Firm Spanking

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Firm Spanking
Well, I must admit I am pleased that it’s almost been two weeks and until today, I haven’t witnessed my wife break a rule. She has been on her best behaviour.
Tonight, there was a mishap that I still felt had to be addressed if my word is to mean anything. While I was watching the inauguration, my wife was preparing dinner, and I heard a loud bang followed a very loud, FUCK! Not once, not twice but I think five times.
I went into the kitchen to see a huge salad spilt all over the floor.
Not to toot my own horn, but I was very calm and asked her if she said what I thought she said, and she looked like she saw a ghost. I calmly told her to stand in the corner, the corner I showed which is the designated punishment corner.
She apologized and said she should never speak that way. I told her I appreciated her apology, but she needed to stand in the corner immediately. I lightly took her by the arm, and brought her to the corner, positioned her and told her to think about the language she used and not to turn around.
 Whew! The first step accomplished, and I had some time to prepare for the spanking. I decided to have her spend 20 minutes in the corner. I decided since it was her first spanking that I would use mostly my hand and then maybe 10 with the paddle.
After 20 minutes, I insisted she strip and stand in front of me.
I told her I was going to give her a spanking and I asked her why. She answered because I swore.
I put her over my knee and spanked her for about five minutes with my hand. She was quiet, but her behind turned pink.
I then grabbed my paddle, which I had next to the chair and gave her 10 fairly hard spanks. She was no longer quiet and begged me to stop. It was very hard for me, but I carried on and told her this would happen every time she swears. She started crying, and finally, I could tell by her sobbing, and the very red colour of her behind I had spanked her sufficiently. I sent her back to the corner and told her to think about her behaviour. She was crying still.
I made her stand in the corner for another 20 minutes. At the 15 minute mark, I made her turn to me, and I put a bar of soap in her mouth and told her to spend 5 minutes with it in her mouth.
She gagged a little and then I turned her back to face the corner.
I spent these five minutes lecturing her on how inappropriate it is for a lady of her beauty and intelligence to use such words. It will not be tolerated, and I hope that your behind will remind you not to. I could tell she wanted to speak but couldn’t because of the soap. When her corner time was finished, I let her spit out the soap and had her watch me put in a sealable bag reminding her that it’s her for future use.
I had her hang my paddle back up and put the soap in the medicine cabinet.
I then hugged her and told her she handled her punishment well. I told her to continue cleaning up and make dinner but to remain nude. And that is what she is doing now. I think I will let her put her clothes on after dinner and cleanup.
Well, for the first spanking, I think it went well. I remained calm, was very firm and gave her a good spanking. She was pretty submissive and very embarrassed. I think nude corner time with soap made her feel humiliated, which I feel was deserved.
I can’t deny that it was challenging to really spank her, but I am determined to steer her right and improve my marriage.
Domestic Discipline Lifestyle For Consenting Adults

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Spankings in our house were never given on the bare bottom – our dad usually smacked both my younger brother and I at least over our underpants.
The only exception was one day when my then 10-year-old brother James was sentenced to a spanking, and was told he would be given it at bedtime. Unbeknown to me or my parents, just before coming downstairs after his bath, James not only put on several pairs of pants (we weren’t supposed to wear underwear to bed) but also wedged a thin paperback book between two of the layers. Of course, only a 10-year-old boy who had read too many comics could think that this plan would work!
Dad fetched the wooden spatula that was kept for our spankings from the kitchen, then took my brother across his knee. Obviously, as soon as he delivered the first whack to my brother’s seat, Dad knew something was amiss, from both the deadened sound and the way the spatula bounced off his son’s rear end.
Dad halted the punishment and put his hand down the back of my brother’s pyjama bottoms and it came out holding the book. With an growl of anger, Dad threw the book across the room – narrowly missing my right ear, I might add.
Then he stood James up and without any further ceremony, one by one he took down his pyjama bottoms, then three pairs of underpants, until my brother was standing bare bottomed in front of the whole family. I was 13 by then and it was the first time for a long while that I had seen James’ bottom and willy, and he blushed beetroot red at his mum and big sister seeing his private parts.
Having cleared the decks for action, Dad put James back over his knee, his rather pudgy bare bottom clear for all to see, and smacked him till he couldn’t sit with the spatula. Needless to say, he never tried that trick again!
Other than that, spankings at our house were usually rare and quite tame, and Dad would usually have to grab and wrestle us to keep us in place to be whacked.
Things were quite different at my aunt and uncle’s house. They had three children, all younger than me, and were fundamentalist Christians. They had a purpose-made spanking paddle for correcting their children, and the kids were expected to submit obediently to their punishments.
My aunt and uncle were also firm believers giving it on the bare bottom. Perhaps they thought it safer and of course it was certainly more effective. I think they certainly believed that leaving unevenly coloured skin was a more serious offence than invading a child’s modesty, and that the shame and embarrassment of being bare bottom and bent over was as an important part of the punishment as the actual spanking.
When their children were naughty, my uncle would simply say to the offender: “Go and get the paddle.” Once it had been fetched, he would tell the child: “Pants and undies down”, or “Skirt up and panties down”, then tell them ‘bend over’ in a stern but conversational voice.
If the recipient tried to get out of position or protect their bottom, my uncle would begin counting and added as many hard swats to the child’s thighs as he had counted to before they took their hands away. He never yelled at the children and never hit them anywhere but their bottom and upper thighs, and when it was all over he would cuddle them tenderly and rub their bottom better.
As you might expect, those children behaved pretty well. They knew the rules of the house and the consequences for disobeying, and they accepted those consequences when they broke the rules. They certainly loved and respected their father, and there was part of me that was quite jealous of their relationship, as our own father was certainly more distant with us.
However, I did think it was crazy that they would just drop their pants and bend over a desk knowing their bottom was about to be whipped until it was like a ripe tomato. They even admitted to doing things which they knew would result in a meeting between the spanking paddle and their bare bottom.
I was a pretty good kid and couldn’t lie to save my life, so if I was accused of something naughty I’d done, I would normally confess, even if I knew it meant a sore bottom. But I certainly never walked up to my parents and volunteered such information!
All Maman stories are copyright, unauthorised reproduction may lead to legal action.
Maman is an adult website containing recollections of corporal punishment experienced during the contributors' childhoods. By proceeding, you are asserting that you are over the age of majority for the country in which you reside, and you further agree to the use of cookies on this website. Note that although this website contains only legal content, Maman is nevertheless a fetish site and should be considered Not Safe For Work (NSFW). Maman does not advocate corporal punishment for today's children. If you are a minor or likely to be upset by the subject matter, please do not proceed any further. 





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My one experience with spanking was in a New Orleans strip club. When I say strip club, Im giving this place way too much credit. The little place where my friend and I ended up was basically an outhouse...
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My one experience with spanking was in a New Orleans "strip club". When I say "strip club", I'm giving this place way too much credit. The little place where my friend and I ended up was basically an outhouse with really scary red lighting. It was like a haunted darkroom.
During our cross country trip, we figured in New Orleans, we must visit a strip club in the French Quarter (opens in new tab) . You know you're in trouble when you're a tourist trying out strip clubs. Strip clubs are not to be "sampled" casually. (opens in new tab)
It really felt like there were only four of us in this little building that we entered: Me, my friend, and two of the most unattractive strippers I've ever seen, giving us what they referred to as "lap dances".
I don't really understand lap dances. When I'm with a stripper there is an invisible wall. So, while a stripper is gyrating over me, I lean back and pray that I don't inadvertently touch her. I'm totally on the defensive.
Often I find a pair of boobs shoved in my face. This is one of those things that you always think you want to happen and then when it happens, you realize you just don't want it to be happening.
My stripper shoved her boobs into my face and everything went dark.
It was like when I visited the beach when I was little and wiped out in the surf. I'd be picked up in a terrible whirlpool of sea foam, aqua hiss, and jumbled tides. There would be temporary darkness and total disorientation until I was mercifully deposited back on the shore. Afterward, I'd sit in a daze, trying to get my bearings.
As the stripper unpeeled her boobs from my face, I felt this same dazed feeling of being deposited on shore. After I got my bearings, I realized I wanted to be anywhere on earth but in this little strip club. I looked over at my friend who was being mounted by his stripper and he looked equally miserable.
"Please, we just want to leave. We want to go home," I begged.
"Yeah, this is just awful," said my friend.
"Sounds like yours is misbehaving," said my friend's stripper (being referred to as an object is always fun).
She turned to me: "You've been a bad boy. You need to be punished."
"Take your pants down," she demanded.
We all have crossroads moments in our lives. (opens in new tab) What college major should I pick? Should I take that job? Paper or plastic? I realized that I could decline her request, and lose the story. Or I could go with it and have something to tell my kids (well maybe not my kids, but someone).
My stripper cocked her arm back, took aim, put all of her weight (there was a lot to draw from) behind it and...WHAM...she slap-spanked my ass so hard that the collision of hand to cheek seemed to shake the decaying rafters of the shack. She repeated this a few more times.
I heard my friend's muffled voice from under his stripper's boobs:
"Please! Stop. You're going to hurt him!"
After a few minutes of this, we were able to get away. We even ended up paying. I think the girls really thought that they had given us what we wanted! Honestly, all we wanted was to like look at some pretty girls from afar...I guess? I would have felt more fulfilled if I had spent all of that money on that claw thing that grips the stuffed animal for three seconds before dropping it.
The next day added insult to injury when my friend realized his glasses were nowhere to be found. They must have fallen off-knocked off by his stripper's boobs and probably crushed by one of her stilettos. It was such a symbolic plight-his glasses, civilized and sophisticated, smashed under the dominance and power of our strippers.
Needless to say, we did not go back to that shack the next day (if it was still standing) to investigate. My friend would continue across the country half blind.
How does anyone enjoy getting spanked? Was I supposed to enjoy it? It really sucked. For those of you who enjoy it, or have friends who enjoy it, can you explain what is so good about it? Is there some kind of psychological reason it's supposed to be good? I thought that physical contact between two people was supposed to be gentle, but maybe I'm supposed to be mixing it up more?

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My one experience with spanking was in a New Orleans strip club. When I say strip club, Im giving this place way too much credit. The little place where my friend and I ended up was basically an outhouse...
Celebrity news, beauty, fashion advice, and fascinating features, delivered straight to your inbox!
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There was a problem. Please refresh the page and try again.
My one experience with spanking was in a New Orleans "strip club". When I say "strip club", I'm giving this place way too much credit. The little place where my friend and I ended up was basically an outhouse with really scary red lighting. It was like a haunted darkroom.
During our cross country trip, we figured in New Orleans, we must visit a strip club in the French Quarter (opens in new tab) . You know you're in trouble when you're a tourist trying out strip clubs. Strip clubs are not to be "sampled" casually. (opens in new tab)
It really felt like there were only four of us in this little building that we entered: Me, my friend, and two of the most unattractive strippers I've ever seen, giving us what they referred to as "lap dances".
I don't really understand lap dances. When I'm with a stripper there is an invisible wall. So, while a stripper is gyrating over me, I lean back and pray that I don't inadvertently touch her. I'm totally on the defensive.
Often I find a pair of boobs shoved in my face. This is one of those things that you always think you want to happen and then when it happens, you realize you just don't want it to be happening.
My stripper shoved her boobs into my face and everything went dark.
It was like when I visited the beach when I was little and wiped out in the surf. I'd be picked up in a terrible whirlpool of sea foam, aqua hiss, and jumbled tides. There would be temporary darkness and total disorientation until I was mercifully deposited back on the shore. Afterward, I'd sit in a daze, trying to get my bearings.
As the stripper unpeeled her boobs from my face, I felt this same dazed feeling of being deposited on shore. After I got my bearings, I realized I wanted to be anywhere on earth but in this little strip club. I looked over at my friend who was being mounted by his stripper and he looked equally miserable.
"Please, we just want to leave. We want to go home," I begged.
"Yeah, this is just awful," said my friend.
"Sounds like yours is misbehaving," said my friend's stripper (being referred to as an object is always fun).
She turned to me: "You've been a bad boy. You need to be punished."
"Take your pants down," she demanded.
We all have crossroads moments in our lives. (opens in new tab) What college major should I pick? Should I take that job? Paper or plastic? I realized that I could decline her request, and lose the story. Or I could go with it and have something to tell my kids (well maybe not my kids, but someone).
My stripper cocked her arm back, took aim, put all of her weight (there was a lot to draw from) behind it and...WHAM...she slap-spanked my ass so hard that the collision of hand to cheek seemed to shake the decaying rafters of the shack. She repeated this a few more times.
I heard my friend's muffled voice from under his stripper's boobs:
"Please! Stop. You're going to hurt him!"
After a few minutes of this, we were able to get away. We even ended up paying. I think the girls really thought that they had given us what we wanted! Honestly, all we wanted was to like look at some pretty girls from afar...I guess? I would have felt more fulfilled if I had spent all of that money on that claw thing that grips the stuffed animal fo
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