Domestic Harmony, a tale by Master Tom

Hello erinlass, I am writing to you because it seems not many true D/s couples are willing to share, but tonight I punished my wife and on a whim have decided to explain.

My wife, filly, and I met over fifteen years ago, during our time at university. We have enjoyed a D/s relationship almost from the beginning. Filly was an only child to a 60’s pair of now aging hippies, and even though she is very bright, (she got a First) she has always craved a structure in her life that her parents were incapable of, or unwilling to, provide. It was filly’s mind and sense of humour that first attracted me, but her lack of direction, her lack of punctuality, her willingness to accept less than her best from herself were a constant irritation. As a person for me, she was, and is, perfect. We met, talked, laughed, talked, argued, danced, talked. We have never stopped talking, even now we share everything. When we first started “seeing” each other, filly helped me understand concepts, mathematical and philosophical, I helped her focus (as much as I could in the early days!) and made sure she handed work in and got good grades. She thrived on the order and structure, when she remembered what the structure was supposed to be.

I had spanked filly for fun and pleasure once or twice, and she’d half laughed and said it helped her become a good girl. The first time I had occasion to punish my wife (then girlfriend) was after she had been led astray by some typical drinking degree students and had gone to a concert when we had arranged some serious study time and work. When filly returned, bedraggled, tired, dirty and scruffy we had to work all through the night to complete her work. I had to keep her awake, force her to research, check notes and write. Her work as usual was excellent but if she had done as I had asked it would have been brilliant. It saddened me to see a brain like that, one I wished I had, wasted, it was an insult to herself and humanity to squander such a gift.

After filly handed her work in she slept all that day, came to my flat that evening still tired, almost sleep walking, kissed me absent mindedly, sat on my sofa, laid her head back, closed her eyes and sighed. Still with her eyes closed filly quite casually apologised to me and thanked me for my help. I remember sitting next to her and expressing my disappointment, and I think some of my resentment must have shown through because filly was suddenly sitting forward, watching me intently, listening carefully. I remember the hurt it caused when I saw tears in her eyes, I remember stopping and gathering her close and saying some silly stuff about she was worth so much more.

Filly became more sincere in her apologies and said she wished so much she could manage her private and college life better, said she really needed someone to guide her, someone strong enough to let her be free, but only within a structured environment. Somewhere I know I made a remark about her needing some real discipline, that physical discipline would focus her mind, I also made some remark about a woman I admired enough to consider asking to be my fiancee should have more respect for herself and for her partner. Filly became very still at that and stared at me, asked in a hoarse whisper if I was teasing or serious. I replied that as far as I was concerned she was perfect for me in everything except her attitude to herself and her brain. For some reason this brought fresh tears and a lengthy cuddling session. In the fullness of time I tilted her head up and asked if this meant that she was willing to accept my proposal, filly smiled, nodded and then looked down, looked up strangely hesitant. She said it was a dream come true for her, and that if we were now a couple she would be willing to accept my discipline, indeed that she would welcome it, thought she would thrive on it, as long as I loved her and was never overtly cruel. When I asked if this escapade of hers at the concert warranted punishment she nodded with no hesitation, she has always thrown herself into everything 100%. Her face was so ingenuous and trusting as she asked me how she was going to be punished, she even asked if I wanted her to fetch a switch or her hairbrush or one of my belts. I suggested my hand followed by her hairbrush would perhaps be a good test of both our commitments. With no second bidding, filly went through to my bedroom where over the months she had slowly moved some of her stuff. She came back holding her flat wooden brush, I stood up to meet her and placed a hard chair near the mantle, took the brush and eased my new fiancée over my lap with no effort, she seemed to fit straight into place.

I spanked her rather firmly over her dress, broke off to explain that she was being punished not for going to the concert, indeed she was welcome to go, I liked her to have a good time. Rather her offence was not organising study time first so she would be free to enjoy such activities. At that point I lifted her dress and gave her a spanking on her knickers, a spanking that her squirming and gasping, but never complaining. I explained that in future she was to discuss plans with me, let me know what she wanted to do and let me help arrange her schedule. Then to emphasise the point I tugged her pants, down, (yes I did enjoy the view of her lovely red bum, still do), and gave her a good bare bottom spanking. Filly began to sob, wriggled a little, but never once complained or asked me to stop, though a minute of my hand landing did sting she confessed afterwards. Picking up the hairbrush and running it over her bottom I told her that in future, if she agreed that I should have some control over her life, she would be punished as I saw fit. I told her that now I was going to punish her for her lack of self respect and her refusal to become the best she could be. Lord love her but when I asked if she agreed she just nodded and whispered yes between her sobs. I was so proud of her but I still gave her twenty crisp, firm swats with the brush, swats that made her gasp and yelp, squeal sometimes when the swats overlapped. But even as she wriggled and squirmed and squealed not once did she say stop or try to roll off my lap, her sobbing though did become almost hysterical, and she kept mumbling sorry, and was making promises to try harder to be better.

When the punishment was over I let filly lay where she was till her sobs slowed, I let my hand and eyes run over her red bottom, enjoying the feel and look. Filly eventually sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and turned to me looking shy, embarrassed and hopeful all at once. I cuddled her and told her that in future we would work together and get the best we could from each other. That night, the night I became engaged, the night I first punished my wife to be, we made plans, made a pact for a lifestyle that has stood the test of time. Over the course of time this style has been adapted of course, but generally I make the final decisions, filly though will often be the one to see the best course for us, and I merely approve. In the remaining time at university we went from strength to strength and my love for filly was only equaled by my pride in her achievements. From time to time filly needed to be punished, but by and large only infrequently. Sometime I would see a trend in her behaviour and spank her before it got out of hand, something filly always accepted gracefully and sometimes thanked me for. When a serious punishment was called for we both performed efficiently, with little pleasure, and then with the air cleared got on with our lives the better for it.

Our lifestyle suits us and continues despite the house, the children. Filly now works from home so she can manage the household, earns very good money, always will. We do not have a playroom or any other D/s trappings, I have an old pair of crepe soled slippers, one of which is in the drawer of my desk in our shared study/den, the other in our bedroom. Also in the bedroom are a broad leather strap, a wooden paddle and a cane, plus of course filly still has that first flat wooden hairbrush. In fifteen years I have only had to cane filly three times, the last time was I think about six years ago. The strap and the paddle are used as necessary, but not as often as some of your story tellers would have you think. I prefer to spot filly’s slides and use a slipper to bring her back. About three months ago she had a job with a tight deadline to finish, the kids wanted her time at school, she was juggling things, trying to do everything, didn’t tell me what was going on. One night she snapped at the kids, something totally out of character. Later the same night in the study I brought up the question of her behaviour, she was instantly contrite, said it wouldn’t happen again. Further delving soon revealed there was more to this than I first thought. I bade filly remove her dressing gown, tugged her pajama trousers down, made her step clear of them, and had her grasp her ankles. As my hand landed on and reddened her cute rear I explained that I did not want the kids upsetting unfairly, if they deserved harsh words that is fine, but not because of filly’s moods. Filly on her part accepted the lecture and chastisement with her usual good grace, only occasionally grunting and yelping, her bottom wiggled but was always in place even as it coloured. When given permission to stand filly turned and thanked me, no resentment at all on her face even as she rubbed her bottom. Still bare from the waist down I had her stand with her back to me, so I could enjoy the view, as I sat behind my desk and talked her into a full explanation of her woes. My solution eventually was to ascertain what time filly needed, and, because of the nature of my position, I can be flexible at work so took two days off to look after the kids school stuff, actually enjoyed being with them, sharing their days. I suggested that when Filly completed on time we should have her mother take the kids for a weekend and take her off to London for a show. As we worked out our plans filly started to cry, relief I believe at how easy it was, I asked her why she hadn’t spoken sooner, why she had to use the kids to attract my attention, her response was to say she didn’t know and cry even harder. When I said over the desk filly turned and nodded almost gratefully and stretched out across the desk and grasped the edge at my side. Keeping eye contact with her I opened the drawer and took out the slipper, and apart from the undried tears on her cheeks she had a wonderful, calm accepting expression. I remember I couldn’t resist leaning forward to brush her lips with mine before I whispered she should always know to trust me and not hide anything, these words brought fresh tears to her eyes as I stood to walk behind her.

As usual fill had presented herself perfectly for me, long legs straight up and down, feet apart for balance, back parallel to the floor, that bottom I had come to know so well, tight and cute, moving ever so slightly with her breathing, seeming to invite what was to come. Twelve good firm whacks soon had those already pink cheeks a flaming red, had fill squirming and hopping, had her yelping and squealing as the crepe sole covered all her bum. When we had finished I took a few minutes to enjoy the spectacle, and to check I had not damaged fill, then we did what we always do, cuddled and talked.

To this day I do not understand the dynamics of our relationship, whether filly backslides to earn punishment so I have to prove I still love her, and care enough to guide her and discipline her. We did once start to discuss this but decided to let things be, it works so well for us why try to analyse something that feels so natural?

Tonight I punished my wife again, the second time in nine months, the previous occasion, as I said three months ago, six months had elapsed prior to that. This time it came about after a build up of about a week, then investigation revealed she had been sloppy with certain domestic tasks and duties we had agreed were her responsibilities. When filly became snappy and argumentative, something not usually in her character, I sent her to our bedroom telling her to get ready for bed but to not bother with her pj’s because she had best prepare for a spanking. At this point she became still, as she always does, her eyes went blank as she drifted back over recent history, saw what she had become, nodded, and with head down in shame went to do my bidding. I took my time pottering about downstairs, clearing oddments away, switching off lights, the usual mundane domestic chores, then climbed the stairs to join my errant wife. I found her sitting quietly on the stool at her dresser, wearing a short kimono. She was fresh faced, obviously having cleaned off the little amount of make up she wears. Her eyes were red with tears, my heart went out to her as it always does, she looked like a child who knows she has been naughty, and feels she can’t be loved but knows she will be after she’s been punished. She watched me in the mirror as I crossed the room, eyes meeting mine, then dropping in shame, then looking up hopefully, dropping again. I reached across her for her hair brush, pulled the morning chair close and sat down, told filly quietly but firmly I did not expect my household and our lives together to be upset needlessly by her moods and troubles. Indeed, I said, I intended to find out exactly what she should have told me about so I could help, but first I was going to spank the snappiness and the obstinacy from her, perhaps when she felt a little sorry for herself she would become more amenable to help. Filly listened to my little lecture, head down, occasionally sobbing a little, but quiet, even when I informed her when I did find out the reason I would expect to be either paddling or strapping her. I hid a smile, as filly looked almost relieved when the lecture ended and she was instructed to take her place. She needed no further instruction, with no haste or hesitation she stood, slipped the kimono off, and naked slipped easily over my lap, hands and feet supporting her, legs stretched, bottom falling naturally into place. As my hand rose and fell, in time with the slaps I informed my wife that in all the years of our marriage she had rarely behaved so disgracefully in breach of our chosen rules. I know her tears and whispered expressions of contrition were not from the pain or the indignity. It was her own sense of personal pride that was hurting, that she had failed herself and us that was so upsetting her. When her bottom was nicely warmed and red, I picked up the hairbrush, held it briefly against her cheeks, reminded her she knew the consequences of this sort of behaviour and then gave her a brisk eight smacks with the flat wooden back. Her tears became ones of pain as well as shame, her bottom writhed a little, turned a lovely colour, her squeals of sorry had more conviction. I kept her over my lap for a few minutes afterwards, to let her settle, and to let me enjoy my handiwork. When I let her up and sat with her on my lap, cuddling her she was totally compliant, answered all my questions without hesitation. The relief of confession soon had her sobbing again. As her silly tale unfolded I had to fight hard not to burst out laughing with relief, all of this was about the stress of our fast approaching holiday! I knew though that the drama now had to be played out within our roles, her as submissive.

Filly explained that one simple chore off a list of things to be done had been missed, and this had played on her mind, made her miss something else. If these things had been left another week it wouldn’t have mattered, but this, and a particularly obdurate client of hers, the shopping for beach wear, had all added up, and the poor woman felt too many claims on her. I sensed that the main problem for her was now that she knew she was letting us down, that she knew she should have been open. Basically she now wanted me to clean the slate as it were, let us start fresh, give her the catharsis of punishment so that all the family could go and enjoy the holiday, take no baggage with us.

Now I understood how much she needed my Dominance it was easy for me to be cool and firm. I lectured her (again) about the punishment not being for her actions as much as for her insulting behaviour in not feeling she could trust me. This brought forth tears and assurances that she did but that she always felt stupid having to ask for guidance and help over such mundane and simple things when she had a brain that could almost explain the universe. I made her look at me when I asked her if that meant that all our promises of the last fifteen years, to help each other meant so little to her. The guilt and the tears poured out of her as I intended, and now she was ready I bade her stack the four pillows on the bed and take up the position for a strapping. Lord bless her but she actually thanked me as, still sobbing, she dragged the pillows into place, laid down with her hips across them, bottom high, looking so lovely and red, yet so vulnerable. When I approached with the strap filly buried her face in the bed, gripped the covers and became still.

You have been there as a submissive erinlass, but I think you do understand me as well. I think you understand why though it is so hard for us it is so easy as well to cause the pain. We do it because we love them, love them enough to understand their needs, love them enough to be able to cause the pain knowing in the end it will cause less pain to them and us, because after our lives become fresh and free again. So the strap rose and fell in that age old cadence, as it has before, and, as I have no doubt, it will again. Filly’s body writhed a little, her muffled gasps became moans, then squeals, her knuckles turned white, her body eventually stiffened at each stroke, then when she became looser, accepting, though still squealing into the bed, I dropped the strap and gathered her close. My shoulder became soaked with her tears, her hair was all over, her body was racked with sobs, she clung to me like a limpet until she was all cried out, then she seemed to melt closer, became like a rag doll and her breathing settled, she snored gently. Emotionally and physically she was spent, her body knew it needed to recharge, this was not the first time I had witnessed this remarkable event. I eased her down and inch by inch removed my self and laid her on her side. I quietly tiptoed out and fetched a snifter of brandy for me and a miniature bottle of wine for her when she woke. From past experience I knew she would not wake for about two hours unless I made a loud noise. So I plugged my laptop into the bedroom network box, positioned so I could glance across at my sleeping wife, enjoy the shape of her body, the glow from her bottom, the stripy pattern I had drawn there. I connected and did some work, surfed a little, checked out our holiday site, found your site, and slowly emptied my brandy snifter. Some time during the second snifter I began to write this, now I am a little under the influence and debating whether to send the attachment or not, I think I probably will.

PS I am not really called Tom, my wife is not filly, I used that because I sometimes call her a silly mare when she does things she should not. I said she is punished infrequently, that is true. She is spanked fairly regularly though, by hand for my pleasure. Filly says that as my submissive she is proud to offer me such pleasure and sees it as her duty. She also says she enjoys re affirming her submission to my Dominance, feels safe over my lap having her bare rear warmed. Apart from the D/s we are an incredibly lucky couple, the kids and the house are great, life has been good to us, filly is an exceptionally gifted person, she is so sweet and humourous by nature, the best wife and mother ever. She is my partner, equal in most things, superior in intellect, just a quirk of nature and nurture that she is submissive.

So thank you for listening to the ramblings of a young drunken man, I must away now to make love to my dear wife when she wakes, regards Tom.

The End Copyright © 2004 Sir Tom