Spanking Party Star contest entry : ‘The Surprise Party’

 

THE SURPRISE PARTY

My wife spanks me. As strange as that image might seem to some, it is that simple. She doesn’t walk around the house dressed in a leather cat suit brandishing a whip and we don’t have any kind of a master/slave relationship. There is no dungeon equipment hidden behind a secret door in our basement. We don’t engage in any complex fantasy role playing. Dawn spanks me. When she thinks I need one, my wife simply puts me across her knee for a good old fashioned spanking.

And it works for us. It works very, very well. I have the kind of personality that lacks discipline and Dawn loves me enough to provide some. Aside from this one aspect of our life, our relationship is an equal partnership. We collaborate on household decisions and matters pertaining to our children and our business. But when it comes to my discipline, Dawn has complete control. When she provides me a list of chores, I am expected to attend to them. Other wives may have to continually nag their husbands to complete household repairs but mine asks me only once. If she has to tell me the second time, it is her hairbrush or her strap that does the talking for her. There is seldom a third time. When I get overly sensitive or moody, ten minutes positioned over a pile of pillows on our bed as she uses her cane to reprimand me rarely fails to get me out of my funk. Disrespecting Dawn earns me my hardest spankings. Disrespecting myself is a close second. We are extremely happy. Our friends notice it. Our kids notice it.

We married young and over 20 years later, our love life was as vibrant and passionate as it ever had been. We spent as many hours together as life would permit and revelled in it. Spanking keeps me in line and keeps us intimate as a couple.  As much as her discipline sessions hurt at the time, I have grown to both anticipate them…and relish in the glow afterwards. As odd as it sounds, I can feel the love in her hands as she disciplines me.

Dawn had always spanked me long enough and hard enough to get her point across, but she was also in tune with my physical reactions. She could sense when I had reached my threshold. Soon after my pleading and squirming reached a certain point, she felt the lesson had been learned and her spanking would end. I would kiss her hand and thank her for loving me enough to discipline me. I meant every word of it…and I lived to show her that I meant it with my actions also.

When the internet rolled around, we found out we were by no means alone. In fact we connected with many other couples who shared in our lifestyle. Web browsing lead to emails, emails to phone calls, phone calls to dinner dates, and before we knew it Dawn and I were getting together with other femdom spanking couples on a regular basis. Mostly it was a weekend here or there with a few couples along with one annual gathering involving a larger number of husbands and wives. For the most part it was all pretty light hearted.  Gatherings included some mild spanking games flavored with lots of great fellowship and laughter.  While there was the occasional firmer spanking session from another wife, for the most part all of my genuine discipline spankings still happened at home. It was at one of those annual gatherings when that changed.

It was a Saturday morning. There were seven couples that year, all of us very familiar and very open with each other. We had laughed plenty by that point. There had been lots of games and every husband had felt a degree of swats from each wife with vast assortment of implements. Our bottoms were certainly kept reddened but by no means overly abused. We had almost reached the point where just our being together as a group had become more enjoyable, more important, than the spanking aspect. All of the husbands would soon find out that our wives had decided to add a bit of a twist to that year’s celebrations. I found out right after breakfast.

As we husbands put the finishing touches on the kitchen clean up, Charlene entered the kitchen. Charlene was considerably taller and larger than Dawn. She addressed the husbands with the same authoritative voice she often used with her own husband. When she told them to go outside and collect some firewood for the evening bonfire, none of the men disobeyed. When she told me to stay with her, I didn’t disobey her either. Charlene was a sweet and caring woman, but she also gave off a clear impression that she was not to be disrespected. Her husband had confirmed that she could indeed deliver a memorable paddling when crossed. None of us doubted his account of her severity.

When the kitchen had been vacated, Charlene led me into the large adjoining living room. The remainder of the women were seated comfortably on the sofas and plush chairs that lined the perimeter of the room. The center of the room had been cleared of everything but a large leather ottoman. On top of it sat a broad oval hairbrush and a considerably larger bath brush. Dawn looked at me and smiled. None of the other ladies said anything.

Charlene sat on the ottoman and called me to her side. When she spoke, she spoke as if it was just the two of us in the room. Her voice was firm and no-nonsense.  She proceeded to inform me that the ladies had decided that each husband would receive a disciplinary session from one of the other wives. Mine was to be from her and I was about to get it right there and then. She went on to list a detailed account of the infractions Dawn believed I deserved to be punished for. I looked towards my wife. Dawn was no longer smiling. Charlene chastised me and told me to pay attention to her and her alone. I quickly returned my gaze to her direction. She went on reciting the litany of my shortcomings and outlining the expectations that my behaviour would change. After what seemed like an eternity of humbling scolding, she picked up the hairbrush and told me to bare my bottom and get over her knee. I complied, knowing full well I was about to get a very good tanning.

Charlene wasted no time. The brush fell the second I was over her lap. Quick and harsh. She was a very hard spanker. Unlike Dawn who usually gave a number of lighter warm up smacks, Charlene got right down to business. She was strong and her strokes were rapid and full force right from the onset. She began with five or six spanks to the same spot on one cheek. Then the brush descended the same number of times to the opposite cheek…before returning to a spot close to the original strike zone with yet another series of blows. And so she went on, a sequence on the right side followed by a sequence on the left side, back and forth, back and forth, until my entire backside burned. Only then did she take a break. A respite just long enough to adjust my position, raising my bottom more over her left knee, allowing her to swing her powerful right leg over my calves to prevent my continual squirming and kicking.

And the spanking resumed. Charlene then diverted from her previous method. Instead of multiple strokes to a singular spot, the brush now fell randomly, each spank to a different spot on my behind, sometimes alternating from cheek to cheek and other times finding different targets on the same side. The force and speed of the spanking did not slow down, if anything she seemed to increase the tempo.  She was also including the tops of my thighs with this second round. I was nearing my limit. My vocal pleas to both Charlene and my wife were becoming more desperate by the moment. I assumed Charlene was reading my reactions when she finally ceased with the spanking. I was more than relived as I awaited her to release the leg hold and instruct me to stand. Much to my chagrin, my spanking was far from over.

Charlene held me firm and once again went over Dawn’s list of infractions. After each item she asked me if I understood and intended to address the problem. I choked out a “Yes Ma’am” to each. When she was satisfied with my responses, she got right back to work with the hairbrush. For a good ten more minutes that brush rained down, side to side, top to bottom in its relentless mission. At some point I realized Charlene was speaking to the other wives. She was explaining how she had discovered long ago that the most effective discipline spankings went on long after her husband wanted them to stop. Indeed it was only after he had reached his threshold that the real punishment began.

 

She was right. Long before she finished that final hairbrushing I had both physically and mentally handed control over to her. Her leg still pinned me down, but I had completely ceased any struggling and had resigned myself to accepting whatever amount of punishment she felt I deserved. I was being disciplined. Nor did I hesitate when she finally released me, stood and commanded me to lay prostrate over the ottoman.

She finished her spanking with twenty slow strokes of the bath brush. I was instructed to count each of them off. Dawn sat on the floor in front of me, holding my chin in her hand and gazing into my face as the brush hit home. When Charlene was finished, Dawn added another twenty of her own. I was not permitted to get up off the ottoman for another ten minutes. I had to lay there with my blistered bare behind on display as the ladies discussed what they had witnessed.

All of the husbands received a similar treatment before the weekend was out. The implements and the positions changed to meet each particular wife’s taste in discipline, but all of the men were just as surprised and just as thoroughly spanked.

That weekend, that party, that punishment only strengthened our relationship. I remembered what Charlene had told me and worked to make myself a better husband. When I fall short, Dawn’s knee and her hand are always there to remind me. I am blessed to have a wife that loves enough to spank.

END