Required Reading for Wife Sentenced to Spend Labor Day in Naughty Chair: "Underwear Probation" by Spanking Erotica Writer Celeste Jones

A Gentleman Writes:

As all married men should, I rightly rule the roost at home and put my wife over my knee to soundly spank her bottom whenever she breaks any of my many household rules or otherwise fails to please me.

But sometimes spanking alone isn't enough.

My wife, a former child tennis prodigy used to getting her own way growing up with her soft-hearted parents and coach, can be particularly headstrong. So I regularly incorporate additional punishment to accompany spankings to make sure she gets the message.

Mouth-soaping, writing sentences, punishment outfits, long hours sitting in the corner in the "naughty chair" are among the supplemental disciplinary measures accompanying bottom blistering to remind my wife to be sweetly submissive at home and limit her aggression to the tennis courts at our country club.

My wife's attempt at dinner the other night was not quite up to par. The meal was properly cooked but I felt the food could have been arranged a bit more artfully on my plate. Consequently, as my wife cleared the table at meal's end, I informed her she would be soundly spanked once she finished washing the dishes.

I retrieved the "naughty girl paddle" from the upstairs bedroom then sat down is my easy chair in the living room. The washing-up done, my wife came and knelt before me. I lectured her at length about her culinary short-comings then put her over my lap, lifted her skirt, lowered her panties and properly paddled her pert posterior.

As her offense was not especially egregious, I decided that 24 hours in "punishment panties" was sufficient additional punishment.

The panties have rough sandpaper sewn into the backseat that rubs against sensitive skin of a spanked bottom. Stitched into the outer-face of the bloomers' backside is an excellent likeness of my wife's face with a tear rolling down her cheek and cursive lettering that says "Hubby Spanked My Bottom For Being Bad."

My wife went upstairs to put on her punishment panties and a nightgown then came back to the living room. I enjoyed an after-dinner cognac and cigar while my wife sipped a sherry.

Then it was off to bed. I limited our love-making to three hours rather than the usual four as we had a big day ahead of us: my wife was playing for the championship of our country club's annual ladies’ doubles tennis tournament.

We arrived at the club plenty early to allow time for my wife to warm up and for me to talk strategy with her partner.

This woman is not a very good tennis player; in fact, she's quite awful. I asked her to play with my wife because she agreed to my plan. All she's expected to do is put her serves in play and try to return the opponents’. The rest of the time she stands to the side and lets my wife take over.

My strategy worked like a charm in previous matches and was going well in the final round. We were winning two games to love when it came time for this woman to serve.

Then disaster struck. The woman threw the ball high in the air, then totally mishit the serve and pinged my wife right in the ass.

My wife lay sprawling before the net. I ran to her aid and carried her off the court. I sat down on the tennis bench and put her over my knee to check for injury. And when I lifted her skirt, was shocked to see regular sports knickers instead of punishment panties!

Were it not for the purplish bruise from the ball striking her behind, and the fact that I spotted in the audience some of the more "politically correct" members of our country club who aren't particularly accepting of the "1950s-lifestyle," I would have spanked my wife right then and there.

Instead I waited until we got home from the match -- my wife carried on despite her injury but not able to dominate play as before and we lost 6-4, 6-4 -- to pronounce punishment.

I was not sympathetic to my wife's excuse that she worried other women in our club’s ladies locker room might tease her if they saw her wearing punishment panties. As she was too sore to spank and may be for some time, I sent her to bed with no supper as soon as she fixed mine.

As added punishment, once she's served me breakfast, prepared my lunch and dinner and put it in the fridge for me to eat later, and whipped up a batch of fried beef jerky for me and my buddies to enjoy in our Labor Day poker game, my wife will sit in the naughty chair with her nose facing the corner for the remainder of the day. (If she asks nicely, she’ll be allowed 15 minutes out for lunch and another quarter-hour for dinner, plus bathroom breaks.)

While this punishment may sound strict, I'm concerned that my wife's tennis injury lets her avoid a spanking. Can you think of a task for my wife to undertake while sitting in the naughty chair to ensure she learns her lesson?

Kind Sir:

Yes I can. Your wife should be required to read "Underwear Probation" by the spanking erotica writer Celeste Jones. Perusing this torrid tale of disciplinary measures taken towards another silly wife who violated her husband's commands concerning underwear will remind your wife not to remove punishment panties in future.

"Underwear Probation" is available in e-book format and reasonably priced at $2.99. Copies may be purchased by visiting her website www.writercelestejones.blogspot.com.

Ms. Jones' other excellent spanking erotica novellas, “Twenty-One Days to a Better Attitude” and “Legal Briefs: Over the Knee Justice,” as well as her fine collection of spanking erotica short stories, “The Long Arm of the Law,” are also available in e-book format and may be purchased by visiting her website.

Ms. Jones includes several free samples of her writing on her website to whet your appetite.

I’m sure you spent many hours coaching your wife for the ladies’ doubles tennis tournament at your county club and are justifiably disappointed she didn’t bring home a first-place trophy to display in your “man cave” as proof of your accomplishment. Better luck next year.

Silly Wives Play Politics at GOP Convention and Win Sound Spankings

This story is one of ten that is now part of my anthology, "The Best of 1950s Wife," which may be purchased for ready read on your Kindle via Amazon.com for the reasonable price of $2.99 by clicking this link: "The Best of 1950s Wife"

Presenting the "Spanked Wives Olympics": "Spank Yodeling," "Switch Dancing" and "Cane Crying."

This story is one of ten that is now part of my anthology, "The Best of 1950s Wife," which may be purchased for ready read on your Kindle via Amazon.com for the reasonable price of $2.99 by clicking this link: "The Best of 1950s Wife"

Lost Bet Over Euro Soccer Cup. Wife Pays With Sore Bottom, Knees and Lips

Dear 1950s Wife:

Being an All-American 1950s-style couple, my husband and I prefer football, baseball, professional wrestling and other manly competitions when watching sports on TV.

But with our city's Major League Baseball team playing poorly -- we're Cubs fans, need I say more -- we decided to give the recent Euro Cup soccer tournament a look.

Soccer sure is easy to watch. Unlike football and baseball's complicated rules and confusing statistics that are so difficult for we women to follow, all that matters in soccer is whether the ball goes in the net. And with so few goals to keep track of, even a mathematically-challenged girl like me can remember the score.

And I must say that soccer players, in the main, are really sexy, even if they do act like sorority girls on bid night with the way they kiss and hug each other after every goal.

My husband was bored with the tournament at first. To liven it up, I suggested we choose a team to root for. After doing quick research on the computer, my husband picked Spain.

I'm not allowed to use the computer except to read this blog, as my husband knows I'd waste time Facebooking and Twittering when I should be cooking his meals and cleaning his clothes. So, knowing nothing about the teams, I chose Holland because the players are the cutest.

As a further twist, we agreed to give each other gifts if our respective teams made it from the “group stage” to the "knock-out rounds." My husband’s gift was that he got to spank my bottom cherry red for Spain making it to the quarter-finals and for each successive win thereafter.

Plus every time Spain played in the knock-out stage, I had to kneel before my husband giving him head the whole game. He got to come in my mouth each time Spain scored a goal.

If Netherlands made it to the quarter-finals, my present was that we'd order pizza one-night-per-year to give me a break from cooking. And if Holland won the tournament, a new vacuum cleaner!

Boy oh boy, how can such fit-looking guys play so bad? I really wanted that new vacuum cleaner, but Netherlands lost its three games in the group stage and didn’t advance. And not that I'm begrudging Spain its Euro Cup, but I've got a sore bottom, sore knees and sore lips and I don't even have pizza night to look forward to.

But the worst part is that watching the tournament left my husband so infatuated with soccer that he's growing a "Euro-style" ponytail to symbolize his love of the game and its European players.

As my husband wears his hair in a flat top, his ponytail will take several months to grow. In the meantime, he's fashioned a crude wig made with bandages, black-tip felt pen and a faux fur tail he tore off a souvenir "Davy Crocket coonskin cap" he wore as a boy.

As an adherent of the 1950s lifestyle, I know I must support my husband in his fashion choices and sporting interests. But it’s hard to retain a proper submissive mindset when my husband’s wears such a frightful wig.

I couldn’t help giggling while my husband’s scolded me this evening about poor housekeeping -- I forgot to dust the knickknacks in his “man cave” – when I briefly raised my eyes during the lecture and saw his faux fur ponytail wagging back and forth as he shook his index finger at me. (I got spanked extra hard for laughing.)

Even though his hair will grow out, I don’t care for the Euro-ponytail look. And I was really looking forward to watching the Bears play this fall. Now my husband wants to spend our autumn Sunday afternoons at an out-of-the-way saloon in the city with a bunch of expat Spaniards watching Real Madrid play soccer on pay TV.

Whatever am I to do?

Good woman:

You correctly note that the good wife cheers for her husband, no matter how regrettable his hairstyle. While European men generally have good fashion sense, the “Euro ponytail” is an exception to the rule.

Personally, I wouldn’t consider it a sacrifice to swap watching the Bears for Real Madrid playing soccer on pay TV. I much prefer the rest of the world’s version of “football” to America’s. But my husband considers pay TV, even basic cable service, a waste of money, even though the demise of “Friday Night Fights” on network TV means he no longer enjoys his beloved boxing matches.

But take heart. Though their passions run deep, men’s attention spans are short.

It’s nearly two months before Real Madrid begins a new season defending its La Liga championship and I expect your husband will grow bored waiting. This fall, I’m confident you’ll find him on Sunday afternoons wearing his flat top haircut and Bears jersey sitting before the TV with beer can in hand and rooting for “Da Barez.”   

Cara Bristol's Totally Awesome Spanking Stories: Perfect Prescription for Hubby's Sprained "Spanking Arm"

Dear 1950s Wife:

Not having kids, I always thought those stories of overbearing parents berating coaches at little kids' sports competitions were exaggerations. Boy oh boy, how wrong I was!

My husband's colleague at work coaches a baseball team for eight-year-old boys. He was sick Saturday, so he asked my husband to fill in. Being a community-minded person, my husband agreed.

Sadly, the adage "no good deed goes unpunished" turns out to be true.

Because eight-year-olds have a hard time throwing strikes, the rules require the coach to pitch when his team is up at bat. The opposing team's coach lobbed the ball over the plate resulting in several hits and runs when that team batted.

But when my husband's team hit, the competitive instincts of a former high school star pitcher naturally took hold. He baffled batters with fork balls, screw balls and "slurves," with the occasional inside high heater thrown in to "buzz the tower" of batters leaning too far over the plate.

My husband racked up "K" after "K." I would have thought parents of kids on his team would appreciate the chance to watch a top-flight pitcher at work. Or, at the least, realize he gave the little boys an opportunity to display good sportsmanship by walking gracefully back to the dugout after they struck out.

But no! Such hoots and hollers and rude names they shouted at my husband including "Bully," "Clown" and "Bull Durham-wannabe."

Being a feisty fellow, my husband screamed back at the parents throughout the game. And, as he got closer and closer to a magical "perfect game," he couldn't help but celebrate each strikeout with shouts of "whiff," "see ya" and "grab some bench, jack ass!"

The good news is that my husband threw a perfect game, striking out each eight-year-old every time they came to bat.

The bad news is that, not having pitched competitively in 20 years, his arm wasn't properly prepared and he severely damaged his shoulder and elbow. Not only will he never be able to throw a decent forkball again, the doctor says, but his "spanking arm" will be out of commission for several months.

Moreover, my husband's throat got so hoarse from screaming back at the parents and celebrating the strikeouts he pitched that he can barely speak above a whisper. So not only can't he spank me, he can't even properly scold me for the things I do wrong such as failing to properly polish the dozens of trophies from his childhood athletic heroics on prominent display in his "man cave."

Whatever am I to do?

Good woman:

With your husband unable to spank or scold, you certainly need a stiff dose of medicine to keep you properly submissive. The good news is that I have the perfect prescription: "Cara Bristol: Erotic Stories to Light Your Fire."

Reading these well-told tales of dominant men determined to spank and submissive ladies learning to obey will certainly reinforce your wifely wish to stay subserviant to your spouse.

Cara's blog has plenty of free samples to whet your appetitite and her complete works, available in e-book format, are reasonably priced. To visit her site, simply click on the "Cara Bristol" link in the links' section on the upper-right-side of this page.

The bad news is that your husband didn't pitch a "perfect game."

Being a girly-girl, I of course know absolutely nothing about baseball. But I checked with my husband and he assures me that such an accomplishment requires a pitcher retiring all the batters for the opposing team, not his own.

While I understand your zeal to cheer your husband in his sporting pursuits, perhaps a better venue may be found to show off his talents than a baseball game played by eight-year-olds. Hopefully his arm will heal to at least allow him to participate in slow-pitch softball at his company's annual picnic next spring.

Acceptable To Accept Discipline from a Democrat?

This story is one of ten that is now part of my anthology, "The Best of 1950s Wife," which may be purchased for ready read on your Kindle via Amazon.com for the reasonable price of $2.99 by clicking this link: "The Best of 1950s Wife"

May Day Protest Housework Strike Earns Belt Whipping for Naughty Wife

This story is one of ten that is now part of my anthology, "The Best of 1950s Wife," which may be purchased for ready read on your Kindle via Amazon.com for the reasonable price of $2.99 by clicking this link: "The Best of 1950s Wife"