Part One of a spanking story based on a real domestic discipline and corporal punishment role plays I do with some of my clients. The basic premise of the script is their idea. They choose to play the errant husband who wants to be punished by their sister-in-law for taking their wife for granted… or very similar variations on that theme… Contains adult themes, over-the-knee (OTK) bare bottom hand spanking, caning, corner time, behavior correction, humiliation, coercion, sexism and forced cross-dressing.
‘All of it!’ I said sternly, as he struggled to swallow another large mouthful of gloopy, cold porridge. Paul, a lean but muscular man in his 40’s, loosened his imported grey & cream silk tie and looked up at me sullenly from his seat at the kitchen table. He ran a hand through his cropped walnut hair with perfectly manicured fingers and wrinkled his nose in distaste. He stared up at me, an unspoken protest in his hazel eyes and a crimson frustration on his pale white cheeks but chewed on with silent determination.
Out there, in the corporate world, he was a manager. He was the type who was so self assured he never questioned his entitlement to bark orders, have others run his errands and to plonk himself down in the most comfortable seat without a thought for anyone else. He was used to having others do as he told them.
Here he obeyed me. He didn’t dare not to.
‘Fifty chews before each swallow,‘ I ordered him, ‘I want you to meditate on each mouthful and remember how you got yourself into this situation.’
He sighed heavily but obediently spooned another mouthful of claggy oats into his mouth and began chewing resentfully. The sound of his rhythmic munching matched the ticking of the gilded clock on the wall above his head. I counted in a clipped tone to ensure he knew I meant exactly what I had said. 50 chews. No more, no less.
Two springy rattan canes rested on the bench in front of him reminding him of what was to come. One junior cane, 8mm in diameter and 60cm long for so-called lighter strokes and one senior cane at 10 mm thick, 80cm long, heavy enough to make a decent impact on the flesh that one would not forget in a hurry.
Paul couldn’t get out of the punishment but how many cuts he received, depended on how well he took the rest of his discipline and how satisfied I was that he had learned his lesson.
I ran my palms down the thighs of my fitted skirt to straighten out imaginary wrinkles, cleared my throat in a prim, lady-like manner and leaned down towards him. My cream shirt, though buttoned sensibly did little to hide my large round breasts. Nothing I wore ever managed to hide them. They just rebelliously protruded with alarming regularity.
‘After each mouthful is swallowed I want you to say, “I will never be ungrateful for my wife’s cooking again”, do you understand me?‘ I ordered in a calm, no nonsense tone. ‘Your wife has sent you to me to correct the behavior that is destroying your relationship and you will not leave here until I am convinced your behavior is permanently corrected’.
He nodded, chewed for a little longer, swallowed and repeated quietly, ‘I will never be ungrateful for my wife’s cooking again’.
‘Loud and clear please, say it again so I can hear you properly’.
He blushed, an internal struggle on his face as he felt the injustice of his position.
I bent down to pick up the junior cane and flex it provocatively. ‘It seems you are not taking this seriously Paul. Perhaps you need six of the best to motivate you? Stand up, drop your trousers’.
His eyes widened in protest, ‘But I did what you said!’ he complained.
‘Why are you arguing with me? Is that doing as I say?’ I said with one raised eyebrow. ‘Need I remind you that you agreed to this Paul? It is unconventional marriage therapy but extremely effective. You need to convince me you are thoroughly reformed before your wife, my sister, will take you back. The more you resist, the longer this will take… and the redder your bottom will be. I suggest you do not keep me waiting’.
He visibly swallowed the words he longed to say, this educated man used to having his own way… Used to having female personal assistants do his bidding… Used to taking his wife for granted in a million little ways…
I calmly stared him down until he complied. He stood up, pushed the wooden chair back making a dramatic scraping sound against the pristine white tiles and began fumbling with the clasp on his back leather belt.
‘Look is this really necessary? Can’t you just cane me over my pants?‘ his embarrassment at being treated like a naughty little boy causing his voice to crack a little.
‘You do realise that delaying will do nothing to get you out of this Paul?‘ I replied ignoring his discomfort.
The strap will adjust your attitude
He sighed heavily again and removed the belt entirely, folding it neatly on the table beside him and then when he could find nothing else left to delay the matter, he reluctantly dropped his perfectly creased, pinstriped pants. He stood there looking at me, waiting for his next instruction.
I let the corner of my mouth curl in the hint of a satisfied smile. I leaned back, arms folded across my breasts and looked at the image before me. Paul still had his crisp white office shirt and pinstriped vest on, his tie loosened around his neck but his pants made an appealing pool around his ankles and shiny, black polished shoes. He looked distractingly appealing in those gray cotton briefs. He was an attractive man.
He would make a beautiful husband for my sister Clara if he could only be taught to respect women. He was single child whose mother had doted on him and he took his wife’s efforts in their relationship for granted as a result. His attitude was also causing problems amongst the female staff at work.
What it came down to is that he was spoilt. I am a firm believer that it is never too late to take a man over my knee and give him a sound spanking. Strict discipline is thoroughly under-rated in today’s politically correct world. I had seen my sister suffering in her relationship with Paul and eventually she became so exasperated that she came around to my way of thinking. We had put our heads together to plot a way to get Paul the behavior correction he so clearly needed.
‘Since this is your first ever corporal punishment experience Paul, we will begin with a thorough hand spanking to warm up your flesh. This is a kindness on my part for which you should be grateful.
He just stood there silently.
‘When someone is kind to you Paul, it is polite to say thank you’.
‘Thank you,‘ he mumbled.
‘Thank you who?‘ I asked?
He just looked confused.
‘Thank you Ma’am,‘ I instructed. ‘For the remainder of our time together you will always refer to me as ma’am to remind you of your place’.
‘Yes… Yes, ma’am,‘ he said not sure if I was joking of not. He would soon discover I was deadly serious.
Fetch me that chair,‘ I said pointing to the one he had previously occupied.
He complied, turning to give me a lovely view of his perfectly formed buttocks as he shuffled across the floor compensating for the fact that his pants were playing the part of shackles around his ankles.
He placed the chair in the centre of the room and stood back to give me access. His full attention was on me. This was an improvement from his usual oblivious selfishness.
Your bottom will smart for a week!
I, took my suit jacket off and hung it neatly over the back of the chair and sat down, straight backed and proper. I rolled up my shirt sleeves, adjusted my pearl necklace and slid my skirt up a little to make myself more comfortable. As I did so, a little more of my nylon clad thighs became visible. I pretended not to notice and patted my leg.
“Lean over my lap Paul. Place yourself so your bottom is in easy reach of my right hand’.
‘Yes who?‘ I purred dangerously.
‘Yes Ma’am,‘ He quickly corrected himself and awkwardly tried to lay himself over my lap. I had to grasp his waist firmly and pull him closer to me to ensure he did not fall off.
This is for your own good you know Paul,‘ I said leaning forward and neatly pulling down his underwear to expose his pale round bottom.
‘Now look here,‘ said Paul wriggling himself free and standing up indignantly, ‘ I have agreed to submit to your unusual methods because it is the only way that I can get my wife back, but you are her sister! My sister in law! I have to see you at Christmas dinners and social events! I did not not agree to be humiliated like this! It is just not right that you pull down my underwear!’
‘You did agree to do whatever it takes to convince me you are worthy of Clara, Paul. She is my little sister and looks up to my opinion in these matters. If I tell her you are contrite and truly sorry then she will give you another chance.
However, you are right, you do not have to go ahead. You can leave at any time.‘ I said picking up my mobile phone and searching for Clara’s number. I soon found her plump smiling face in amongst my contacts. Her deceptively cherubic face framed by neat blonde hair tied back in a sensible ponytail.
‘Look!’ I said holding up the phone so he could have a good look at her image. Her large soft eyes, porcelain skin and impressive cleavage reminding him how much she meant to him.
Elegantly perverted Mistress Artemisia de Vine
She was definitely my sister! We looked very much alike. We both sported womanly curves, and a mature sort of attractiveness, though I was a little taller and 3 years older. She was 35 now and running out of time to have children. She needed her husband to grow up so he could become good father material. Something he clearly wasn’t going to be capable of if he was still acting like a child himself.
‘We can video call her right now and tell her you’ve called the whole thing off if you would prefer,’ I said matter-of-fact.
I pressed dial before he could answer and his eyes widened. The phone took a moment to register and then began to ring.
One… then two rings…
‘No dont call her! Just give me a minute! Can’t we be reasonable about this?‘ He pleaded, trousers still around his ankles.
I just continued to hold the phone so he could clearly see it was still ringing while I calmly stared him down. We both knew she could answer at any second.
‘Ok! I’ll do it! Just hang up. I’ll do as you say.‘ he conceded desperately.
‘Yes you will,’ I smiled smugly, enjoying his consternation, and clicked the red disconnect button with my thumb. ‘And for making such a fuss I have decided it will be two sets of six cane strokes. Now quickly, stop wasting my time, bend over my lap’.
‘Yes… Ma’am’, he said remembering the Ma’am part just in time.
I tapped my foot impatiently on the tiles and nodded towards my thighs. “Assume the position then. Quick smart.”
He reluctantly complied, a look of disbelief that this was actually happening on his face.
Once he was firmly back in place, I sat there silent for just a moment, letting the anticipation build. Paul had never been spanked in his life, let alone caned. I was going to thoroughly enjoy breaking in his virgin bottom.
The stinging slap echoed through the kitchen, bouncing off the neat rows of china dishes and spice jars. Paul jolted.
I remained silent and waited, letting the sensation sink in… Letting the uncertainty of my next move build in his mind…
‘How many spanks will there be Ma’am?‘ he asked.
‘I think three rounds of three minutes each. Each round will get a little firmer than the last until you are well and truly red and sore. I will see if I think you need more at the end of that’.
‘Is that a lot Ma’am?‘ he asked, trying not to word his question in a way that would not provoke me further.
‘It is a light-average warm up. Since this is your first time receiving this sort of discipline we will need to see how you bottom responds and proceed accordingly’.
I reached my hand into my jacket pocket, and retrieved an egg timer. I then leaned down and placed it in front of Paul on the floor. ‘When the sand runs out we will stop for a break’.
Slap! My cupped hand delivered another stinging blow, this time to his right buttock. My hand print showed red against his snowy cheek.
Slowly at first I delivered a rhythmic succession of firm but not extraordinarily hard thwacks. First one buttock and then the other… Paul was doing his best to take this alien experience with a manly stoicism.
No nonsense discipline
Smack! Smack! Smack! I leisurely treated each cheek to equal treatment, pausing between each sharp slap to let Paul fully absorb the sensation. He took his first ever hand spanking in stiff silence with his eyes fixed on the grains tumbling through the narrow necked egg timer. Eventually the last granule slipped through and I ceased my first round.
Paul’s muscles relaxed and slumped forward. I made a mental note. We would need to work on his posture too but for now he had taken his punishment well.
‘Very good Paul. We are beginning to get somewhere. Two more rounds of that and then we will begin in earnest’.
He grunted but did not reply. I gave his bottom a good rub since his hands were occupied holding himself up. I generously kneaded for a good minute and then remembering how he had showed so little consideration for Clara, abruptly decided that was enough molly coddling.
‘Ok, now for round two’.
This time I did not wait for him to brace himself. I just began a steady drumming against his flesh. Faster this time and quite a lot harder. He began to curl up on his toes, clench his buttocks and holding his breath but not making a sound.
Amused at his inexperience, I noticed how he was making things more difficult for himself. ‘It will hurt less if you remember to breath and relax your muscles Paul,’ I said over the top of stinging spanks. He didn’t pay any attention, too overwhelmed by the painful indignity he was being subjected to to comprehend what I was saying. I just shrugged and continued to lay into his pretty flesh.
I steadily built the intensity as the punishment wore on. By the end of two minutes he was twisting his hips slightly to get away from each blow. As we got closer to three he began letting out involuntary grunts with each blow.
‘Ten seconds to go I said turning the heat up even further with a volley of smarting spanks. I heard his gasp and he begin to wiggle as his composure started to slip.
Five more seconds… 4… 3… 2… 1…
His breath was a valve letting out bottled up steam as I stopped hitting him and gave his bottom another rub. He slumped in momentary relief.
‘Do you remember why you are receiving this discipline Paul?‘
‘Yes Ma’am, for disrespecting my wife Ma’am’. He said breathing faster than usual.
‘Yes that is correct, what was it you said about her cooking again?‘ I said reaching down into my briefcase and removing a printed out email.
‘I… I can’t remember exactly,’ more than a hint of nervousness in his voice.
‘Let me remind you then shall I?,” I said using his back like it was my desk. ‘You said, her champignon chowder was as flavorless as porridge. Apparently your work colleagues found this rather amusing. You all got a jolly laugh at her expense after she slaved away over a hot stove all afternoon for you. Isn’t that right?’
‘Well yes when you put it that way it does sound rather bad. I was just trying to get a laugh. Lighten the tension you know. It was important for the business deal’.
‘Is the business deal so important that you would sacrifice your Clara’s dignity to seal it?‘ I asked deceptively mildly.
‘Ah no, I guess not’.
‘She also has a full time job you know and yet every evening she comes home and cooks dinner for you both while you loosen your belt in front of the TV with your feet on the coffee table. She goes to all the trouble of cooking a lovely meal for your work colleagues to help you seal the deal you so desperately want and all you can do is humiliate her by publicly making her the butt of a joke. A joke in poor taste at that. What do you have to say for yourself?’
‘Well, in my defense it really was a bland chowder,‘ he argued missing the point entirely.
I sighed, ‘ It looks as though I will need to clear my calendar for the rest of the week. You are such a slow learner that we may need to repeat this process every evening until you finally understand the gravity of your behavior and how it is destroying your marriage’.
‘Look I am sorry. I do get it. It wasn’t a nice thing to say. I will take care not to be so flippant in future,‘ Paul quickly corrected himself.
‘Hmmm… we’ll see,‘ I responded in a voice clearly unconvinced, running my fingers along the fold creases of the email.
It seems this problem is a lot deeper than just one incident though isn’t it. There is a real pattern of behavior that needs correcting from the foundation up. Clara has some other complaints. Let’s see what they are shall we?’
Paul shifted nervously, still awkwardly draped across my lap.
‘1. Laziness at home.
- Not following instructions when asked to help
- Being ungrateful, especially about cooking
- Being too consumed by your work and yourself
- Demanding intimate relations
‘My, my Paul, this does seem to be a deep seated problem doesn’t it. I want to you think about these complaints and how you can improve yourself if you want to ever feel the sweet arms of my sister around you again. I want to you to think long and hard while you receive your next round of spanking.
Without warning I began to spank him as hard and fast as I could without pause for the next three minutes. I have a lot of practice correcting the behavior of errant husbands so my arm is quite strong. This time he soon forgot his dignity and squirmed trying to get away from my hand. With one smooth movement I adjusted Paul so he was only draped over one thigh while the other stocking-clad leg wrapped over the top of his to hold him solidly in place. Then I just continued dispassionately, determined to teach him a lesson.
He was really feeling the effects of being reduced to a naughty boy now! Unable to squirm away and unable to stop moans of pain escaping his lips, he no longer resembled the arrogant man who had earlier entered my kitchen. He looked like the naughty little boy he was.
Last ten seconds, I said and really drew on my reserves to lay into him.
9…. 8… 7…
Paul grunted with each solid thwack.
6… 5… 4…
I had to really hold him still now…
3… 2… 1…
I stopped as suddenly as I had begun and gave myself a moment to catch my breath. Paul just lay there panting and limp. He would have to learn to take his punishment with more dignity in future.
After a moments pause, I untwined my leg from his and helped him up and gave him a chance to rub his own swollen, red bottom this time. It really was blushing furiously now. By the look on his face it was really smarting.
I stood up, straightened my skirt and brushed back a blonde curl that had managed to escape my tidy bun. I stood unimpressed with my hands on my hips waiting for Paul to stop massaging his buttocks and give his attention back to me.
After giving him a moment to orient himself I reminded him, ‘This isn’t over yet Paul. I want you to sit down and continue eating that whole bowl of cold porridge, meditate on why you are here for 50 whole chews per mouthful and thank me gratefully for feeding you between each bite. Do you understand?‘
He nodded. It did seem to be finally dawning on him how serious I was about this. He went to pull up his pants.
‘uh-uh,‘ I shook my head. You will remain trouser-less until this ordeal is over. You may remove your shoes and pants entirely and fold them neatly.
He nodded, defeated and bent down to do as I said.
‘You may put them neatly in the laundry basket for now,‘ I instructed.
He did as he was told. After placing his belonging neatly in the basket he came back and stood in front of me waiting to be told what to do. His eyes were fixed on his toes.
‘Good’, I observed to myself, ‘He is learning to follow instructions’.
‘Sit down Paul, there is still the matter of the porridge’.
He sat down much more contritely this time, gingerly adjusting his sore bottom on the hard wooden chair and he began to eat.
I stood over him the whole time, watching like a hawk and counting his chews. ‘You had better make sure you chew exactly 50 times or else I will add extra cane strokes for each chew you miss,‘ I threatened.
Glumly he continued, completely focused on getting it right. “Thank you for the porridge Ma’am. I will never be ungrateful for my wife’s cooking again,’ he parroted at the end of each swallow. I was starting to believe it was sinking in. However there were other items on that list of complaints from Clara so this was far from over yet.
Eventually he gulped down the last bit of porridge and I allowed him a glass of water. He even thanked me without being asked to. A definite improvement.
‘Now we are going to move onto the actual punishment Paul, I said eyeing the canes.
SEE PART TWO HERE…
Read other spanking and discipline stories here including: Ella is Taught a Lesson in Lady-like Behaviour: Punished by her half sister.
About the Author: Artemisia de Vine is a Sydney-based professional disciplinarian & switch passionate about all things spanking, domestic discipline and corporal punishment. She is a true switch and plays the role of both Spanker and Spankee. She specialises in traditional scenes, from the playful to the intense including behavior correction, role play and ecstatic spanking sessions. See more here…