Nude Wife Caned at the Barbecue

She is naked on the bed next to me. I have been scratching her lightly freckled bare back and smacking her lily white and firm buttocks -- she relishes that -- and now I have her left arm held firmly behind her head, her long, curly and chestnut hair flowing onto the pillows. My right hand moves to her groin whilst I bring my mouth close to her and begin to whisper in her ear...

"You are at the barbecue... the barbecue we are holding for our friends... but it is also just before a quarter to four... and the first Sunday of the month... and on the first Sunday of the month... every month... at four o'clock without fail... it is necessary for you to be caned... twelve extremely hard strokes of the cane."

She begins to groan and twist gently as I continue to rub her clit with the tips of my fingers whilst all the time gradually increasing the pressure...

"You see, it is necessary for you to be caned regularly to deepen your submission to me... to reinforce your desire to serve me... to please me... to assuage your guilt about your fear of failing to live up to my exacting standards of how a perfect wife should behave... and what you fear more than anything... more than the cruelty of the cane... is an empty existence devoid of purpose... of love..."

She distractedly murmurs 'yes' as she immerses herself further into the fantasy I am weaving for her...

"The time is now exactly a quarter to four and you place the glass of water you have been sipping down gently on one of the picnic tables and although you have been the perfect hostess all afternoon by ensuring that the guests have never been without food or a drink, you yourself have only drunk water since a late breakfast because it is not advisable to be beaten with a full stomach. You then pad gently across the lawn and into the lounge of the house through the open French doors wondering if anyone has noticed you do so. As you ascend the stairs to the large double bedroom and open the door your fear begins to rise. Now inside, you kick off your sandals bend down and tidy them away under the bed. You then remove the sleeveless white summer dress you have been wearing all day before unhooking your bra and slipping off your knickers... you are now as naked as the day you were born... and as vulnerable. You then sink down to your knees and clasping your hands together pray briefly to God, first thanking him that He has seen fit to allow you be punished for your shortcomings and then requesting the fortitude to bear the pain with stoicism. You glance up to the carriage clock upon the mantelpiece and see the time: seven minutes to four... it is time. You slip your dressing gown over your unclad and now visibly trembling pale body for you must be demure and modest for as long as possible. You then retrace your steps, squinting your eyes as a reflex to the bright sunlight, as you enter into the garden..."

She starts to gasp and I feel her muscles become taut...

"With your head lowered and your pace slow you make yourself to the caning bench... the caning bench that has been especially measured and constructed for you... only you... and halt just a couple of feet away. None of the guests are talking and you feel as though a million pairs of eyes are upon you. With your sight focussed on the green recently mown grass, your arms close to your side and your legs together you listen to me as I explain to all those gathered around what is about to happen..."

I am now rubbing her swollen, to the point of bursting, clit hard and fast -- her cunt is so damp she is almost dripping...

" 'As all of you are aware I will shortly be caning my darling wife... and this is something that we do... have to do... once a month at four o'clock on the first Sunday of the month... and it is never postponed or cancelled. There is nobody here that is not aware of what we do and the reasons... values... underlying it... there are also some here, who are perhaps envious of the strength and happiness of our marriage, would like to emulate what we do. But before I continue I must ask anyone who does not want to witness severe corporal punishment to either go into the house for the duration... or go home. By your silence I assume you are all going to stay... good.' You then sense me move towards you, place my hands around your shoulders and quietly ask you to take off your dressing gown. Totally naked I guide you to the caning bench. I ask you to bend over it before fastening your outstretched arms securely with leather straps to the front part of the wooden frame. I then tighten another strap around your middle before securing your thighs and ankles.

You are now effectively restrained into a kneeling attitude with only a pad for comfort to rest the lower part of your torso on with your breasts hanging loose. As you feel your ankles secured you notice the warm sun upon your back... you feel conspicuous... and incredibly scared... once again you pray... and then hear me address the dozen or so of friends and work colleagues for the final time... 'The time is now one minute to four o'clock... as you can all see I shall be using this cane which is a quarter of an inch thick... it is about two and a half feet in length... and quite whippy. I shall be employing full force in order to inflict maximum pain... which is the whole point of course. It is not inconceivable that her skin may break in places... and that the bruises take ten to fourteen days to heal... she will remember it... which is good. Okay... it is time now for the first stroke.' You steel yourself... there is a momentary 'whoosh' and then immediately a line of fire sears across your buttocks... you scream out and tug against your restraints... but to no avail. The burning begins to lessen and a mild breeze blows over your nude and exposed body for a few seconds fanning your flesh... another whoosh... a feeling that you are being cut by a sword... you scream..."

Her back arches and she cries out... in ecstasy... her features freeze almost beatifically for a few seconds and then she relaxes... slumps down upon the mattress... before laughing...