OMG! I got my bum smacked in front of our Filipina maid!

How embarrassing - I got my rear-end smacked, justifiably in anger, by my husband in front of our long-time maid!

She's a Filipina lady, Maria, about ten years older than us, who has been coming by once a week. She does our laundry, vacuums the house, changes the bed linens, cleans the kitchen and bathrooms, dusts, put things away, that sort of thing. She's quite Christian and very friendly. She really likes us as clients, because we chat with her like real human beings (apparently, unlike some of her other clients), and always thank her, every time, for her efforts. She was also grateful that we kept her employed all through COVID where most of her other clients did not.

She's been through all our drawers, so we have no secrets from her. Sometimes we accidentally leave spanking toys or spanking picture magazines under the bed, and she tidies them up, putting them in a neat stack, as if to say, "I know what you two kids get up to!" She's definitely been inside the bedside drawers where we keep the paddles, vibrators, and strap-on dildos. She also is aware of David's lingerie drawer and the 2XL panties. Once, when a pair made their way into the laundry basket, they found their way back to David's drawer. She has never said anything about it, and seems to like us regardless.

Well, a couple of weeks back she got the COVID. She had a bit of a cold (it never got worse than that) and tested positive on a PCR test. She was double-vaxed and boosted and always insisted on wearing a mask. As soon as she found out she cancelled that week with us (we paid her anyways - sick pay). She was back two weeks later.

She still had a mask on.

Most of the time, she is not even that near us doing her work, yet she still wears a mask. She's been triple vaccinated, yet she still wears a mask. She's now had COVID and recovered from it and has natural immunity, and she still wears a mask. Both of us have made it clear to her that she need not wear a mask around our house for our sake, and she still wears a mask. I hate it, because it feels like such a "master-servant" sort of thing (I feel the same way in restaurants with all the patrons gaily unmasked and all the servers and kitchen staff masked and suffocating).

This whole thing was a bit top of mind, as literally the day before I was in a back and forth with Lion on his blog about people respecting other people's risk assessments and values around COVID (see the comments section of Good Advice Without Politics). Of course, I felt I had the "high ground" on this one. Arguing everybody should respect everybody else's choices. But it has since been dramatically brought home to me that while I expect all of you to respect my assessments and choices, I won't at all respect yours if I think they're dumb ;-)

Maria had just arrived. David and I were downstairs finishing up our breakfast. We said hi. Of course she was wearing her mask, but she had just come in. She went into the basement where she leaves her coat and purse and changes her shoes and such.  She was heading upstairs to collect the laundry. She still had her fucking mask on!

I engaged her.

"Maria, you really don't need to wear a mask here. You're triple-vaccinated and now you've even caught and recovered from COVID so you have natural immunity also."

I couldn't imagine doing the cleaning in the mask was at all comfortable for her, and I wanted to reiterate that it was perfectly ok with David and I if she chose not to, and also educate her a bit on natural immunity in case she didn't know. And also I felt guilty about having my maid masked up when we weren't.

"No, no. I want to make sure you're safe." She said, in her cheery, lilting Filipina accent.

"But that's my point, Maria, we're completely safe. You're immune. You won't get it again, and you therefore can't pass it on to us. No way."

"Better to be safe..." she said.

Ok, I lost my temper a bit...

"No, Maria, that's just not being smart."

"Julie!" David exclaimed, sounding a bit outraged.

Oh oh. He was just around the corner and had heard the exchange.

He strode towards me and said, "apologize for what you just said to Maria."

"I didn't mean to imply you were stupid. I just meant to say that since you ..."

David grabbed my arm, spun me around, and smacked my jean clad ass right in front of Maria and said "No! You didn't mean to say anything. Maria makes her own choices and you have nothing to say about it! Now apologize properly."

Oh fuck! I know embarrassment is a kink of mine, but there was nothing kinky here. It was just pure, burning, unadulterated, shaming, embarrassment. I felt myself blush and started to form the words for an apology when he smacked my butt again, "Apologize!" he repeated.

Ok, ok, I'm getting to it!

"Maria, I'm sorry I said what I did. Please do whatever makes you feel most comfortable."

Maria's eyes went wide with surprise at this entire interchange. But not scared or angry. Just surprised I thought. 

"I also apologize for my wife's behaviour, Maria," David said, calmly.

"No, no, no. Is fine. I no mind. I just do the mask because it's safer, you know?"

"And that's perfectly fine, Maria. Thank you for being concerned for us," he said.

"You're welcome," she said, still a sing-song in her voice and continued upstairs.

Looking back now,  I can't believe I blurted out exactly what he wanted me to, just like that, and just because of two slaps to my jeans-clad bum. That's embarrassing!

It's also, of course, after the fact and thinking back on it, super exciting for me to have that done to me publicly like that. It's the sort of kink I crave. David knows this, and knows that it's "fair game" to correct me like that in front of others. That was explicitly part of our now defunct DD contract, but lives on in spirit. I felt like an absolute child being corrected like that by him, and in such a way, in front of our maid. She can't ever unsee that, you know? Me, treated as a child.

David turned to me. "After Maria is gone you and I are going to have a good long discussion about being polite and respectful to people, and then I'll give you plenty of time afterwards to think about that."

Oh no. It was code for a spanking and cornertime to come. And it didn't sound like it would be a light spanking or a short cornertime. I knew that I deserved it, though. I nonetheless felt very embarrassed, despite the oblique language David used, to be told I would be spanked and cornered while Maria surely could hear.

Briefly jumping ahead, after it was all over, David and I talked about it. I asked him if he had been scening me. He said he had not. He saw red as he listened to me berating Maria for her choices, and thought, as head-of-household, that he would not have it. I had granted him disciplinary rights, and public disciplinary rights no less, so he used them.

It ran through his mind to give me my spanking there, on the spot, in front of Maria, but quickly discarded that as he did not want to offend her that way. But he did think a stern verbal correction and one or two smacks to my clothed ass in front of her would do me some good. I asked him what he would have done had I stuck to my guns and not apologized? He said he didn't know, but that it was a good thing for my butt that we didn't have to find out. Thy made my pussy tingle...

Of course, a bit of me was sorry we didn't find out. It's the way my brain works. But he was legitimately and visibly angry with me, and a bit scary, and it never even occurred to me in the moment to not obey him. Angry male energy, from the man I love, directed at me, is powerful. A random angry male would just get my hackles up and make me want to fight back. But when from a man I love and respect, who rarely raises his voice... yup that's some potent Daddy energy there.

When I was thinking about it later, reliving the days events, I knew what he should have done in that event. Dragged me by the arm to the living room. Pulled my jeans and panties down, thrown me across his knee, and hand-spanked me until I was howling (he did do that to me, but not until after Maria left). Then he should have stood me in the corner, hands at my sides, my nose touching both walls, with my pants and panties both around my ankles, making sure my spanked bottom was on view. He should have kept me like that for the entire four hours Maria was there cleaning. She would have been in and out of that room, tidying, vacuuming and dusting, as I was being punished that way. I'm sure she would have felt sorry for me, but if her employer and the man of the house put me there, who would she be to question it?

At any rate, not withstanding, a bit later I approached Maria, changing our bed linens, in our bedroom. She had never seen David strike me, and I was worried what she must be thinking. I started the conversation with another apology.

"I am really sorry I said what I said, Maria. Will you forgive me?"

Maria has this charming, lilting, Filipina accident. She says David's name, DavEEEEd, and my name, JulEEEE.

"Oh, no problem Julie. I know I'm too careful, but I want to make sure you and David are safe."

"And, ummm, you know how he hit my bottom like that?" and I made gesture of hitting my own bottom with my hand. "I asked him to be more the man of the house with me, so it's ok, really. I deserved it. He never hurts me at all."

"Like a children?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes, sort of like a child," I agreed. And then, well, we were talking about it anyways, so I pouted and added, "He told me he's going to give me a spanking after you leave..." I illustrated the word "spanking" for her by reaching behind and lightly swatting my bum cheek several times.

Then she laughed and said, "Oh... I hope spanking not too hard!"

Think about that a moment, as I am now. She did not object to the fact of his giving me a spanking. Did she think he was justified? Or did she think it was his "right" as my husband, to spank me? Or did she just assume we were playing kinky spanking games? Was she concerned I would be beaten?

"No, it won't be too hard." I said, reassuring her. "How's your nephew doing?" I asked, changing the subject, wanting to re-normalize the conversation, and we started chatting about all our family members as if nothing had happened.

But yes. She got it alright. "Like a children." I know she's very into Christian things, and I know aspects of the Filipino culture can be a bit macho. So maybe the concept of the man being the head of the household was not so foreign to her? And I know she was brought up in a strict household with a very Christian Dad, and as a girl she was kept a very close watch on by her Father and brothers. We had never discussed corporal punishment, but it would not surprise me if she was spanked, maybe even well into her teens?

I was wondering what the prevailing culture was regarding this in the Philippines in the 70s and 80s when she was growing up. Doing some research, I saw a study from the early 80s that said something like 84% of Filipino children were subject to corporal punishment from their parents.

I also found the following article written by a much younger Filipina woman in 2019.

Bianca Carague

She grew up well after Maria in the 2000's. This is her article:

Tsinelas: The Filipino Symbol of Discipline and Punishment

Here's an excerpt:

Just imagine an old lady in a patterned duster, her face scrunched up, back bent over, briskly walking while fiercely wagging a slipper over her head…..haha!

In my childhood, though I only have happy memories of it, I was no stranger to corporal punishment. I would get spanked in the bum when I answered back. Sometimes, even worse, I’d get threatened with a belt if I lied or fought with my sister.

[...]

Throughout my childhood, I was no stranger to rubber slippers and sometimes thick belts used by my parents to discipline me and my sister.

So if that was still going on in the 2000's, I imagine 30 years before it was worse. If there's any Filipinos who can confirm, please let me know in the comments.

David and I had both been working at our respective desks while Maria was cleaning. A few hours later we heard Maria calling up. "All done! See you next time!"

"Bye Maria!" I called down. "Thank you!"

"Welcome!"

And then I heard the door close and Maria outside rolling the recycling bin down the driveway.

 

What must she be thinking???? She knows, without a doubt in her mind, that I'm to be spanked "like a child" after she leaves. Will she tell her husband? Of course she will. You don't keep stuff like that from your husband. Will she gossip about this crazy white woman at her Church? I trust her not to name names, but she might tell that story, right? The thought of that is soooo embarrassing. Sometimes, when she's in a rush, her husband comes by to help her out. Will I blush next time I see him like that? Him knowing my husband spanks me, like a child????

I don't mind Maria knowing. When I spoke with her she felt like a much older sister, or a young Aunt. She knows our secrets. Maybe she won't tell anybody at all. Maybe that's the maid's code? Somehow her knowing about my spankings makes us a bit more equal, you know? She's employed by my husband. I'm disciplined by him.

She didn't mind talking about it with me. She didn't even find it that unusual, really. She was not shocked, or concerned, or anything like that. Maybe she was spanked as a girl, growing up, until quite old? Based on that article above, I'm willing to bet Maria was no stranger to having her bum beat, potentially well into her late teens. Hence perhaps her comfort with the concept of David punishing me in a like manner, and the certain sense of sisterly connection I felt when we discussed it?

Maybe. Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit. Maybe she knows it's a kinky game for us? And maybe she understands it can be some of each, and that the asawa (wife) will have additional "wifely duties" to perform after her disciplining?

It's all so embarrassing... All this from a couple of bum smacks and a sharp correction.

My spanking didn't happen right away. I decided to make a really nice dinner for David, and got it all prepared and even the dining room table set for two (we often chaw down just on the kitchen peninsula).

"You think this is going to save your little ass?" he asked me with a smile.

"No Sir," I answered demurely. "A little bit, maybe."

"Maybe a little bit," he agreed, smiling. We both knew what was up after dinner.

Once dinner was over I shooed him into the living room without letting him touch a dish, and even poured him a Scotch. Our best: eighteen year-old single malt, neat, with a drop of water. I busied myself in the kitchen, cleaning everything up.

Ok, so when I'm made to feel submissive like this, the 1950's housewife comes out. I get all domestic and everything.

"Done with those dishes, young lady?" he called from the living room into the kitchen.

I was done. A few minutes ago. I was just fussing around, rearranging our cutlery drawers.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then get your little butt out here. You know what has to happen now."

Oh. My. God. Those were his exact words. "You know what has to happen now." Has to happen. No choice in the matter. No reprieve. Inevitable. It has to happen.

I knew I was getting a spanking. I was aware of it all day, while working, more while preparing dinner, more while eating dinner, acutely when tidying up after dinner. The closer I got, the more butterflies in my tummy. When he called me in, and put it that way, the butterflies in my tummy went crazy. I became soooo nervous. I didn't want to go out to him! I knew I was going to be punished. Punished the way I asked him to punish me every time. Not lightly, like I told Maria I would be punished, knowing then that was a fib, but truly punished. Punished in the way I crave, which was a way I would not like. It was going to be a minimum of five minutes of blistering spanking leaving me in tears.

I was pretty sure he would spank me "only" with his hand. He reserves wood or leather for more serious stuff (e.g., had I not obeyed and apologized right away, it would have been a paddling for the ages!). But I truly don't think he realizes how hard his hand is. He thinks a hand spanking is him letting me off easy. He teases me afterwards about how much I "carry on" during my spankings. I think it's because my hand spankings of him are a joke. I can only approach "punishment grade" with an implement, and a fierce one at that. Now I've told him, and I think he appreciates intellectually, that his hand is much harder than mine. But he's never felt it! And when he sees me "carrying on" he thinks I'm "letting it all out", like he does during a spanking. Capable of being stoic and holding it in, but helping it along a bit to get it out. And then he thinks my butt just reddens super easily.

No! I'm not "letting it out". He spanks it out! No, my butt does not redden easily. He reddens it! I've never really told him that, because I don't want him taking it easy on me. And I'm not concerned writing this here. Even if he reads this he'll still assume I'm being a Drama Queen over a little hand spanking. I like it that way. I like that he does not seem to appreciate his own strength. I like that, in his mind, he is being merciful and "letting me off easy", but that I live in fear of even what he thinks of as his "easy" spankings.

I have to force my feet to move towards him. I'm sure I was looking contrite. I was certainly feeling it.

He reaches over to me and unfastens my jeans, unzips them, and pushes them down. Then he reaches for my panties, and pulls them down as well. My bare pussy is level with his face.

"Tell me why you're being punished."

It's a ritual for us. Having to stand there with my bare pussy on display, my keeping it completely smooth, it all makes me feel like a little girl.

"Because I was rude to Maria and didn't respect her choices."

The pre-spanking, bare pussy, admission of guilt is very potent. I am in no doubt whatsoever what the consequences for my misbehaviour is to be.

"That's right," he said as he pulled me gently down across his lap. He was seated on the couch, and he lifted me so my kegs and chest were both supported. This is more comfortable than bent double across his knee on the spanking chair. David always says he chooses the way I'm to be made uncomfortable. I had a bit of makeup on and my hair done up and I didn't want to mess that up so kept my head raised.

He rubbed my ass a little and I gritted my teeth, knowing what was coming. Then he began spanking me, and OMG, I'll never get used to his paddle-hand! When I'm being punished he goes right into it at whatever force he decides is "punishment grade". For a play spanking there are ups and downs and modulations and strokes and caresses and pussy touches along the way, and yes, a few breathtakingly hard strokes. For punishment, it's just PURE PUNISHMENT, start to end.

Long before it ends I'm crying out and begging and apologizing and promising to be a good girl. My nose starts running and my tears start forming, and before he's done with me, he always makes me cry like a little girl across Daddy's knee.

I never used to cry this easily. I never cry like this when we play. It's the one time I really can cry my eyes out: while being legitimately punished by the man I love so much.

Why would any girl want to be treated this way?!?? I don't get it. I'm literally terrified of my spankings. In the moment, I'll do anything to make it stop. As I go across his lap, I am questioning my life choices. He's always fair but extremely firm with my disciplinary spankings, and I really really regret whatever I did to land me across his knee. And afterwards I am in a humble and receptive state of mind, tears in my eyes and my bum on fire, and vow never to repeat that behaviour again.

The spanking is over. I have no idea how many strokes or how long it was. While it was going on, time was completely frozen and the spanking was never-ending. As soon as it was over, it felt like no time at all had elapsed.

I feel it was right. It was right that I was punished like this. I guess that's one reason I keep the arrangement up. I was rude and obnoxious to a friend and an employee of long-standing. I deserved it. I felt better having paid the required price. I even felt better knowing that Maria knew that I was to be spanked like this. Next week I'll go apologize to her once more. I'll rub both my cheeks and tell her that my David did give me a spanking for it.

I wonder if she'll ask any questions about it?

David helped me to my feet and held me as I cried and apologized again. He had implied cornertime earlier:  "I'll give you plenty of time afterwards to think about it." He sat and helped me out of my jeans and panties and socks. He pulled my T-shirt up and off, and removed my bra. He led me to the corner and gently pushed my face towards it. I know he insists on my nose being in contact with both walls, right in the corner. To do that I have to move my feet a bit away and arch my back to get my nose fully in there. Of course, that sticks my bottom out into the room, and it feels like it displays my pussy and bumhole from behind.

"Ten minutes, then you can apologize to me," he says. I was expecting more. Ten minutes is still a long time for a hyperactive girl like me, but better than 30 minutes, or an hour!

"Cross your hands behind your back where I can see them," he adds.

Oh blush! He knows I can't help touching myself when I'm being punished like this.

He stayed in the same room, sipping his Scotch and reading his book as I cooled my heels. At least Maria wasn't doing the vacuuming around me with me naked and cornered and my bum in this state. I was thinking that as I was standing there. I played out the scene in my head with Maria watching it all, then me being required to stand in the corner for four full hours as she came and went, and...

"Stop your fidgeting," he said.

Ohhhhh! I could feel my pussy totally dampening from the accumulation of everything today, and I longed to touch it.

For me, the cornertime is some of the most embarrassing thing for me. My agency has been completely removed from me. I dare not wriggle, or move, or complain, as I know he will not hesitate to pull me out of the corner, spank me again, possibly a paddling, and then restart my cornertime, from the beginning, with time added. I can't help but think I'm a grown woman and this cannot be happening to me! I know he sits there, self-satisfied, knowing my behaviour has been corrected.

I heard David coming up behind me.

"You're done. Thank me for punishing you."

I turned around prepared to say my apologies one more time, but his cock was out of his pants!

Oh. I knew what was expected of me, and it wasn't a verbal thank you, rather, an oral one.

I got down on my knees and gave him my best possible pornstar grade blowjob. As he approached his climax he clamped my head and fucked my mouth and then came into me and said, "Apology Accepted!" Oh no. He had "accepted my apology" by giving me a mouthful of cum which I dutifully swallowed. Now I was horny as hell!

I cleaned up his cock with my mouth, getting the last drops out, licking his shaft completely clean, then gently putting him away. He guided me up and gave me a big hug. He turned me around, gave me a swat on the ass, and told me he was going to stay down here and read a few more chapters, and I should to go to our bedroom and masturbate.

I felt the flush as the blood ran into my cheeks. "David, no..." I said, embarrassed.

"I'll give you a choice. You can either go upstairs and masturbate now, or I'll give you another spanking, just like the last one, and then you go upstairs to masturbate. Choose."

"Ohhh... I'll go masturbate now, sir..."

"And make sure I hear it when you cum!" He yelled up after me as I was headed up the stairs.

I went upstairs, prepared the Hitachi, and lay on the bed with my head propped up on the pillows. I started just by fingering myself, using my own wetness to lube my clit. I thought about the day's events, reliving them and their kinkier variations. My Mom and Dad dropping in during my four-hour cornertime. An extra spanking from Daddy as I ran from the corner, covering myself desperately, as David let them in. Then Daddy putting me firmly back into my corner. Maria's husband dropping in to pick her up. Maria explaining to him why her employer's wife was in the corner with a very red bum and no clothes on.

I turned on the Hitachi and pushed it against my pussy and clitty. Something wasn't right. I moved the pillows from under my head to under my midsection, turning around so I was ass up and bent over. I was lying directly on the Hitachi. I spread my legs open. I imagined David removing his belt, with Maria in the room, and whipping me with it! I reached one hand behind. I touched myself to feel how soaking wet and exposed my pussy was. It was completely wet and open as David whipped me mercilessly with his belt. I felt my bottom hole. Oh no! It was completely open and on display as well for my whipping!

I imagine David saying, "Are you embarrassed, young lady? Good! Spread your legs more so Maria can see what a naughty, naughty girl you are while I whip you!"

A switch is flipped and instantly it's my Dad alone in the room with me. He's the one whipping me with his belt. I plunge my hand into my cunt from behind, the Hitachi still going against my clit. I pull my pussy open. It's Daddy pulling my pussy open after my whipping. "I'm going to teach you your place once and for all, young lady!" My fingers pump my pussy imagining it is Daddy's cock!

"OH FUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK," I scream out as I cum violently, grinding my hips into my Hitachi, knowing David will have heard it all, knowing that he will read this, and know for sure what a filthy, dirty, perverted, sick, slutty, whore he married...