Doug awoke in a fog, uncertain of where he was. Wherever it was, he seemed to be

paralyzed, his mouth was cottony dry, and his head hurt. As the room swam into

view, he could see the familiar furnishings of his own spare room, morning light

streaming through the curtains. It hurt his eyes, and he blinked several times

to clear them. His arms and legs didn't seem to be working, and even the effort

to turn his head met with resistance. As consciousness returned, sensations

began flooding in. With a jolt, he suddenly grasped the reality of his

predicament: he was strapped securely to the adjustable spanking table that

Colleen had him build, and used fairly often for both recreation and discipline.

At the moment, the table was perfectly flat, like a doctor's examination table.


He was face down, his head resting on a thin pillow. Padded straps had him

secured at ankle, knee, waist, elbow and wrist. In short, he was totally

helpless. For a moment, he was puzzled, but the events of the previous night

came flooding back.


"Don't you think you've had enough?" Colleen scolded, crossing her world-class

legs impatiently.


Normally, Doug would defer to his gorgeous wife, not in a wimpy fashion, but

with respect and consideration. One too many beers had taken him past the point

of good sense, however, so he tried to ignore her, resuming his conversation

with Mark. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Colleen stewing, her

shapely leg bobbing up and down, arms folded tightly across her chest,

red-tipped fingers drumming angrily on her arms. He was at the point of no

return, and was sure to pay for his behavior with a sore seat. Spankings from

Colleen were routine, and Doug would be the first to admit that he enjoyed their

spanking play as a prelude to sex, but when his lovely red-haired beauty of a

wife got really angry with him, she didn't hesitate to thoroughly roast his

bottom as punishment. The standard over-the-knee session with bare hand or her

hairbrush that he perversely enjoyed gave way to applications of varnished oak

paddle, razor strop, or a nasty imported tawse. At those times, no sex followed,

just a few days of extra chores and additional punishment. He didn't mind,

really, as it even felt good to have the slate cleared from time to time. Now,

he knew he would be in for it, but stubbornly held his ground. Colleen rose and

whispered in his ear.

"You just wait 'til I get you home, mister!" she hissed.

He looked up at her with a crooked little smile, noting how her emerald green

eyes just sparkled with the candlelight from the table, and with their own

internal fire that spoke of both torment and delight. There was no delight in

her eyes just now, only the promise of punishment. His smile faded, the reality

taking hold, and he blushed slightly at his own visualization of what lay in

store for him later on. Well, anyway, he was drunk, so he probably wouldn't feel

whatever she gave him as much. Turning to his friend Mark, he excused himself.


"Scuse me. Gotta go. Want to keep peace in the family, you know?"


Mark shook his head, laughing. Most times they went out together, Doug was under

control, and he surmised, correctly, that Colleen's influence had a lot to do

with that. Every now and then, though, Doug seemed to go off the deep end,

almost as if he were trying to anger his lovely wife. Mark didn't know about

Colleen's disciplinary methods, so he wrote it off to being just one of those



Colleen took Doug by the arm, and making their farewells with Mark and Susan,

led him weaving out to the parking lot. As was often the case, Doug had gone to

sleep, or nearly so, on the way home. Colleen thought about letting him sleep in

the car, but then had a better idea. She managed to get him upstairs, to the

bathroom, and then undressed him, placing him face down on the spanking table in

their "playroom", where she fastened him securely. Morning would come soon

enough, and she would be sure to have his undivided attention. Smiling wickedly,

she turned out the light and went to bed.


"Ahh, so we're awake, are we?"


Colleen's mellow voice startled Doug with its nearness, making his heart race

for a moment. Trying to crane his neck to look around, he caught a glimpse of

her as she stood, laying aside a book she had been reading. She walked

purposefully into his view, and if he had any doubts about what lay in store for

him, they were dispelled by her appearance. Above, a black sleeveless polished

cotton blouse showed off her bare arms to great effect, with her nicely padded

forearms ending in well-shaped hands, the nails on her tapered fingers tipped

blood red. The blouse was half-length, revealing a trim waist, around which a

wide black leather belt topped a sinfully brief mini-skirt of black leather.

Achingly beautiful thighs, encased in dusky stockings, descended to well-turned

calves and not-too-slim ankles. Colleen's ladylike feet were encased in

four-inch calfskin pumps, augmenting her 5'10" height to a statuesque aspect.


Doug swallowed hard, awe-struck by the vision before him. Against the table, he

was painfully erect, in spite of the thrill of fear that coursed through him.

When Colleen took this kind of trouble to

tantalize him, he knew that there would be an awful price to pay. He gave her a

sickly grin, laying his head back on the pillow. Strapped down as he was, it was

an effort just to raise his head.


"Like my outfit?" she queried, teasingly.


He licked his dry lips before answering.




"So, how are we feeling this morning?"


Her body language conveyed the smoldering annoyance down deep, and something

else. A kind of predatory satisfaction, like you might imagine in a hungry

spider that has snared an unsuspecting insect in its web. Sinuously, she moved

closer, every motion leading him to a stiffer erection, making his blood surge

and his head pound.


"Uhh, guess I had too much beer last night." He offered lamely. "My head hurts,

and I'm thirsty."


"I'll get you a drink." The red-haired vixen replied, "And as for your head,

that won't trouble you much after I start working on your other end."


There were volumes of meaning in that simple statement, and Doug moaned softly

to himself, as he knew she would keep her promise. His lovely wife's expression

turned frosty as she voiced her commitment, and Doug just closed his eyes, now

beginning to wish fervently he had not behaved so badly the night before.

Hearing Colleen's spike heels clicking away, one eye opened to watch her walk,

the sight filling him with desire and dread. Returning moments later with a

sports bottle of water, Colleen gave him a drink and wiped his face after. His

mouth refreshed, he felt better, but she didn't give him time to relax. Working

the mechanism of the table, she began to crank him into position for punishment,

with his bottom elevated and the skin on his backside and legs pulled taut. As

his head lowered, the thumping behind his eyes got worse, but he knew Colleen

had been right: as she went to work on his lower half, the upper half wouldn't

even seem to matter.


"Know what I was reading before you woke up?"


Having adjusted the spanking table to suit her, she stood off to one side, hands

on her hips, looking down at him.


"Uhh, Secrets of the Great Inquisitors?" he quipped, with a sick smile.


"No, dearest. Just a few hints on how to make a spanking sting more, that's

all." She said sweetly.


"Oh. That's all." He said, grinning sheepishly. "I thought it was something to

be worried about."


"We'll see, We'll see." She replied, smoothing his hair.


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



"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



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."




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



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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