Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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(****, M/F, Severe, paddling and caning)
A wife finds out what it means to be punished after she totals the car. (Approximately 2,193 words. Originally published 2003-12.)
The dread on the drive home was so heavy I fancied I could see the globe on Serena's shoulders. She knew she was in huge trouble -- she knew, without question, that she was going to be spanked.
The only question was, how bad would it be?
While tormenting Serena was fun, we both knew this time it was different. This was serious. She'd really fucked up and was going to pay a heavy price. I decided it was unfair to keep her in suspense.
"One hundred," I said as we arrived at the stop light on Jackson street.
Serena stared at me in confusion. It was understandable. Her usual punishments were in the ten to thirty range. A couple times I'd given her fifty. One hundred was beyond comprehension.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't be dense, Serena. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Her eyes zoomed larger and I swear her skin turned a couple shades lighter. She'd stopped breathing as well. I looked straight ahead as the light changed and I pressed on the accelerator.
"Jack, you can't be serious." Serena gave me a half-smile and laughed nervously. "I know I screwed up, and I know you're angry, but a hundred? That's... that's insane."
"So now I'm insane?"
"No, I don't mean literally, but come on -- a _hundred_? Do you know what that could mean?"
I turned right at the corner, past Gosfert Park, which was only a few blocks from our house. On impulse, I pulled into the small parking area and cut the engine. Some kids were playing soccer in the field in the distance. In front of us, a woman sat watching several kids playing on the playground equipment.
"Serena, you totaled the Jag."
"I know, but--"
"There's no debating this one, honey. You were irresponsible and reckless. I'm just glad no one got hurt."
Serena stared at the glove box and struggled not to cry. I wanted more than anything to embrace her but I sensed that was not what she needed right now. She needed me to be strong, to be stern. That was our arrangement.
For a long time she sat biting her lip and sniffling. Finally she whispered, "I know, I know. You're right, Jack. I do deserve it. I was an idiot to not set the emergency break, especially parked on a slope like that."
"At least you weren't hurt," I said gently. My voice choked slightly. "I couldn't bear it if you were hurt, you know that. You know how much I love you, don't you?"
Her gorgeous blue eyes sparkled brilliantly at me for a few breathless seconds and then she burst into tears. Now it was okay for me to hug her, and I did so.
"I don't know if I can take a hundred," she whispered after a while.
"I know," I said. "But you'll do it. You'll do it because you know you deserve it, because we agreed to it, and because you have no choice."
Serena nodded solemnly, wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Let's go home. I want to get it over with."
"It's going to take a while. Probably most of the night. Maybe even into the weekend."
"You don't want some dinner first?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't eat anything. My stomach's too upset. You can make something if you want. Or order a pizza."
"Maybe later. I think we'll get started first." I started the car and headed home.
* * * * *
I gave Serena ten minutes of privacy in the bathroom, then we met in the basement. She arrived dressed in her punishment outfit: a white terry-cloth robe with nothing underneath. She sat demurely in the chair across from me and stared at the wheel on the coffee table.
The infamous wheel. Except instead of the wheel of fortune, this was the wheel of doom. It was a simple device: I'd modified it from an old board game. The wheel was divided into sixteen slices. On each slice was a number. Each number represented a random punishment. The punishments ranged from mild to severe. They were:
1 One kiss on each butt cheek
2 Three spanks on each butt cheek with hand
3 Six smacks with ping pong paddle
4 Six swats with wooden ruler
5 Ten spanks with wooden spoon
6 Sixteen spanks with hand
7 Twelve spanks with hairbrush
8 Sixty second spanking with hand
9 Four strokes with leather belt
10 Twelve swats with leather paddle
11 Six swats with pledge paddle
12 Six strokes with razor strop
13 Six strokes with riding crop
14 Six strokes with junior cane
15 Sixty second paddling with hairbrush
16 Six strokes with the governess cane
Serena stared at the evil wheel. I could see both dread and anticipation in her face.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
"100 spins," she said with a heavy sigh. She looked up at me, begging for mercy she didn't really want. "Oh God, this is going to be brutal."
I nodded. "It's all in the wheel's judgement. But yes, you're probably right."
Closing her eyes, Serena reached out and spun. The red pointer twirled around several times, slowed, and finally stopped.
"Number ten," I said.
"Fuck," Serena said quietly. She opened her eyes and glared the wheel for a few seconds, then went over to the wall and selected the leather paddle from the various implements that hung there.
She handed me the paddle, then dropped her robe. She was stunningly naked underneath. No matter how many times I'd seen her do that, it never failed to excite me.
She knelt on the stuffed chair, thrusting her ass toward me. "Not too hard -- we've got a long ways to go."
I knew she didn't mean it. Oh, she was afraid of the pain to come, definitely. But she wouldn't have respected me in the morning if I didn't deliver exactly what was promised.
I gave her the dozen blows solidly. Her plump ass cheeks flattened with each wallop, then trembled deliciously as the buns returned to their normal rotund shape.
Serena didn't make a sound during the paddling. I knew it hurt, however. Her cheeks were bright pink as she pulled the robe back on and returned the paddle to its hook. Then she went to the table for the next spin.
"Three!" she cried triumphantly. She almost smirked as she fetched the ping pong paddle. It was so light she'd hardly feel it. But later, when her butt was sizzling after several dozen spins of the wheel, even the ping pong paddle would be agonizing.
I gave her three swats to each cheek and she put the paddle back and got dressed. Dressing after each spanking was part of the ritual, as was making her fetch and put away the implement. It gave her a slight respite from the punishment, but it also prolonged the torment. Disrobing each time made it so she never got too comfortable in her nudity.
The wheel was spun again. She got two sixes in a row (hand spankings), then another ten. After the swats with the leather paddle I was delighted when she spun a one: I got to kiss each steaming, pink cheek.
After that, Serena's luck began to fade. She stared at the sixteen in disbelief. How could she go from a gentle kiss to a severe caning in one spin? It wasn't fair!
But that was the way the game worked. Six cuts with the governess, delivered with raw intensity, across the bared cheeks of her buttocks.
What followed was three (ping pong paddle), fourteen (light cane), seven (hairbrush), thirteen (crop), nine (belt), sixteen (cane), five (wooden spoon), nine (belt), fifteen (a minute of hairbrushing), twelve (strop), and two (hand spanking).
"That's twenty spins," I said. "What do you say we take a little break?"
Serena was sore and heartily agreed. She went to take a shower while I ordered the pizza she'd suggested. It arrived twenty-five minutes later, and since Serena still wasn't hungry, I made her kneel nude in the corner so I could look at her red spanked ass while I watched some mindless TV.
Finally, we were both ready for the punishment to continue. Me because I thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictability of the wheel, and Serena because kneeling in the corner was incredibly boring.
The next twenty spins landed Serena nine "double digit" punishments (those ten or greater), include a whopping three sixteens! Ouch. She was one sorry young woman and we were only two fifths done!
After the fortieth spin I relented. I was aroused and Serena was crying from the pain. "Enough of this," I said, rubbing her bottom after the hand spanking I'd just given her. "Let's continue with this tomorrow."
"Hmmm, yes," she murmured, quickly figuring out that while my hand on her butt was painful, it was far better than more spanking. Besides, she was starting to burn someplace else as well -- and I had just the tool to feed that hunger.
The next morning, I insisted Serena start the day with her next ten spins. That was before breakfast, and unfortunately Serena's luck wasn't with her. Her first spin was a twelve (strop), quickly followed by another six with the governess cane. What a way to wake up! I almost felt sorry for the lovely girl. But I remembered the crumpled heap of the Jaguar, and my resolve deepened.
The lightest spanking that followed was one six -- there were two sevens, a nine, three tens, and we finished with a harsh fifteen, during which Serena couldn't stop screaming as though I was killing her. It was a good thing the basement was sound proofed.
After breakfast, I took an hour to give Serena a loving massage, including oiling her lovely -- but severely welted -- buttocks. The ointment would keep the skin soft and speed healing. I gave her until one o'clock to continue with the punishment. But much to her terror, I promised her that we'd go for thirty consecutive spins.
Promptly at one Serena was naked and ready, nervously spinning the wheel. She had good reason to be: her first spin was the dreaded sixteen!
That was followed by a couple doubles, a five, then more doubles. There were a couple light ones, but spins sixty through seventy were almost all doubles (the lightest was a three).
Serena was not at all happy to keep spinning, but I knew I couldn't keep giving her breaks or we'd never get this thing done. Fortunately, the next ten were milder, with two fourteens the worst, and except for a ten and a twelve, the rest single digit punishments.
Afterward, Serena stood naked in front of the hall mirror, trying to look at her battered ass. "Ohhhh," she kept moaning, and muttering things like "My God!" and "Shit!"
An hour in a mildly warm salt bath did wonders my wife's disposition, and when she flopped on the bed for me to oil her buttocks, I ended up doing more than just oiling her. I made her come: twice!
"We'll finish after dinner," I told her. She grunted: unhappy, but grateful for the delay.
Dinner was a scrumptious affair. I grilled some prawn kabobs on the barbecue, strung up with whole mushrooms and onions and lathered with a butter sauce. It was served on a bed of wild rice, with a light salad with cool mandarin orange slices and walnuts.
We ate on the back porch, Serena wearing her robe, and though she sat on a stack of pillows, she was grinning with delight at the delicious feast. Prawns are her favorite food, and she had worked up quite an appetite -- she ate a full dozen!
But all good things come to an end, and it was Serena's end I was concerned with. At seven o'clock I cleared my throat and headed for the basement, and Serena, with a deep sigh, dutifully followed.
The first spin was a ten, and as I hefted the leather paddle in preparation of a fierce beating, I winced when I looked at Serena's butt. The cheeks were already scarlet, covered with ruby weals and blotchy welts that looked ready to burst. I wanted to stop out of mercy, but I knew I that wasn't in Serena's best interest. She needed to know that when she misbehaved she was appropriately punished. Sometimes I wonder if my job isn't the more difficult one.
Ah, probably not. I knew my duty and prepared to apply it thoroughly.
Fortunately, Serena's luck turned. Or perhaps the wheel decided mercy was in order. The vast majority of her last twenty spins were single digits, and even most of those were small ones. There were only four double digit punishments! Sure, two of those were sixteens and one a fifteen, but it was still a mercy.
"There, there," I said gently, wiping the tears from poor Serena's face as she sobbed. The final three swats with the ping pong paddle had made her shriek with agony as though I was cutting her with a knife.