Saturday, February 23, 2013

Notes from the "Naughty Chair"

Hi everybody. I’m Claire and I’m naughty. I don’t mean to be but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

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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