As many readers know, my wife has a vicious Italian leather belt that is one of her favorite implements to tan my hide with. It is also a belt she wears often. When I catch glimpses of it or hear her take it off, I now have legitimate reactions of, “Uh oh”, as my mind quickly reviews recent events to see if I can recall what I may have done wrong.
The spankings with it are quite harsh as it is a well conditioned, dense, pliable, leather belt. She doubles it over when she spanks with it. There are no warmups, no long pauses, and no rubbing of my butt in between swats or any time during the spanking. It is a REAL spanking where she is laying on one swat after another, from the top of my butt to the upper backs of my legs. Granted, most of the lashes land in the main buttocks area but those high and low lashes add a few exclamation points to the spanking that can get the tears going, if they are not already. That’s what a real belt whuppin’ looks like over here.
Part of my responsibilities are to maintain her leather sandals and belts, which means applying leather conditioner or leather oil like Neatsfoot oil to the belt to prevent it from drying out. You can tell when a belt is a little dry as it will soak up a decent amount of oil. This oil also adds weight and pliability. It also makes the belt more severe when it comes to spanking.
Over the years, I’ve decided that the best time to check and condition her leather belts is shortly after one of my spankings. The reason being, is that I usually will find myself in trouble and getting some sort of spanking about every month to month and a half. So I’m trying to give any belts that I might get it with an opportunity for some of that oil to dry out and lose a little weight and/or flexibility. Probably doesn’t make THAT much of a difference but just holding and handling a freshly oiled leather belt seems to indicate otherwise. Anyway, what I was trying to avoid is what happened this past weekend, which was having to oil the belt right BEFORE getting spanked with it.
In all honesty, I had already earned myself a woodshed type spanking. It had been a little while since I had gotten one and my attitude was deteriorating rapidly. So all it took was just one smart ass response to one of her questions befpre she said, “That’s it. I’m taking you to the woodshed tonight!” Man…just the threat of getting taken to the woodshed for a whuppin’ made my arrogance do a full stop.
At this point I wasn’t sure what she would use on me in the woodshed. Don’t get me wrong, all woodshed whuppin’s suck, but some implements are nastier than others. Like the wicked switch or cane. If I never got another spanking with either one of those things, that’d be fine with me.
Anyway, she went into our room and came back out to our great room (where I was sitting), holding her belt with a mean look on her face. “When was the last time you conditioned this belt?” she sternly asked. OH. SHIT. I remembered that I hadn’t oiled any of her belts for quite some time. It used to be a task on the ATS (Accountability Task Sheet), but I had taken it off, citing that I always remember to keep her leather belts and sandals oiled/conditioned, so it didn’t really need to be on there.
“I, uh…I’m not sure.” I sadly responded. Not knowing how best to navigate through these treacherous, butt-blistering waters.
“Come here.” she commanded. I got up and carefully walked up to her. The belt wasn’t doubled over, and so I was fairly sure that she wasn’t going to start swinging it right then. “Look at the edges and how they are drying out.” she said. “Is this or isn’t this your responsibility?” she questioned. “It is.” I sheepishly answered. She continued, “Didn’t YOU tell me that we could just take that off the ATS sheet because you always remember to condition my belts and sandals?” “Yes Ma’am.” I responded. Then she said, “Come with me.” As she started down the hall to our room. I followed and could feel fear welling up in the pit of my stomach, as I was sure this was going to be a whuppin’ for the books.
We got to our room but instead of her pointing to the bed or telling me to “Assume the position”, she continued into our master bathroom. She handed me the belt and said, “I want to you oil this belt right now and if I think you are not oiling it as much as you normally would, you’ll bring me the switch and we’ll try it again.” As most of you now know, I make no bones about not wanting to tangle with that switch at ANY time. So I took the belt from her and got out the Neatsfoot oil and my sponge and cloth and began the process of oiling the belt, which was now laying across our sink. Much to my dismay, that belt was THIRSTY. You could tell I hadn’t conditioned it in a while, because she was drinking up that oil quickly. I had the urge to yell to it, “Ok, STOP. That’s enough!” but she kept drinking in a bit more.
If you’ve ever oiled a leather strap like this, you know that difference in how it feels afterwards. You can feel the increase in weight of it. I handed it back to my Queen and thankfully, she felt it too and was pleased as an evil grin appeared on her face. “Oooo, now this…this is how this belt should feel.” I had a slight moment of relief as it appeared that I avoided getting lashes with the switch if she made me oil it some more. She then said the fateful words, “And now YOU ARE going to experience how this belt feels…on your backside. Go assume the position.”
It was a short dreadful walk from our bathroom into our bedroom and to the end of our bed. Once there, I pulled down my shorts and underwear and bent over the end of the bed, awaiting her and her newly oiled, leather belt.
She was right behind me and I heard the familiar jingle of the brass buckle of the belt as she started to double it over. I knew this belt now had some more “oomph” to it. And dammit, this belt does not need more “oomph”!
“You had already earned yourself a trip to the woodshed, but after that whuppin’, we’re going to have another chat about slacking on the conditioning of my belts.” she said. And without further word or warning, the first lash of the belt came, hard and fast. SMACK! “UGH!” I grunted out. The end of the belt just slightly wrapping to the side of my butt. The pain seemed more intense than any belting I had gotten before. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! One after another hard lashes with her belt kept landing. My knees were buckling slightly and I doing my best to maintain position so as not to earn more swats. SMACK! SMACK! FRWHUP! (a dreaded edge swat landed) and I cried out as the searing pain shot deep inside my backside. A short way into the spanking, my grunts turned into cries and tears started rolling down my face. But the belt kept landing. After about 35 to 40 lashes with the belt. She walked over to the other side of me and started again. My butt was on fire, and throbbing. Some more edge swats entered into the mix, about 1 every 7th or 8th swat. A few lashes to the upper backs of my legs brought my cries into a sobbing. But the belt kept landing until she had delivered about 35 to 40 lashes from that side as well.
She tossed the belt onto the bed in front of me. Through tears I saw it laying there haphazardly and still mostly doubled over. Even just laying on the bed, this inanimate leather object looks sinister.
I heard the clicks of her sandals as she walked into our closet. My heart sank because I just KNEW that she was going to go get the switch and put on her switch spanking sandals. Just the thought of that almost made me cry in and of itself.
To my (somewhat) relief, the sandals I heard, as she walked back out of the closet and up to me, were NOT her switch whuppin’ sandals. (Yes, I can tell by sound.) Again, a short lived moment of relief that the switch was not coming my way. Instead, she had the Spencer paddle. That’s no joyride, let me tell ya’. I took a deep breath as she walked up to the left side of me, as I was still bent over the end of the bed.
“Now, I’m going to take this paddle to you.” she said. “And while I’m paddling you, I want you to look at my belt in front of you and remember what happens when you don’t keep her oiled like you should.”
As soon as I looked up at the belt in front of me, I felt the sting of the paddle right in the middle part of my butt. “Ughh!” I cried out. And the swats kept coming, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK…The accumulation of sting was too much and I started crying again. I don’t know how many more swats landed but if I had to guess, it was about 15 to 20 in a row. She doesn’t switch sides when she is using the paddle as the paddle addresses the butt very evenly.
She then walked over to her throne, still holding the paddle and sat down. “Come to me my love.” she softly and lovingly said. I stepped out of my shorts and underwear that were around my ankles and walked up to her, then knelt in front of her. “I’m sorry my Queen.” She put the paddle down on the floor beside me and pulled me towards her so that my upper body was across her lap. She played with my hair and said, “I hope you have learned what happens when you completely forget or ignore one of your responsibilities.” “Yes Ma’am, I certainly have.” I quickly responded. “Good, because I’m sure you don’t want to go down this road again anytime soon?” “I sure don’t.” I answered earnestly. “Good. I don’t necessarily want to give you this bad of a spanking, but WILL if necessary. Perhaps you might want to add the task back on the ATS, just as a safety net?” she suggested. “I think that is a great idea my Queen. Thank you for the suggestion.” I replied.
She motioned for me to get up and then she got up, walked over to the bed and picked up her belt and started to put it on, then asked, “Would you like a bourbon?” “Yes my Queen, that would be great. Thank you.” I gratefully responded. And she left the room.
It was quite the lesson that I plan on never having to learn again. As I put my underwear and shorts on again, I could feel the painful soreness from the spanking as my clothes slid over my backside. I wiped my tears, put her paddle away, smoothed the winkles on the bed, and went to join my Queen for a drink.