I have a penchant for beautiful yet useful things. Carpet beaters are an example of this. In fact, I have a whole collection of them hanging in our foyer. Guests often comment on them and wonder at the amount of work it would have taken to clean all the rugs in a house back in the day. We shake our heads and thank our lucky stars that we have no need for such things any more. What my guests don’t realize, though, is that while they have no need for such devices, Sir and I do. He has, indeed, used each every one of the beaters – rattan, wicker, metal, and the more modern rubber and leather – on me. Granted, he has used some, like the metal one, very gently, while others he has used with gusto, like the rattan and leather ones. These are not the fun paddles. These are the serious punishment paddles. The big loopy leather one, is the one he most recently used. That’s the one we take on vacation with us because it is very, very quiet yet delivers a stern lesson. Last week we went on a quick three day get away. I almost caused us to miss the plane because I had waited until the last minute to pack then became distracted in one of the stores in the airport. Sir was not happy with me; nor should he have been, honestly. As soon as we were settled in the plane he told me that when it was safe, I was to go to the bathroom and remove my panties. I argued because I was wearing a fairly short skirt. “You just added 3 more,” he decided. “You will not argue, but do as I say. The nudity will remind you that your ass is mine as soon as we check into the hotel.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled and did as he said. The moment we walked into

the hotel room I stripped off my clothes. Sir never allows me to wear clothing in a hotel room, and he certainly doesn’t allow it when I’m being disciplined. He pulled out the loopy beater and I sunk to my knees, ready to beg for mercy. Then, he pulled out the ball gag and I knew it was hopeless. “You have caused both of us anxiety because of your lack of time management. Five for not packing earlier. Five for wasting time in the bookstore. Three for not following my command immediately. If you cry out, that stroke won’t count. Do you want the gag?”

He was right. Still, I trembled at the number. I’d never received more than 8 with the beater, and those had been awful. I had sobbed into a pillow for a long time and had a sore bottom for 2 days! I swallowed once, then said, “Yes, sir. ”

Now, sitting here on the return flight, my bottom is still sore and marked. I sobbed throughout the punishment, but managed to keep from crying out – thanks to the gag. Sir refused to allow me to wear any panties so that I would remember his lesson throughout the three days. It worked! I was very, very conscious of time and quite efficient if I do say so myself. As a result, we didn’t have to rush anywhere and had plenty of time to enjoy ourselves and relax. I look over at Sir and smile. He smiles back at me, takes my hand, and kisses my fingers. He certainly is stern, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.