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!
​

This is an interview I did with a woman I met in an online domestic discipline forum. We've since had the chance to meet in real life and became good friends. Enjoy!

Me: Thanks for doing this interview!

Jenny: You're welcome!

Me: Tell us a little about yourself.



Jenny: I'm a stay-at-home-mom with three beautiful girls. I'm 37 and have been married since I was 24.

Me: I know you don't want me to use your actual picture, but looking online I think you look a lot like her ... wouldn't you agree?

​Jenny: You flatter me Katie :)

Me: Not at all! But let's get down to business :) How did you first get into domestic discipline?

Jenny: My sister-in-law. I've always been in awe of how great her relationship is with my brother. One night we had been drinking a lot of wine and I kept asking her about it, and finally she told me.

Me: That he spanks her?

Jenny: Yes, how she has rules that she gets punished for breaking, usually by getting spanked with a paddle or belt.

Me: Wow, what was your reaction?

Jenny: I was shocked at first. We were spanked growing up until a late age, or at least I was. Come to think of it, seems like kind of a double standard to stop spanking a boy at 12 and a girl at 16! But anyway, I was still really surprised to hear that. Part of me liked picturing her getting spanked too as she's great but sometimes she can be really controlling. 

Me: Lol. So how did you first bring it up with your husband?

Jenny: I just said to him, "You know what, from now on, if I'm acting like a brat, just spank me. Let's see how it works."

Me: That's a pretty direct approach!

Jenny: I guess that's always how I've been :)

Me: What are his spankings like?

Jenny: They've changed a lot since we started. At first they were real tentative, like he was afraid of hurting me. I told him I was a big girl and to be a man about it. It was a pretty dumb thing to say :)

Me: Lol you are brave :) So he started giving you more serious punishments?

Jenny: Definitely. Since then he started spanking me a lot harder. 

Me: What are common things he spanks you for?

Jenny: Oh the usual, backtalk, disrespect, not doing what he says. He never wrote out rules but I know at this point what will get me punished.

Me: Tell us about a recent spanking. Why he spanked you, what did he use ... give us the details.

Jenny: Well, one thing he's told me a number of times is not to talk about our finances with anyone else. He's really private about that stuff. A few weeks ago he heard me telling Rachel (same sister-in-law) how much more he was making in his new job. What can I say, sometimes I have a really big mouth. When she left, he whipped me.

​Me: C'mon Jenny, we want details!

Jenny: OK well he told me to wait for me in our room. I went up and he came a few minutes later and pulled off his belt. I knew I was in for it big-time then. I pleaded with him that I was so sorry and not to spank me, but he just told me to pull down my jeans and panties. I did, he bent me over the bed, and gave me about two dozen with the belt.



Me: Did you cry a lot?

Jenny: Like crazy! I'm sure you know what it's like. Start off yelling OWWW a lot and crying out, then begging him to stop, then just sobbing and wailing until he decides in his infinite man wisdom that you've gotten enough discipline. I don't mean to complain, I directly disobeyed him and he punished me thoroughly like I needed. Still sucked though :)

Me: I know. Did he whip your thighs too?

Jenny: Low on the butt, maybe very top of my legs, but mainly my butt. It had deep red belt marks criss-crossed on it when he was finished.

Me: :(

Jenny: Then he gave me half hour of corner time which I really hate, before hugging me and comforting me and saying it was over.

Me: Corner time after spanking is the worst!

​Jenny: It really is. I have to stand there with my nose touching the corner and hands at my side.

Me: You said earlier that you were spanked until a late age. I was spanked a lot growing up but was still surprised at how bad Tom's spankings were. How different is getting spanked as an adult for you?

Jenny: I guess they're pretty similar actually. I grew up in a Christian family with strict punishments, usually a whipping from Dad or a long session with Mom's hairbrush. Same whipping different guy now :) In both cases I hate the spanking itself, it's agony. But afterward I feel so much better.

Me: So it helped your relationship a lot?

Jenny: A ton. Like you can probably tell, I have a side of my personality that's always needed to be reined in. He gives me exactly what I need, and we almost never bicker or argue anymore. He's in charge, it's that simple. Not for everyone, but it works great for us. I would never go back.

Me: That's really nice to hear. Thanks so much for doing this interview with me today.

​Jenny: You're very welcome. Good luck with your blog!
​

​

Also known as "What I'm Spanked With" :)

Of course there's nothing special about domestic discipline when it comes to implement choice, the same things parents use to spank with are what husbands use to spank wives. But today I'm going to go through the list that Tom uses on me.

                                                                                          The Hand



The hand is always, well ... handy :) Tom mainly gives me a hand spanking as a warmup or reminder. Even though I haven't got many spankings with just the hand since age 10 or so, I can still say that when a strong man is slapping your butt over and over, it hurts! Tom could definitely get me to hysterics with just a hand spanking. So why is he is always grabbing other things to spank me with? I'm going to have to talk with him about this!

                                                                           The Wooden Spoon

I would also put other kitchen utensils in this category, like rubber-tipped spatulas. These aren't usually considered the most masculine implements, for example they're what my mom almost always spanked me with. But Tom will sometimes give me lighter spankings or warm-ups with these, particularly the wooden spoon in the picture.

The best description I can give for spoons and spatulas is "stingy." It's not a deep, long-lasting impact. But they sting really bad at the time, and a long session with the wooden spoon can be very difficult to get through. He tends to spank very hard and fast with these, giving me dozens of fiery swats with little time to catch my breath. 

                                                                              The Hairbrush

​Whoever first had the idea to take a lovely, innocent thing like a hairbrush and start slapping a girl's butt with it? Hairbrushes are really, really painful. The one in the picture above is a Mason Pearson brush I've had since college. If you have long hair, it's great ... until some guy starts spanking you with it!

The hairbrush gets me sobbing from the first swat. He tends to spank hard and slow, methodically putting red ovals of pain on my butt and upper thighs. The full spanking is usually at least a couple of dozen, not that I can ever keep count. After the first dozen I'm always yelling too loud.

I hate to admit it, but the hairbrush is VERY effective discipline. No matter how bratty a girl may be at the start, I guarantee the brush will change her attitude quickly.

                                                                                     The Belt

The belt sucks. There is no noise that gets butterflies in my stomach like hearing him unbuckle his belt ... even when he's not whipping me with it!

It all starts with the position. Any other time I get spanked, it's over his lap which is at least comforting. But for the belt, I have to bend over the bed or sometimes an armchair. He slowly lifts it up while I get more and more nervous, and then SLAPS it down on my butt. Instant agony. I'm always crying and pleading with him from the first lick. 



Like most girls, I particularly don't like having my lower butt and upper thighs paid attention to when it comes to discipline. There is just nothing worse than having him whip the tops of my thighs with that leather. I make a miserable, high-pitched wailing the entire time he's whipping me there.

Since he goes slowly, sometimes I'll recover enough in between licks to beg him to stop the punishment, but of course he never does until he's ready ... which is usually when I've broken down completely into hysterics with no resistance left in me.  Belt whippings are the worst.


Of course, there are other ways he punishes me too, and maybe in another entry I'll go through those too. I hate having my mouth scrubbed with soap, but at least it beats the belt!​

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 :)