New Years Day (Starting the year off right)!

Before last night, I had disciplined my husband on a number of occasions, but always at his request, using the instruments he suggested (my hand, a gym slipper and a table tennis bat). I think that neither of us found these sessions satisfactory. I always felt that he retained control, and that I could not let myself go for fear of hurting him too much or even injuring him.

My husband went into work one day during the holidays, and asked me to collect him by car. I found him in his office, ‘playing’ on the internet. He told me that I would need to wait whilst he went off on an errand, and that he had found some information which would interest me. He left me reading the web pages of the Disciplinary Wives Club! I was amazed to discover that so many wives felt like me, and found the advice given excellent, particularly with respect to maintaining control and erring towards severity. The page encourages readers to e-mail Kay personally. I have done so, and her support has given me the courage to act, as described below.

After our visitors left on New Years Morning, my husband and I had the house to ourselves. All evening, I had been thinking about what I was going to do, planning, and hoping I would find the courage to carry it through. My husband, typically, was lounging about in the kitchen rather than helping to clear up. Concealing my nervousness, I instructed him firmly to come into the sitting room, and to fetch two hard-backed dining room chairs. He looked surprised, but guessed what was happening. To my relief, he complied. I felt that once he had accepted my first order, I had begun to establish control.

I sat down, and, when he began to sit next to me, ordered him to remain standing. I then told him that I was not satisfied with his conduct, particularly his lack of support when we entertained visitors, and that I had decided to punish him severely. Whilst being punished, he was not to speak unless spoken to, addressing me as ‘Miss’, and was to obey all instructions instantly. I then pulled out the punishment instrument, a large beach paddle made of plywood, about a quarter of an inch thick and 18 inches long, considerably heavier than the table tennis paddle which he had previously asked me to use. My husband began to look distinctly nervous at this point, realizing, at last, what he had let himself in for when he showed me the Disciplinary Wives Club site!

I ordered my husband to strip down to his underpants. I could see that he was still enjoying the situation, and wondered how long his pleasure would continue. I made him place his hands in front of him, and tied his wrists together with some old tights which I had brought down for this purpose. Hubbie is considerably stronger than me, and I needed complete control.

I placed the two chairs together, side by side, sat down on the right-hand chair and instructed my husband to bend over my knee. Because his hands were tied, he did this with a little difficulty, resting his torso on the second chair.

Even the early strokes produced gasps and wriggling. I gradually, increased the length of my swing until my husband jerked about so vigorously that I had to press down firmly in order to keep him in position. At this point my feelings of exhilaration overcame. My husband, forgetting the instruction not to speak, complained bitterly. Of course, I lost no time in pointing out his disobedience and subjected him additional hard strokes which I dished out slowly. My naughty boy took this discipline remarkably well, although he continued to moan and wriggle.

My husband’s bottom and upper thighs had been turned bright red, but, to my surprise, I could see no bruises. He accepted his punishment in good spirits, and I informed him that he was forgiven. I am thinking of buying a cane.



The Sister-in-Law KNOWS

Aunt Kay,

Thanks for your site. My wonderful wife and I were introduced to it by her sister after my wife left me and I enlisted her sisters help to get us back together. Following my sister in laws advice, we worked out a new lifestyle. In six short months my wife has become an enthusiastic and accomplished disciplinarian, despite considerable trepidation on both our parts to start with. Before, I would realize that I had done something to hurt or annoy her, and spend days trying to put it right. It’s different now When I see that certain look on her face, I know I’m in for it. My stomach starts to churn, and all I can think is “please not the cane. Please let it not be the cane”. I know that no matter what implement she chooses, I’m shortly going to be hollering and begging her to stop, but I dread the cane like nothing else. She certainly errs on the side of strictness, and I hate everything about our discipline sessions, but it got me my wife back, and she’s happier now than she ever was before, so I’m not complaining. Keep it up.

Crack That Crop

Dear Aunt Kay;

Oh I think I’m in for it tonight. We’ve had company for a while here and she only had a chance to try her new riding crop once before they showed up and I think my behavior has been pretty bad, so I’m guessing it’s going to get a workout tonight. She was just working it lightly last time and it had a rather pleasant spat that didn’t even make me jump but I’ve got a feeling that if she really cranked on it I’d be jumping. “Men!” she was saying this last time in a tone that spoke volumes. Got me thinking that yes we are perhaps some exasperating creatures-like I don’t do housework, I’m loud and prone to macho swaggering, and I have a host of other habits I know she finds annoying. Ah well, get to pay for it all tonight and love every minute of it. Weird-and if my buddies ever found out … well they never will so that’s the end of that. If all women were to justly punish their men for loutish behavior and the like they wouldn’t need chairs for men I suppose, but guys without a disciplinary wife don’t know what they are missing! People are always saying what sane and balanced people we both are and I attribute a lot of it to these periodic and dramatic reversals of the traditional roles. I believe it tends to even things out.

Love; DJ

The Hairbrush Starts Here

Dear Aunt Kay,

Thanks for the advice. I’m going to give Arthur his first session tonight.

I’m a little nervous, but thanks to all the good stuff on your site, not nearly as nervous as I could be. I just wish I could get hold of your manual *before* I started, but we’re in the Europe for a few more weeks and I don’t trust the international postal service to get it here before we go. I bet it’s got loads of good stuff in it.

I hope people notice the improvement in Arthur’s behavior when we get back. He really *is* a little boy at times, despite the fact that he’s 35.

I’m going to do as you suggested, and start off slowly. I’m sure I’ll get enough feedback. He’s bound to try to take it without letting on it hurts (you know, the macho thing), so by the time he begins to really wriggle, I’ll know I’ve made an impression. I’ve got a beautiful big wooden hairbrush that I found in an antique shop here.

Honestly, as well as the nerves, I can’t remember the last time I was so excited. It’s strange really, until about two years ago I’d never even thought about spanking a man. I’ll certainly let you know how it goes, your site has been so valuable in helping me put my dream into reality. I feel a bit like a schoolgirl again. I noticed that one of the people who had a story on your site made a rule that there was to be no sex afterwards. That’s not a rule I’ll be making!!! (smile)

Love, Ingrid

—— (next day email) ——-

Dear Aunt Kay,

!!!!!!! I’ve just had one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life.

I won’t go into detail, because you obviously know *just* what the delights of spanking are. I had to tell you though, that if it hadn’t been for some advice on one of your pages, the whole thing could have turned into an embarrassing disaster.

I’d sent Arthur off to have a shower, and told him not to bother getting dressed as I was going to give him his spanking. I couldn’t interpret the expression on his face, but he went off upstairs. I gave him ten minutes, then went up and told him finish up, dry off and get himself into the bedroom.

I settled myself on the bed (he’s 6,’ and quite muscular, so I thought I’d try that position first), with my hairbrush at my side.

After a couple of minutes he came in looking a little sheepish. I told him to come and stand in front of me, and lectured him about his problem areas. He stood there sort of sullenly, and I thought I might be in for some trouble getting him across my knee. (I’d worried about this for some time.) I tapped my leg with the hairbrush, and told him to get into position, but he just stood there like a big lummox.

This is where the advice on your site proved *so* useful. If I hadn’t read it, I think I would have blown it by either loosing my temper, or starting to plead with him to do as he was told. Instead, I had the plan well worked out in my mind, and I just got up and gave him an almighty whack on the back of each thigh. He wasn’t expecting *that*, and yelped at the sudden sting, but I just went round to his front, looked him straight in the eye and said in the coolest most menacing voice I could , “When I tell you to get across my knee, you do it.” He looked quite startled, but when I sat down and tapped my knee again, he got into position quite quickly.

After that I followed your other instructions 4 – 4 – 8, and then begin in earnest. After I had given him those 8, and he hadn’t tried to wriggle off my lap, I knew that I was now a disciplinary wife!

I wasn’t too severe, by the end his bottom and the tops of his thighs were a deep ruby red, but today there was very little marking, so I suppose I didn’t get it *quite* right. Next time I’ll try harder strokes, and perhaps a slightly slower delivery. I made him stand in the corner for about ten minutes afterwards, then we had a truly memorable time. We had another this morning!

He’s gone off to work now, but I just had to thank you. I think that section about what to do if they won’t play ball should be underlined in RED.

Love, Ingrid

South Of The Border

Dear Kay,

I live in S. America and am married to a beautiful woman who administers regular spankings whenever she thinks I have misconduct or disobeyed her. Although she has always dominated me orally from the beginning of our relationship, she has just come to spanking one year ago. I think this was the natural consequence of her dominance. She realized that only domination was not sufficient and that a good spanking could make her achieve her objectives more efficiently.

The first time she spanked me was when we went to a party organized by her cousin. I started saying some silly jokes about the stories she was telling to a group of friends. She immediately told me to shut up, in such an authoritative way that everybody was frozen, including me. I didn’t know where to hide. I just tried a silly smile and began talking about something else.

When we left the party she remained in silence till we reached the car. Once inside she told me, with a finger at my face, that I had exceeded her patience and that she would give me a spanking when we got home. Those words had a strange impact on me, a mix of pleasure, since I always secretly wished she would spank me.

After entering our home, she put her bag on the table and went to our bedroom after me. There she took off her high-heeled sandals and, without further advice, started spanking me with the leather sole. She was very furious, and after some swats I could just ask “Please, honey, no more, I’m sorry. Please, stop!” but she just coldn’t stop until her rage had vanished. After having printed a lot of red marks, she told me to take my pants down and lay on her lap, with my bare bottom up. She applied the hardest spanking I have ever had in my life. In 38 years I could never suppose that a spanking in the bare bottom could sting so much.

When she finally finished, she said, still holding the sandal in her hand and pointing it at me, that from now on, things would be different in our relationship. Whenever I misconduct myself or didn’t follow her orders, I could expect a similar treatment. She made it very clear that she would not allow arguments from me and that any disobedience would be punished with a spanking.

That has been our routine. I receive at least two spankings a month, some lights, some very severe, after which I always finish in tears. The “touch of art” in those severe spankings is that she always use the sole of her high-heeled shoes, which is a very sexy component in the ritual, and that I hardly see described in the stories of US residents, which usually use hairbrushes.

I think this is because of the difference between the cultural heritage of United States and us. Here in my country, when we are punished by our mothers in the childhood, a slipper is always used, never a hairbrush. This fact, joined with the sexy appeal that a high-heel adds to every woman, in my point-of-view, is much more exciting to be spanked with shoes than with hairbrushes. Sorry for my bad English.


A Loving Spoonful

Dear Aunt Kay:

Last night as we were getting ready to go out to a fund-raiser for our son’s school, a friend called for directions to the soiree. Renee and I were in the kitchen and the kids were shooting baskets in the driveway.

The friend, who talks to Renee frequently, asked a direct question from which I inferred she knew of a problem our son had been having at school. I answered her with a factual statement of what the assistant principal had told me, and my wife’s eyes burned into me for disclosing this. I defensively told Renee what the friend had said and explained that “I thought she knew.”

Renee reached for the heavy wooden spoon and said, “Get off the phone right now. Ask her not to breathe a word of it and get to the bedroom.” I am sure our friend heard every word.

In the bedroom, Renee said very angrily, “We won’t have the house to ourselves tomorrow morning (Sunday is our usual private morning), but we do right now. Get those pants down and get over my knee.”

Well, it didn’t take long, but it was memorable. The spoon fell full force about 25 to 30 times, with continuous scolding about what a big mouth our friend has and how could I be so thoughtless and so forth. She put me in the corner and we were both breathing like we had run a race.

When I went to get dressed a few minutes later, I could see the imprint of the spoon head so clearly I could have counted the exact number of swats I had received. But I didn’t want to do anything except get on with the evening.

And it was a great night. Renee had extirpated her anger completely. I had not even apologized although we both knew I had made a stupid mistake and that going over her knee was the best way to deal with it. There was nothing sexual at all, but love–well, love was all over the place, during the spanking, afterwards and all day today. We both knew that I probably deserved a harder and longer punishment, but we haven’t spoken about it since, even though we have had many private opportunities.

She is really getting accustomed to using this power in a very positive way and there is no “topping from below” going on here. Yes, I still believe (except when I am actually getting it, of course) that she should give stronger doses, but she is strict and she is in charge. I don’t have any choice but to present my bottom when she demands it, and we are definitely past the point of turning back the clock on that. I still want your help if she calls you, and I am grateful to you for your leadership in this important arena.

Most respectfully,


Note to Marvin

I can surely understand Renee’s response in that situation. My hubby also got one of his “most memorable” spankings for unbecoming behavior in front of friends.

Aunt Kay

Four Letters from Del

Dear Aunt Kay;

We have never breathed a word about this to anyone, but my wife and I have dabbled in domestic discipline for years. Nothing much to start with-you understand, a few slaps here and there-but we did find out early on that I liked being chastised and she did not. Guess my ego and her aversion to anything resembling violence precluded this from being anything but a once in a blue moon bit of spice.

In the last couple of years this has changed. Like it seems as I became more secure and our relationship solidified so to do our willingness to push the envelope. It has been mostly me initiating these sessions and have had to explain to her that to me it is not violence at all.

Now the last couple of weeks have been something of an escalation. I’d barely recovered from the previous weekend’s chastisement when I found myself craving another. I told my wife about it and she agreed to do me once we were done with shopping. Needless to say I was highly agitated marching through the store.

We got home and I immediately finished my work off, poured a drink and jumped in the bath tub. My wife remained totally clothed. I walked into the bedroom and there she sat on the official discipline chair; paddle, strap, and hairbrush in easy reach. I dropped the towel and for a while we just stared, then she motioned for me to go OTK.

She’s getting frightfully good at this-like she knows right where to take me and she plays my fanny like a violin until she brings it to that perfect glow. It seems I’m going mystical at times. Like this last time I was having visions of the ancient Eleusian rites and other times I’ve had visions of Earth Goddesses. Not sure why this thing turns me on to such a cyclonic degree. Childhood might have something to do with it but I think it goes deeper than that. Throughout history there have been flagellant cults all over the world playing to some basic need in some people.

I know for a fact many guys are secretly turned on by the prospect of receiving spankings from their loved ones but will never admit it. It takes one incredible degree of trust to pursue this thing and a high degree of self assurance. But it seems ridiculous and it goes against every macho preconception there ever was. Which is maybe exactly the point. Letting someone else take over. Of being vulnerable. Of atonement or something like that.

I can’t say this thing is for everyone, or even very many folks. I can say I’ve been walking around all week feeling strangely in touch.

Yours Truly, Del

Dear Aunt Kay,

I just talked to my goddess over the phone and is she mad at me! Hey I’m a man “and is not a man stupid?” Zorba the Greek said. Little bit of intemperance with the vodka bottle yesterday…hey! Boys will be boys! Well she’s kind of P/O’ed and dropping some large hints about a paddling to come. Now that wooden thing hurts….Never wish too hard for a thing, you might actually get it. Before it was always me initiating the spankings, but now all of a sudden it’s her bright idea. Think I’ve created a monster here. Should I refuse? No-it’s all too titillating.

Love, Del

Dear Aunt Kay;

This is getting scary! SHE just called and said I was in for a paddling. The prospect makes me impossibly steamy but also a bit scared. This has never happened before and much as I like it, it’s weird having HER call the shots. Two more hours to go!? Think I’ll run out and buy her some flowers because from the sounds of it I’m in for a severe session. Butterflies in stomach and my blood rushing in my veins-feel like I did when I was 13 and that art teacher invited me out in the hall for some TLC with her ruler.

Love your site! Del

Dear Aunt Kay,

Now that was scary! She ate a little supper while the threat hung in the air like an Apache helicopter. Then she invited me into the bedroom. “Strip!” she ordered as she fished in the drawer for the instruments. Absolutely…There’s something so magical about going over a my wife’s lap. She started with the strap, which I like. Scary stuff started when she switched to the paddle and she was wielding it with a sense of purpose. “OW! OW! OW! Gosh your getting good with that thing, honey!” About 10 whacks in I relaxed and found myself arching for the wood, she’s going to spank me to the color of Napa Valley Wine!. When she finally did let me up I was glowing in the dark. Don’t think I’ll be doing the drunken lout shtick again any time soon. She is getting good at this.

Love, Del

Happy Spanking

Dear Aunt Kay

I won’t bore you with the reasons we got into domestic discipline. I want you and your readers to know how it is at our house. Tim and I work in our own business. There are Times when he requires an attitude ad- justment. Here is how I do this. When the doors are locked, I sit at my desk, Tim stands beside me, I lecture him, and then he is required to bring me the cane, apologize for his behavior, and ask me to punish him. I have him bend over a chair, with bare bottom and proceed to deliver. This session takes about thirty minutes. I must assure you that each stroke is severe, and brings out a big red welt, he is usually crying after a good dozen. I inspect his bottom each morning after one of these spankings, if the welts disappear before three days, I know I wasn’t severe enough.

At least once a month, we arrange to have the house to ourselves for a weekend, or we may go out of town to a hotel. I have told Tim that it is spanking day and he knows what is in store. For these prolonged sessions I have developed a ritual. When I am ready, I have Tim come to me. He will stand in front of me and I begin my lecture. What do I say? It goes like this. “You know Tim that in the last month I have had to spank you three times. I notice that after these spankings, you are very well mannered, so it seems to me that you could benefit from a day devoted to your correction. You are an adult male, but there is a little boy in you that needs to be spanked. Go to the bathroom and bring me my hairbrush.” Tim brings the hairbrush and I have him lay across my lap. I bare his bottom and proceed with the brush, making sure that each cheek is crimson red. I use moderate strokes, but lots of them. the hairbrush lasts as long as my arm can endure.

Tim may or may not be brought to tears by the hairbrush, but the day has only started. He will thank me for the use of the hairbrush. We then will likely have lunch, after which I may read or watch television. Tim, meanwhile is required to bring out the cane and the leather belt I like so much. When I am ready, Tim is required to lay on the bed with a pillow under his stomach. I again bare his bottom and I use the belt. I deliver strokes from midway between his knees to the top of his buns. Tim will beg me to stop, cry, and plead for mercy. I only stop when I need to rest. When I am done his bottom is marked with belt lines that look like tire marks. Tim is always in tears by now. He will apologize to me, thank me for the belting and then we adjourn for our evening meal.

When we first got into spanking, it was at Tim’s insistence. I made it clear that spanking was for punishment only and not a prelude to sex. (Although great sex has been a welcome side effect).

Happy spanking,



Hi Aunt Kay;

Well, as you know yourself, there are, indeed, people like us out here … real, live lifestylers who do, indeed, practice domestic discipline. And, yes, we are, indeed, one of those couples. As I said in my letter, I don’t really know why I’m this way, I just know that I am and decided to stop fighting it many years ago. I would never admit this to anyone I really know; heck, it took me all this time to write to you … and you run a website on the subject.

Jane was going to leave me years ago because I was quite the “rowdy-about-town”. Some friends of better judgment talked me into trying to keep her because she is, indeed, a wonderful woman and I was simply wrapped up in myself and my friends in town. So, once convinced that I should make amends, I went to her and asked her to forgive me and to help me because I didn’t want to alienate life-long friends and I didn’t want to move and I didn’t want to lose her. She knew of my predilection for punishment and wondered aloud if I didn’t just need some discipline. With some discipline, she thought, I could keep my friends and still go out with drinking buddies, but she would have some recourse, other than leaving, if I got out of line … some way to express her displeasure and vent her anger. We decided to try it, and the rest is history.

As I said, I’m the one who makes the decisions around here, major ones notwithstanding … we do those together; but I pay the bills and watch the budget, etc. In actuality, Jane is rather timid and somewhat of a recluse. She doesn’t go out with friends much or anything, preferring to stay home and do crafts and sew things, etc. You’d never guess in a million years that she’s the “disciplinary type”. However, not unlike a mother bear whose cubs are in danger, a totally different side of her comes out when I’ve stepped over the line. I tease her now and again about her “Jekyll/Hyde” personality and she accepts it with a smile; that’s the type of relationship we have.

So, we’ve lived our lives to date with me as the outgoing, affable husband and her as the introverted, quiet wife. I sometimes look at the neighbors and wonder what they’d think if they only knew that this quiet lady often takes her weeping and scared “little boy husband” across her knee and blisters his bare behind with a hairbrush. She’s completely resolved to doing this “for my own good”, but it also gives her a chance to take action on the anger that she feels for me … and I’m sure it’s her pent-up anger that allows her to punish me as severely as she does. Could I get up and get away? Of course I could. But I don’t because I love her and I know that she loves me and this is the way that we choose to show it sometimes. Believe me, I don’t like the spankings. They hurt like H and I cry hard and act like a little boy when I’m getting it. I know, however, deep inside that I deserve what I’m getting and, after it’s all over and the main part of the fire is gone, I often reflect that the corporal punishment I receive is not nearly as bad as the pain in my heart would be should she ever leave me due to my occasionally errant behavior.

I’d love to see more letters, I hope you get some … and feel free to use mine. Though I’m not all that proud that I get spanked, perhaps my letter would show others that this lifestyle helps to keep marriages together sometimes.



No Tears … No Fears

Dear Aunt Kay:

I was particularly attracted to the “touch of class” that is obvious in your website. Because our interests are on the same page, I decided to write and let you know that there is a reality to all of this…it’s not all fantasy. I turned 43 years old, am Ivy League educated, professional, articulate, athletic, and (I’ve been told) attractive. My job is very demanding, hectic, and fast paced, but I do enjoy it. During leisure time, like most males, I love sports both to watch and play … as a matter of fact I played football in college, if you can believe that! In any case, I am a very regular masculine guy, except for one area.

I guess it’s because I am in a “controlling” position in my professional life that I tend to gravitate to a more “controlled” alternative life style in the domestic arena. I am in a loving and trusting relationships with a women which involves the corporal Victorian arts as both discipline and punishment. She is a nurse, who I met when I was in fellowship training, and we have been a couple for 2 years.

It all started very innocently one day when she playfully snapped a plastic ruler across my behind, as I was reaching for a chart. We began dating and the serious discipline evolved gradually as we became intimate and understood each other’s souls. The first time I “came under” occurred when I ignored her modest request to be on time for a dinner engagement she had arranged with friends … I really didn’t want to be hemmed in by her schedule, and so I arrogantly played tennis instead, lost track of the time, and kept her waiting for 2 hours. She was absolutely FURIOUS … LIVID is the word! When she verbally chastised me, I compounded things by being flippant and back-sassing her by making a wise, smart-mouthed remark, like “Shut up and relax”. When I emerged from the shower wet and naked (a bad situation), she was waiting fully dressed in her heels with a wooden bathbrush in her right hand.

What happened after that is best described as a “religious experience”. In a low and very scary voice she told me that I was never to back-talk her again, never to disobey her, never to keep her waiting, and that I was to be attentive to her needs. She looked right through me. She ordered me to turn around, place my hands on the edge of the sink, stand on my toes, arch my back and present my bottom for punishment. I inexplicably obeyed those orders, because somehow I knew that I needed to be punished. She snapped the flat side of that awful brush 40 times on my bare wet fanny and thighs. When I broke decorum and tried to protect myself with my hand, she told me to never get out of position again, as the brush revisited the same spots again and again. When it was over I was sobbing uncontrollably, and she watched me as I danced around the bathroom furiously trying to rub the sting from my cheeks.

Our relationship has thrived as a result of her guidance, she has built a very firm domestic structure, nurtured a matriarchal environment, and enforces her rules rigidly but fairly. They aren’t unreasonable rules either … just things that define respectful behavior between a woman and her man…punishable offenses included things like inattentiveness, cussing, disobedience, obnoxiousness, and macho attitude, and most especially, back-talk. I have household chores that have to be completed, or else. We have a “total obedience” understanding; in other words, without question I accept discipline from her whenever and wherever she feels I need it. She must have read articles about this business, because she also makes use of the very effective rituals that go hand-in-hand with hard bare-bottom spankings (ie. baring the bottom, kneeling in the corner, fetching the implement, asking for punishment before, thanking for punishment after, ridiculous costumes, soap in the mouth, assigned lines in a journal, announcing a spanking in a restaurant, and one “very special” witness). There are no “safe” words, and spanking sessions are frequent, prolonged and very severe … always producing tears and promises to be good.

I wish I could say we were married and that this was a permanent relationship. There is no one I would rather be with, but our professional demands always threaten to separate us in the future. I guess life must be lived one day at a time.