A DWC Paddling for David

I was inspired by a post from my fellow blogger glenmoretales, A Favourite Lost Spanking from DWC.

It was a recounting of a disciplinary spanking left on the Disciplinary Wives Club guest book that glenmore reproduced. I left a comment on his blog

I didn't get to it that night, but I did get to it yesterday. We did it smack-dab at lunch hour in the middle of the workday so he could experience sitting on a sore behind at his desk all afternoon. I was hoping he would be on a lot of Zoom calls with women colleagues, squirming in his seat. Am I bad hoping that? We had not discussed anything in advance, so it would come to him out of the blue.

There's been an undone chore for the past week. He was to get some paperwork printed, signed, scanned, and emailed back. It was still undone as of the morning (I could tell because the papers were still where I had left them for him, untouched). As well, at breakfast, he put all his dishes away nicely and went up to work as I lingered at my breakfast, surfing my iPad. When I went up to start my day, rather than putting my dishes away, I left them in the sink.

Around noon David came down to the kitchen for lunch.

I asked him, "honey, did you get that paperwork signed and faxed back?"

"Oh, shit. No. Not yet. I'll get that done this afternoon!"

"David!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!"

At this point he still did not realize we were scening. He had genuinely screwed up.

"Take your clothes off," I told him.

"What?"

"You heard me. Take. Your. Clothes. Off. You're getting a paddling across my knee."

"Ohhhh... yes Ma'am," he said. He could not argue. It was perfect scening material. He had not been cruisin' for a 'bruisin, but he had screwed up, unequivocally. So, were we scening, or was he being punished? You tell me.

He undressed in the kitchen as I watched him sternly. He was hard already.

Why naked, you may ask? The DWC lady had him pull his pants and underpants down in front of her. I don't know, it's just a preference for me. I like the idea of a "birthday suit" spanking. I like to normalize that. First he loses clothing privileges, then he is punished.

"Follow me," I told him once he was naked. I led the way into the living room. I was wearing nice tight jeans, heels, and a blouse. I picked up the armless wooden spanking chair and placed it in the center of the living room.

"Stand there," I said pointing to a spot just to the right of the chair, "and face the chair. I'll get the paddle and be right back to take care of you."

"Yes Ma'am," he said, sounding a bit glum.

I flicked at the tip of his erection with my fingertip. "Don't think that will be around for long," I said.

I left him there, and went upstairs to collect the Muskoka Paddle.

You've seen it before. It's a vicious little thing. It's made out of a dense hardwood, but is quite thin and hence light. It also has a good amount of leverage in the handle. It delivers a remarkable sting to the cheeks even at mild and moderate force. It does not leave deep bruising, but absolutely punishes the nerve endings closest to the skin and really colours-up his bare bum beautifully.

I came back down and placed the paddle on the chair.

"Are you proud of yourself? Proud that you need to be spanked for an undone chore?"

"No Ma'am," he said.

"There's one more thing also."

I reached out and grabbed his ear and pulled him into the kitchen and to the sink.

"WHAT IS THAT?!?" I asked him.

"d... d... dirty dishes in the sink."

"WHOSE job is it to make sure the dishes are put away in the dishwasher?" I asked him.

"Mine Ma'am."

"So WHY are those dishes not put away in the dishwasher???"

"I... i... they... they... must have been put there after I cleaned up this morning!" he wailed.

No! The temerity. I think he was trying to blame me. Bad move, buster.

"So it's my fault is what you're saying?" I asked incredulously,

"No Ma'am, it's just that I didn't have a chance to get to them yet."

"Breakfast was at 8. What time is it now?"

"Noon, Ma'am."

"That's right. It's noon. So they've been sitting there in their own filth for FOUR HOURS and you didn't notice them? Did you come down here for a coffee mid-morning?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"And did you not notice the mess in the sink?"

"No Ma'am."

"Well that's just inexcusable. And/or unbelievable. You KNOW how I like a clean kitchen."

"I'm sorry Ma'am."

"Yes you are sorry, we agree on that. A sorry excuse for a husband. Now wash those dishes, by hand, until they're sparking, and then put them in the dishwasher."

"Yes Ma'am!" he said, and he began dishwashing, still in the nude. 

Of course it was futile to handwash them when they were just going into the dishwasher anyways, but that was the point.

He used hot water, dish soap, scrubbed them thoroughly, rinsed them, and put them on the rack to drip. He then went to open the dishwasher to slide them in.

"No. They're not clean enough for my dishwasher. Wash them again."

"Yes Ma'am," he said.

I thought a bit of double-extra futility would be good for his soul.

I walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa waiting for him where I could just see him in the kitchen. When he was on the last dish I said "TEN, NINE, EIGHT, ..." He hurried to finish. He starting rushing towards me, turned back and wiped his wet hands on a dish towel, "SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, ..." He ran back into the living room and stood at attention facing the spanking chair with the paddle resting on it. When he ran back, his erection bobbed in front of him obscenely.

"Pick up the paddle," I told him. He did so.

I stood up from the sofa and went to sit on the spanking chair. "Place the paddle on my lap." He did so.

"Now, explain to me why you're about to be paddled."

"Ummm... uh... because I didn't get the paperwork stuff done..."

"After how long?"

"After more than a week, Ma'am."

"And how many times did I have to remind you?"

"Several times, Ma'am."

"Several times. Yes. And what else?"

"Ummmm... for not noticing the dishes in the sink and cleaning them up when I should have."

"Not noticing, or noticing and not doing?"

"Not noticing, Ma'am, I swear."

"Hmmmph!" I said, expressing the sense that I was not sure I believed him.

I got my iPhone out of my back pocket. I set the auto-lock to 'never' (pro tip!) and set the countdown timer to 16 minutes. I put it in front of me where I could see it, but he would not be able to once across my knee.

"Do you see that?"

"Yes Ma'am." When it says 15 I'll start paddling you, and I won't stop until it counts down to zero, and depending on how you behave and how I feel, maybe not even then."

"Ohhh... yes Ma'am."

"Pick up the paddle," I told him. He picked it up off my lap.

"Hand it to me." He did so.

"Now get across my lap." David draped himself across my lap.

I fondled his bum and gave him a few light free hand smacks. "Just waiting for it to hit 15," I explained, as I continued. I adjusted him a bit more to be more comfortable for me. When the timer hit 15:00 I gave him the first smack with the paddle.

"Ahhhh!" he yelled out. Yes! That paddle stings. Especially on a fresh bottom.

I wasn't totally brutal. I went in smaller groupings at first, as the DWC lady did. I wanted to emulate that paddling. It was kind of uncanny, but the DWC post said her husband's erection waned after about the first minute of more "warm-up-like" paddling, and so did my husband's, right on cue.

I picked up the intensity and went to longer groupings between pauses. "This is what you get when you break the rules," I told him.

David looked like he was truly, truly, suffering.  He moved involuntarily. As soon as he moved a bit off my lap, he re-positioned himself right away. Like in the description, david also straightened his legs and clenched his bum at the assault. I told him to bend his knees. The only way he could do that shifted the center of balance and he needed to go further over and have his feet leave the floor. I was worried he was a bit top heavy now, and after another strong volley he practically toppled off in front, his little bum running away from the smacks as it was and turning side to side in agony. I re-positioned him over my left thigh and clamped him with my right leg. Less to control him, more to better adjust the center of gravity for my bucking bronco of a man-boy.

We were only 5 minutes in by now. He still had another 10 of this to go.

I decided "play time" was over and began his spanking in earnest. The smacks became harder now (still nowhere near full-force) and much more continuous. His cries became more and more urgent. He was saying something but I could barely make out what it was. I could hear tears and snot in his voice as well. His ass had come up to a bright red and I was starting to see those tell-tale white blisters in the centers of his cheeks. So gratifying!

In case you don't know, 15 minutes of paddling is purgatory for the poor boy. Now was the time to channel the lessons from the DWC article:

I ignore his whimpering as I relentlessly roast his rump with the paddle! I want him to remember this lesson every time he sits down. In fact I want him to think about me and how his behavior affects us. He will be reminded of the consequences for not obeying the rules every time he sits down.

As I blister his bottom, I recall your advice:
A spanking should be an event to remember. Don't worry about how red his bottom gets. The more color you put into it, the better you are doing. Don't pay any attention to his cries and pleas and promises. He will tell you anything to get you to stop.

While my husband is a spanko, by this point he does not want to be still over my knee. I pick up the pace and I pick up the force. There is a continuous stream of cries and yells and tears and snot from my "man", increasingly desperate sounding. There is only a minute left. As per the DWC:

The spanking is almost over so I must make every second count. Fifteen minutes ago his bottom was a pale creamy white but now it is a nice rosy shade of red. Mild blisters have formed on both of his buns.

If the last 14 minutes was a visit to purgatory, he will taste hell for the final minute. I go harder and faster and more continuously. He breaks down into a continuous sobbing, completely broken across my knee. The timer goes off and I end his spanking, keeping him across my knee as he regains some measure of composure. It was embarrassing what a fuss he made. I mean, I don't make that much of a fuss when I'm being spanked, and I'm just a little girl. He was less than a little girl, for sure.

"There, there, there," I tell him, stroking his blistered red bottom. "Mommy forgives you. Now stand up. Nose in the corner. No rubbing. Hands at your sides. Good boy."

He had gotten up slowly and painfully and hobbled his way towards the corner. His face was positively wet with a mixture of tears and sweat.

"Now you stand there and think about the difference between being a good boy, and being a bad boy. You think about what happens to bad boys, and then you think about what happens to good boys."

As I said that, I reached my hand to his front and rubbed his very, very limp cock into some semblance of its former glory.

I only let him stand there for five minutes or so while I prepared some things in the bedroom. Then I came down and got him and brought him up to the bed. I put him face down on the bed, spread some massage oil on him, and began massaging him. He moaned in pleasure as I massaged his sore, beaten up bottom. I then reached between his legs, pulled out his genitals behind, and had him clamp his legs together to keep them accessible from the rear. I put massage oil all over his penis and testicles and massaged him there. I got a bit of lube, squirted it onto his bumhole, and stuck first one then two fingers deep up inside and massaged his prostate as I pumped his cock. Pretty soon he ejaculated all over the backs of his thighs. I know: talk about mixed messages! :-)

I used his sperm as additional "massage oil" and rubbed it into his ass, and I even pushed a few globs up into his anus. Even as I rubbed I could see the angry redness fade and the white blistering start disappearing. By the end of his massage and ejaculation, the white centers were basically faded back into the overall dusky redness.

david reported that sitting was not comfortable all afternoon and into the evening. By next morning he was good as gold and I could see no residual effect. I like that. Had it been a heavier paddle, he would have had bruises for several days, but the lighter paddle makes a huge impression in the moment, but fades quickly, which is totally fine.

All in all, a great success. Thank you glenny and DWC for the motivation to go the extra mile!

No, not quite that bad, but he felt as if it was!