Naughty, naughty!

We don't do punishment spankings; our OTK sessions are strictly for erotic fun. However, there have been times when I've been given a swat or two that could be considered a correction.

Take, for example, the time I when I took off my belt and put it, buckle side down, on top of Ron's watch. He noticed, inspected the watch for possible damage, then took action. Ouch!

Then there was the time he asked me to put the dogs into their crates so they wouldn't be underfoot when we did a small repair job. I said they wouldn't be in the way. I was wrong. Ouch! I did as I was told.

Oh, and what about the time I broke the back door by letting the wind catch it and blow it open, breaking the plastic door-closer thingy. Since it happened only hours before our regular Saturday spanking date, I got quite a few extra-hard whacks for my carelessness.

I often get half a dozen swats after dinner, as I am putting the dishes into the dishwasher. I really must remember that plates go on the left side of the lower rack, not the right side. Ouch!

You just have to love the guy for keeping a close eye on me.

An Ill Wind

 

Around our house spankings are pretty much a routine, and while they're always enjoyable (if you like that sort of thing - and I do) they don't vary much from week to week. Every so often, however, my husband does something that surprises me.

Take last weekend, for instance. We had had some pretty bad weather with winds blowing at up to 90 kilometres an hour. On one of my trips outside, I had neglected to hold onto the storm door. It was blown open by the strong wind and the plastic door-closing mechanism at the bottom of the door snapped with the force of the blast. I was startled and Ron was quite annoyed. He had frequently reminded me to hold the door whenever it was windy outside.

I apologized profusely, then grabbed my purse and keys, jumped into the car, and within half an hour was back with a replacement part for the door. Ron repaired the damage the next day and I assumed all was well.

When the time came for our usual spanking date, I was dismayed to see the dressage whip lying on the bed along with two other less fearsome implements.

"Oh," I said. "What's the occasion?"

"You broke the door," Ron replied in a matter of fact tone.. Yikes! What was this? He never used spanking as a punishment.

"Well, be sure not to let it wrap," I reminded him. That was the part I hated most: the little tassel on the end wrapping around my right hip.

"Will if I want to," Ron stubbornly informed me. Uh oh, this wasn't going to be fun.

To his credit, my husband started off with the most benign of the implements and left the whip till last. His strokes weren't especially hard either, although they didn't have to be. The whip always hurt no matter how light the application. And yes, it did wrap several times. But I realized I probably deserved it, and did my best to accept the correction.

After it was over, I showed Ron the marks that the tip of the whip had made.

"See? That's why I don't like it."

"Good," Ron said unsympathetically.

I assured him I wasn't likely to forget to hold onto the door ever again.

Naughty, naughty

We don't have punishment spankings in our house. They're for fun, erotic entertainment and maintenance. Ron always counters any suggestion that I be spanked for some minor infraction with a flat refusal. To him, spankings are my rewards, not punishments, and I have always agreed, until a few days ago. Now I've begun to think he's changing his ideas, and here's why.

The first incident occurred just as we were getting ready to go upstairs for some recreational OTK fun. Ron had warned me ahead of time how he wanted me to handle the dogs. He reminded me to carry Fang up the stairs because Fluffy wasn't feeling well and sometimes Fang can be too exuberant when he knows there are treats in store. But I became preoccupied with the thought of the upcoming spanking and simply forgot about the dogs. Ron wasn't happy about the chaos and turmoil that ensued, although we finally got the dogs into their crates without any real problems.

I figured it would put a damper on the mood, but once I was bare-bottomed and bent over the bed, the spanking began quite normally. Then, quite unexpectedly, Ron attacked my bottom with a flurry of swats. He was using the wooden shoehorn, as I recall.

"You disobeyed me about the dogs, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Sir!" I squeaked. Where had this come from?

"Will you do what you're told next time?" he continued, and the paddling became harder.

"Yes, Sir. Ow! Ow!" Was I being punished? I think that's possible.

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The second incident happened a week later. I was being treated to the leather paddle and the black strap, with a little of the maplewood spatula for good measure. After a few swats with said spatula, Ron stopped.

"Did you put your belt on top of my watch?" he asked.

"Why are you looking around instead of attending to my bottom? Are you bored?" I turned around and looked too. Ron's watch lay on his dresser, and I had folded my shorts and placed them on the dresser too. The belt buckle did seem to be rather close to the watch, but it didn't seem to be a big deal.

"I didn't hear any glass break. It shouldn't be a problem." Wrong answer. The maple implement struck home hard and briskly on my unprotected bottom.

"Ow! Ow! I'm sorry! I'll be more careful next time," I promised.


Could this be the start of a new phase in our spanking relationship? I'll keep you posted.

One Giant Step

Ron and I engage in spanking strictly for enjoyment. For us, it's both fun and erotic, but never for discipline. Ron isn't interested in turning our favourite aerobic activity into punishment, and as he always tells me, I enjoy it so much it could never be punishment for me. But still, sometimes I wish he would pretend, and use the disciplinary words that press my buttons.

One evening, we were in the kitchen together, jointly preparing dinner, when Fluffy scratched at the back door. I let him out.

"Don't give him a treat when he comes in," Ron told me. "I'm mad at him. He was a nuisance today."

I heard, and agreed, but five minutes later, when Fluffy came back in, I automatically reached into the treat jar and popped a tiny doggy goodie into his open mouth.

Let me explain. The habit of giving a treat is one of long standing. The theory is that it encourages our dogs to go out in inclement weather to do their duty instead of using the carpet. It also provides an incentive to come in when they are called, even though there are so many interesting things to eat, roll in and bark at outdoors. So Ron's request was simply overruled by years of habit. It wasn't intentional.

But Ron noticed.

"You disobeyed me," he remarked.

"Um, yes."

"You disobeyed my order and gave Fluffy a treat," he continued in a very authoritarian manner. My heart leapt!

"Yes, Sir." I tried to sound contrite while wondering where this was going.

"Go upstairs and get the paddle out right now," Ron commanded.




I stood and stared, eyes wide with disbelief. These were the words I had been waiting for, even though I knew he didn't mean a word of it. We had just finished a vigorous spanking session half an hour earlier, so I suppose Ron was basking in a dominant afterglow. He had no intention of administering a second dose, but was still in spanko mode.

I hugged Ron and laughed as I told him, "You've finally got the dialogue down. You said exactly the right words. Thank you."

We've taken another giant step forward on our spanko journey together.

And no, I didn't get another spanking for disobedience.

I haven't told you about the one I got just before this happened, have I?

I must do that soon.

A Grand Ole Spanking

Music was playing in the kitchen one evening as we worked side by side preparing dinner. I noticed that the songs - by one of our favourite Canadian folksingers - were ones I'd heard only the night before; Ron hadn't changed the CDs in the player for quite a while. I remarked to him that we were hearing the same songs for the third time.

Big mistake! He wasn't in the mood for any sort of criticism and took my innocent remark to heart. After a sharp retort, he disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a fresh batch of music. Once the CDs was loaded and the first one began to play, I bitterly regretted having complained about the previous repetition. I am not a big fan of country music, and on knows it. But he had unearthed the works of some very old country stars, and we were listening to it.

"Who is that? It sounds like someone from the Grand Old Opry."

"You're right," Ron replied. "Hank Williams was one of the inventers of modern country music. That'll serve you right for complaining about my choice of music."

"So you're punishing me?"

"Sure am."

"Why don't you spank me if you want to punish me?"

"Oh, no, you'd enjoy that. Spanking's a reward for you."

True. I couldn't help but listen to the music, because I still had to take care of dinner. After a while, I started to hum along with Hank; he was singing something old but familiar. Ron surprised me when he said, "This music isn't so bad after all.

It's turning out to be a pretty ineffective punishment for you."

"That's right. You should have spanked me instead."

Some men never learn.

That Word

We were watching a new British show on the Food network the other evening, and between the unfamiliar accents and the poor sound quality, we were having a hard time keeping up with what was being said. In fact, Ron gave up entirely, and started chatting about a subject we had already discussed and put to bed. Or so I thought.

I nodded and answered politely but briefly while straining to understand what Jamie Oliver was telling his group of newbie chefs. After a while my replies became a little sarcastic when Ron just wouldn't take the hint.

"So do you agree with what I'm saying?"

"Yes sir."

"No, really, is that what you think too?"

"Yes sir."

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"No sir."

"You aren't just agreeing with me because you know that if you disagree, I won't punish you?"

What? Did he just use the P word? That's a word that is rarely used around here. He finally had my undivided attention.

"Do you mean that if I agree with you, you'll spank me?"

"Nope."

"Oh, then if I disagree with you, you'll spank me."

"Nope."

"Then how do I get a spanking?"


We didn't see the end of the program.

The Carrot or the Stick

I have been ruminating lately over the value of administering spankings as motivation to achieve goals and as punishment for failure to achieve them.

About three years ago I was working very hard to prepare for an exam. I knew the actual date of the exam months ahead, and in order to cover all the material, I needed to be very organized and motivated. To assist me, I prepared charts of exactly what I needed to do each week, and kept all the charts in a binder so I could see my progress over the months.

I allocated some time first thing each morning to devote to studying, and I also set myself a target starting time. As the exam drew nearer the starting time got earlier and earlier. For each day that I was seated, coffee in hand and ready to work, at the predetermined time, I gave myself a sticker at the top of the column for that day. At the end of the week I could look back and see how often I had been ready to start on time.

I wonder what would have happened if, instead of being rewarded for starting on time, I had been punished each time I was late? Would I have been as motivated if I had been threatened with a spanking instead of enticed with a sticker?

It sounds silly to get excited over a little sticker that I gave myself, but that small reward made me smile and encouraged me. Would there have been a reason to punish me for failure? Ron didn't care if I studied or not. It wasn't up to him to control my work habits. My real punishment would have been failing the exam, and I wasn't going to even consider that possibility.

Animals learn more quickly and are eager to please when they are given positive rather than negative reinforcement. Why wouldn't it work that way for people? Maybe if I had been offered a spanking as a reward for being on time, say, five days out of seven, that might have worked as well as stickers.

On Leniency

A word to the wise disciplinarian:

"Leniency gives rise to the ultimately necessary exercise of a degree of cruelty which could have been avoided by the employment of an efficacious punishment at an earlier time."

Cardinal Richelieu (1585-1642)

Vacation Plans

The other night I saw a commercial on television for one of Canada's national historic sites. It encouraged tourists to visit one of the many Canadian forts built during the war of 1812 by the British, to defend us from the Americans.

An unseen voice described the historical importance of the fort, then went on to say that costumed staff performed daily re-enactments. While he spoke about admission prices, dates and times, a filmed dramatization was shown.

I saw a group of costumed people standing next to the fort, then a closeup of two men in uniform arguing. The camera panned to a young woman, dressed in period clothing, standing alone and looking very dejected. Back to the angry men, then the voice-over ended, and the dialogue finally became audible:

"...do you want one of the last acts of this fort to be the whipping and punishment of a woman?"

Well worth a visit, don't you think?