Caught

With all this work I've been doing on letting the little bimbo inside me off the lead, spanking has taken a back seat in my life. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.

Every now and again, my husband feels a need, thank goodness, to remind me of what it feels like for me to submit to a spanking. On Saturday morning, we were in bed when I said something or other that was a bit cheeky. He leaned over me, lying on my back, looked me in the eyes, and said solemnly,

"I'm sorry, but I can't let that go. It has been far too long since you've felt the bite of the cane. I'm going to rectify that situation right now."

I automatically began to plead.

"No. Please. I'm sorry."

"Don't start now. You know better. And, it will do you good."

"Please! I'll be good."

"If there is any more of this nonsense, I'm going to have to give extras. Do you want that?"

"No. No, I don't."

He got up and went to retrieve his cane from his suit cupboard.

"All right. Let's have you bent over the side of the bed. Bottom right out now. Come on."

It had been a rather long time since I had felt the bite of his cane across my bottom, and try as I did to be silent, I did allow a fair few sounds to escape from my mouth into the pillow he'd given me, in spite of the fact that I knew that a child or two was somewhere in the house sleeping.

"All right. Into the shower right away. Hurry up, girl. You are dawdling."

I made my way to the shower and as I waited for the water to run hot, he said,

"I doubt it was nearly enough. You seem pleased with yourself. That's not good."

"Oh really! Well, if it wasn't enough, what do you think of these red marks on my bottom?!"

I turned around to show him his handiwork.

"That's nothing and you know it. Get yourself ready before I change my mind and give you some more."

Did the experience do the girl (or was it the bimbo?) good? Well, she may not have asked to have her bottom striped but that didn't mean that she didn't understand her need to have her bottom striped.

This morning, I walked into my husband's study to say goodbye to him before I left for the day. We kissed and he hugged me tight. He pulled me back a little and looked into my eyes.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't let you go before you are spanked."

"But, but, I'm running late!"

"It won't take more than a minute. Bend over that chair there."

"But..."

"Hurry up, girl! If you dawdle, you'll make me cross!"

I bent over the spare chair.

With his hand, he delivered eight crisp swats across my suede skirt. As each one turned into the next, I was aware of the heat until the last one definitely stung. He stopped. I straightened up.

"All right. Down you go, again. When will you ever learn? What does a girl do before she straightens up?"

I let out a little cry. I knew exactly what he would say next.

"She asks permission."

"That's right! And, yet you almost always forget. Down you go and we'll repeat that. Perhaps, one day you will learn."

I didn't argue. He had never relented on this. It was just about the only rule that never changed.

The swats were delivered all over again.

"May I please straighten up, Sir?"

"Yes, you may."

"Thank you, Sir. May I please leave now? I am really very late now."

"That's no-one else's fault but your own. Off you go and be sure to be safe. Give me a kiss first."

We kissed.

"It is so easy to find a reason to spank a girl!"

He seemed mighty pleased with himself.

"Goodbye, Sir."

I smiled.

"Goodbye, girl."

He smiled, and off I went, happily.

I've really struggled with the notion of being punished for being bad. Asking remains almost an impossibility for me. But, when my husband springs it on me out of the blue, and refuses to accept my excuses, I always have a jolly, good time.

Now, why is this so, I wonder?