Not a sight Mike Francis likes to see when he arrives home, because he knows what it means.
“Not bad for a Monday,” Mike Francis said to himself as he headed home from work. He had closed an order with a new client that would have a positive impact on his commission check for at least the next three months, he was hungry, and he was looking forward to getting home.
Mike was pleased that he lived in Colorado, and that because of its time zone, the Monday night game started at the very convenient hour of 6:30. Tonight’s game didn’t involve his favorites; the Broncos, but it was an attractive game where the winner would clinch a playoff berth.
Kelly, his wife of two years, occasionally watched Broncos games with him, but tonight he’d get the big set while she caught up on some of her favorites she had recorded on the set in the bedroom. With the game ending around 10PM local time and the couple in pleasant moods, Mondays frequently ended with lovemaking, and Mike was certainly in the mood for an enjoyable pre-game dinner, and even more enjoyment from some post-game physical activity.
All those thoughts disappeared in an instant as he opened the door to their apartment. Kelly was sitting there waiting for him on a tall stool from their dinette set. Even worse, she was holding a light-colored wooden clothes brush.
Mike was all too familiar with both items. The stool had been used by Kelly on about a half-dozen occasions in the two years they had been married, and she now referred to it as the “spanking chair.” The brush was, unfortunately, much more familiar to him. It had peppered his backside on dozens of occasions, used by his mother for the first twenty years of his life, and by Kelly for the last two years.
“What did I do?” was his immediate reaction. The other times Kelly had spanked him, he knew he had done something that upset her, but this time he had no idea what had earned him a punishment. “What did I do?” he asked aloud.
“We’ll discuss that during dinner,” Kelly said in a cold and authoritative voice. “I’m still cooking. You go get ready.” She put the brush down on the stool and walked to the kitchen.
Mike still had no idea what he had done, but he was sure it would do no good to disobey her with the stool and brush already in place.
Spankings meant early bedtimes for him, and as bad as it would be to be spanked and sent to bed after dinner, it would be even worse to argue and get spanked right now. He knew that watching the game was now out of the question -- he expected he would be in bed sobbing and laying on his stomach even before the end of the first quarter of the game, which was now totallly unimportant to him.
He slowly walked to the bedroom with an uneasy stomach. He knew the hour ahead of him was going to be painful and embarrassing, and he still did not know why. He started to undress and made himself completely naked before walking over to his dresser. The only garment he was going to be allowed to wear was in the top drawer.
Several months earlier, Kelly had told him that while she was comfortable that her spankings were painful enough to him, she was not sure that he was embarrassed enough to make the punishment a real lesson he would remember. His mother had once told her that when he had been about twelve years old and had been caught going through his older sister’s dresser, for the next couple of years she had made him wear a pair of his sister’s pink panties as “punishment panties” prior to spankings. Kelly told him she was going to buy a pair of bright red panties for him to wear for spankings. She had decided on bright red as she had said when his butt matched the color of his panties, she would know he had been punished enough. In actuality, though, his backside never had quite reached that hue before becoming a bluish-purple color where most of the brush strokes had landed.
It took a while for her to find a pair of bright red panties in a size big enough for him to wear. At first she found a cotton pair in the right color, but later saw a nylon pair with lace trim and made him switch to those, she felt the nylon would be more embarrassing to him, and it was. She also mandated that he keep the panties in the same drawer as his masculine underwear, so he would see it every morning and it would be a reminder what could happen that day if he misbehaved.
Mike stepped into the garment and looked at himself in the bedroom mirror. He did not like what he saw -- a 25-year-old man, naked except for a pair of red panties, who was soon to go over his wife’s knee for a painful spanking, which would be followed by corner time and an early bedtime. He knew that he was big enough physically that he could refuse to participate, but deep down inside of him there was another voice -- one which told him that he needed to be watched over and managed by strong women. His mother had done that for many years, and he knew when he first started dating Kelly that she was like his mother in many ways. That inner voice had told him on many occasions that he couldn’t always trust his own judgment, and he had to rely on first his mother, and now his wife, for the discipline that he could not provide for himself. He also feared that if he tried to resist he was likely to make Kelly even angrier, and he knew he would ultimately concede to her authority anyway. Resisting at first would probably just make his spanking longer and more painful, and he certainly did not want that.
So he walked out of the bedroom meekly wearing just the panties, knowing a painful punishment awaited him. Within a few minutes, he would be transformed into a naughty little boy with a backside feeling like it was on fire. He knew he would be bawling loudly, trying to verbalize pleas for mercy and promises to behave. But Kelly had once told him that she intended to make every spanking just a bit worse than the one that came before it, so he expected tonight’s punishment to be as horrible as anything he had ever experienced.
He walked to the kitchen, and she told him, “Not ready yet. Go to your corner.” He turned and walked to the small living room -- there was one corner there where he had served post-spanking corner time before, although she had never made him stand there prior to a punishment previously. The rituals associated with a spanking had grown over the two years she had been punishing him, and he wondered if pre-spanking corner time was going to become a continuing practice, or if this was just a one-time event based on her preparing dinner.
He had to pass the stool and brush on his way to the corner, and he paused for a moment to look at them. He disliked both. The brush had given him pain many times during his life, and he had in the last two years found the stool also to be an object that on occasion made things worse. It was just tall enough that when Kelly sat on it and he was draped over her lap, he could lean forward and get his fingers onto the carpet, or he could keep his toes on the carpet, but it was just high enough that he couldn’t keep both fingers and toes grounded. And at times when the brush was landing hard on his backside, there were moments when his body jerked involuntarily, and he was completely off the ground, sprawled over her the same way a small child would be if spanked by a parent. The helplessness that feeling brought about in him simply added to his misery.
Standing in the corner alone with his thoughts, his mind drifted to the first time Kelly had spanked him two years earlier. They were newlyweds then, going through many of the problems couples have during the first year of marriage, and his bride had been growing increasingly frustrated over his laziness and sloppiness, as well as a tendency he had to lose track of time and get home significantly later than he had promised. In short, he had been showing a lot of immaturity. He never knew it, but before the wedding his mother had warned Kelly to be on the lookout for exactly those problems, and to get her involved if Mike was failing to uphold his end of the marriage.
On a day that followed an argument the night before, Kelly sent Mike a text message telling him his mother would be coming over for dinner that night. Mike didn’t think much of that as she had done so a few times in the past, he just regretted that her visit might kill his chances for some make-up sex that he would have enjoyed that night.
After dinner, Mike and Kelly moved the dishes to the kitchen, while his mother went into the living room. She sat on the couch while the couple sat in chairs opposite her. Mike noticed Kelly was smiling, but didn’t know why.
Mike’s mother started right in, using a sharp tone of voice that he had heard many times in the years he lived with her. “I’m hearing you’re not being a very good husband,” Ruth said.
He was immediately on the defensive. “We’re going through some first year adjustments,” he answered weakly.
It was a feeble response that did not find a friendly audience. “No, you’re not,” Mom said. “You’re the same lazy little boy you were when you lived with me.” She glared at him in a menacing way. He knew what that kind of voice and glare would mean for his backside when he lived at home, and for a moment he was relieved that he no longer was subject to her punishments.
Or so he thought.
Mom reached down and Mike saw her purse was on the floor next to the couch she was sitting on. She lifted it and opened it. To his horror, he saw her remove a brush -- that brush that he hated so much -- from the purse. She looked right into his eyes, and he looked away in fear. He knew something unthinkable was about to happen -- his mother was going to spank him, and his wife was going to watch.
In fact, it was going to be even worse than that!
Ruth motioned to him to come to the couch and ordered him to lower his pants and shorts. He looked at Kelly for support but saw the smile on her face had broadened. He was reluctant to drop his pants, but complied after his mother pointed out that he wasn’t going to expose anything that neither she nor Kelly hadn’t seen before.
This was far from the first time he was placing a bare bottom over his mother’s lap, but it was the first time in about four years. Ruth’s philosophy was that as long as her children lived in her house, they were vulnerable to disciplinary spankings, and Mike hadn’t moved out until he had graduated from college. He actually endured his last spanking from her shortly after his twenty-first birthday, and she had noted that he cried as much as a grown man as he had done when he was a little boy.
Mike had known that if he truly wanted to resist his mother, she would be physically unable to spank him, but he had too much respect for her to defy her. She also (as Kelly did too) had a more assertive personality than he did, and in a strange way he found it easier to endure the pain and embarrassment of a spanking than it would be to stand up to a determined woman. And there was always that nagging inner voice that told him he needed this kind of discipline. So, as all those times before, he did as he was told -- he unbuckled his pants and lowered them, then looked at Kelly and slowly pushed his shorts down to his knees. He then shuffled over to Ruth’s right side and quietly placed himself over her lap.
“He knows when he deserves it,” he heard Ruth say to Kelly. “This is how you handle a bad little boy of any age.”
The brush started to fall, and Mike remembered why he hated being spanked. It hurt. It hurt a lot. He moaned and groaned, but knowing his wife was watching, he wanted above all to avoid the additional embarrassment that crying would create. He heard Ruth say a few other words to Kelly, but he was so focused on the pain he was feeling that her words didn’t register with him.
Finally it stopped. “Get up,” Ruth told him, and he scrambled to his legs as quickly as he could given the pants around his ankles. He looked to her for further instructions, but she was looking at Kelly.
“Your turn,” Ruth said to her daughter-in-law.
Mike watched in quiet horror as his mother handed the brush to his wife, and Kelly took her place on the couch. She looked directly at him and then down to her lap; he knew that meant he had to crawl over her lap for additional spanks.
The first few spanks were light -- even on an already-bruised rump, they did not hurt very much. But an experienced spanker such as Ruth knew that too. “Harder,” she told Kelly. “He’s not feeling that. Lift your arm higher and bring the brush down faster.”
Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing -- his own mother was giving spanking lessons to his wife. Whose side was she on? But as angry as he was about what was happening, that little inner voice again whispered to him that all this was good for him -- both women cared about him, and all of this was for the better.
Ruth continued to give Kelly pointers. “Vary your cadence,” she told her. “Don’t alternate cheeks. He prepares for that. Make him guess where the next spank will be.”
The spanks stopped for a moment, and he felt a finger touch the spot on the very bottom of his right butt cheek where it met the top of his thigh. “Spank him there a few times,” Ruth said. “He hates that.”
Ruth was right. Kelly moved her attention to that spot, and it hurt terribly, escalating the already loud blubbering cries from the punished man.
But Ruth also knew when enough was enough, and finally said to Kelly, “Good job, Kelly. I think he’s learned a good lesson tonight, give him about ten more and that should do it. Then you might want to have him stand in the corner for a while.”
Mike spent about ten minutes in the corner before being sent to the bedroom. When Kelly came into the room after Ruth had left, she showed him that his mother had given the brush to her as a gift with the instructions to use it whenever she felt it was necessary.
Still standing in the corner while Kelly prepared dinner, the memory of that night made Mike dread what the rest of this night would bring. Kelly had learned how to deliver an effective spanking very well, and had added embellishments such as the panties and early bedtime as she felt they enhanced what was a complete punishment that would improve her husband’s future behavior.
“Dinner’s ready,” she called out. Naked except for his panties, he moved into the dining area.
Over the two years she had been punishing him, Kelly had also started to scold him on punishment occasions, and to taunt him. “Sit down,” she said to him. “It’s the last time you’ll sit comfortably for quite a while.” Mike knew she was right, but saw no humor in her comment.
“What did I do?’ he asked her again.
“Didn’t you volunteer to help move furniture at the church yesterday afternoon?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.
Mike groaned internally. Now he knew what he did.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“And you blew it off, didn’t you?” she said. “I had to work yesterday and you were home alone, and you decided not to go. Why? Because the Broncos game went into overtime?”
He nodded weakly. Searching for any factor that might help, he said, “I knew they had lots of volunteers, so I didn’t think they really needed me.”
“Well, I guess they didn’t have all that many,” Kelly retorted. “The minister called me this morning to find out if you were OK, and that’s how I found out you didn’t go.”
Mike had been hungry when he left work, but he had no appetite now. He knew he was just minutes away from a long, painful spanking. The little inner voice told him he deserved to be spanked, and he knew he did.
Kelly also had little appetite that night.
Considering all the vigor that she brought to his spanking sessions, Mike would have been amazed to know how much Kelly disliked spanking him. It wasn’t quite the old cliche, “this hurts me as much as it hurts you,” but she was not happy about her role as a disciplinarian wife.
Kelly knew early in their relationship that Mike had some immaturity in him, but there were many qualities in him that more than compensated, and she assumed he would grow out of his childish behavior. She had been disappointed that he had shown little improvement after the wedding, and she became very receptive when Ruth told her that the best way to modify Mike’s behavior was to use physical punishment.
After she and Ruth spanked him the first time, Kelly went online and researched how some other wives who spanked their husbands handled their men. She eventually incorporated some of their ideas, like corner time and being sent to bed after a spanking, into her own rituals.
But she never felt comfortable spanking him, in fact she was somewhat ashamed that she had to spank him at all. Ruth of course knew that Kelly spanked Mike, but Kelly never told her own mother or sister about it, and asked Ruth not to discuss it with anyone else.
Kelly also decided that the “quality” of a spanking session was more important than the quantity of spankings. She accepted the fact that spanking him had a positive effect on their marriage, but she hoped that she could keep the practice down to two or maybe three a year. But she also determined that each spanking needed to be very memorable -- an experience that would keep her husband in line for many months to come. That was why she added enhancements to her sessions that she knew he wouldn’t like, such as corner time, early bedtime, scolding and taunting, and of course the red “panties.” She knew “theatrics” were an important part of the experience, such as waiting for him in the spanking chair where he would see her the very moment he walked into the apartment.
It had been several months since Kelly had spanked Mike, and she had recently overlooked a couple of incidents that conceivably could have called for a session. Since she had worked on Sunday, Monday was a day off for her, and when the minister had called in the morning to inquire about Mike, she knew she needed to spank him that night. It wasn’t that reneging on his commitment to help at church was all that bad in itself, but she knew the time had come for a reminder as to what happens when he acted irresponsibly. She didn’t believe in the concept that some other women call a “maintenance spanking,” but tonight was going to be more of a “compilation spanking” based in her mind on several incidents in recent weeks that merited a punishment, with yesterday as the final straw.
In a way, she thought, he was the lucky one. He would only find out about the spanking when he got home in the evening -- she knew about it early in the day and it would depress her all day. She tried to avoid thinking about it until about an hour before he got home. Knowing he was going to be almost naked, she turned up the heat in the apartment a few degrees. The apartment warmed up rapidly and she started to sweat, so she changed into shorts and a sleeveless top, not typical attire for Colorado in November. She also thought she would make him a nice meal before his punishment (although she later decided that had been a wasted act once she realized an impending spanking wouldn’t put him in the mood to enjoy supper).
So they both picked at their meal, neither looking forward to what was next. Kelly knew she determined the timing so she finally put down her fork, looked him straight in the eye, and nodded her head towards the living room where the stool had been placed. The time had come. Mike broke off eye contact, sighed, and slowly rose to walk towards it.
Mike paused when he got to the stool, and picked up the brush. He handed it to Kelly after she sat down. Whatever reluctance Kelly might have felt about spanking him had dissipated in the short walk to the stool, and she had morphed fully into disciplinary mode. She was in charge, he was a bad little boy who needed a good spanking, and that was exactly what he was going to get!
“Now,” she barked at him in a cold and demanding voice, and he placed himself over her lap, trying to keep contact with the carpet with his toes. She reached into the waistband of his panties, and slowly moved them almost to the back of his knees. “What a nice shade of red,” she said as if she was talking to herself, but of course Mike heard it and knew exactly what she meant by the statement.
“You’re a bad boy, Michael,” she said to him as she rubbed the wood side of the brush against his butt. “I’m very angry about what you did.”
“I’m sorry, honey, I really am,” he said quietly.
“It’s way too late for the ’I’m sorrys’ now Michael.”
“I know, Kelly.”
But theatrics called for more ’foreplay’ before the main act began.
“What happens to bad little boys who always have to say I’m sorry, Michael?”
He responded very softly, even as the brush continued to rub his backside. “They get spanked.”
The brush moved upward from his butt and he tightened up in anticipation. “Yes, that’s right, Michael. Bad little boys get spanked.”
Kelly may not have liked what she was doing, but she had become very proficient at it, and once into the disciplinarian role, she took it very seriously. Her goal was to make the experience bad enough for Mike that it would be at least six months before she would have to do it again. Since she felt each spanking should be a little bit worse than the last one, this was bound to be a very harrowing night for her bad little boy.
The first time she had spanked him after the dual spanking at the hands of his mother and Kelly, Mike tried to retain some personal dignity and tried hard not to cry. But Kelly had seen some thoughts on the internet about coaxing and teasing a spankee into tears, and she had told him that when bad little boys get the spankings they deserve, crying is expected and mandatory. She had told him he might as well let go and cry, because the spanking wasn’t going to end until she saw real tears.
After two years of spankings, there wasn’t even an attempt by Mike to hold back his tears, and he cried quickly and loudly. Even though he knew he was going to be over her knee for several minutes, he started pleading for her to stop almost immediately, but within just a few seconds, the crying turned his pleas and promises into an almost unintelligible blubbering.
Kelly spanked him in several bursts, stopping a few times to rest her arm and also to give his butt a short respite. It was over in about five minutes, and when she told him he could get off her lap, he simply kneeled on the floor and cried with his head resting on one of her legs. She felt for him, but even though the spanking itself was over, she felt the punishment as a whole was not over. She allowed him just a few seconds of resting against her leg before ordering him into the corner, reminding him that he was not allowed to rub his butt and that if he did, he’d be back over her knee immediately.
After about fifteen minutes in the corner, she walked over to him, and lifted his red panties most of the way up. “Close,” she said commenting on the color contrast with his butt (even though it really wasn’t close), and then she pulled the garment back up to his waist, causing him some pain as it covered his skin.
“Bedtime,” she said to him, even though it wasn’t even 7 o’clock yet. He nodded, and turned slowly to move to the bedroom. But the little voice in his head spoke to him one more time, reminding him he needed to do one more thing tonight, and he turned back to Kelly and kissed her.
“I’m sorry,” he said one more time.
“Apology accepted,” she said softly. “But bedtime for spanked little boys.”
He nodded, and headed off towards the bedroom.
But Kelly knew her husband very well, and knew that even though he had just been severely punished, he had a mischievous streak. “And if I catch you on your phone trying to get the score of tonight’s game, you’ll get spanked again tomorrow,” she warned.
He turned around to face her. He was smiling. His wife knew him all too well.