So You Want A Spanking?

Here is a story that involves sexual intimacy. I'm assuming it is a real life story but it could well be a fantasy too. You can make your own mind up.

"So you think you want a spanking, eh?" she said as I stared down at the carpet in front of me.

I was standing in the middle of the room wearing only a pair of briefs holding my box of spanking toys. My penis was already bulging in the briefs and I could feel it begin to swell. I felt ashamed and embarrassed standing there like a little boy, yet the excitement had my skin tingling.

"Well, I just asked you a question. Answer me."

"Yes . . ." I stammered quietly too embarrassed to meet her eyes.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want a spanking," I whispered, looking up and meeting her eyes then quickly looking back down at the carpet.

She just sat there looking at me. "I¹m not sure you understand what you¹re getting yourself into. You probably think I¹ll give you a few smacks on your ass then let you fuck me. Is that it? That¹s really what your after, isn¹t it? You¹re just a horny little prick that wants to get laid, right?"

I was shocked that she just said that. I didn¹t know what to say and as I attempted to respond nothing came out.

"Answer me!"

Flinching, I took a quick breath, my hands moving to cover my hard on. "I¹m not a prick."

"Well, are you here to get spanked or to get laid?" She waited for my response as I shifted back and forth from one foot to another. "That¹s it ... . Please get out of here," she said.

"Why?" I asked whining.

"Why? Because I¹m tired of asking you questions that you don¹t answer, for one thing. And because I don¹t really want to waste my time. I¹m not in the mood for your stupid games. I smack your ass then I let you fuck me. What¹s in it for me? Forget it. Go jerk off upstairs."

I was crushed and I knew it showed on my face. "Please . . . " I pleaded softly. "Please give me another chance."

She just sat there looking up at me. My head was hung and my penis had gone soft. I felt like a little boy caught in a lie and waiting for the scolding.

"Put your hands at your sides." She said firmly. "From now on you¹ll address me as ŒMa¹am¹. Do you understand?" She asked looking at the outline of my penis and balls against the form-fitting briefs.

"Yes, ma¹am." I said with shame, the excitement building in me again as I felt my penis begin to stir.

"Just because you¹re horny doesn¹t mean I am, you know. Just because you want to get fucked doesn¹t mean you deserve it . . . You say you want a spanking, well I just may decide to give you one after all. Maybe if you¹re good, we¹ll see what else happens, but first I want you to ask me for a spanking. And you better ask nicely or you can forget it . . . you can go upstairs and jerk yourself off thinking about it." She stared into my eyes and looked me up and down pausing to notice my hard on straining through my briefs.

"Please spank me, ma¹am, " I whispered.

"What was that?" she asked, looking away from my bulging penis and into my eyes.

"P-p-please spank me, ma¹am. I need you to spank me." I said a little louder and looking back into her eyes.

She didn¹t respond, letting my plea hang out there unanswered for a few seconds. "Okay, I¹ll agree to spank you, but I¹m warning you . . . this will not be a playful one. I¹m going to spank you hard." She said standing up and circling me, her eyes inspecting me. Her hand reached out and gently stroked my penis and balls straining beneath my briefs. Then she reached out and slapped me hard on the behind. I jumped in surprise and shock. Standing behind me she leaned forward towards my ear, "I¹m not going to fool around anymore. You¹ve asked for a spanking and that is what you¹re going to get, you little prick. Once we start there is no turning back, so this is your last chance to back out. If you decide to stay, understand, you better be ready to do anything and everything I tell you to, not matter what it is, or I¹ll punish you severely. So what¹s it going to be?"

"I. . . I understand, ma¹am. I want to be spanked," I replied nervously, my skin tingling with excitement and fear.

She walked around me, her hand trailing over my body. She reached up and pinched my nipples hard, twisting them before she let go. Placing a chair in front of me she said, "Bend over and grab the sides of the chair."

"Yes, ma¹am." I replied bending over and grasping onto the sides of the chair seat.

"Spread your legs apart." I responded by moving my feet apart, arching my butt into the air towards her. She reached into my box and retrieved the rosewood paddle. I couldn¹t see because I was afraid to look over my shoulder but I heard her run her hand along the smooth surface. I tensed in fear as I knew the paddle would hurt quite a bit and wasn¹t the sort of thing I had been spanked with before without some kind of warm-up. I struggled wanting to ask her to start with something milder but realized this was exactly what she had just warned me about. I had agreed to submit to this spanking as she saw fit and so desired to give me.

Crack! The paddle landed across both my cheeks startling me and stinging like a swarm of hornets. I gasped feeling my knees give out when I felt another stinging blow, this one a little lower. I yelped in pain struggling to regain my balance and fill my lungs with oxygen. She delivered five more blows to my backside, each one hitting a different spot until my whole behind felt inflamed and burned.

"I like the way you take your spanking, prick." She said running her hand over my behind feeling the glowing heat beneath my briefs. She reached between my legs and cupped my balls, giving them a firm squeeze before running her fingers back towards my anus; pausing to gently press against it¹s puckered flesh beneath the fabric of my briefs.

I gasped feeling my knees sag under her touch. "Let¹s pull these down to get a better look at you. Stand up. " As I stood up, she sat down in the chair, my throbbing penis straining against the thin fabric keeping it from her face.

"Hmm . . . You¹re not enjoying this, are you?" she asked sarcastically, eyeing the bulge. She reached up and pulled my briefs down, my hard on springing free of the restraint. She quickly bent me over her lap and delivered ten quick smacks with her bare hand saying, "Next time I ask you a question, I expect a response."

"I¹m sorry, ma¹am, " I gasped. "I¹ll answer whatever you ask. Please give
me a minute, my behind really hurts." I begged. I felt as though my behind
was glowing. The heat from it made my penis stir and swell in arousal.

She spread my legs apart and I felt the cool air on the base of my balls. I was embarrassed by this lack of modesty. If anyone walked up to our house, they would see me lying there over her lap with everything exposed and my behind flaming red. She stroked my balls with her fingers running them up the crack of my behind lightly brushing my anus. My penis throbbed; the different sensations and emotions battling within me ­ embarrassment, shame, pain, arousal, excitement. They flooded within me creating a wave that washed over me.

"My aren¹t we horny. Let¹s see what we can do about that," her tone was mocking with a hint of menace. "Hmm, what do we do with bad boys who get hard from their spankings?" She stroked my erect penis and balls with her fingers. I groaned in response. "I know. I think you deserve a taste of the hairbrush now." She produced the wooden hairbrush and rubbed it over my behind. "For this part of your spanking, I¹m going to give you 100 strokes from the hairbrush. This will hurt and I expect you to stay in place otherwise I will start over from the beginning."

"Ma¹am, please, I don¹t think I can take 100 strokes, " I meekly protested, afraid to anger her.

"Oh yes you will. If you move off my lap or attempt to cover your bottom I¹ll give you 100 more plus 100 with the strap," she warned menacingly as she pinned me between her legs thrusting my behind in the air awaiting her.

I shuddered in fear and anticipation. I could feel my penis pressing against her stocking covered thigh. She was enjoying this, too. I could tell because her panties were damp as they pressed against my left thigh.

"Ready?"

I whimpered pitifully, trembling with anticipation.

"Ready?" she asked again, this time more pointedly.

"Yes, ma¹am!" I said quickly.

Immediately she started to spank me. Using good firm swats, she covered every square inch of my helpless bottom, making sure to give the fleshy undersides of my cheeks extra attention. I jumped and squirmed against her smacks. Varying the intensity and speed of the smacks she was able to keep me from settling into a rhythm. She gave 3 hard strokes spaced apart by 4-5 seconds then she gave 6 lighter swats in rapid fire over my entire behind. As I squirmed she grabbed my right wrist and held it against behind my back so I couldn¹t cover up.

I tensed and released in response to her tempo almost like an instrument she played in a symphony. My struggles and cries gave way to acceptance and groans and I felt myself submit to her punishment. My penis raged against her thigh as it rubbed back and forth with each smack. I came close to coming on her thigh but she finished the spanking just short of my release.

She rubbed my behind gently, parting my legs she ran her fingers down to gently squeeze my balls and stroke my penis. "Stand up!" she said pushing me off her lap.

As I stood in front of her, my penis was inches from her mouth. It strained to reach her lips and her warm tongue. "Are you still horny?" she questioned, her hot breathe on my penis.

"Yes, ma¹am!" I replied with a degree of shame and excitement, unable to meet her eyes.

"And do you want something?"

"Yes, ma¹am . . . . .I want to fuck you. Please let me fuck you!" I begged.

"I don¹t think you were good enough to deserve that, " she said quietly. "I want you to get on your knees and thank me for your spanking instead. And when I come, I want you to lick my pussy clean. . . "

She paused for a few seconds as her order sunk in.

"Do it now, prick!"

Instantly I dropped to my knees and leaned forward, gently pulling her moist panties off. I could smell the musky aroma of her wet pussy, the smell intoxicating. Without hesitation, I leaned forward and kissed the inside of her thigh, running my tongue towards her moist warmth. I drew in her aroma deeply as it made me light-headed, then I dove in lapping her sweet juices as they filled my mouth.

She grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face into her pussy. I was in heaven. I felt her body tense and I knew she was close to coming. After a few moments she grasped a handful of my hair in each hand as she screamed,

"I¹m coming. Eat my pussy!" Her juices flooded out and I eagerly swallowed them up, attentively lapping at her wonderful flavor, making sure to clean the sticky mess from her beautiful pussy.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she groaned, lost in time, oblivious to anything else
but the orgasm wave that washed over her and engulfed her . . . me gently
lapping at her wonderful pussy, savoring the taste of her pleasure.

After a few minutes she regained her senses and opened her eyes. She let go of my hair and I gently lifted my head from her wet pussy. She looked at me, her eyes full of content and satisfaction. She glanced down at my erect penis straining from the excitement.

"That was very good, prick. I liked it a lot, " she said softly. "Are you still horny?"

"Yes, ma¹am!" I whispered desperately.

"And what do you want?" she asked.

"I want you to make me come. Please make me come!" I gasped.

"Stand up, "she ordered.

Immediately, I complied, holding my arms at my sides. It was awkward standing in front of her aroused as I was; I couldn¹t look into her eyes.

"Make yourself come while I watch, " she instructed. "I want to see you
masturbate."

"No. . . Please!" I begged, briefly looking up into her eyes. "I . . .I
can¹t. Please!"

She gazed up at me and waited a few seconds before responding. "Do I have
to spank you again?" She quietly asked staring into my eyes.

"No, ma¹am. I¹ll do as you ask," I whispered, grasping my penis with my left hand and closing my eyes tightly. I gently stroked, varying my grasp and the placement of my hand on my penis. I opened my eyes to see her staring at me, enjoying the show. She wore a devilish smirk on her face as her hand gently crept down to her pussy and lightly caressed herself. I felt the pressure build deep within me and I breathed in deeply.

"Mmmmmmmm," I groaned softly increasing the intensity of my stroking.

"Are you going to come?" she asked.

"Yes, ma¹am! I¹m going to come, " I responded desperately.

"I want you to come into my hand and don¹t waste a drop or I will punish you severely for wasting my gift," she demanded. She reached out and placed her cupped hands in front of my penis. I grunted and bucked as I felt my knees give way under me. My hot cum burned as it spurted out the tip of my penis. I desperately struggled to maintain control of my senses so I did not miss her hands and waste any of my cum. It pooled in her cupped hands as I spasmed from my orgasm.

She took her finger and wiped the tip of my penis, collecting a drop of cum on her fingertip. "Mmmmmm, " she said. "Such a nice gift," she said as she sucked the drop from her fingertip and looked up at me.

"Come here," she said, motioning me down towards her seated in the chair. "Are you still horny?"

I knelt in front of her and looked into her eyes, "No, ma¹am." I responded. "Thank you!"

"Well, there still is one thing I want you to do."

"Yes, ma¹am! Anything you wish, ma¹am." I responded.

"Good, " she said as she leaned back into the chair. She brought her cupped hands filled with my cum to her pussy and wiped them clean, spreading my cum on her pussy, her pussy hair, and the inside of her legs.

"I want you to clean me off, my little prick," she ordered. "Clean every drop off with your tongue. If you miss any I¹ll bend you over the couch and take the strap to your ass!"

I looked at her and down at her pussy all sticky from my cum. I was embarrassed and humiliated to be licking my own cum off of her, but I also wanted to please her. I wanted to serve her and bring her pleasure. I remembered my agreement to do what she asked. Clearly now, my humiliation brought her pleasure; it brought me pleasure and excitement, too. I felt my body abuzz with electricity. I looked into her eyes and leaned forward to clean the sticky, salty mess from her.

A date with my Sister in Law

Here is another one of those stories I found on the news groups that seemed to stick in the mind  that I still have a copy of it on my hard drive.

The old Cotswold farmhouse was lovely and cool after the heat of the sun. My wife, Jane, and I had recently arrived for our regular one-week stay with her sister Liz. My wife had gone out to the local shops for the day and I had elected to stay and rest in the garden, sitting in the shade, allowing my thoughts to drift over some private thoughts. Liz was the younger of the two sisters and, of particular interest to me, a naturally dominant person. She was the one in her family who made the rules and made sure they were obeyed. I also knew from discussions over many years of bringing up our respective families that she believed in the benefit of good, old-fashioned discipline. She had told us in the past of her need to discipline her children and I often tried to imagine the scene as she warmed their bottoms for them. I knew that they had been spanked and I had a suspicion that more serious offences meant something more severe.

I had always enjoyed punishment games, ever since a strict school gave me the taste for it, and the thought of Liz giving a good stern punishment to the children never failed to excite me. Did she, I wondered, punish them across their clothes or on the bare bottom? I had often fantasised about being in their place myself and having to take a severe punishment from Liz. I had never been sure if she knew about Jane and I and that we acted out punishments, but I think she had some idea that I was more than interested in the subject from our conversations.

At my all boys school I had been fascinated with the idea of corporal punishment and many childhood games had been built around caning games. I had also been on the receiving end of some proper punishments from my teachers, real canings with the power of an adult arm behind them, which, despite the pain, I strangely enjoyed. I particularly enjoyed the striped bottom marks left by the cane and would often examine them in the mirror over the days as they faded and compare them with those of my friends who had been similarly punished. The presence of "official stripes" also made it easier to explain the marks and bruises that sometimes resulted from our playground games. Six of the best, given with a garden cane or a swishy tree branch, by a strong 12 or 13 year old across the bare bottom can leave some pretty impressive marks.

After I married I eventually found ways of introducing these feelings to my wife and seeking her help, but she didn't share my interest. After a lot of persuasion she agreed to experiment with giving me a caning and as time passed we began to work out a compromise. She would cane me when I felt that I needed it, but there were some reservations. She could not "play a part" and pretend to be the teacher punishing a naughty boy, and she would not cane my bare bottom. I always had to wear my pants or pyjamas so she could not see the damage caused. This was a disappointment to me as she could not cane very hard and, even through thin pants, she did not really mark my bottom. She did try to compensate for this by giving me lots of strokes, sometimes as many as fifty or sixty, which I did enjoy, but even this failed to produce anything more than a generally bruised area on my bottom. The all important, clearly defined, bruises from a well-aimed cane were missing. My last punishment session had been a couple of days before we came down to stay with Liz and my bottom was still bruised from this session

I got up to go into the cool. I went in and through the house towards the kitchen, which is reached through the study. Liz was in there dusting so I stopped and chatted with her as she worked. After a short while she began to clean and dust the contents of the tall vase in the corner of the room where they kept walking sticks and the riding crops which the girls used when they were horse riding. I had noticed long ago that it also contained a long, swishy punishment cane and I had often wondered if they used it on the girls. It was this one that she picked up and started to dust. It was a pale golden coloured cane, some three-foot long and about the thickness of a pen. It looked as if it could give a fearsome punishment and the sight of Liz standing there with this in her hand made my mouth go dry and my heart beat faster. I don't know if she had guessed what I was thinking and was testing me, or if it was the look on my face giving me away, but she swished it through the air a few times as if practising. Then she grinned at me and said "I've never used this on the kids, but I bet it could give a hell of a spanking!" My mind was racing to think what to say. Was this just an idle comment or was she asking me if I wanted it? All I knew was that I suddenly wanted it badly and, as my bottom was already marked, it seemed worth a try. "I bet it could." I replied. "You look just like my old Headmistress standing there with the cane waiting for me to pull my pants down." "Oh, do I?", said Liz. "Bare bottom as well was it? That must have hurt!" I thought quickly how I could turn this conversation to my advantage and, trying to sound nonchalant said "Oh, not really, you get used to it after a while. I got to quite enjoy it." Liz looked at me. "I find that hard to believe", she said. "Believe me, if I was to cane you with this I would make sure you didn't enjoy it." My heart missed a beat - after all this time I had the chance to try and fulfil my fantasy. I chose my next words carefully. "Well, it was a long time ago, but any time you want to pull my pants down for a dozen or so strokes, let me know." The die was cast and I waited to see how these words would be received. Would she laugh it off, or take the bait? "Well now, there's an invitation" she said. "I always thought you were rather too interested in talking about how we discipline the kids. Well, I'm game, if you are." She stood looking at me now, the long cane still in her hand. "What's that", I replied, "a challenge?" "You can make it one, if you've got the guts to accept it" she replied. After all these years, I knew that I was going to get it from Liz at last and I got that mixture of dread and excitement that I knew so well. "All right then, if you want" I replied, "As long as Jane doesn't find out. It might be fun." She smiled then, "Fair enough" she said "if you're sure you want to go through with this? It won't be fun, I can assure you, but if you want to feel this across your bottom I would be pleased to oblige!"

She turned her attention to the cane. Despite being quite thick it was very flexible. She held it in both hands, flexing it, and then she swished it through the air and it whistled and bent fearsomely. She looked at me, watching my reaction. "This should do the job nicely I think. Well, come on then, if you really think you are up to it we'll go into the lounge shall we?"

"This should do the job nicely I think. Well, come on then, if you really think you are up to it we'll go into the lounge shall we?"

She led me across the hall, into the lounge and shut the door. "Right my lad! Strip! I want you to take off your shirt, trousers, shoes, and socks!" Everything except your pants. Though I was excited by the prospect of a caning from someone besides my wife, the idea of standing in front of my younger sister in law just in my pants scared me and I opened my mouth to protest. She cut me short at once. "Get on with it. I've seen men before you know." I began to obey her command, removing all my clothes except my pants. While I was doing this she put the cane on the table and then pulled the swivel leather armchair into the centre of the room and placed it carefully to give herself plenty of arm room to swing the cane. She picked the cane up again, positioned herself and took the cane right back to ensure nothing would get in the way of her strokes.

By now, I had finished undressing and stood there in just my white briefs. "Right, come on then" she said impatiently, "get over here and get yourself ready." I walked over to where she was standing, aware that I was hard inside my pants and jutting out like a flagpole. Her eyes watched me, and she smiled slightly as she noticed my state. " Bend over the back of the chair!" It was a long time since I had heard those words from someone other than my wife. The leather back of the chair was cold and it made me gasp as it touched my bare stomach. "Right over please, arms as far as you can go and legs apart please. I want a nice tight bottom to aim at." I obeyed her orders, aware that my thin pants were stretched tightly across my bottom and would give me no protection at all from her cane. I needn't have worried. "Right" she said. "I think we said bare bottom, didn't we so we'll have these down I think. My heart pounded as I felt her slip her hands into the waistband of my pants and slowly slide them down to my knees. My heart was thumping - at last I was about to get the cane from Liz and I could feel her brushing it against my bare bottom. I also knew that the marks on my bottom from my last session with Jane would be fully visible. "Ah, that's interesting", she said. "A naughty boy who has already been punished. I can still see the marks. Who did this?" I told her that it had been Jane, and that it was one of the games that we played in the bedroom. "Well", said Liz, "she didn't do very well, did she? I've done more damage than that to the kid's bottoms when I punish them. And anyway this, I seem to remember is a serious challenge, not a game. I promised you a good hard caning and that is what you are going to get my boy.

Because of the high back of the chair, stretching right over as she had instructed had lifted my toes off the ground. She slipped her fingers into my pants again and pulled them right down to my feet and then off altogether. For the first time ever I was completely naked in front of Liz. Looking to my side I could see the whole scene reflected in the mirror on the wall. There I was, stretched over the chair with both cheeks of my bare bottom clearly visible in the mirror, a perfect target for her swishing cane.

"Right,"How many strokes does Jane give you?" she asked. I told her that it was sometimes as many as fifty since she did not hit very hard and then I tensed as I felt the cool cane touch my buttocks. "Well I won't be playing games, and I will be beating you as hard as I can on your bare bottom" she replied. "Originally we talked about a dozen, didn't we, but it seems a shame to waste a good opportunity. I think we shall try 24 strokes, 4 times 6 of the best. If you want any more than that you're a better man than I think you are. Stay in position during the punishment. If you get down, or put your hands in the way, you will get that stroke again, plus an extra six. Understood!" I told her that I agreed and awaited my punishment.

In the mirror on the wall I could clearly see her, as she adjusted her stance to get her position right and my bottom twitched with anticipation as she tapped it a few times to get her aim. I saw her take her arm right back so the cane was round the back of her head, rise onto tip toe and then .Whoosh ..Crack! the cane lashed across the centre of my bottom. The sharp crack of the cane hitting bare flesh was very different to the sound of it hitting my pants. And so was the effect. The pain of the stroke was intense and it drove all the breath from my body. She paused too let the pain expand and then, just as it began to subside, Whoosh Thwack. Whoosh Crack. Two more strokes crashed down right next to the first one, causing a thick band of fire to erupt across the centre of my bottom. Looking in the mirror I could see the results, three swelling red and blue stripes which were blending to form a wide raised bruise across both cheeks of my bottom. I saw her arm raise again and another three strokes lashed down. These, as hard as any so far, landed exactly on top of the first three causing pain that I hadn't felt for years. As the sixth landed I realised that I was already beginning to twist in an effort to avoid the worst of the strokes, without much success.

"Beginning to have your doubts, are you?" Liz enquired. "Good cane this, isn't it, really effective. Another 18 strokes to go - are you sure you can take it?" Despite the burning agony in my rear end, her mocking tone of challenge made me determined to see it through. "Get on with it Liz", I said, "I can take it all right." As I saw her arm take aim again I only hoped that I could stick it out. The next 12 strokes proceeded slowly, but didn't seem any worse than the first six. Half of them were above the first group and the other half below covering the tender area where bottom joins thighs. They were very hard and I twisted and heaved with the pain of the strokes, though I managed to stay quiet. At the end of the third group of six, Liz paused again.

"That's a very satisfactory sight," she said, and she ran her cool hand across the swollen bruises that had been the smooth cheeks of my bottom. "That's what I call a well punished bottom." Looking in the mirror I could only agree with her. I was in the hands of an expert who had turned the whole of my buttocks, from the top of my cleft right down to the tops of my thighs, into a sheet of swollen, red, painful tramlines. I was still twitching from the effects of her cane when I remembered that there were still six to come. She had also not forgotten. "Now for the last six" she said. "I know exactly where they are going to land and, take it from me, they will be six that you will remember for a very long time! Ready?


I nodded my agreement, and saw her take up position again, tapping the cane on my bottom to get her aim. She brought the cane down, in one flowing movement, the hardest she had hit me, as it crashed down across the centre of my naked, swollen buttocks. The effect was immediate. As the searing pain of the stroke landed on top of some of the earlier bruises my legs came up in a vain attempt to protect myself from her lashes and I shouted in pain. I felt as if I had been cut in half by the severity of the stroke, which burned and ached with an intensity hard to believe. Determined not to suffer a further dose, I managed to keep my hands away from my backside as the next stroke, also delivered full force, fell on exactly the same spot as the last one. I yelled out again as my bottom pumped and heaved trying to escape the pain, all pride gone, just determined not to let her win. Another two followed, each crashing into my bottom to bring me to new heights of agony, each bringing a shout of pain. "Last two now" I heard her say. "You've done quite well, so try these for size!"

I saw her take up her position and then, raising the cane high, she lashed the cane down across the tenderest part of my bottom, right where it joins the thighs. It was like being hit with a red-hot poker and I shouted with pain. The final stroke, delivered like the previous one, slashed down in exactly the same place, the two final strokes landing on top of each other to produce an explosion of pain which I had hardly dreamed possible. I shouted again and lay twitching over the chair writhing and twisting with the fire in my bottom. As I began to recover from the worst of those last two strokes I realised that I was sobbing, tears rolling down my cheeks, like a naughty little boy.

In the mirror I could see my poor, battered, bottom, covered in angry raised wheals turning various shades of red, blue and purple. Right at the base of each cheek where those last two dreadful strokes had landed there was a large swollen bruise that looked as if sitting was going to be a problem for some time to come. Liz told me to get down from the chair. "You had better get dressed now," she said. "I don't know what you are going to tell Jane, but I won't say anything until you or she does. Oh, and if you ever fancy another punishment, you have only to ask next time you know. I would be pleased to oblige. Perhaps we might try a different instrument?" She left me then and, after a close examination of the battle zone in the mirror, I slowly began to dress. Did I want another punishment session with my expert sister in law? Probably yes, but as I carefully pulled my pants back over my striped and swollen posterior I had another worry. The marks from my caning not only showed through my thin white pants, they also covered much of my bottom and thighs which were not covered by my pants. It was quite obvious that I had had a recent, very effective beating with a good solid cane.

I sleep in my pants. What on earth was I going to tell my wife when we went to bed that night?