Her glorious hips swaying, she left the room again, Doug's eyes riveted on
Colleen's magnificent behind, barely hidden by her extra-mini skirt. She came
back with an odd assortment of items, most of which Doug had seen (and felt)
before, but his wife had a couple of new things as well. Laying aside the highly
polished thin oak paddle and the ugly tawse, she carried the other things over
to where he could get a good look. There was the familiar razor strop, that
heavy strap that not only stung like blazes, but also produced an abrasion that
endured for a day or two. Colleen liked to "prime" his bottom with the strop,
then wait a bit before putting the shiny oak paddle to work. The paddle stung
like nobody's business when it whacked a razor-strop sensitized bare bottom.
Later on, a through application of the tawse left no doubt in Doug's mind about
who was in charge, and what he could expect if he misbehaved. The thoughts raced
through his mind and his fear built, making him tremble. The other items that
Colleen carried were a folded straight razor, an oilstone, and a shaving mug
with a brush sticking out of it. She hung the strop from a hook near his head.
The proximity of the evil thing gave him the shivers, but his curiosity got the
better of him.
"What's that stuff for, hon?" he asked hopefully.
Colleen gave him a sidelong glance, full of meaning, and unfolded the gleaming
straight razor. She took the oilstone in her left hand, and began wiping the
razor on its surface in a circular motion.
"You already know what the strop is for, or have you forgotten the last time I
whipped your naughty bottom?"
Smiling slyly at her husband's sudden blush, she continued, her deep green eyes
seeming almost reptilian.
"Actually, I was reading the other day that the hair on your bottom acts like a
cushion during a spanking, and you know what? If you shave it off, it makes a
spanking sting much, much more. Isn't that interesting?"
Doug gulped, his pulse pounding. With a wild look, he exclaimed,
"You mean you're gonna.., Oh God, Colleen, No!" "You can't shave my ass!" "Oh,
come on! Please!"
He was wound up now, and Colleen just watched, and smiled, and kept right on
sharpening the razor, her green eyes boring into his
frightened, bloodshot brown ones.
"I'll do the cooking and dishes for a month! Six months! I'll clean the bathroom
for the next year! Please! You can't! I'll shine your shoes, anything!"
"Now, now." Colleen purred, as she wiped off the razor and began stropping it.
The honed steel made a ringing, whispering sound as she expertly slapped it
against the strop, finishing the sharpening job.
"Your hair will grow back, but I do remember reading that it will itch like
crazy for a while, just about the time that the tenderness from the spanking
goes away."
She grinned as she picked up the shaving mug.
"You'll look and feel like you have ants in your pants!"
Her bubbly laughter made Doug blush even harder, and he just fretted in silence,
knowing he was beyond help and totally at his wife's mercy. She busied herself
with whipping up a good, rich lather, then walked around to where his rear was
totally exposed. He flinched at the touch of the lather, feeling her apply it
all over the target area, and now began to worry about that wicked-looking steel
razor, just a foot in front of his face. Colleen's lovely legs came back into
view, and she picked the razor up, his gaze riveted to its gleaming sharpness.
"Oh, God, PLEASE!" he wailed, closing his eyes.
"Hold still, now," she warned, placing her left hand on his back, "I don't want
to slip and cut off something you need!"
Doug went rigid, wincing as he felt the sharpened razor scraping over his bottom
and upper thighs. It took much less time than he figured, and when Colleen was
done, she wiped him down with Witch Hazel, removing all the excess lather. A new
coolness pervaded his rump. With the layer of hair gone, it was smooth as a
baby's. Now, the moment was at hand. Colleen retrieved the razor strop from its
hook, and took up her position to one side of the table, in the perfect position
to apply the heavy strap to his fully bared bottom.
He wasn't ready for the extent of the smarting burn that assaulted his freshly
shaved backside. From past experience, he knew it hurt, but this was a new level
in the annals of sting. The first whack took him completely by surprise, even
though he heard the whistle of the strop. The fiery sting of it, planted
squarely across the sit-spot, took his breath away and paralyzed his vocal
cords. His mouth gaped open, trying to form an expression that would adequately
convey his distress, but nothing came out. Another swat, even harder, landed
right on top of the first.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" A long wail finally escaped as his lungs recovered.
"Owww, Colleeee..!"
A third whack landed, prematurely ending his plea. Doug's now active voice
continued its fruitless quest for mercy and surcease, while the strop in
Colleen's hand punctuated each phrase with a stinging crack. His legs strained
against their bonds, bottom clenching, body twisting in vain as his determined
wife worked the strap from the tops of his bottom-cheeks all the way down to mid
thigh, overlapping thoroughly as she went. She took special care to ensure full
contact with each stroke, pausing now and again to examine the surface of his
bottom.
"Oh, Dougie, you should see this lovely shade of red! Marvelous. Do you think I
should take some Polaroids, for remembrance?"
Her poor husband just squirmed, aching to rub his smarting bottom with his
hands, but unable to do so. Nevertheless, his hands writhed against their bonds
anyway, desperately wishing to quell the fire that raged down below.
"Not such a wise guy, now, huh?" Colleen asked sweetly.
The question was rhetorical, and Doug knew it. The scolding continued.
"I know, I know, you're sorry. That's what you always say. Well, my little
shave-tail munchkin, you're going to be much sorrier before I'm done with you.
Let's just add a bit more fire to your naughty rear with this strap, and then
you can think about how my paddle is going to sting your bare bottom in a
half-hour or so."
Doug's wailing resumed as Colleen plied the razor strop once more, turning his
entire backside a remarkable crimson. When she was
satisfied with her handiwork, she set the strop aside and came to stand by her
husband's head. Taking a kleenex, she wiped his tears and runny nose, then gave
him a kiss on the cheek.
"Rest awhile, my sweet, and think about what got you here. You've only yourself
to blame for your sore behind, and it's going to be even more so when I'm done."
He watched her leave the room, excited beyond belief by her stunning appearance,
and more in love with her than ever, despite how strictly she had punished him.
It was actually closer to an hour later that Colleen came back into the room,
rousing Doug from a fitful nap. His bottom burned and itched abominably, and he
could do nothing about it.
"Please, honey, can't we just forget about this?" he pleaded, "I'll watch myself
from now on, I promise, honest."
The plea was half-hearted, as he knew it would be "No Sale".
"I'd like to believe you, Dougie, you know I would, but you have a touch of the
blarney in you, and it always seems to come out when you've got discipline
coming."
She picked up the thin oak paddle, well-varnished and stout, and brandished it
before his face.
"I think a long, hard dose of mother's helper right on your naughty bare bottom
will send that blarney of yours back to where it belongs. We'll have a nice,
long talk after I've paddled you, and I'll know by your answers whether I need
to polish your bottom to a deeper scarlet."
Checkmated, as he always was, Doug waited for the terrible sting of the paddle.
He didn't have long to wait. Colleen whacked him hard, right across both cheeks,
making his body buck with the awful sting that only highly polished dense oak is
capable of.
"OWWWW! GOD! Enough!" he yowled, straining to turn around to see when the next
swat was coming, in vain. Tears started from his eyes, and flowed more copiously
when he realized that his lovely, but strict wife was just beginning. The
paddling would go on for some time.
A symphony in discipline, the paddle in Colleen's firm grip spanked its way up
and down the tenderized contours of her errant husband's bare bottom, turning
the surface a deeper red with each solid whack. Because the paddle was light, it
didn't bruise much, and was easy to swing, but it stung like nothing Doug had
ever felt. Reduced to frustrated, anguished tears, he just let out his grief as
she polished his bottom to a bright cherry red. Colleen had been right. He
forgot all about his headache, and focused his entire concentration on his
burning rear. After many, many burning swats had thoroughly punished him, Doug
became aware that the spanking had stopped. Sobbing, he watched through blurred
eyes as Colleen walked over to stand by him, her hands
caressing the smooth wooden paddle.
"Well, now." She said, leaning slightly over him, "and how would my naughty boy
be doing, now that he's had his bottom spanked good and proper?"
She often lapsed into a delightful Irish accent, knowing how he liked it. Doug
had to be honest with her.
"I - I'm really sorry now, love. That p-paddle hurts so much, I'm on fire."
"Well, my little man, I'd better have the right answers to a few questions, or
you'll be feelin' it on your bottom all over again, make no mistake."
She proceeded to ask about his future behavior, and made him fully admit and
apologize for his contrary and disrespectful attitude. Finally, she said slyly,
"Are you sure you aren't needing another dose of mother's helper, now, cause
I've got lots of swing left in my good right arm."
"NO! PLEASE! I SWEAR I'LL BEHAVE MYSELF FROM NOW ON!"
Promises and repentance flowed out of his mouth like a tangible stream, until
Colleen was laughing merrily. She shook the paddle at him, warning,
"Careful what you say, my boy, I think I detect a touch of blarney coming out of
you!"
That produced a new round of earnest pleas and promises, delivered nearly
non-stop as Colleen eyed him suspiciously, fingering the paddle all the while.
At last, having had some revenge at his expense, she set the paddle aside, and
stroked his hair lovingly.
"Still one more thing left, my love." She whispered, solemnly.
Her husband's eyes misted over as he realized he had more punishment coming, and
it was the item that left the most lasting effect. Colleen believed that a
punishment spanking should be remembered long after the actual event, so she
always finished up with the tawse. Imported from where they have been made
properly for years, hers was a substantial item, whippy and flexible in the
extreme. A thorough application of its split character to her husband's
well-spanked bare bottom and thighs made sure he would recall her ministrations
every time he attempted to sit for the next few days.
Doug watched, heartsick, as Colleen retrieved the nasty thing, standing behind
him and to one side, as she invariably did. The tears began to flow in earnest,
along with his cries for forgiveness as the leather fingers whapped his blazing
bottom again and again. The burning sting transformed into an aching smart as
the tawse did its work, ensuring he would not forget this whipping any time
soon. At long last, Colleen was satisfied, and released his bonds, taking him
tenderly in her arms. Soothing his anguished brow, she kissed him sweetly,
affirming her love and getting his affirmation in return. She left him to clean
up and restore his shattered composure, retreating to their bedroom to dress
more appropriately for making dinner.
Well-spanked bottom throbbing, Doug sat across from his beautiful wife, the
lovely but so very strict Colleen. In addition to being a capable
disciplinarian, she was also a world-class cook, and as he took another mouthful
of beautifully seasoned roast lamb, he gave thanks for the providence that gave
him into the hands of such a loving and caring creature such as she. Her liquid
green eyes gleamed warm and moist as she returned his gaze, the anger and
austerity now replaced by a vision of Irish meadows laced with sparkling brooks.
A coppery haze in the candlelight, her hair shimmered like an autumn sunset.
Reaching out, he gently placed his hand over hers, letting it linger there. She
smiled, warming his soul without saying a word. Nothing else needed to be said.
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