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
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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 :)

Everything was so blissful in the early days.

We were always together, kissing each other, riding bikes, going for long drives with no place we needed to be. Sometimes we made fun of other couples who fought. That probably doesn't sound nice, but we couldn't imagine not getting along. Being young and married to the one you love ... what more did life have to offer?

Things didn't change overnight. 



It began a year or so in with occasional bickering. Things that would have never been an issue before suddenly turned us against each other, even if just temporarily. I blew up at him one night for staying out too late at a poker game. He yelled at me for spending too much. 

One day I realized that something had to change or things would only get worse. I came across the idea of domestic discipline for the first time when I was Googling "how to make your relationship better." It was a second page hit, I don't even know why I clicked at first, because it sounded crazy that I would go back to getting spanked. I dismissed it.

Things weren't getting better though. While I don't believe that men should be in control of everything, I started thinking more about my childhood. 

​I hated getting punished, but it always made for a fresh start. My parents weren't mad at me anymore. I got an emotional release that helped me move on. Everything went back to normal.

I brought the idea up with Tom. I was nervous and just told him about it like it was something interesting I read on the internet. He didn't say much at first, and then I blurted it out: 

"I think we should try you being in charge and punishing me when I mess up."

"You want me to spank you?" He was clearly surprised now.

"I don't know," I said. "I just want to try something to make us happy again."

He said he needed to think about it. A week went by and I thought that was it. Then one day I was reading on the sofa and he handed me a piece of paper. I asked him what it was and he told me to just read it. It was a list of rules. I still have it ... he almost always types and I smile when I see his hand-writing here :)

"So you want to..." I said.

He nodded. "I expect you to follow these from now on."

Part of me was thrilled. Part of me wondered if he would actually follow through. But I said nothing. 

I didn't consciously plan to disobey. But the wondering what would happen just intensified. I felt nervous and excited at the same time.

That night at dinner, I said out of nowhere that something was "Bullshit." I don't remember what. And I very rarely use bad words, I'm not sure why he even put that on his list, I must have just said it to get the reaction. He put down his fork and looked at me. And that's when I did it.

"Oh, what are you gonna do, spank me like a 10 year old for saying a swear word?"

And that is exactly what he did.

He walked over, took me firmly by the arm, and led me to the bedroom. 

"Stay here," he commanded.

I was really scared. I realized I had taken it too far, and I just wanted it to end. He couldn't actually spank me...

He came back holding my hairbrush, an oval Mason Pearson brush my mom gave me years ago, and told me to pull down my jeans.

I started fumbling an apology but he just said "Now" very sternly. I somehow managed to get my jeans off with nervous fingers. He took me by the ear (doesn't hurt any less as an adult!) as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me over his lap.

I was nervous and had no idea what to expect. He started off spanking me by hand. I yelped with the first swat. He kept on going with fast swats for at least a minute while I made inane exclamations like "Ow stop it!" a lot. 

"That really hurt," I complained when he stopped. And it had, although not nearly as bad as a spanking from my father had. I started to get up but his hand was still pushing me down. 

"That was only the beginning. You were rude and disrespectful, and you're going to regret that by the time we're through."

I started to protest when he lifted me up slightly and pulled down my panties. I protested in shock. He ignored me, picked up the brush, and slapped it down on my right cheek. 

SWAT. 

I screamed. I hadn't been spanked since I was about 14, and I couldn't believe the pain. Just when it was sinking in, he slapped the other side just as hard.

I panicked and started begging him to stop.

"No no please it hurts too much, I'll be good I'll be good..."

But he just kept on spanking.  

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I yelled and yelled, incapable of believing anything could hurt so much. He was going at a slow and steady pace, maybe one swat every two seconds, and showed no signs of letting up. It hurt so much, the sting was just incredible. I continued begging him, tried to twist my body out of it, I was absolutely frantic. I would have done anything to get out of the agony he was putting my butt through. 

But he just kept spanking. Sometimes he would lecture me, saying things like "You will not be disrepectful" and punctuating every syllable with a new swat, punishing areas he had already so thoroughly disciplined. I was yelling so loud.

Then he started going lower, slapping my tender sit spots and thighs. I just completely lost it.

"NOOOOOOOOOO" I cried continuously.

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT

I thought it was bad before, but these were just shockingly painful. I was bawling uncontrollably, making incoherent pleading noises, no longer even slightly in control. 

I couldn't believe how strict this man had become. I continued my hysterical yelling as he just punished and punished, slapping the brush all over now, both butt and thighs. 

OWWWWWIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I was yelling incoherently, long ago I thought I couldn't take any more, but had no choice. He was completely in control. I wailed and wailed, and then completely gave up.

And that was when he stopped.

I was still in hysterics but at some point I realized it was over, and he leaned down and hugged me while I was still over his lap. My mascara was completely smeared, my face was covered in tears, my hair was a mess. 

I don't know how long I stayed hysterical while he comforted me. When I looked at my butt in the mirror later, there was no hiding how thorough the punishment was. My butt and upper thighs had been spanked crimson. 

But he was so loving and affectionate with me after. He hugged me and kissed me and told me how much he loved me and that everything was going to be so much better. I fell asleep that night with the most wonderful feeling, that this man who loved me so much would take such complete control. Everything was going to be right.