So, I’ve been looking for opportunities to up the “real FLR” quotient in our relationship. My darling husband presented me with the perfect opportunity the other night.

We have a device called the Sodastream.

It’s used to make bubbly water from tap water. I enjoy bubbly water mixed with a hint of cranberry juice and a bit of lime. Those canisters of CO2 run out, of course, and it’s my husband’s job to keep them stocked (he goes to the Canadian Tire for refills – his domain!). We have about a dozen of them so he does not have to go very often and he can trade the empties for fulls all at once. The idea is that he goes to exchange the lion’s share before we run out.

The dozen canisters sit up like little soldiers on a high shelf. You can tell by the cap if it’s used or new. We got down to just one new one left on the shelf . I remember reminding him to get the canisters exchanged as we are getting low.

Then we ran out, and he needed to fit the very last one in. I reminded him again to go get them filled. I DO NOT like running out of bubbly water! ;-) He promised he would tomorrow.

Well tomorrow, and tomorrow. I reminded him again. He hit his head and said “Doh!” and promised to do it, for sure, tomorrow.

Well, you can see where this is going.

I got home earlier than him, and went to bubble up some water. Phewwwwwwwweeeee… And we’re out.

 
The canisters are gone from the shelf. At least he has them with him. He gets home. Does he have a bagful of new canisters. He does not. He “forgot”.

I take him by the ear. I pull him all the way up to our bedroom like that. He knows what he has coming. I open the bedroom drawer and pull out his hairbrush.

I open up his spanking chair. A small folding chair we keep in the bedroom.

I sit down on it. He is in front of me. I unbuckle his belt, and pull the belt out his belt loops. That’s for later. I unclasp and unzipper his pants. I make them fall to the floor. He is in his boxers today. I grab on either side of his boxers and lower them to the floor. His penis and testicles come on display. He is not hard. I move him to my side and I pull him over my lap, pants and underpants at his ankles.

I push his shirt up above his waist. I put my left arm around his waist.

“How many times did I tell you???? How many???”

“quite a few…”

“Whose responsibility is it to change those out when they get low???”

“mine…”

“Well, I think you need a lesson in responsibility. Do you agree?”

“yes ma’am…”

“A long hard lesson…” I say under my breath as I tighten my grip on him. Then I start just wailing away on his ass with that hairbrush. And I mean wailing! I went for a good, I don’t know, five minutes likely, at a spank a second. You do the math. His ass turned cherry red and white in the middles. He cried out and begged me and apologized over and over again: “Owww! Ohh! No! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!!!”

When I was done I threw the hairbrush down on the ground and I literally pushed him off my lap so that he fell at my feet.

“Get up!” I yelled at him as I grabbed him by his ear and yanked. I turned him around and made him bend over the back of the chair, elbows on the seat. I picked up his belt I had removed earlier and I just start whipping that ass! About 50 good strokes, I’d reckon. Again he was pleading and begging.

“Stay there!” I told him after I had finished.

I went to get the tube of toothpaste and a bathroom glass of water.

I put a big glob of toothpaste on my finger, wet it, and shoved it up his ass. I smooshed it all around in there. I repeated with a second glob. Then I coated his anal area until it was white. This causes quite an intense burning in his asshole that lasts at least an hour.

“Pull up your pants!” I told him. “You will go to the Canadian Tire NOW and get me the replacements. At the checkout, tell the girl you fucked up, forgot to get refills, and got a spanking from your wife. GO! NOW!”

david had a scared look in his eye, pulled up his pants quickly and ran out the door. I could see him wincing as he moved, a combination of his well-spanked rear and the toothpaste burning his anus and rectum.

He returned quickly, a bit longer than half an hour, carrying the replacement canisters. He put them down on the kitchen table.

“Please Julie, may I wash out my bum?” he asked pitifully.

“Burns does it?”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“Did you tell the salesgirl at the checkout?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“What did you say exactly?”

“I told her her that I had fucked up and not gotten these changed until they ran out, and that my wife was pissed and whipped my ass, literally whipped it. With a belt.”

“How did she react?”

“Smirked Ma’am.”

“Was there anybody else in earshot?”

“No Ma’am. May I please go wash out my bum Ma’am?” As he said this he bounced from one leg to the other.

“Put away the canisters, and put a fresh one into the dispenser,” I told him.

He looked pained but hurried to do as he was told, wiggling and wincing the whole time.

“May I please go and wash out my bum, Ma’am?” he asked desperately after he had completed the chore.

“You may.”

As soon as I said that he scurried right upstairs.

“And let that be a lesson to you!” I yelled after him.

I was smiling as I bubbled up a bottle of water, and made my bubbly cranberry-lime drink. Even put a couple of festive ice cubes in it to celebrate.

There. Did I “scene him” or did I punish him? You be the judge.

Source: Strict Julie Spanks

Husband Spanked for Real