younger with a wooden ping pong paddle...

​But never a big scary paddle...

The only time I had gotten a brief dose of the paddle was in college. Our sorority was no longer supposed to have initiation paddlings, but there were still paddles in the sorority house from the old days. The older girls gave us all a few swats, much less than what I heard they got in the old days. It was more meant to be a fun tradition I guess, but boy did those hurt! I couldn't imagine what a real spanking with one would have been like.

Until a couple nights ago.

I'd had a bit of an attitude with Tom all week. Maybe I just wanted him to put his foot down and spank me. If so I got my wish. He got this long Amazon package, and I was instantly wondering. I'm usually the one who does the Amazon orders. But I knew better than to open it.

When he came home from work, I asked him.

"I'm glad you asked," he said with a smile.

I immediately smelled trouble. He went into the kitchen and opened it while I followed along. And he pulled out a paddle! A big, scary wood paddle. 

I admit I was pretty shocked. I then asked the single most obvious question in history:

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Your attitude has been all wrong recently, Katie. We're going to correct that right now. Bend over the sofa."

I stammered and pleaded with him not to, but he just pointed the paddle toward the couch. I slowly walked over. I was wearing jeans and bent over the arm of the sofa, now whimpering and starting to beg him not to. I was really scared at that point.

I couldn't see him with my butt in the air and face just above the cushions, but I felt the movement.

SWAT

It made the loudest sound. I jumped up, grabbed my butt, and shouted "OWWW."

"Bend back over right this minute," he said.

I slowly complied, and he gave me another. It was just as terrible. I yelled out loudly but somehow stayed in position this time.  

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT

He gave me at least a dozen, each one horribly bad and causing me to yell out loud. It was a deep, intense pain. By the seventh or eighth swat I was screaming and really sweaty. By the time he got to the last one, I was completely hysterical.

I should have predicted what would come next, but even so I couldn't believe it when I heard the words:

"Now pull those pants down young lady."

"Please," I begged him. "I know my attitude's been terrible, I'm so sorry, but please please please no more."

But even as I said it I was pulling my jeans down. I knew resisting would only make it worse ... he never lets me get out of punishments. I had my jeans down just below my butt when he grabbed them, pulled them all the way down, and then did the same with my panties. I very slowly bent over, still crying.

He stepped back and I gritted my teeth.



SWAT SWAT SWAT

If I thought it was bad over jeans, it was sheer agony on the bare. My butt must have already been crimson, and now he was determined not to let me up until it was blistered. There was probably around ten seconds between swats, time I spent in total fear dreading the next one. I was sure I couldn't take anymore when he paddled even lower on my butt, swatting the tops of my thighs too. 

It was just too much to handle. I collapsed on my knees in front of the sofa arm. He told me that that would have been the last one, but now I was getting more. I cried even harder, forcing myself to assume the position one more time, and he gave me a particularly hard one ... again targeting the base of my butt and upper legs. And then another one. I was in inconsolable hysterics.

It probably took at least a minute for me to realize he had stopped.

He let me cry and then came around and hugged me. I was a sweaty, tear-stained mess, still crying loudly. I desperately craved his comfort. He told me that from now on I was going to act right and have a good attitude and I kept on saying "yes" over and over.

I have to admit, it was very powerful discipline and really made me get my act together. Getting your butt paddled is no fun!


​

​

On Sunday, Tom gave me corner time for rolling my eyes at him. I can't stand corner time but mainly just felt lucky he didn't take spank me for it :) Here's the thing though: While he was lecturing, he started off by calling me "Missy."



As in "You go to that corner right now Missy!"

And suddenly I had a vivid memory of a spanking I got for rolling my eyes when I was a girl. My mom almost always called me Missy when she was punishing me. That was close to a sure fire way of knowing that I was getting my butt spanked, hearing that word coming from my Mom's normally soft voice. ​

(My mom looked just like the woman on the right when she was younger ... she's so beautiful!)

​When I had just turned 15, I was going through kind of a bratty stage and she had warned me a lot about rolling my eyes at her. That day I had just done it again, probably for no good reason, and she gave me several hard swats over my pajama bottoms and told me that if I did it again I'd be in for a real spanking. Obviously, that would have been a good time not to roll my eyes.

But what do I do right then? Roll my eyes again! I really didn't mean to. I'll bet I hold the world record for the girl who has gotten the biggest number of totally preventable spankings. Someone call Guinness :)

I don't think Mom could believe I disobeyed her like that immediately after she told me to stop rolling my eyes. 

Cue the Missy. I think it was something like:

"Alright Missy, we'll do it your way. You stay right there and we'll sort this out with the brush."

I instantly begged her not to. "Please Mom, I'm sorry, please don't spank me," but she had already made up her mind and came back a moment later carrying the dreaded oval wooden hairbrush. We were in my room and I knew that soon my dad and brother would be hearing my screams and pleas. It was so embarrassing.

She shut the door, sat down on the bed, and demanded I turn over her lap.

Already crying, I positioned myself over her lap, and she started giving me quick hard swats with the brush. 

SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP

Each swat stung really bad, and I was crying for real, but I was also really glad that my pants were still up. Dad's whippings were much worse. Still, she was going at a fast pace, and soon it became really bad. I started crying louder and begging her to stop. I got my wish, but not quite in the way I had in mind.

"Alright Missy, stand up now and pull down those pants."

"NOOOOO, please Mom let me keep them up." 

"I said now Missy!"

I stood up and slowly pulled down the pajama bottoms, She just gave me a stern look while I stood there. I knew what she wanted, but couldn't bring myself to do it. 

"Young lady, if you do not pull down those panties this minute, I'm going to make it a lot worse."

Sobbing at full volume, I slowly pulled down my panties, knowing how bad she could make it if I disappointed her.

Mom nodded in approval and pulled me back over her lap. The first spank on the bare had me howling. It was far from my first time at the rodeo, but for some reason I still couldn't believe the pain. I'm sure that it left a bright red oval mark on my butt. I screamed loudly. While I was still processing the pain, the next swat landed and I screamed even louder. It was terrible. She quickly found her rhythm and gave me one hard spank every couple of seconds.



I yelled so loudly and pleaded with her to stop, but she kept spanking. On and on her strict discipline went, ignoring my loud bawling.

She then pulled the same trick that Tom does so often. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more and it was slowing down, she started right back up ... this time on my upper thighs!

I went into absolute hysterics, bawling at the top of my lungs, while she punished that super-sensitive region.

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT

This phase of the spanking was unbearably bad, I still remember today how miserable I was. Nothing stings and burns as bad as an angry mother slapping your upper thighs over and over with a hairbrush!

Then she gave me at least a dozen more, alternating between butt and thighs, while I just sobbed brokenly over her lap. Of course, when I had no resistance left she stopped punishing me, and instead leaned down and hugged me.

After I had some time to compose myself, she softly touched hair that had fallen on my tear-stained face and said, "I'm sorry I had to do that Katie, but you needed to learn a good lesson about respect. I don't think you'll be rolling your eyes at me again. Do you understand?"

I said "Yes" through my tears and hugged her desperately.

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Tom and I have haven't told anyone in our families about domestic discipline,  But maybe I'll tell my mom. I think she would be supportive of something that had strengthened our marriage so much. She might smile, too, knowing that I still had someone to keep my in line when my bratty side came out :)

As a girl, there was nothing that got me begging quicker than a whipping from Dad. It turns out that a domestic discipline whipping isn't much better...

I’d just opened the box as I heard my husband pulling up in the driveway. I tore open the Amazon delivery and pulled back the lid of the shoe box inside. My hands fumbled over the tissue paper that covered the perfect pair of Christian Louboutin heels.

With barely a second to admire the most gorgeous shoes I had ever owned, I ran upstairs with the shoe box before Tom reached the door.



I stashed them in our master bedroom closet, inside one of the suitcases that I then pushed mostly back onto a high shelf. I heard the door open, and he called out to greet me.

“Oh, hey, honey,” I replied. I came down the stairs too slowly, as if I hadn’t just spent my whole paycheck on a pair of extravagant shoes. It was so stupid. Breaking his rules, spending way way too much. I really don't know what I had been thinking, I'm not normally like that. And I was about to compound it by lying to him.

He eyed me for a moment, and somehow I felt like he could see the guilt on my face. 

“How was work?” I asked, as I pulled my hair into a pony tail.

“Pretty good, thanks.” He pointed to the box on the kitchen island. “What’d you get from Amazon?”

“Oh, um, just some stuff for the house.” I said. Shoes should count as a household expense, right? :)

He crossed his arms.

“What kind of ‘stuff'?”

“You know, stuff we needed...”

I trailed off. It was then that I noticed he was holding a white slip of paper behind his back. I could just make out the corner of white paper peeking out from behind his suit jacket.

He grabbed my arm, and headed towards a kitchen chair.

“What are you doing?!”

“Missy, you know exactly what I’m doing. You need a reminder of the rules, and you need that reminder over my lap.”

He pulled me over his suit pants. I was wearing thin yoga pants, which sucked. Not that jeans would have offered much protection. 

My butt was already squirming over his lap, even though he’d yet to start spanking me. His hand waved around over my posterior, and I tried to sway away and avoid the inevitable start of discipline.

“Rule one,” he said in a firm tone. “No backtalk.”

SWAT!

Even though I braced myself for it, I cried out. It felt like it was on my bare butt, and the spot radiated heat like fire.

“No Disrespect.”

SWAT!

“No lying.”

SWAT!

“No Over-Spending!”



I tensed my butt and thighs for the impending swat, but then I fearfully realized that he was pulling my pants down.

“Bring me your wooden spoon,” he said.

“Nooo, I don’t want to. I learned my lesson.”

“If you don’t get me the wooden spoon, I will use my belt.”

Yikes. That was a real conversation stopper, and you can probably see why...

He began fiddling with the buckle, which made me grab the long wooden spoon from the kitchen in just a blink of an eye. He took the spoon from my hand and pulled me back over his lap.

“Now,” he ran the back of the spoon over my naked butt and thighs, focusing on the bright red areas. “We were reviewing your rules. And the fourth rule is what?”

​“No, over spending,” I muttered.

SWAT!

“Ow, I said no over spending!”

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT
SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT 

By this point I was crying heavily. The spoon was small which at the moment felt like the stingiest possible implement. I reached back and felt the beginning of welts, and he swatted my open hand.

“No rubbing!”

“But it stings! And why shouldn’t I buy nice shoes?” The dumb question leaped from my mouth before I could stop it. Even though my butt and upper thighs were already crimson.

Tom didn’t say anything at first. He just took me by the ear and pulled me into a corner. My mascara smeared on the wall and the stinging on my butt and thighs intensified like fruit ripening.

I was still facing the corner, hoping that the spanking was done, but knowing in the pit of my stomach that it wasn’t. Minutes passed, and then I heard the worst possible sound: The jingling of his belt buckle unclasping. My head turned toward him, hoping that I’d misheard.

“Did I tell you that you could turn around?”

“No,” I whimpered.

I felt the belt’s lick of fire on my upper left thigh, and jumped from the heat of it.

“No what?!”

“No, sir,” I corrected myself.

“Now, you have shown me that you are feeling so bratty that neither my hand, nor the wooden spoon are enough to get you under control today. Let’s see if you feel differently about a dozen with the belt.”

He took me by the ear and bent me over the sofa with a hard hand swat. Just as I started whining from that, it began.

LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH LASH

“Please stop, I’ll do anything! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have bought the shoes!”

As my punishment continued, every lick stung even more than the last. I screamed in agony each time the belt whipped my sensitive skin, and begged him incoherently to stop.

By the time I’d counted out twelve, I could barely stand because of crying so hard. My butt and thighs were absolutely on fire.  But I didn’t dare to even so much as turn my head back to see if he was finished.

“Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”

I fought the urge to squirm and rub. It took every ounce of my remaining energy to stand somewhat still in the corner.



“I think we need to make sure you’ve learned your lesson. Half an hour of corner time. And if I come in and see you doing anything besides standing still with your nose touching that corner, you’ll get at least another dozen with the belt.”

I heard him drop the belt on the ground beside me and felt so embarrassed as I stood in the corner for half an hour, desperate to rub my welts.

But when he eventually came back in, he handed me a fresh pair of pajamas, and told me he loved me. He hugged me, wiped my mascara-streaked face, and told me he was so glad that I had really learned my lesson.

Of course, I had to send the shoes back. But even if I had kept them, they would have only reminded me of getting my butt so thoroughly whipped. Come to think of it, maybe telling him that would have gotten him to let me keep the shoes after all :)

Everything was so blissful in the early days.

We were always together, kissing each other, riding bikes, going for long drives with no place we needed to be. Sometimes we made fun of other couples who fought. That probably doesn't sound nice, but we couldn't imagine not getting along. Being young and married to the one you love ... what more did life have to offer?

Things didn't change overnight. 



It began a year or so in with occasional bickering. Things that would have never been an issue before suddenly turned us against each other, even if just temporarily. I blew up at him one night for staying out too late at a poker game. He yelled at me for spending too much. 

One day I realized that something had to change or things would only get worse. I came across the idea of domestic discipline for the first time when I was Googling "how to make your relationship better." It was a second page hit, I don't even know why I clicked at first, because it sounded crazy that I would go back to getting spanked. I dismissed it.

Things weren't getting better though. While I don't believe that men should be in control of everything, I started thinking more about my childhood. 

​I hated getting punished, but it always made for a fresh start. My parents weren't mad at me anymore. I got an emotional release that helped me move on. Everything went back to normal.

I brought the idea up with Tom. I was nervous and just told him about it like it was something interesting I read on the internet. He didn't say much at first, and then I blurted it out: 

"I think we should try you being in charge and punishing me when I mess up."

"You want me to spank you?" He was clearly surprised now.

"I don't know," I said. "I just want to try something to make us happy again."

He said he needed to think about it. A week went by and I thought that was it. Then one day I was reading on the sofa and he handed me a piece of paper. I asked him what it was and he told me to just read it. It was a list of rules. I still have it ... he almost always types and I smile when I see his hand-writing here :)

"So you want to..." I said.

He nodded. "I expect you to follow these from now on."

Part of me was thrilled. Part of me wondered if he would actually follow through. But I said nothing. 

I didn't consciously plan to disobey. But the wondering what would happen just intensified. I felt nervous and excited at the same time.

That night at dinner, I said out of nowhere that something was "Bullshit." I don't remember what. And I very rarely use bad words, I'm not sure why he even put that on his list, I must have just said it to get the reaction. He put down his fork and looked at me. And that's when I did it.

"Oh, what are you gonna do, spank me like a 10 year old for saying a swear word?"

And that is exactly what he did.

He walked over, took me firmly by the arm, and led me to the bedroom. 

"Stay here," he commanded.

I was really scared. I realized I had taken it too far, and I just wanted it to end. He couldn't actually spank me...

He came back holding my hairbrush, an oval Mason Pearson brush my mom gave me years ago, and told me to pull down my jeans.



I started fumbling an apology but he just said "Now" very sternly. I somehow managed to get my jeans off with nervous fingers. He took me by the ear (doesn't hurt any less as an adult!) as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me over his lap.

I was nervous and had no idea what to expect. He started off spanking me by hand. I yelped with the first swat. He kept on going with fast swats for at least a minute while I made inane exclamations like "Ow stop it!" a lot. 

"That really hurt," I complained when he stopped. And it had, although not nearly as bad as a spanking from my father had. I started to get up but his hand was still pushing me down. 

"That was only the beginning. You were rude and disrespectful, and you're going to regret that by the time we're through."

I started to protest when he lifted me up slightly and pulled down my panties. I protested in shock. He ignored me, picked up the brush, and slapped it down on my right cheek. 

SWAT. 

I screamed. I hadn't been spanked since I was about 14, and I couldn't believe the pain. Just when it was sinking in, he slapped the other side just as hard.

I panicked and started begging him to stop.

"No no please it hurts too much, I'll be good I'll be good..."

But he just kept on spanking.  

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT 

I yelled and yelled, incapable of believing anything could hurt so much. He was going at a slow and steady pace, maybe one swat every two seconds, and showed no signs of letting up. It hurt so much, the sting was just incredible. I continued begging him, tried to twist my body out of it, I was absolutely frantic. I would have done anything to get out of the agony he was putting my butt through. 

But he just kept spanking. Sometimes he would lecture me, saying things like "You will not be disrepectful" and punctuating every syllable with a new swat, punishing areas he had already so thoroughly disciplined. I was yelling so loud.

Then he started going lower, slapping my tender sit spots and thighs. I just completely lost it.

"NOOOOOOOOOO" I cried continuously.

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT

I thought it was bad before, but these were just shockingly painful. I was bawling uncontrollably, making incoherent pleading noises, no longer even slightly in control. 

I couldn't believe how strict this man had become. I continued my hysterical yelling as he just punished and punished, slapping the brush all over now, both butt and thighs. 

OWWWWWIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I was yelling incoherently, long ago I thought I couldn't take any more, but had no choice. He was completely in control. I wailed and wailed, and then completely gave up.

And that was when he stopped.

I was still in hysterics but at some point I realized it was over, and he leaned down and hugged me while I was still over his lap. My mascara was completely smeared, my face was covered in tears, my hair was a mess. 

I don't know how long I stayed hysterical while he comforted me. When I looked at my butt in the mirror later, there was no hiding how thorough the punishment was. My butt and upper thighs had been spanked crimson. 

But he was so loving and affectionate with me after. He hugged me and kissed me and told me how much he loved me and that everything was going to be so much better. I fell asleep that night with the most wonderful feeling, that this man who loved me so much would take such complete control. Everything was going to be right.