HotWife
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Embarrassed Wife free porn video
“I have never seen her this mad,” I thought to myself, as I stood there, stark naked, the heels of my feet touching, my feet forming a V, big toes against the base board of this stretch of wall in our living room, my nose pressed against the wall, my arms straight down at my sides, fingers of my hands relaxed. My reverie continued, “And usually, she has me in that corner over by the front door, so this is quite different. Not much change in scenery though…”
Then my thought processes took me back to the events that led to me being here.
Mary and I had gone to the supermarket, and were checking out the daily specials. My back was turned away from her, while I was looking at salad platters. ALL OF A SUDDEN, her face was six inches from mine, and she was saying, excitedly, “Muffins are SIX for FIVE dollars!”
I was caught off-guard and surprised and startled and I don’t know what all else… but it was enough for me to exclaim… loudly… “You’re TOO CLOSE! GET OUTTA MY SPACE.”
She back away…and looked around, as did I, at the ALL the people who had witnessed this exchange between us.
A grim, dark look emerged on her face… and did not go away. She walked away, leaving me to push the cart, following her. We finished the shopping without exchanging another word, and checked out, and went to the car, and drove home, and unloaded the groceries into the house, all in the same silence.
Then she picked up her phone, and went into the bedroom.
After half an hour, she came out, and cleared her throat to get my attention, then starting speaking.
“You embarrassed the CRAP out of me, and I’ve been waiting for my anger to subside, before I decide how you’ll be punished. To begin with, I am calling that piece of wall right THERE, for the sake of this discussion, the ‘corner’, and you have ten minutes to get yourself into that corner in the way I’ve taught you, and as yet I have no solid idea as to how long you will be standing there.”
I used the ten minutes allotted to take a quick leak, then get myself naked, and I was against the wall, with some thirty seconds to spare.
From behind me, I heard her phone ring, and she answered, then she went to the bedroom, and closed the door, evidently so I could not hear the rest of her side of the conversation.
Without a word, she emerged from the bedroom, and sat down in her chair at her computer desk.
And she said, “Let’s hear you sing. ‘Twinkle twinkle little bat’, for starters.
A little background: I am quite adept at meditation. I can slip into mantra meditation on a moment’s notice. Using it, time passes quickly, unnoticed by me. She is aware of this, and often requires me to sing during corner time, to keep me aware and in the present moment. And, she is aware of how much I dislike my own singing voice, as I have often stated that “…my singing voice makes dogs howl, cats run away, and babies cry…”. So, she uses the singing requirement as part of the punishment.
A little more background: ‘Twinkle twinkle little bat’ is a poem recited by the Mad Hatter in chapter seven of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’. I encourage the reader to look it up.
I sang, repeating the four lines over and over and over, as she sat there, tapping the keyboard, looking at the monitor.
I heard the doorbell ring.
“Don’t stop,” she said, as she stood up and went to the door, and opened it.
Still singing, I could hear the exchange of “Hello, glad you could make it,” and I recognized the voice of her friend, Candace.
“Come in, sit down,” Mary said to her, “Hillary should be here, soon. Don’t mind him. He is doing what he was told.”
I heard a giggle, then, “And he looks so good, doing it.”
“Oh, he looks much better once he’s got some color on that pale ass of his.”
They talked quietly a few more minutes, then the doorbell rang again, and I heard Mary open the door, and I heard the voice of Hillary, as Mary admitted her.
“Shilo, stop singing now,” Mary called out to me, and I closed my mouth.
“Hillary, you said you are comfortable with a video camera, so take this… just point, and you see what you’re recording, here, and this is the button to stop and start recording.”
“Sure, easy enough.”
I heard the sound of a dining room chair, being dragged across the wooden floor.
Then Mary said, “Shilo, turn around, and come here, by my side.”
I turned around and walked up to her right side where she was seated in the chair, and I saw Candace, seated on the couch, and Hillary, standing in front and to the right of us.
Mary nodded to Hillary, who pushed the button to begin the recording.
Mary said to the camera, “Shilo embarrassed me in public, and this is his punishment. He is standing here in front of my friends and me, naked, and I am going to take him over my lap, and beat his bare bottom long and hard with this.”
She held up her favorite…and therefore my least favorite… short paddle, about a foot long of hard wood, with an oblong spanking surface with numerous holes drilled through it.
Then I heard her say, “… to start with. This session is being filmed, and will be posted on my Fetlife profile for ALL to see. Now, Shilo, over my lap!”
I bend down, and over, and quickly had my legs extended out to her right side, my toes on the ground, my torso over her lap, the palms of my hands on the ground on her left side.
I felt the paddle touch my buttocks as she said, “In order to keep your mind in the present and not escaping into sub space, you will count each smack.”
The first smack made contact on the middle of my right buttock, and I grunted, “One….”
The second smack landed on the middle of my left buttock, and I grunted, “Two….”
Back and forth on alternating cheeks the paddle landed… upper curve, middle, lower curve, and on down my thighs, as I grunted and moaned the count, using every bit of self-control I could muster to not kick my feet up or cry out in any way other than the smack number.
She stopped at two hundred.
I was panting, gasping for breath. My bottom throbbed, burning in pain.
“Get up! Go back to the wall! Your hands better not touch your bottom! And sing! … Well, quietly.”
I got up, and went to the wall, and started singing that blasted song, as best I could, while still gasping for breath.
“ Pause the recording, please…. Now, ladies, coffee or perhaps tea?”
After many, many verses of the song, Mary said, “Recording on, please…
Shilo has been against the wall there, singing that lovely song, for about thirty minutes, and now I am ready to continue. Shilo, stop singing, and come over here.”
I closed my mouth, turned around, and walked to her. The chair upon which she previously sat had been turned around, an indication that I was to bend over it, and I blanched as I saw in her hand, the “zombie killer”, a two foot long, two inch wide, half inch thick solid bamboo paddle, that requires almost no effort on her part to generate a horrible sting on my backside.
She smiled thinly, as she held the paddle in her right hand, and gestured at the chair.
Keeping my legs tightly together, I bent over the back of it, putting my hands on the seat of the chair, while gripping the edges.
She took a stance behind me, to my left, and said, “You will count….”
The first smack landed square across the middle of both cheeks, and I grunted, “One..!”
The second smack landed on top of the first, and I groaned, “TWO..ooo!”
The third smack hit the lower curves, and I rose on my toes while shrieking through gritted teeth, “ThrEEEE!”
The fourth landed on top of the third, and I rose on my toes again, and gasped, “AAAGGG…FORRRR!”
The fifth smack landed across my thighs, just below the curve. I rose on my toes and opened my mouth and shrieked, “IIIIIIIIII…. FIIIIVE!”
Each of the remaining forty five smacks were met by ever-increasing indications of my discomfort.
The final five were the hardest smacks, evidently her intention, hard enough to bring out the longest-sustained moans from me, while on my toes, long enough that she had to bark “Position!” after each one.
After I announced, “OWWWWWWWWooooohhhhhFIFTY!”, she said nothing, until my moan died out, and I lowered myself from tiptoe to the flat of my feet, without her ordering it.
“Go to the wall,” she said, very slowly, in a low voice, “And I don’t want to hear your pathetic singing right now.”
I went to the wall, and stood, my nose pressed against it, wishing I could rub my aching, throbbing buttocks, while blinking away tears forming in the corner of my eyes.
“Perhaps Shilo has learned a lesson from this. Only time will tell…. Camera off, please.”
Then, “Ladies, thank you for coming.”
“Oh it was a pleasure!”
“Anytime, thanks for asking me.”
I heard the front door open.
“Goodbye…” “See you next time…” “We’ll talk soon…”
Her footsteps approached me. I heard her set something down on the desk, not far from my right side.
“I am going to the bedroom, and watch some t.v. This timer is set for… well, I’m not going to tell you for how long. I’m not going to tell you to sing. I don’t care what you do, as long as you stay there without moving. When the timer goes off, you may take a shower, put ointment on your bottom… and trust me, it’s quite a sight… and join me in the bedroom.”
She left the room, and I stood there.
And I stood.
And I continued standing.
And I kept on standing.
I slipped in and out of meditation, and sometimes it seemed, in and out of consciousness.
Until, MUCH later, she came out of the bedroom, yawning, heading for the toilet.
She said, startled, “WHAT are you still doing there? Trying to prove some point?”
“I…I’m waiting for the timer to go off,” I said, very quietly.
She picked up from the desk, my phone that she was using as a timer.
“Oh. Well… someday, you’ll think this is funny. I meant to set it for one hour, but apparently I set it for one day. Um, well, so you’re time is up, go get into the shower.”
I laughed, very weakly, and slowly walked away, and into the bathroom.
Then my thought processes took me back to the events that led to me being here.
Mary and I had gone to the supermarket, and were checking out the daily specials. My back was turned away from her, while I was looking at salad platters. ALL OF A SUDDEN, her face was six inches from mine, and she was saying, excitedly, “Muffins are SIX for FIVE dollars!”
I was caught off-guard and surprised and startled and I don’t know what all else… but it was enough for me to exclaim… loudly… “You’re TOO CLOSE! GET OUTTA MY SPACE.”
She back away…and looked around, as did I, at the ALL the people who had witnessed this exchange between us.
A grim, dark look emerged on her face… and did not go away. She walked away, leaving me to push the cart, following her. We finished the shopping without exchanging another word, and checked out, and went to the car, and drove home, and unloaded the groceries into the house, all in the same silence.
Then she picked up her phone, and went into the bedroom.
After half an hour, she came out, and cleared her throat to get my attention, then starting speaking.
“You embarrassed the CRAP out of me, and I’ve been waiting for my anger to subside, before I decide how you’ll be punished. To begin with, I am calling that piece of wall right THERE, for the sake of this discussion, the ‘corner’, and you have ten minutes to get yourself into that corner in the way I’ve taught you, and as yet I have no solid idea as to how long you will be standing there.”
I used the ten minutes allotted to take a quick leak, then get myself naked, and I was against the wall, with some thirty seconds to spare.
From behind me, I heard her phone ring, and she answered, then she went to the bedroom, and closed the door, evidently so I could not hear the rest of her side of the conversation.
Without a word, she emerged from the bedroom, and sat down in her chair at her computer desk.
And she said, “Let’s hear you sing. ‘Twinkle twinkle little bat’, for starters.
A little background: I am quite adept at meditation. I can slip into mantra meditation on a moment’s notice. Using it, time passes quickly, unnoticed by me. She is aware of this, and often requires me to sing during corner time, to keep me aware and in the present moment. And, she is aware of how much I dislike my own singing voice, as I have often stated that “…my singing voice makes dogs howl, cats run away, and babies cry…”. So, she uses the singing requirement as part of the punishment.
A little more background: ‘Twinkle twinkle little bat’ is a poem recited by the Mad Hatter in chapter seven of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’. I encourage the reader to look it up.
I sang, repeating the four lines over and over and over, as she sat there, tapping the keyboard, looking at the monitor.
I heard the doorbell ring.
“Don’t stop,” she said, as she stood up and went to the door, and opened it.
Still singing, I could hear the exchange of “Hello, glad you could make it,” and I recognized the voice of her friend, Candace.
“Come in, sit down,” Mary said to her, “Hillary should be here, soon. Don’t mind him. He is doing what he was told.”
I heard a giggle, then, “And he looks so good, doing it.”
“Oh, he looks much better once he’s got some color on that pale ass of his.”
They talked quietly a few more minutes, then the doorbell rang again, and I heard Mary open the door, and I heard the voice of Hillary, as Mary admitted her.
“Shilo, stop singing now,” Mary called out to me, and I closed my mouth.
“Hillary, you said you are comfortable with a video camera, so take this… just point, and you see what you’re recording, here, and this is the button to stop and start recording.”
“Sure, easy enough.”
I heard the sound of a dining room chair, being dragged across the wooden floor.
Then Mary said, “Shilo, turn around, and come here, by my side.”
I turned around and walked up to her right side where she was seated in the chair, and I saw Candace, seated on the couch, and Hillary, standing in front and to the right of us.
Mary nodded to Hillary, who pushed the button to begin the recording.
Mary said to the camera, “Shilo embarrassed me in public, and this is his punishment. He is standing here in front of my friends and me, naked, and I am going to take him over my lap, and beat his bare bottom long and hard with this.”
She held up her favorite…and therefore my least favorite… short paddle, about a foot long of hard wood, with an oblong spanking surface with numerous holes drilled through it.
Then I heard her say, “… to start with. This session is being filmed, and will be posted on my Fetlife profile for ALL to see. Now, Shilo, over my lap!”
I bend down, and over, and quickly had my legs extended out to her right side, my toes on the ground, my torso over her lap, the palms of my hands on the ground on her left side.
I felt the paddle touch my buttocks as she said, “In order to keep your mind in the present and not escaping into sub space, you will count each smack.”
The first smack made contact on the middle of my right buttock, and I grunted, “One….”
The second smack landed on the middle of my left buttock, and I grunted, “Two….”
Back and forth on alternating cheeks the paddle landed… upper curve, middle, lower curve, and on down my thighs, as I grunted and moaned the count, using every bit of self-control I could muster to not kick my feet up or cry out in any way other than the smack number.
She stopped at two hundred.
I was panting, gasping for breath. My bottom throbbed, burning in pain.
“Get up! Go back to the wall! Your hands better not touch your bottom! And sing! … Well, quietly.”
I got up, and went to the wall, and started singing that blasted song, as best I could, while still gasping for breath.
“ Pause the recording, please…. Now, ladies, coffee or perhaps tea?”
After many, many verses of the song, Mary said, “Recording on, please…
Shilo has been against the wall there, singing that lovely song, for about thirty minutes, and now I am ready to continue. Shilo, stop singing, and come over here.”
I closed my mouth, turned around, and walked to her. The chair upon which she previously sat had been turned around, an indication that I was to bend over it, and I blanched as I saw in her hand, the “zombie killer”, a two foot long, two inch wide, half inch thick solid bamboo paddle, that requires almost no effort on her part to generate a horrible sting on my backside.
She smiled thinly, as she held the paddle in her right hand, and gestured at the chair.
Keeping my legs tightly together, I bent over the back of it, putting my hands on the seat of the chair, while gripping the edges.
She took a stance behind me, to my left, and said, “You will count….”
The first smack landed square across the middle of both cheeks, and I grunted, “One..!”
The second smack landed on top of the first, and I groaned, “TWO..ooo!”
The third smack hit the lower curves, and I rose on my toes while shrieking through gritted teeth, “ThrEEEE!”
The fourth landed on top of the third, and I rose on my toes again, and gasped, “AAAGGG…FORRRR!”
The fifth smack landed across my thighs, just below the curve. I rose on my toes and opened my mouth and shrieked, “IIIIIIIIII…. FIIIIVE!”
Each of the remaining forty five smacks were met by ever-increasing indications of my discomfort.
The final five were the hardest smacks, evidently her intention, hard enough to bring out the longest-sustained moans from me, while on my toes, long enough that she had to bark “Position!” after each one.
After I announced, “OWWWWWWWWooooohhhhhFIFTY!”, she said nothing, until my moan died out, and I lowered myself from tiptoe to the flat of my feet, without her ordering it.
“Go to the wall,” she said, very slowly, in a low voice, “And I don’t want to hear your pathetic singing right now.”
I went to the wall, and stood, my nose pressed against it, wishing I could rub my aching, throbbing buttocks, while blinking away tears forming in the corner of my eyes.
“Perhaps Shilo has learned a lesson from this. Only time will tell…. Camera off, please.”
Then, “Ladies, thank you for coming.”
“Oh it was a pleasure!”
“Anytime, thanks for asking me.”
I heard the front door open.
“Goodbye…” “See you next time…” “We’ll talk soon…”
Her footsteps approached me. I heard her set something down on the desk, not far from my right side.
“I am going to the bedroom, and watch some t.v. This timer is set for… well, I’m not going to tell you for how long. I’m not going to tell you to sing. I don’t care what you do, as long as you stay there without moving. When the timer goes off, you may take a shower, put ointment on your bottom… and trust me, it’s quite a sight… and join me in the bedroom.”
She left the room, and I stood there.
And I stood.
And I continued standing.
And I kept on standing.
I slipped in and out of meditation, and sometimes it seemed, in and out of consciousness.
Until, MUCH later, she came out of the bedroom, yawning, heading for the toilet.
She said, startled, “WHAT are you still doing there? Trying to prove some point?”
“I…I’m waiting for the timer to go off,” I said, very quietly.
She picked up from the desk, my phone that she was using as a timer.
“Oh. Well… someday, you’ll think this is funny. I meant to set it for one hour, but apparently I set it for one day. Um, well, so you’re time is up, go get into the shower.”
I laughed, very weakly, and slowly walked away, and into the bathroom.
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