My lovely goddess of a wife had promised me a memorable treat for my birthday. I stayed on my best behavior that week, in anticipation of an exciting climatic night of pleasure. During the day she texted me 'hope u are ready for treats.' I wrote back to confirm and then told her I was doubly thrilled to get not just one but multiple treats. She responded back, 'Well it's your lucky day. You're gonna get not two but three!'
My greedy self was hardly able to concentrate at work that day. By nightfall, she summoned me to the royal bedroom, a candlelit chamber of delights. Locking the door, she revealed herself in magnificent beauty, dressed in black negligee with gold embroidery. She instructed me to strip off my clothes and get on my knees. My cock stood at attention. "I'm going to blindfold you now, and you will do what I tell you precisely. Is that understood?" she asked.
"Yes, my love," I replied. She wrapped a scarf over my eyes, and then asked me to stand up and step forward slowly while lifting my legs. She was holding something for me to step into. As soon as I put my second foot in, she pulled it up my body. It felt soft and silky. Before I could object, she pulled my arms through the spaghetti straps, leaving me standing in what I immediately recognized as a soft chemise. The night had already taken an unexpected turn that did not bode well for a big, throbbing birthday orgasm.
"You look so cute," she said as she caressed me all over, "especially the built-in lacy bralette top and the flowing silky material. So girly!"
"I don't like it," I replied even as my cock jutted out.
"You don't like your treat? Why?"
"Because it doesn't feel manly," I objected.
"That's because it's not manly. Let me be 100% clear, this is what could be described as ultra feminine. Definitely not at all masculine to me. Doesn't make my pussy tingle. But your cock seems to like it," she stated, laughing at the obvious discrepancy between my mouth and penis.
"That's just because I'm in your presence," I replied, trying to deflect my feelings.
"I appreciate that but you're not being honest with yourself, once again. We're going to have to fix that, and what better time than now? Bend over and assume the position!" she commanded, leading me around to the end of our bed.
My wife told me to spread my feet apart and keep my hands locked above my head. She proceeded to whack my bottom hard with her special long hardwood paddle, very hard about 30 times, leaving me howling for mercy. She leaned over to whisper in my ears, "Would you like to admit that you like wearing this frilly women's chemise? I want to hear you tell the truth about how you prefer wearing women's lingerie more than men's boxers."
I stayed silent. I could not admit it. "Very well then... I have no choice but to interpret your silence as disrespect." She pulled my chemise up, baring my buttocks while caressing my bottom. "Admit it, or else!" she decreed her ultimatum.
"Oh come on, please don't drag this on?" I replied. This brought out the bitch attitude in my wife. She disciplined me harshly, paddling my bare buttocks another couple dozen times until I felt the fiery heat and unbearable stinging. She gave out six strokes at a time, very hard, on top of one another on the same cheek. On the bare buttocks, it felt considerably more painful. I could feel my buttocks turning red and tender.
After about 3 minutes of this, she asked me again, "Are you ready to tell the truth now, birthday boy?"
My bottom would no doubt feel the soreness even if merely touched. I knew that I would not be able to sit down without discomfort on anything but the softest surface for a few days. "Yes, I guess so," I stammered. "I like wearing this kind of clothing because it's soft."
"Husband, you need to do better than that," she said with a hint of strictness over my lack of enthusiasm and gratitude.
"I admitted that I like the chemise. What more do you want?" I shot back in a snappy tone. I realized even as I said this that I should have spoken more respectfully. I had to correct the tonality of my initial impulse reaction. I could not see where my wife was but I knew she was close by. "I mean I admit, dear wife, that you're right." I kept trying to dig myself out of the hole. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. I knew. I felt her tying my ankles to the bed posts. Soon I felt a tapping on my rear end. She was lining up the paddle against my buttocks as if to measure the distance how far to stand from me. I knew I was about to get it, and that it was going to get bad, really bad.
When she started again, it was super hard, relentless. Another few minutes and another couple dozen strokes later, I was regretting ever opening my mouth as another round of paddling brought home a deeper submission all over again. "Please wife, I admit it sincerely. I like wearing the frilly chemise more than men's boxers," I pleaded through short breaths.
She leaned over again to whisper into my ears, "Now that's more like it, husband!" She circled around me, uncertain whether I needed to be punished more. She pinched my buttocks which made me yelp. "I see you appreciate my second gift."
"I don't know if I can handle any more of your gifts," I said. I meant it as a lighthearted comment but the tone came across to my wife as a complaint. I was a slow learner. Another dozen whacks later, I hit rock bottom, muttering all kinds of sincere appreciation for the gift of discipline in between begging her for mercy. She put the paddle down.