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Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Domestic Discipline

 Sir, had arrived and was having a cup of tea in the sitting room. Excusing myself, I went to put on his favoured choice of maid’s uniform of short, white trimmed, black uniform dress, black hold-up stockings, black high heels, and underneath it all, black silk bra and panties. As always, a bit anxious of what he plans, I dressed quickly, so as not to keep Sir waiting, I paused in front of the mirror, carefully brushed and tied back my hair, and giving myself a quick look over, felt smart and rather sexy. Returning to the sitting room, I was aware of Sir giving me an appraising look, and hoped he approved, and that I looked as neat as he required it. Feeling confident and perky, I stood ready to attend his needs.

For special attention today

Casually he said “I am going to make an inspection today, to see whether your cleaning is up to standard.” I was taken aback, Sir always mentions an inspection in advance, so I have time to make sure everything is up to his strict standards. Waving my protestations aside he said “This time it’s without the usual warning, so things had better be up to scratch!” "Oh Oh" I thought to myself, why do I get the feeling that my sweet botty is in for some special attention today.

Finishing his tea, Sir stood up and walked about the room. He ran his finger along the top of a mirror.“Dust!” he exclaimed. Then turning to the glass side table, he took one look and again said “Dust!”  I could tell Sir was not too pleased, and was not surprised when he sat down and pulled me over his lap. “Not good enough is it?” he asked. 
“No, Sir, but it would have been better if I had known” I replied, trying to mitigate my situation. But without further comment, he folded my skirt back, revealing my panties. Feeling the firm grip of his left hand on my waist, there was only a moments delay before his broad strong hand came down on my bottom. Again and again his hand found a different spot, until the whole of my bottom was feeling the rising warmth. Each slap left a stinging sensation, and sent my brain flashes of discomfort and excitement. When Sir was satisfied with the spanking, I was allowed to stand up and pull my skirt down over my bum which felt delightfully glowing.

Sir now strode into the bedroom, and was no sooner in the door than wiping dust off the top of the radiator, and then the windowsill. With an expression of irritation, Sir said “Right, over my knee again.” Obediently I bent over his knees, and with a firm pull my skirt was again raised. This time his hand was much harder and I was soon reacting to the stinging slaps. Sir held me firm, despite my squirming, and reminding me of his dissatisfaction, delivered a hard spanking. When at last it stopped, my poor botty was hot, and my mind in a buzz. I thought it seemed a lot of fuss for just some dust, but, dear reader, if only I had known what was to follow. 

Sweeping a further look around the room, Sir said impatiently “Just look at these mirrors, all of them have finger marks.” Then passing into the sitting he said “With all the time you spend looking at yourself in mirrors, I would have thought you might have kept them cleaner” I did my best to put on a plaintive expression. Sir pulled a chair into the middle of the room, telling me to stand behind it. “Bend over the back of the chair, hands on the seat.” Saying this he took a paddle from his bag, the surface of the brown leather detailed with a relief design, and prominent stitching around the edge. Then he said, “Clearly a spanking is insufficient to improve the standards of house keeping here. We’ll see if the feel of leather on your bare behind can make an impression!” Without further comment he folded up my dress and gripping the sides of my panties, pulled them down. Immediately I felt the cool air around my bottom, still hot from the spanking, and, dear reader, with some surprising pleasure prepared myself for the feel of hard leather on soft flesh. Each burning stroke made me squeal, and I wriggled as much as the rigid chair back would allow. This distinctive feel of leather on my bare rear has always created conflicting sensations, and I found myself both dreading and longing for each painful sensation. Satisfied with the effect of the paddle, and hardly allowing recovery of my composure, Sir led me into the bathroom. 

There was just the faintest of rings around the bath, witness to the leisurely bath I had taken in preparation for Sir’s visit. But to him, this was a serious misdemeanour. He cast his eyes over the surface and said with authority “Not good enough is it?”
“No, Sir, but I had a bath before you came, and didn’t have time to clean it.” I replied.
“Just the same, it is dirty. Today’s inspection has been a disgrace, hasn’t it?” I could not argue he was right. 
Briefly, leaving the bathroom, Sir soon returned with a heavy, black leather strap. Well, I can tell you, the combination of Sir’s demeanour and the impending engagement of my tail with that leather strap, put my mind in a real tizwaz. Then with a touch of his hand on my shoulder he issued the instruction “Bend over the bath.” Obediently I bent over, stretched my arms and gripped the side of the bath. Rapidly my skirt was pulled up, and as expected my panties swiftly pulled down to my knees. 

Just as Sir led me from the bathroom, he stopped and stared at the tiles beside the bath. Wiping the tiles, his hand came away black. He looked at me in astonishment. “This black is soot from a candle. You have been burning candles on the edge of the bath.” He hissed. “You know it is absolutely forbidden to have candles in this apartment, don’t you?”
I replied, with as much remorse in my voice as I could muster “Yes Sir, it was just one candle, I didn’t think you would notice.” 
“Go and stand in the sitting room.” He said. “Whether I notice or not, you know candles give off smoke and are forbidden. You have been completely disobedient, and I intend to punish you thoroughly for it.” 

I obeyed, returning to the sitting room, and stood with my hands together looking at the floor. In that moment I thought back to how, only a couple of hours before, I ran a bath, lit a candle scented with essential oils, and set it on the bath edge. In the dim light, the walls of the bathroom seemed somehow remote and faintly reflected the shimmer of the candlelight, I luxuriated in the atmosphere of the exotic scents and smoothed and massaged the warm lather over my body. Suddenly, I realised a long time had passed, and I needed to get ready for Sir’s arrival. Climbing out of the bath, I quickly wrapped myself in warm towels. Remembering that the candles were a forbidden pleasure I removed them and opened the window to let the scent dissipate. But, in the hurry, I forgot that the candles would leave deposits on the tiles. Now that forbidden pleasure had unexpectedly caught up with me, and I became anxious of the inevitable punishment.   

Sir came into the room and said firmly “Stand by that wall, and take off all your clothes.” As instructed, I began to remove my clothes. Reaching back and pulling down the zip, I slipped the black uniform dress from my shoulders, and let it slide down my body. Easing the dress over my hips, I stepped out of it, and folded it carefully. I then took off my high heels, and sat on the chair. Lifting one leg I slid my thumbs under the elastic at the top of the stocking, and pushed the silky fabric down over my thighs, around the knee, and over my calf. Pointing my toes, I smoothly eased the stocking off. I did the same to the other stocking, and folding them together, placed them on top of the dress. I slipped on my heels again, and immediately felt the sensuousness of the soft leather against my feet, and allowed myself a brief moment to enjoy the sensation. 

Releasing the catch of my bra, and easing the lacy straps from my shoulders, I gathered the soft black silk garment in my hands, putting it with the other clothes. Believe me, dear reader, very conscious of yours truly being in enough trouble, I knew that an untidy pile of clothes would only make things worse.  Finally, slipping my fingers into the waist band of my panties, I pulled the black silk down and felt the gentle release of the fabric from the cheeks of my bottom. Then, sliding down my thighs, the panties fell in a cascade of softness around my ankles. I stepped out of the panties and picking them up, felt the silk still warm from my body. Stooping, I put them with the other clothes, and then stood straight upright facing the wall, confident in the toned curves of my naked body. I mused on the, not altogether unpleasant, sensations in submitting to a punishment on the bare bottom. Even now, standing naked, the complete exposure, the feeling of vulnerability and humiliation, added to these sensations. Partly it was the pain and pleasure I felt from the burning soreness left by the strap and paddle. But, for now, knowing that candle would cost me dear, I sighed and shivered nervously.

Away with my thoughts, I started at the sound of Sir’s voice. “Now stand behind the chair.” Despite, or because of, my nakedness I sashayed like a catwalk model across to the upright chair and stood behind it. I remained as statuesque as my nerves would allow, looking straight ahead, my chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Standing close to me, and speaking softly, Sir said “You have been punished before for using candles in the apartment, haven’t you?” 
He was right, of course, So confirmed that I had been punished twice before, knowing he would remember only too well. I offered the further information that the first time with a gym shoe, the second with the Fleck riding crop. Oh, I recalled that second time all right.  Sir found the burnt candles, and confronted me with the evidence. Moments after, I was touching my toes, and Sir was using the heavy blade of the Fleck riding crop to lay a number of impressive stripes across my bare bum. Now I began to speculate nervously. Would it be the Fleck again, or more of the strap that Sir had used to such real effect only a few moments earlier. 

Pain and Pleasure!

Quietly, Sir continued ‘Young lady, it is clear that the previous punishments were ineffectual in suppressing your urge to light candles in this apartment. Despite my earlier efforts to discipline you for it, you just continue to ignore the rules about candles. However, I am hopeful that some progress can be made in improving your compliance with the rules. This is to be achieved by the simple expedient of giving you a sound caning.” 

I had to admit that he had a way with words, but Dear reader, as you know the mere mention of the word ‘cane’ is enough to get me going. I could feel goosebumps rise on my calves, and then spread over the whole surface of bare skin.  Although keeping my statue like composure, my breathing increased markedly.  He stepped forward placing the cane on the seat of the chair. Instinctively I looked down, and immediately swallowed hard. This was not just any cane. From its brass bound leather handle, to the end of the thick polished shaft, this was a yard long piece of workmanship designed to deliver a lesson in intense discipline. It rejoiced under the euphemistic title of ‘Senior Cane’. Oh deary me, now my legs began to tremble, and somewhere inside my stomach a squadron of butterflies took flight. Senior it may be called, but for sure it is the granddaddy of the species.  

“Have you had the senior cane before?” Sir asked.
“Yes Sir, a long time ago.” I replied, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice, as I recalled the previous occasion that yours truly had experienced the impressive effect worked by one of these beauties across my girlish tail. Truly the perfect curative for disobedient girls!
“Good" said Sir, "Then you know that this polished shaft is not just for appearance, but to sharpen the effect. And in just a few moments the impact of that polished shaft on those soft bare cheeks of yours is going to serve as a timely reminder of just how intense that effect is.” Sensing the moment, Sir picked up the cane and said “Right young lady, bend over the chair.” 

Determined to maintain as much hauteur as could still be mustered, I arched my back, and squaring my shoulders, stood with legs straight and heels together. Then, resting my tummy against the back of the chair, gracefully bent over, placing my hands on the seat as before. I wanted my body to look it's best, for what I rightly anticipated as a first class punishment.
“No” Said Sir, “I want you right down, with your arms on the seat.” 
I obeyed, now feeling a real tightening in my legs and bum. Sir ran a hand over my bottom, now stretched smooth and taught. He commented with satisfaction. “Ah that’s better, this nicely taught bottom will make sure you feel the full effect of a good caning , But will it have the desired effect of giving you a sharp lesson in obedience?”
My mouth was dry, and I struggled to find my voice. “Yes, Sir.” I croaked, knowing only too well the ‘full effect’ was to be an exquisitely painful experience and the ‘sharp lesson in obedience’ a profound certainty. 

A sharp lesson in obedience

Seconds later, I felt the cane slowly sliding up and down the curve of my rear, then some light taps as Sir adjusted position. There I was, your favourite girl, naked, from my long chestnut locks to shapely ankles, all gym-honed curves on full display, a fine figure of womanhood, positioned across the chair. For all appearances a delightfully erotic artistic pose, except that through my incorrigible disobedience, I was not posed for an artistic rendering, but instead for a intense study in penitence. 

In Sir’s talented hands, the senior cane swiftly and efficiently achieved its designed purpose of extracting contrition from someone of even my inveterate naughtiness. The red lines evenly inscribed in the soft flesh of both cheeks were evidence that each successive stroke had been skilfully delivered to a fresh portion of your sweet darling’s poor botty, and thence insistently demanded improvement in my behaviour. Needless to say, Sir was gratified that all this was accompanied by satisfying sounds of my distress. Long after my punishment was ended, my incredibly sore bottom, bore a testimony to my transformation. I resolved to never again have a candle in the apartment.

The tour of inspection and my punishments over, Sir departed. Sir has been twice more and I have been truly fortunate that nothing has deserved the cane. Well have I lit any more candles? I hear you ask.  No I haven’t …. so far.

But dear reader, as you will know, it is usually while soaking in the bath, that wayward thoughts creep to my mind. The twin sensations of pain and pleasure, agony and ecstasy, are like two mischievous imps playing with my thoughts. “Go on you can light a candle…..No, No, Never, Never…..Well perhaps …….but not yet”.
Sir comes again in a few days, and as you may expect, this morning I bought ……..a candle!  

Would you like to be Sir? On a visit to my apartment you can spank me as your maid, or give your secretary a taste of the strap, or even as a naughty schoolgirl make me bend over, have my regulation knickers pulled down, and be given a proper caning. 
To find out more just visit my website at    

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