Six of the Best, A Reader's Spanking Story

After a particularly slothful evening of excessive drink I awoke early with a pervasive dullness; the type of dullness that clouds one's senses. I rinsed out the carafe, prepared coffee and surveyed the vast collection of dirty dishes and glasses, most of which were rinsed and stacked neatly in the corner for me to place in the dishwasher. I thought, with no small amount of guilt, "she was up late again tidying up after me". It had been a good evening; one to remember. I rarely saw some of my old friends and we enjoyed trading stories. They also brought out some of my old habits which was not good.

She was in bed when I delivered I the paper and a coffee. It still didn't feel right. We lay together on the bed; she read the paper and I pretended to. Try though I might, recurring pangs of guilt waved over me. The matter was further reinforced by the occasional comment she let slip. I behaved boorishly. I knew that. But what to do about it. I tried, awkwardly, to bring the subject up, to apologize in the easiest way, but to no avail. She ignored me. There was no easy way out.

I resolved that I should atone for my actions. My wife would have to take an active role. While she was in the shower I rummaged through the garage seeking the object of my punishment. Among the garden supplies were a number of thin, green bamboo canes about 2 1/2 feet long and 1/4 - 3/8 inch in diameter. I selected one which made a fearsome whistle as I moved it quickly through the air. Most decidedly, this one would do. I returned to the bedroom, placed the rod on the bureau and selected two small pillows which I put aside.

Soon she emerged from the shower and plopped down beside me on the bed. Slowly I began to apologize, noting that her evening was less fun than mine and then, feeling somewhat nervous, I demurred, "I was bad and you should punish me". Her eyebrows raised in surprise at the possibilities and, after a pause, she smiled saying, "yes, I should. You really have been naughty and quite deserve it". Casting a frown she added "You really deserve a spanking, but, it would be too loud and I don't want to alert the children". "Try the cane" I suggested "it's much quieter than your hand and I doubt that they could hear it over the television downstairs". I quickly rose and returned with the slender bamboo rod which I handed to her. Smiling, she flexed the rod and stared into my eyes with unusual determination. I rose again and stacked the two pillows on the end of the bed.

She stood beside me and tapped the cane against my side saying "Drop the shorts. Serious discipline will be on your bare bottom. "Over you go" she said pushing me face down. I felt a queasy unease as my bare posterior rose up above the bed, beckoning for the rod. Drawing back the cane she took a practice swing against the bed which made a muffled "whap!". The anticipation quickly grew, along with my cock which was comfortably pressed into the pillows. "Tell me, why am I doing this", she rhetorically asked. I must have been too slow to respond. The cane came down sharply across my cheeks. "Ow!" I blurted, reaching back to rub the soreness. "None of that" she snapped, adding "place your hands under your head and keep them there. That was to get your attention. Next time I ask you a question, I shall expect a prompt reply". "Yes, maam" I quickly retorted "because of my behavior". "That is an understatement" she quickly noted, then drew back the cane and, with a flick of the wrist, brought it smartly against my bottom with a soft "whack!". A red stripe rose from the spot.

The pain, while distinct, was by no means unbearable. The noise was not at all loud. It really didn't hurt at all. Drawing back her wrist she delivered another, stinging blow, to the juncture of my bottom and upper thighs. I began to relax, thinking that this wouldn't hurt as much as I suspected. My sanguine thoughts were abruptly ended as she began to explain "Those were for practice, darling. Today you will receive six of the best. After each stroke you will count. If you miss, I shall start anew" she said, speaking in slow measured tones. She quickly tapped the cane three times on a spot higher on my bottom, as if to mark the target. Drawing back her arm she really let me have it with a real zinger. A loud "whack!" filled the room and my ears. I convulsively lurched forward expelling by breath with a "whooh!" and jamming my sex into the pillow. "Oow!" I exclaimed in surprise which drew a snappy retort commanding my silence. The initial effect was to blanch the skin white followed, a second later with a long, read wheal and a throbbing pain.

"How's that?" she smartly queried and, pausing, said "I didn't hear you count". "One", I quickly added. "Too late" she replied and raised the rod above her head and brought it down smartly. The cane cut through air with an audible whistle and crashed into my bum like a meteorite. "Yeow!" I squealed and again lurched and bucked, and added "One". My bottom was really on fire! But, the pain was oddly satisfying; assuaging my guilt while giving a sense of exhilaration which came as a rush after the initial sting subsided. A throbbing heat radiated in synchrony with a throbbing I could feel in my loins. Patiently, my wife waited for the me to stop moving and surveying the target drew back and zeroed in on a new spot. The rod struck with a "splatt!" and quickly I blurted out "Ooh, ooh ooh! Two." She smiled with obvious satisfaction at the result of her efforts and playfully murmured "Poor baby. Does it hurt? That's only 2. Four more to go!"

My concentration now was totally focused on the throbbing mass of seared flesh which had formerly been smooth white orbs. Angry, red wheals rose up as stripes against the un-tanned flesh. "You really are a piece of work! Did you really think that I enjoy waiting on you?" As if to emphasize the point the cane fell across my bum with a vindictive "spatt!". The initial wave of pain shot through me. The wind and my pride had been driven out through my nostrils as I exhaled in obvious discomfort. I was in near total humiliation. It was just what I deserved and precisely what I needed. I was breathless but wisely added "Three". "That's right" she said optimistically "you're half way home" . She meant business. Taking her time she drew in a deep breath. Pivoting slightly on her right foot she drew back the cane and, with the weight of her body, delivered the next stroke, rotating towards me as she brought the cane down. My reddened globes were subjected to a fearsome lash which creased heavily into my bottom and sent a ripple down my thighs. "Four!" I blurted out and asked "can we stop now? I really have learned my lesson".

"No" she said "you will receive six of the best and you will not whine about it". She briefly paused to deliver a lecture on the importance of the cane in character development. "Your mother never really gave you the stick when you deserved it. Had she done so, this might not be necessary." She then began to recount a little of her British school past. "When we misbehaved we always got the rod. I was once caned in front of the entire form. I was not as comfortable as you, lying there on the bed. I had to clasp my ankles. My skirt was raised and my under-garments were removed. The headmaster was never easy and we never winged about it. He had a strong arm and we carried our bruises for days. We remembered our lessons long after the caning. I'm now going to leave you with a little reminder that I hope will stay with you for some time. Now, raise up your bottom" she ordered.

Obliging, I further arched my back affording her a better view of the upper thighs which had been hitherto spared. "I think you need attention, here she said driving home a wicked hit which seared into my thighs with a sound like a gun shot. Convulsively, I contracted and relaxed my cheeks. She was sparing nothing, taking no prisoners and fulfilling her duty with obvious relish. "Five", I added. "Good" she exclaimed, you'll feel that one when you sit. She paused a moment or two for me to again cease my wiggling. "Are you ready? This is the last one. But It's going to be a really hard one; one to grow on" she added. Her arm arched high above her head as I lay there in queasy anticipation. Quickly the rod whistled down and struck with a "crack!". My fingers clenched the sheet and, for a split-second, my entire being was focused on my bottom Another stripe was added to the rest.

I lay there and, after the bucking and heaving, I recounted the final number. Cautiously, I reached back and ran a finger across the welts which were now a prominent feature on my buttocks. "Get up!" she commanded and as I stood there she reached forward and squeezed my bulging cock. "Oh!" she exclaimed "I'll want some of that later" and flashed me a smile. Turning serious she ordered "Get downstairs and finish cleaning up. Do a good job and remember to wipe the counters. Do a poor job and you'll get another dose of this" she remarked, flexing the rod in her hands. I had learned my lesson. Almost. My wife had tasted the pleasures of dominance and it suited her. I would learn my lessons again and again for it suited me as well.

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