​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!


​

​

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!​