Mrs. Holes' Special School Discipline

I think all men, with a need for maternal discipline, have childhood memories if some incident or series of incidents that made being spanked by a woman such a poignant need for the rest of their lives. For me it was my early seventies first grade teacher, Mrs. Holes. She was a very sweet woman--tall, with a shapely figure and dressed all winter in one long, swanky sweater or another, jeans, and chic boots. She'd also wear a long gypsy necklace gifted to her from her Italian grandmother. I'd see her get out of her VW Bug in the morning and wind and jangle her own hippie path down the parking lot to the school entrance. She looked like that Seuss character in The Cat in the Hat.

We loved her because she'd kneel to talk to each of us individually at some point in each period of the day. She’d look warmly into the little boy or girl's eyes while he or she awkwardly recited the alphabet. It provided a cocoon of intimacy and caring that would send my heart racing in her presence when my turn came. I remember trying mightily once with some simple arithmetic problems in order to please her. I had gotten everything backwards, but she just smiled and held my wrist lightly with her hand. I nearly fainted in a swoon.

Mrs. Holes would also discipline us with same loving care. I remember she often sent one naughty boy or other to stand in the corner. She would resume teaching the class, but keep a close eye on the chastised youngster to make sure he or she, usually he, didn't move an inch. If the boy moved slightly, she'd sigh and move over, adjusting his head so his nose was firmly in the corner and his eyes staring directly into the monotonous prism. When the punishment was over, she would escort the miscreant youngster back to his desk. He would always look drained, weak and hesitant from the experience.

Another day, a particularly rowdy boy, who disregarded her three times, was actually taken by Mrs. Holes into her little office sequester in the front of the class and spanked him. We were all straight as a pin behind our desks. It was a relatively brief, albeit, quite brisk, spanking and we didn't hear a sound from the boy. But when they emerged and she helped him to his desk, we could all see he was crying in the quiet manner boys have in such situations. She retrieved a Kleenex from her desk and held it to his nose. He blew and she deposited it into her waste paper basket. Two weeks later that same boy's mother died in a car accident. The faculty was looking for Mrs. Holes desperately because no one wanted to be the bad messenger. Her face blanched at the news and then she took him by the hand into her office l to tell him the sad news. I got out of my desk and peaked. She was rocking the bawling, frightened youngster pressed to her breast.

The first time she disciplined me I was with a friend kicking a soccer ball against the wall of the school, an explicitly forbidden activity. I don't know why I did this. I guess I felt loose and limber. Or maybe I just wanted her to discipline me. A whistle blew sharply and it turned my head right around. It was Mrs. Holes! The other boy kept kicking the ball against the wall. . She walked straight up to us; only she didn't jangle and groove this time. She was very angry, flat-footed and fast. She was wearing a very long, purple scarf with stars and crazy smiling moons. My friend was put in one corner of the building, and then she came back to me and escorted me to the other end. She put me right into that corner. She adjusted my head, scolding all the while.

"You're usually such a sweet boy. How could you do such a thing, Carl? I'm very disappointed in you. If I were your mother I'd give you a good spanking and send you to bed without supper," She was kneeling, making sure my posture was perfect. I love you, but discipline is the highest form of love and that form of love is required this instant. "Now, don't move an inch. You can at least be well behaved when I'm punishing you! Think about what a bad boy you've been and how you've disappointed me." She moved away a distance to watch us both.

I thought about how I'd disappointed Mrs. Holes with my face to the wall. My muscles ached. My eyes watered. I felt shame, and then I felt I was in some void, falling. I moved an inch. Mrs. Holes was there in an instant.

"You moved, dear. Do you want to stay after school and stand in the corner?" She repositioned me. The remainder of those 40 minutes felt like an eternity. My head and eyes were hot despite the unforgiving winter wind. I began to feel myself falling in the void again. What if Mrs. Hole didn't love me anymore? -- Falling, falling, falling. Time had stopped. I felt very strange and began to cry. The tears scalded. I felt Mrs. Holes' presence behind me disappear. First she released the other boy, but I wasn't aware of it. When she reached me she knelt and was startled when she saw my tear-stained face. "You're crying." She looked into my eyes with her beautiful, doe eyes, now all love and forgiveness. She pulled my wet face to her breasts. It felt lovely. I cried louder and she hugged me very close. Her sweater was soft and downy. She smelled of vanilla.

"I should've known, Carl, that you would've let all sorts fears loose in the corner. You're too sensitive for that kind of discipline. I'm sorry. I should've taken you into my office after school and where we'd have some privacy--spanked you, and been done with it. I've wanted to have a heart to heart with you for months. But here we are." Her earrings tinkled in her mild apology.

It had begun to snow and the flakes were melting into her hair and on my face. She was still kneeling before me. Her warm coat enveloped us both, flapping in the arctic wind. "Have you learned your lesson?" I nodded. Like so many kids I went from hell to heaven in seconds flat. "That's the important thing. I think you were naughty because you wanted my attention. She clasped my shoulders with her hands and looked soulfully into my eyes. Her eyes were two lovely ponds after a New England snow. You're parents are getting divorced?" I grasped her gypsy necklace in a panic. My mother, in fact, had moved out the day before. A large swirling snowflake touched my right eyelash and melted into my fresh tears.

She held me close again. "We shall be special friends, Carl. I know how divorce can turn a boy's world upside down. You can help me clean up each afternoon and we can talk. But if you're naughty again, you will be disciplined. In these difficult times for you, I'm going to make sure that you always know I care enough to discipline you. You'll feel happier with the limits I set for you. In the event you misbehave, corner time will only be for twenty minutes after class. I'll touch your shoulder from time to time so you won't have scary thoughts of abandonment. She kissed my cheek. From a distance, a classmate told me we looked like just her kneeling with her coat extended in a circumstance, talking down into her self-made hole. Then he saw my little boots and knew we were two individuals in conference.

The divorce was hard and Mrs. Holes often escorted me into the corner. Although I became anxious, she stayed nearby and frequently touched my shoulder reassuringly. Although she often gave my bottom a little spank when my corner time was over, she never put me over her lap for a proper spanking. I guess rumors had reached her of my father's violence toward my mother on a couple occasions. And yet I never felt more loved. The last day of school, she plugged in her phonograph and played the Elton John hit, "Crocodile Rock." The class went nuts.

I stayed in touch with Mrs. Holes through the years. We exchanged Xmas cards and I visited her a few times. When I started college, she sent me a card congratulating me. "Study Carl, I don't want to have to come over there and spank you." The words thrilled me. If only...

The last time I saw her, we met for the Fourth of July at her townhouse where she and her husband lived by a lake. This was in Pennsylvania and Mennonite country. Instead of fireworks, the people would limn the crazy eight lake with candles. It was very beautiful I rented a rowboat on the other shore and paddled across the water to her dock where she was waiting. She waved at me. She was so beautiful--tall, cascading hair, some of it gray now. But her lovely eyes were radiant.

We sat on the dock and talked, then she took me in her house. Her husband was doing his chores. I looked around. She had thousands of books. D.H Lawrence, Simone De Beauvoir, Hanna Arendt. She had a Masters in English. She patted the seat next to her on the couch. "Why doesn't your husband join us?" I asked. "Because he loves me so much, he volunteered to clean up for your visit."

Silence.

She toyed with her necklace and arched her foot. It was a very cozy townhouse. Gustav Klimt paintings adorned the walls. A cello in its open case leaned against the wall in the ocher light of the burning twilight. A Grandma Moses winterlude painting met my eyes halfway up the stairs: the one with children skating and making snowmen.

Mrs. Holes looked at me. “I want to tell you something very personal, Carl. When I was 12, I had a dream. I was a holy woman in a sacred place and there was a long procession of men before me. They would kneel and place their heads upon my lap one by one, frequently with their ear to my womb. I would urge them to confess their sins, stroking their hair. Some of them had done awful things and it took a long time for them to tell me. I would tuck their faces up and look in their eyes. They'd finally tell me what they did between sobs, even wailing. When they finished and I was convinced they were truly sorry, I would forgive them and bless them with water from a clay pitcher. It was a beautiful dream. When I awoke, my head was humming. I knew my mission in life."

"What's that," I asked.

"Carl, do you know why my husband and I are so close? It's because I discipline him. It used to be for when he was naughty. But I still spank him every Saturday morning. It's a very loving spanking--and thorough. His bottom is bright pink and very warm when I'm finished and my hand is tingling. But it's not punishment. It helps Rick feel more bonded to me. There's no loneliness, only our intimacy and the world." Rick crossed my vision with a bucket of suds and a floor brush. He looked very happy. She resumed. "After the spanking, he gets 20 minutes in the corner. The corner always bothered him. So, periodically I touch his shoulder to--reassure him that he hasn't been abandoned. That he's not going to fall into an abyss of wantonness and isolation." She touched my arm and smiled. "I think you understand that feeling, Carl... Anyway, after the discipline, he runs off to the florist to buy me flowers: different arrangement each week. Once, he arrived at the florist and found it shuttered. There had been a cold snap and someone had left the window open and the flowers had died. So Rick brought a barrel of peaches into the bedroom.

Every day he tries in some way to make me feel special and unique. His heart melts constantly when I'm near. I can feel it. Even our pulse is in synchrony: just like a baby in his or her mother's womb. But remember, a spanking marriage may initially be a kind of regression, but it becomes a bridge to maturity and consideration. Do you how wonderful that is for a woman? A mature man who is always mindful of her needs?"

"Yes." I stammered.

"Carl, you must find a woman who will spank you. One who will give you limits and help you find that organic connection to life that a man feels when he has properly loved a woman and submitted to her discipline. I think you felt it in 1st grade... " Many boys like you were in my first grade classes. They'd look up me up, confused and shaken after a divorce, even a stint in jail for one. They're always like a sea tossed ship and suddenly, I give them the insight to find the correct woman. In a year or less, they're anchored over a caring woman's lap having their bottoms spanked by an excellent woman until they weep. Everything is safe and warm again. I've helped dozens of my former students find a woman who will bond to them in that special way of hugs and discipline and trust. They bring back flowers to their wives after their Saturday morning spankings and try to brighten her morning. I can help you, Carl. When you make love to a disciplinary wife, it's the sweetest feeling--like the ebb and flow of the tide. You're both two different and complementary aspects of the same elemental movement."

Bob Dylan's endless love song/dirge to the love of his life, Sara, "Sad Eyed Lady of the Low Lands" was playing on her turntable. Mrs. Holes' lovely crossed leg slowly swung and her sandal slapped her heel while the ceiling fan above whirred. I was paralyzed and embarrassed by our talk.

Six months later, I was in a bar pounding beers with my newspaper colleagues I work with. I was thumbing through the paper. I was with the tough guys from my paper--the crime desk. They have a lot of macho affectations. One fellow was droning on about his hunting trip. He said: "I got nothing all weekend. Every time I came upon a glade and saw a deer, she'd hear my breathing, or a snapped twig and dart off. When I was driving home, guess what? I saw the most beautiful deer eating grass just yards from the New Jersey Turnpike. I eased my truck to a stop and gently climbed out of my car. Now get this, this Bambi looked over and actually moved closer to me, looking at me with those trusting eyes. Shot her through the heart. She was dead before she hit the ground. I strapped her to the top of the truck and drove off. Guys in SUVs were honking and giving me the thumbs up as they passed. I felt like Conan the Barbarian!"

I tried to ignore him. Then this caught my eye in the obituaries. My blood turned to ice. "Mrs. Audrey Holes...1st grade teacher from... philanthropist… died.... aneurysm...leaving behind her husband of thirty years..."

I felt like I was shot through the heart. I left the bar--"Where's he going?" one of my manly shouted. "We've got to toughen him up--crying about a deer."

I went out into the frigid winds like someone mortally wounded. I wended down the street. The bleak wind howled, carrying me a few steps, seemingly. "Oh, the wind in my heart," I sobbed. I felt I was falling and falling without restraint. I heard the radio someplace far off play the latest news about Iraq. I passed the SUVs along the curb and cursed them. What would I do? I dated lots of women my age, but only she understood me: my dear, dear friend. And now this sweet angel was gone. Perhaps she was lifted through some timeless light and commended to heaven. I remembered our talk by the water with the flotillas of lit candles on the lake. I remembered her dream where she blessed the lost men. Now, her time, the early seventies felt impossibly distant. Innocence was so long ago: long before SUVs, long before unremitting wars, the greed and the materialism. It was a long, long time ago--long before my star of Bethlehem was torn down.

But I found my shooting star. I sat behind her on the bed moments ago and brushed her long, auburn hair thinking of how I could make her happy the next day. Mrs. Holes, with her exquisite sensitivity was the conduit that enabled me to eventually see the holiness in all women. That was the key to my marrying this wonderful woman. Tomorrow morning is Saturday and she will spank my bare bottom over her lap, probably to punish me for some transgression, for I am still a naughty boy. She'll have tears standing in her eyes, as I will also when I stand before her in the immediate aftermath of the spanking. They will tears of joy. I'll be sent to the corner to reflect on my naughty behavior. When this happens she will stay in the bedroom with me and touch my shoulder from time to time to reassure me.

The Cane Scrutinizes Best

Dane was given a good thrashing two weeks ago. Here is how it happened.

Dane wanted to have a pool party for some of his friends and coworkers at our house this summer. After we decided on a date, I mentioned to him that we should make sure we get the invitations out in plenty of time, it being vacation season. He merely wanted to post an invitation on the board at work to take care of any coworkers but I told him that the best way would be to send individual invitations to everyone. He agreed. When the time came to fill out the invitations he was expecting me to be the one to do it. I told him that it was his party and he should write them out himself. I did sit down with him and gave him some well meaning suggestions to help him out and he told me that if all I was going to do was scrutinize the invitation process that I could just go upstairs and read my book.

I was furious! I did go upstairs to read but not before I let him know that I was quite upset that he spoke to me in such a rude fashion. He wrote out the rest of the invitations and spent the rest of the evening downstairs avoiding me.

I went to sleep and Dane came to bed later. I have to be at work at 6:30 am so I usually get up around 5:00 am and my husband and I make love. Dane always looks forward to our morning love making but this morning I informed him that the day was going to start with him getting his bottom blistered. He gave me a pitiful and apologetic look and I sent him on his way to the basement.

I got out of bed and proceeded to get ready for work. I showered, washed my hair, put on my makeup and got dressed in my business clothes for work. In the mean time, Dane waited for his punishment in the basement.

I did not have a great amount of time that morning for a long session but I still wanted him to be very sorry that he spoke to me so rudely. I took the cane out of my closet and headed for the basement.

Dane knows what position I want him in depending on the spanking implement. If I choose the paddle, he is required to take down his pants and underwear and bend over with his hands on his knees like a naughty little boy. If I bring the strap, he is to remove his pants, lay over a table grabbing the other side of the table top. This leaves his bare behind a perfect target for a thrashing. When my husband saw me on the stairs with the cane in my hand, his shoulders drooped and he let out a knowing sigh. Without my saying a word, he moved the oak chair to the middle of the room and dutifully bent himself over the back grasping the front legs of the chair down low. He was still naked from sleeping so it wasn't necessary for him to remove any clothing.

I walked behind him and told him he was to receive 24 strokes. He let out a small groan but he knows better than to complain. I lectured him briefly about his rudeness while I swung the cane behind him making that dreaded whooshing sound. I landed the first stroke across the middle of his behind and Dane squirmed but he knows not to lose position no matter how much it hurts. The second stroke followed a little below the first one leaving two nice red lines that were sure to be raised welts in a moment. At this point I warned him to remain still because I did not have a lot of time and then proceeded to give him the rest of his punishment in a rhythmic fashion with only a couple of seconds in between strokes. As a rule I try not to strike him in the same spot more than once but when giving 24 strokes it is almost unavoidable. I worked his behind from top to bottom and even gave him a few on his thighs right below his cheeks. He was crying hard by the time I finished and there were a few lines that had broken the skin. I then had him apologize and gave him the cane to put away. He scampered up the stairs and I went on to work.

I got flowers from my husband that afternoon in my office with a nice note of apology. I smiled to myself knowing that he would be on his best behavior for a long time.

Pam

Thanks Mrs. Jones

I wanted to relate an event from my childhood that only just recently have I come to believe may be central to my love of maternal style discipline and the fulfillment that I have found as a DWC husband.

In the Deep South where I grew up, spankings were considered the accepted and natural way to discipline children. However, my Father passed when I was very young and I don't recall him ever spanking me. My Mom did spank me occasionally with a switch, fly swatter, or belt but, in retrospect, they were never particularly effective - although I'm sure I might have felt differently at the time. But they were not a real regular event and I could usually beg, plead, and cry my way out of them - or at least shorten it to just a few whacks. My memories of my Mom are certainly not as that of a disciplinarian.

When I was ten, I went to live at a church home for a year while certain family matters were being resolved. At that age, I had quite a temper and had never been effectively disciplined and was, by and large, out of control. My house-Mom there was one Mrs. Jones, an English lady. She was in her forties, quite trim and fit, and quite proper - and quite strict. Not liking her "strictness", the very first day I challenged her, much to my sorrow. With no hesitation, she summoned another house-Mom to come to my room and to bring the paddle. I started to run, but Mrs. Jones held me until the other house-Mom arrived moments later - at which point the two housemoms held me down over the edge of the bed while Mrs. Jones gave me a paddling I would never forget. After a few whacks, I was crying and pleading and begging - probably expecting this to end the spanking as it always had with my Mom. But it did not work with Mrs. Jones. She ignored my pleas and made some remark like "Oh, I'm sure you won't do it again!" and kept right on paddling. I didn't count but there must have been at least 50 or so whacks before she was satisfied that I had learned my lesson. I was one very sorry and repentant young man when she was done with me!

It was the last childhood spanking I ever received. I had indeed learned my lesson and made it a definite point to be a model citizen for the rest of my stay at the church home. I certainly never dared to cross Mrs. Jones again! And it carried over. I returned home to live with my widowed Mom and widowed aunt, but was from that point on, a very responsible young man who finished high school and college with honors.

I won't presume to make a statement on the morality or correctness of her actions or of corporal punishment of children in general. But - Mrs. Jones certainly made a change in my life!

Oddly, although a strong childhood memory, I never attributed my desire to be spanked by a strong loving woman with this event until recently -- when some private correspondence really brought this to light for me.

It was in the sexuality of adolescence that the thought of being soundly spanked by an assertive woman began to appeal to me, but I now believe that the erotic overtones of this desire always masked the fact that it all began with that one fateful afternoon when Mrs. Jones put me over the edge of the bed for a spanking
that was anything but erotic!

But now, looking back, I believe this single event may have been the seed that eventually grew into a DWC marriage -- a strong caring woman putting a stop to my impudent ways with a no-nonsense and thorough paddling to the seat of my pants.

Katina's Journey

Dear Aunt Kay,

We are an Australian couple in our late 40's and married over 30 years. Jack has always been the dominant partner, as a strong-minded male, and I fairly submissive. Over the years we have had lots of good times but there has always been an undercurrent of nervousness and almost fear on my part in case Jack would have a temper tantrum and insist on getting his way. He was very good at manipulating arguments and overpowering me into agreeing that all the problems were my fault. Also, I was never seemingly able to live up to his expectations concerning my clothes, make-up, hairstyle and sexual activities, so I felt inadequate and he was constantly disappointed.

We had dabbled a little in spanking as a turn on, and now that our children have left home, have more freedom to explore this. Jack was checking websites for ideas and stumbled on DWC. At first it seemed like a bit of fun and he got me to have a look. Then he thought it would be fun to contrive some situations to make me angry and give him a spanking. He started to leave the toilet seat up (something that he never did before) so it had not been an issue in this household. I felt extremely annoyed but didn't feel like spanking him for it. It just seemed so stupid to start doing something to annoy me when there were so many things in our relationship that weren't very good.

Somehow this fact came into our realization and we began to talk about our relationship and some of the difficult areas. (We're still not exactly sure how that piece of progress occurred). Suddenly I felt it was safe to raise issues that I saw as problems and amazingly we began discussing things calmly and with each of us giving their point of view. Lots of tears were shed; mine in relief and his in regret and shame for the way the way he had been acting for so long.

From then on we began recording any matter that emerged that has been a problem. Over three months this has resulted in 91 entries to date - ranging from very minor to very major problems and these are being dealt with through regular discipline sessions. Some more minor and related issues may be grouped together for one session and then ticked off. However the list keeps growing as we both recall situations, which have not been good, and Jack also confesses many things - not just the deeds but also his attitude at the time. Frequently he has revealed that he has been aware of putting me down and berating me for the way I have done something. On the other hand, if he ever made a mistake he would brush it off as unimportant. Also, other inappropriate behaviour and attitudes are being recorded in the "red book" and are being dealt with.

This has turned our whole relationship around. I had at times wondered whether I could stay in the marriage but I knew that if I made a move to leave it would have all been put on me as my fault and I doubt that I had the inner strength to go through with it.

Now, thanks to Aunt Kay, we have a way forward, a way to deal with any problems that arise - past or future - and I now feel emotionally safe. I have a very attentive, thoughtful husband who does housework and loves doing nice things for me.

Jack was not a bad person by any means, just dominating, arrogant and expecting to get his own way. Even his generosity had been part of the manipulation of me to get what he wanted by emotional blackmail. He is now much softer and more in touch with his emotions and creativity. I now feel much more at ease and find it easier to take more interest in clothes, make-up, jewelry and sex and he's learned that by respecting me as a person, caring for me and treating me well, he's now got the wife and relationship he'd actually craved.

We don't know anyone we would feel comfortable talking to about this, so it is definitely our secret. Also, I still have some concerns about the physical results of the discipline. The bruises and welts that are present for a few days worry me in case anyone should see them. The emotional results however far outweigh these concerns as they have had such a wonderful effect on our relationship. Your motto stating that "the more you spank him, the more he loves you" is certainly true for us!

We are really excited by this journey that we're on and realize that it now has to be an ongoing process to which we both need to remain fully committed.

So thank you Aunt Kay for your wise words and encouragement.

Kind regards,

Katrina

Something To Cry About!

"If you don't quit that crying, I'll give you something to cry about."

Most of us heard that more than once and learned what it meant at least early in our childhoods. This, along with, "You won't sit for a week," and "Do you need a trip to the woodshed?" or "You'll be eating off the mantle," were all colloquial ways of saying, without saying directly, "Keep that up and you are going to get a spanking!"

But the expression "something to cry about" has a deeper message imbedded in it: a subtext which is "I love you deeply. You have no right to feel sorry for yourself, and it you don't get over this funk I am going to do it for you."

When a husband starts acting "depressed," he can be very much like a fussy child, and should be treated as such. Obviously, some depression is totally situational, such as when people face illness, death of a loved
one, severe financial reversals or other real life problems that all of us must cope with at times. And some people have lifelong problems with depression. One spanking isn't going to fix those underlying issues.

But some grown men just get too absorbed in themselves, and decide to have a "pity party," where they become moody and taciturn, and make others around them feel bad. The truth of the matter is that this
behavior often is just plain selfish.

This type of depression can properly be viewed as anger which is directed inward at the self, rather than anger which is manifested by directly aggressive behavior towards others. And it can be equally
disturbing to others who live with trying to relate to the depressed person.

Compare the husband who lashes out verbally at his wife with the "whiney-hiney" husband, moping around the house feeling sorry for himself. The brooding husband is in fact doing the same thing, except that he is expressing his anger in a less honest and forthright manner. But the result is the same: He is taking out his own unhappiness on those around him, and making them carry his burden. Recognizing that
reality is the first step toward treating it effectively. A good hard paddling can put a quick end to a husband's moodiness, just as it works to end argumentative and disrespectful bickering, rebellion, and other acting out.

Of course, many men are just unmotivated or weak in character, and basically wanting someone else to care for them, to give an encouraging "pep talk," like a mommy might provide. Fine enough. But that isn't likely to work. In fact, coddling him further will only give him permission to keep sinking, and to take the whole family down with him.

So go ahead and accept the fact that his acting out by being "depressed" is really just a thinly veiled plea for you to tan his backside soundly. Recall yet another old-fashioned expression, "You are asking for it." He is. So go ahead and give it to him, and give it to him good. Embrace his emotional need at this difficult time, and be very strict. Do this because you love him, and because this is what he needs. He doesn't like his self indulgent moping and brooding either, and he will be grateful if you put an end to it.

Start off with a paddle or a strap, and lay into his bare backside with purpose. Scold him and be sure he knows that you will not tolerate his self indulgent sulking. Put a hot bright glow on his rear and a stream of tears on his face.

But don't stop until his attitude is completely adjusted. Break out the cane, restrain him if necessary, and be sure to make him dance and howl. Deliver an inspirational message with each hard swat:
1. I love you
2. Every day on earth is a blessing
3. It is your duty to live your life to be happy and to serve others
4. I am not going to permit you to sink into sadness

After at least 4 whistling strokes, give a stern verbal admonition: "We are going to repeat this session exactly one week from today. If I haven't seen MAJOR improvement I am going to step up your punishment every week until I do."

Then, be resolute, psyche yourself up to your duty, and finish with a few more very hard cane strokes. Remember your mission is to give him "Something to cry about," so aim your cane diagonally, to slice across the existing stripes. Make it clear that a grumpy boy can expect to sit on a very tender bottom.

Nurturing and imposing necessary discipline are just flip sides of the same coin. Traditional maternal medicine is most effective when administered in strong doses. Giving him "something to cry about" will be good for his soul, and will bring improvement to his attitude.

P. S. I got my 'something to cry about' treatment last week!

Sincerely,
A Now Cheerful Husband

Dick's Lifestyle

Dear Aunt Kay,

I would like very much to tell other people about our life style. My wife and I have been into spanking for 12 yrs. now.  She has 9 implements she uses on me when called for. 

We have looked at spanking contracts but decided not to do that as a contract is only as good as your word.  My wife believes in the DWC life style but is not as restrictive as some wives are.  I have a few rules which are easy to follow; always respect her and her friends, help around the house, vacuum, I clear the table, I make the bed each morning, I can disagree with her but she has the last word.

My punishment spankings are far and few between. Once a week I get what she calls a maintenance spanking, where I feel all her spanking items, but not too hard. She believes I need these to remind me what I'm in for if I don't behave. 

We have a spanking bench, (and old one person piano bench) that is sometimes used, or I stand and bend over with my hands on my knees, or she will bend me over the end of the bed, or lay me on the bed with a rolled up blanket under my hips to bring my bottom up higher.  She does not use OTK, she feels she cannot get a good swing when I'm OTK.  When she does punish me she leaves me a crying mess and a very sore bottom.  The maintenance is bad enough, believe me.

Dick

What Goes Through His Mind

Dear Aunt Kay,

I have visited your site often and I want to share with you something that I really haven't found yet: what goes through a man's mind regarding a spanking.

I am an intelligent and fun gentleman, most of the time. However, sometimes my sarcastic humor goes a bit to far or I commit some other infraction. My girlfriend simply raises her index finger and gives me "that look" that let's me know what's in store for me.  She doesn't say anything. Just raises her finger.

Immediately, my heart starts racing, my mouth goes very dry and I know I'm in trouble. Hanging in her pantry is a wooden paddle with holes and a thin leather strap. She turns and, regardless of where I am, leaves me. I can be standing in the garage, the backyard, the living room...it doesn't matter. I absolutely want to turn and run, but I don't.

The next thing I hear is, "John, will come into the kitchen please?" I'm already clinching my teeth, balling my fists and my feet feel like lead as I walk into the kitchen. The mere sight of her standing there, paddle and strap in hand, sends my head spinning. "Follow me, please." And I walk behind her as she leads me upstairs to the bedroom.

The ritual is always the same and I dread it. Her calm demeanor as she tells me why she is going to spank me is in direct contrast to the hard beating of my heart. Believe me, there are lots of "Yes, Ma'am...I understand" (s) as she goes over every detail of my transgression.

She has me bend over and grab my ankles. I wait  for a bit and then I feel two hard (they really sting right through my trousers or jeans or whatever) swats. She asks me to take off a shoe and place it neatly in the closet. I'm back again and get two more and then I must take my other shoe and place it neatly next to the first.

She continues this procedure, two hard swats at a time, removing each article of clothing I am wearing. As I undress, and I feel the awful sting building in my bottom, my anxiety really grows. I know that very soon, I will feel those two hard swats on my bare bottom. It's difficult to describe it, but the psychological build up of what is coming takes a very big toll on my entire being.

After the two on my bare bottom she sends me to the corner. I am not allowed to rub out the sting and must stand there, hands at my sides, until she calls me out. My mind races, believe you me, when I'm in that corner. All I've gotten so far is a warm up.

I can't help myself. When she calls me out, I start apologizing like a school kid. She pays no mind. Her vanity stool is low to the floor and I must kneel on it and then place my hands on the floor. You can imagine the position I am in and I'm almost shaking in anticipation.

I get the paddle again first. On my already sore bottom. I never know how long it will last. There is never any counting. Just swats on my poor bottom. My pleading does no good. the blood rushes to my head and the paddle lands again and again and I am feeling so sorry for myself. Throughout she reminds me why I'm being spanked and I make resolution not to repeat my mistake.

When she is finished with the paddle, she quickly picks up the strap and covers the entire lower curves of my bottom and very upper thighs. The strap burns like nothing else and I am crying out as she goes to work on my most tender areas.

After she is satisfied I've learned my lesson, I'm sent back to the corner. If I'm not moving quickly enough, I get a few more with the strap on my thighs. I feel so pitiful and embarrassed while I'm in the corner. I hear her go downstairs and I know she puts the paddle and strap back in place.

I am in the corner quite some time and when finally called out, I am required to join her in my PJs regardless of the time of day. When I do come down to meet her, the air has been cleared and I feel better. Of course, my bottom doesn't; it remains a reminder for several days of why I was spanked.

I share this with you because I want you to know what does, indeed, go through my mind. I am a 6'1", 190, athletic male. I am not a sissy. I am a good man that, occasionally needs to be reminded about manners or attitude or common courtesy.

Dear Paulette,

You have your hands full. I am glad to see you are stopping him from directing your spankings. That is what is called "topping from the bottom". Harry likes to do that to me too. Aunt Kay told Harry that he has to stop that! He is to accept my discipline and not complain that is it either too light or too severe. He and Jim are the spankees and we are the spankers! Please allow me to throw some observations out to you.   

The problem I see you having is that Jim wants to be spanked and spanked HARD (by the way they all want it hard). But if Jim wants it that hard and gets it, he might like it and you don't want him to because then he will start annoying you to get spankings. What I have learned is that I have to separate the kinds of spankings I give. The basic two types of spankings are punishment and erotic. If Jim finds your punishment spankings to be erotic, he will push your buttons to get one. So punishment spankings should be something he DOES NOT LIKE. They need to go on well after he is begging you to quit. Now with Harry I still give him "maintenance spankings" over my knee. I know that these are the kind HE DOES LIKE ,  so if he is good he gets one every week instead of a punishment spanking which he DOES NOT LIKE. Harry loves the submissive feeling of being over my lap and the warm feel of a wood paddle on his rear. Harry does not like standing in the middle of the room with his hands over his head, standing on his toes, and being struck by the cane. So if Harry is good he still get's the spanking he wants but just in a completely different form. If Jim feels that if he is good you will stop spanking him then he will act up to get one and you don't want that. So you need to make a CLEAR distinction of the two types. If it gets real bad you may have to threaten not to spank him ever again if he keeps "pushing your buttons". But that is not something that should be a problem if you make the two clear distinctions and give both. By the way Aunt Kay told me that cal louses will form quickly on the bottom if you spank daily which was what I was doing for a while. So now I spank only once a week to keep that to a minimum. Some guys have bottoms that can be spanked all day and they hardly feel a thing. You and I don't want that. So while I know it is necessary to give Harry a quick "attitude adjuster" right on the spot, I try to keep his main spankings to one per week. With the cane Harry says he can still feel it a few days later so he does not need reminded as often.   

Paulette, you and Jim seem like a wonderful couple and forgive me if I have stuck my nose in too far. I can tell you I love having a husband I can spank. He is much better than those husbands who try to act all macho and push their way though life. Our marriage has always been good but this is icing on the cake. We still date 4 to 5 times a week and make love constantly, and Harry is still very strong and very much my protector. The only difference is that now, when he becomes that occasional annoying little boy I can treat him like one and solve the problem quickly. I won't say that we never argue anymore it is just that Harry picks his words more carefully or he knows what will happen. Also I don't build up the resentment I used to. So we both let things go after discipline is over. He was bad. He was punished. It is over. Harry can not have a bad attitude after a spanking for that is in the contract that we both signed.   

As for the contract, I had talked to Jim about that a little and put some of that in my last email to him. You really need to use this to your benefit and put in it things that you really want him to change.  If he is going to get the spankings that he wants then you need to see things that you want like behavior changes. I have found that with Harry he REALLY wants to change his behavior and be the best husband he can be. With our contract he helped think up a lot of the items that were in the contract and I told Jim he should do the same for you. After a while I've notice that things become habit and he does them automatically now. For instance, he always opens my car door for me.  He always picks up the towels on the floor of the bathroom after he showers now.  This is a two way street.  He gets what he wants (the spankings) but you also get benefits, actually lots of benefits L.O.L.     Not only is Harry better behaved but our sex life is wonderful.  It is like being on a second honeymoon. 

Unexpected Developments!

Hi,

I thought I would update the group on some unexpected developments that took place this past weekend.

We are fortunate enough to have a boat house about an hour's drive from our home. During last week we had about 5 inches of rain - the remnants of a storm and I thought we should check things out for property damage etc.

Turned out no damage done, but the lake was much higher than before and a lot of work to do - hauling out the boat and the dock - jobs usually left for October. I wasn't really in the mood for it. We had just been there last week, and I could have used this weekend to laze around. Not my idea of a Saturday afternoon.

As a result of being stressed and tired I got snippy, and for the first time in quite awhile I started to take it out on Raquel. At one point she was looking for something in the storage room - admittedly a pretty cramped and plentifully stocked place. I got on to her about 'why couldn't she find it because she was the one who was looking for it?’ I then located the item - a can of weather proofing oil to put on the wood trim of her canoe - and presented it to her by asking 'there, what does this look like?’

I had probably only half buried me at that point, but then she discovered she couldn't get the lid off - glued on like rock. I then had to expend more time and energy prying the thing loose, while commenting about how it might be nice if she had done a decent job
of wiping the screw off cap and lid of the can before screwing it tight a year ago. Not a wise choice of words.

I could tell she was really steamed as she went out to do the canoe. I had other chores to do so I went my separate way.

Awhile later I went out to check how she was doing and ask about starting some preparations for dinner. My timing was good, as she was just wrapping up her canoe work. Showing me the lid to the wood preservative she icily asked 'So this is how you want it cleaned and closed up?' I replied 'Yes, I think that makes a lot more sense'. It
was like I unwittingly gave her the intro line she needed, as she then told me 'Actually Dan, what's going to make sense right now is that you're going to unlock the boat house, go in, and prepare to be punished.'

To be honest I was completely stunned. After several weeks of virtually NO reference to DWC - I thought perhaps the concept had died - here was Raquel, being more assertive than I have ever experienced before.

Unlike a great many of you, in our brief time with DWC we haven't done OTK. I knew that I was expected to strip and lie out on the double bed with the pillows available placed under my hips. What I wasn't sure about was what she planned to use as an implement, so I left my belt out thinking she would use that. Much better than that, Raquel had remembered that in the cottage was a paddle that has hung on a nail for many years.

It was actually a gag gift to my Mom, with stenciled lettering "Applied Psychology - Grip Handle Firmly - School Begins in September". A classic statement for how to deal with bored kids and too long a summer holiday. I never remember anyone being on the receiving end as a kid, forty plus years ago.

I have written in previous posts about some of the issues around 'how severe is severe?’ Well, I can now attest to having been challenged to go beyond that point of begging for the paddling to stop. I don't know if that was part of what was going on for Raquel or not - we haven't yet talked about that.

The lecture was brief - shorter than what Aunt Kay and more seasoned DWC folks would suggest I imagine - but the offence was made clear. The punishment began, and continued. There was very little warm up. Swats were delivered equally to each cheek and thoroughly. Most notable this time, multiple swats to the same area of the same cheek with rapid delivery. That, I believe, is the key piece which sent me over the edge - to that howling, blubbering, squirming/trying to stay still space that Raquel and I have both understood from readings we have done from DWC. But previously not something experienced. Previously not something I was sure if she even really understood.

I must confess dinner and the rest of the evening was a pretty subdued affair. I still struggle to be wholly grateful for what I have received, and I know that until I do there is a very important part missing. I know punishment is what needs to be done, but I still feel it's not really what I want to have done. But wanting is really not the issue is it? This is about me knowing the limits of my energies, accepting those limits and staying within them, and not taking out my inability to do so by being disrespectful to my wife.

Frankly I hope this doesn't happen again for some time. I am certainly more aware that, although Raquel hasn't said so, if I behave that way again I am likely to be punished just as forcefully. Certainly being alone on our own and at the cottage set the stage for this to happen without teenage comings and goings to interfere. I realize in retrospect that the circumstances were probably instrumental in giving Raquel the opportunity she needed to exercise her authority as she did. But, I don't think being away from the cottage would stop her in future.

Dan

No Turning Back!

Dear Aunt Kay,

My wife and I have been practicing this life style for 6 years now.  My behavior, along with wife's skills, have much improved. The DWC lifestyle, as we both have found out is serious business and not something to be entered into on a whim nor is it to be taken lightly. Yet it is lots of fun, exciting. and adds a renewed spark to a marriage.

My advice to men who are considering asking there wives to enter this lifestyle is to think it through because there is no turning back. It is a commitment -- just like marriage. If you are guy, like me, who is a spoiled little boy living inside a mans body and your wife is a true dominant, you will keep the commitment and gain by it. But be warned you as a man will not, and I repeat NOT always like it, and may regret it sometimes, especially when that dominant side of her comes out and is fully unleashed. She will be beautiful though; she will be everything you ever dreamed of or wanted in a woman, everything you crave. But be sure you think it over carefully because hell hath no fury like an angry woman. Make no mistake about it. If you think DWC is going to be all fun and games all the time and your wife is going along with it just meet your needs alone, then you are only fooling yourself and you are going to be in for one very rude awakening indeed. It will change your marriage and your lives forever; you will be a better man because of it.

For Charlotte and me, it was exactly what we wanted, and needed. For many years in our marriage, far too many in fact, my wife has put up with that spoiled child. I have, without even realizing it, manipulated my wife in subtle little ways to get my way all through out our marriage. I behaved just like a spoiled child. I would stomp my feet and get what I wanted when I wanted it without even considering her needs and what she may have wanted. And if I am truthful, I must admit that even getting her to go along with the DWC lifestyle was my wish and my Idea.

But thank goodness for the both of us she let me make that choice back then and thank goodness she saw the potential in it. At the time I didn't realize what I was really asking for, now I am glad I did so though and I don't ever regret asking for it nor do I have any desire to go back. I feel so much better about myself now and I know I am a better person now. As for my wife, it has been the best thing she could have ever done for herself and for our marriage.  Charlotte has her self esteem back, she has become a woman liberated, she knows now more than ever and she has no doubts about her self. She is become strong and she can handle and do anything now. And she doesn't need to have a man to tell her what to do or how to live. Its wonderful to see, its beautiful, she's beautiful, I love and respect her more now than ever in our marriage. Now when I say she doesn't need a man to tell her what to do, I don't mean she doesn't need me in her life. It's just now our love for each other is stronger and we know who we are and where we stand in our relationship. We both contribute - it's not one sided anymore.

It's not been an easy road to get here, for me sometimes; it's been very hard. Believe me it's no fun to feel strongly about something, to think you are right and then have your wife say no to you. She'll say, "No darling it's not going to be that way, it is going to be done this way and that's that. You don't have to like it but this is the way it is going to be. And when you stomp your feet about it, you won't get your way.  Instead you will only get scolded for being a brat and sent to the bed room and a very sore bottom." Oh yes, my advice to men is you had better be serious when you commit to this lifestyle because your wife is going take it serious and she is never going to go back to putting up with that spoiled child again. When I act like a child she treats me like a child, when I act like a man she respects me as a man, she loves me and I love her, pretty simple really. .

Yes, this DWC life is not for everybody and it is not meant to be all fun and games nor one sided, it means a lot of work from both of you to make it work. It calls for lots of love, love being the real force behind it, it will be fun and it will be harsh but the rewards are worth the effort. In the end you will both feel better about yourselves and you will have more self esteem and gain a stronger and better marriage.

When we began this venture we didn't realize it but our marriage and home was in a total shambles. Everything was starting to run down something awful, weeds had grown over our lawn was horrid either one us wanted to do anything to improve it. We had so many bills a mess in every room our house was full of clutter. We went to work we came home we ate supper and we sat on our butts playing on the computer watching TV. We loved each other very much but we were depressed and we didn't know it. We knew it wasn't right to neglect our home and each other but we were worn out just to tired to do anything about it. Things have changed now and things are better.  I am not going to lie and tell you just making this commitment has magically made everything perfect. It hasn't.  There is lots to be done and every day is an ongoing process as each day we improve. I truly love my wife and she loves me. It doesn't all happen in a day everything takes time but it's been worth it. It is too bad every home isn't this way, the world would be better off.

Carl

Dear Aunt Kay,

I have not corresponded with you before, but I chat frequently with a couple who are friends of yours.  At their suggestion, I recently bought your book "Please Discipline Me" as a possible prelude to attempting to persuade my wife to become a Disciplinary Wife. 

I must admit, at first I did not hold really high hopes from the techniques in the book.  It all sounded at first glance so obvious, it couldn't possibly be effective.  But having bought the book, I did want to give it an honest try.  I followed the directions in the beginning as explicitly as I could, stopping where you said to stop, and genuinely focusing on the areas you discussed.

Aunt Kay, you have my genuine apologies.  In the last few weeks, I have heard a happiness in my wife's voice I haven't heard in years.  We are talking with each other more than we have in months, and although we have a lot of things to work on together I feel better about our communications than I have in quite some time. 

I haven't raised the issue of the DWC with her yet.  I may never get up the nerve to do so but either way I feel I have a lot to thank you for.  Thanks very much for the effort you put in writing it.

Sincerely,

Jack

Shaking my head here: Be a better husband...have a happier wife...who'dda thunk it?

Thanks again.

A Big Thank-You!

Hi Aunt Kay! 

I very much appreciate the fact that you've put my ad up on your site, and I'm happy to report that I've finally found who I believe will be the Woman of my dreams!  I want to thank you for everything and politely request that you remove my ad from the site, as I am and always will be a "one woman man."

Sincerely, Mark in New York

Dear Aunt Kay,

I just wanted to touch base with you, and to tell you about my progress at being a dominant wife. My husband is less critical of me now, and showing more of his submissive side. He is helping out more around the house, and is calmer in general.

I feel more confident now and I have delivered some painful lashes with my cane, which is my new favorite implement. That really gets my husband's attention.

He's having a hard time with cutting down on smoking, but I'm not giving up until he quits  for good. He does want to quit, and I know he can.

We had a wonderful weekend together because he was so sweet to me and doted on me constantly, without being prompted to do so.

I want to personally thank you, Aunt Kay for giving me such insight about domination, and explaining it so well. I am truly grateful.                                                   

Sincerely,