We went to a wedding yesterday. The bride is a good friend – and something of a livewire: it was the sort of service where the line “you may kiss the bride” provoked fond memories of past snogs for many of the gentlemen in the audience, and for a fair few of the ladies too!

The church was old and beatiful, the service touching (despite the religious stuff!). Crying girls in posh dresses has to be a good thing, right? And it’s great to listen to all that stuff about love, and be reminded how lucky I am to have two such truly wonderful partners in Haron and Cath.

Towards the end of the ceremony, Haron – who was looking gorgeous – poked me in the ribs. “Do you have any mints?” she asked.


She scoured her handbag. “It’s OK: I’ve got some chewing gum.”

Now, readers who’ve been with us for a while may recall that I have something of an issue with chewing gum in church: there’s history in our household of girls being punished for said offence.


She did. Despite being told what would happen to her if she did. (All in whispers, of course: letting the vicar hear that you would spank your wife might not go down well).

It was many hours later before we got home – the wedding breakfast to be enjoyed, the awful speeches to be endured. Haron announced that she was going to bed. “I’ll come in and deal with you shortly, then,” I responded. She disappeared to the bathroom; I placed a tawse on the bed and retreated to my study. And then left her in contemplation for a good few minutes.

When the time came, she was face down on the bed, naked, waiting. It didn’t require much scolding; she knew she’d crossed the line, knew that I would be true to my word. She’d ‘felt like being naughty’; six strokes for her misbehaviour became twelve for its calculated nature.

And they were hard. The tawse in question is one of my favourite implements – antique, an original, quite light but wide, unusually with five tails. The first three strokes striped her pale skin beautifully; as she writhed, I noticed that all three had lashed her across exactly the same stretch of her buttocks. An interesting challenge, then: to deliver the remaining nine across the same strip, too. Challenging my accuracy; challenging her ability to withstand the punishment.

Afterwards, we cuddled. And today we’ve both written our accounts of what happened. Hers is across at The Punishment Book; you might find it interesting to compare our notes!