And
when I’m naughty my husband spanks me with the “naughty girl paddle,” no “ifs,”
“ands” or “buts” about the matter. It’s always been this way ever since we got
married twenty years ago.
When
I’m bad, my husband tells me to “fetch the paddle, little girl, you’re going to
be spanked.” And I best reply “Yes Sir, Daddy” in my most pleasant and
submissive tone or it’ll be all the worse for me.
Yup,
I call my husband “Daddy.” Always have. Always will. It’s one of Hubby’s many
rules for me. If I don’t call him “Daddy,” no matter where we are or who we’re
with, I get spanked on the spot. It can be kind of confusing when his parents
visit because my mother-in-law calls my father-in-law “Daddy” too.
After
I bring my husband the “naughty girl paddle,” I kneel before him. Hubby scolds
me for a long time about what I’ve done wrong. And then he puts me over his
knee, lifts my skirt, lowers my panties and spanks me till I’m screaming
“Please Daddy, please, don’t spank me so hard. I’ll be good.”
But
Hubby keeps spanking till tears and nose snot flow because he knows I need a
firm hand. He spanks me till I’m spent, till my voice is hoarse from screaming
and legs exhausted from making bicycle kicks in the air. My husband keeps
spanking till he’s spanked the “naughty” right out of me, at least for the time
being.
After
he’s spanked me, I must curtsy before my husband and kiss him softly on the
cheek whispering in his ear “Thank you Daddy for spanking me so hard. I know
you do it because you love me and care about how I behave.”
And
then my husband puts me in the “naughty chair.”
The
over-stuffed chair faces a corner of the living room. Normally it would feel
soft and comfy, except my bottom is always so sore after a spanking.
The
naughty chair hasn’t moved in the twenty years since we bought our house. It’s
kind of embarrassing if people we don’t know well come to visit because they
can’t help but see it.
“That’s
where Claire sits as additional punishment after I’ve spanked her for being
naughty,” my husband will tell them as he nods towards the chair. One or both
members of the visiting couple often blanch upon hearing this: spanking isn’t
“politically correct” these days.
“Your
daughter is also named ‘Claire’,” the wife might say. “My, but you’re awfully strict.
Do you really think she needs spanking?”
“Claire
is my wife,” my husband will reply. “And, yes, she does need spanking.”
Then
he’ll give me a hard swat on the bottom with his open palm and tell me to show
the nice couple how I sit in the naughty chair.
So
there I sit with my ankles crossed and my hands folded primly in my lap,
looking straight ahead at the corner like a young lady should. And there I
continue to sit till my husband tells me I can get up.
After serving my time in the naughty chair , my husband always ask me if I’ve
learned my lesson. And I always say, “Yes Sir, Daddy.” And then he hugs and
kisses me and all is forgiven, until the next time I’m naughty.
Sometimes,
if I’m going to be sitting in the naughty chair for a really long time, my
husband gives me a teddy bear to hold for company. But lately he’s letting me have a pencil and a notebook because he wants me to use the time productively.
You
see, my husband wants me to write my story, and that of other girls like me, stories
of being raised by exceptionally strict parents and attending exceptionally
strict private schools where we were educated to be properly submissive young
ladies. And how we spend our married
lives with “Daddy Dominants” who keep us in a submissive state, keep us very
well in fact.
And how we learned to love this way of life.
I’m
Claire and I’m naughty. I
hope you like my stories.
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