Before I got married, I dated a fellow martial artist for about two and a half years. We were young and just starting our careers. Hers as a social worker and me as a lawyer. We lived together about two years of that. She was Portuguese, tempestuous, emotional and this made the relationship a wild ride of excitement and instability. Our sex life was wild and crazy. At the time, as a young lawyer, I was looking to establish myself. This meant hunting clients, wining and dining, going above and beyond with work and the like. Part of this was sometimes working late hours and sometimes, taking them out to seal a relationship. This often meant having a few drinks and more times than not a late night and getting home a little drunk.

I was doing lots of criminal litigation work so had established a great relationship with police, prosecutors and even some judges. Often on Fridays we would meet at the police canten and unload from the week's stresses. With these kinds of relationships, the chances of getting caught DUI were minimal and, as long as nobody was hurt, the contacts I had could make a DUI disappear. In our country it works that way. My bosses really didn't mind. Most of them did the same. In fact if I came late after wining and dining a client, they'd usually reimburse me and not mind if I arrived a bit late that morning. They did the same. As long as work resulted and fees were billed they were happy.

However, my girlfriend was not the type to accept this. She had a temper and when I did work late without telling her or, worse, hag out with clients without telling her, she would get very angry. As a young guy my usual response to phone calls was first to say "I'm just finishing this one beer..." and eventually just ignoring her calls. When I got home, she'd have an almighty outburst of shouting at me, and then we'd settle into about a week of dark mood where she ignored me and gave me the silent treatment. 

Aftr a few days one day out of the blue she would fire off texts at me. These were the days of 160 character texts only and she would fire off five before I could respond. Her fingers faster than Doc Holliday at the OK Corral as she expressed her feelings. For my part, I would apologize and apologize and from then things would slowly return to normalcy again.

Shortly after we moved in I was allocated a computer at work. As all young men in the nineties I started to explore the internet and soon discovered porn. In my explorations I discovered spanking porn and this really turned me on. Sometimes after work I would spend an hour or two on spanking websites to look at the pictures and imagine myself in that same position and then jerk off to those fantasies.

I fantasized that if my girlfriend spanked me maybe it would help her to get over her anger at me quicker. I hated the prolonged silent treatment as a naturally talkative and sociable kind of guy. One day I was surfing the net and came across the website of a disciplinarian called Aunt Ka. It was called the Disciplinary Wives Club. I think it still exists. It was content heavy and the content electrified me. It was basically about men convincing their partners to spank them for real. It played into my fantasies. I still recall how one line from the wbesite seared into my brain at the time:

The longer and harder you spank him the more he will love you for it.

I read her "tips" on how to broach the subject over and over and knew it would never work to convince my girl. I nevertheless resolved to broach the subject at some point.

Soon enough something arose that presented the opportunity. I was consulting a client. They had just closed a big deal which also meant lots of money for us. That afternoon they set up an impromptu barbaque for all their workers to celebrate. I was invited to "have a few beers" with them. A few beers became many and I staggered home after midnight. I let our managing partner know I would be late the next day, but given the work we would be getting, he told me to "sleep it off".

My girlfriend had locked the bedroom door. Free of the usual shouting, I had a few big glasses of water, headache tablets and fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up at about 9am my grilfriend had sneaked out the house top go to work and the bedroom was open. A quick shower, change of cothes and I was back at work by 10:30 and my boss congratulated me on the call he had received that morning with voluminous work from the particular client I had been out with. He told accounts to pay me a "little extra" to express gratitude. It was that kind of law firm.

I texted my girlfriend good morning, apologised and offered her dinner to celebrate the new work.

No answer

At round noon her usual flurry of texts came pouring in. 

I suddenly realised that I had an opportunity to open the discussion about spanking as she waxed wroth about me being insensitive and disrespectful.

Anyway, the texts went something like this from me starting. I am summarising and excluding those that didn't relate to the subject.

Look, I know you don't want to listen, but the thing is I really have an issue with self discipline in these situations.

What do you mean?

I mean, that when I am out with clients like this I enjoy myself and usually I just want to keep enjoying myself, so I indulge that need.

 How the heck does this help me. You're basically saying you can't help being an asshole sometimes.

I'm not saying that. I am saying that maybe I need a hand to help me be more disciplined and maybe you could be helpful.

How? It's not as though you listen to me when I call or text you to come home.

I know, but that's in the moment. It's the afterwards where I regret it. And I hate when you give me silent treatment for days.

I'm angry and I want to punish you because I know you hate it.

Okay, I'm good with that, but how about something else as punishment.

No answer

 Okay hear me out. You want to "Get me back". And I do feel bad but I don't like how you do it. But I understand why you do it. So how about punishment for me like spanking.

 Spanking? You're a grown man. Why should I spank you?

Well sometimes, inside every grown man is a naughty little boy who just wants to be told what he can and should do and what not. You know, it's like when we make love and you tell me to call you a slut and a whore. You aren't really but somewhere inside you is a slut and a whore looking to have fun when we make love.

Okay

So instead of us doing this three or four day silent treatment things, the whole issue is settled in one go. I get disciplined for what I did, so I suffer direct consequences for poor behaviour and you get to punish me and take your anger out without us damaging our whole relationship.

Where did you find this?

On the internet.

Can I read it too?

Sure, [gave URL] *

 I waited for about an hour and a half after that. I was sure this would ruin our relationship or save it. I was scared both ways. What if she said no and I looked like an idiot. BUT, what if she said yes and she spanked me for real? My heart beat cold in my chest. The longer I waited the more an icy pit formed in my stomach as I was sure she would break up with me.

After ninety minutes or so my phone beeped.

It was one message.

 So you need to go out and buy a proper hairbrush, paddle, leather strap and cane. And be home by five.

I must admit my heart skipped a few beats and then I responded with.

Ok.

I spent the rest of the day out of the office.

At a cane furniture shop I asked about a piece of loose thuin cane. The shop assistant asked what it was for and I told him I was a teacher and needed it. The owner was called. He took me to his office and told me that they did sell to teachers and the BDSM community canes that he personally made. I decided to stick to the teacher theme and told him rumours had it he sold to teachers and that the boys in my classrooms needed a bit more than the board protractor I used. I opened a box and showed me and I got one from him.

I went to a leather wear shop at a flea market and  asked for an off cut. When the assistant asked me what for I used the same story.I rummaged through the back of his shop and showed me some straps he had made for spanking children who were naughty**. I told him I wanted something bigger. He smiled and came back with a proper leather strap. An evil looking thing with a wooden handle and a thick broad leather area. It terrified me but it was perfect.

For the paddle I had a client who did wood work. I simply asked him to make me one as my fraternity house had asked for one. He called me later the afternoon to collect it.

For the hairbrush there was an antiques street in our town and I went there. I concocted a story to the different owners that my girlfriend collected old beauty items and had been on the hunt for 1900s to 1940s style woman's hairbrush and it had to be very specific. Had to show the age, show the company name, have boars hair bristeles and be quite large for brushing out long hair and lastly had to be made of a pure wood, like oak or something like that. This took the oongest but I found opne evntually. It was oak, it had boars hair bristles and it had a makers name on it and even a date of 1937. It had a broad smooth back, felt heavy in my hands and it instilled a terrible terror in me that it would soon see usage for another prupose. Given its age I was also certain that many bottoms had passed beneath its smooth back. My heart beat hard and fast as I reached home. My breath was tight and my throat constricted. I also felt a jitter of sexual excitement at the thought of having my sexual fantasies fulfilled.

I carried the items into the house. Girlfriend was already home. Dressed in short polyshorts*** and a teeshirt. She looked at the bags and asked

"Is that everything?"

"Hi... and yes."

"Hi. Okay now take them to the bedroom, lay them on the bed, strip and stand against the wall with your nose touching the wall and your hands on your head."

It was completely unexpected that she'd be so quick and businesslike about it.

"uhhh okay..."

"No, yes ma'am is what you say when we do this from now on."

WOW!

"Yes ma'am."

She turned back to the television and picked up a cup of cofee next to a bowl of crisps.

I  Headed up the stairs to our bedroom. I took care to lay each implement out on the bed. Then I stripped off and hung up my suit while my shirt, socks and jocks went to the dirty washing basket. Stark naked I wentback to the bedroom. I took my place next to the couch opposite our bed. As instructed. Nose to the wall, fingers clased together hands on my head.

My breathing was intense and tight. My heart beat wildly while cold knots twisted and untwisted like twine played with by a kitten in my guts. My mind was wild. Questions flew around my head.

Would it be hard? Would it be hard enough? What if she didn't do it properly? What if she DID! What implement would she use? I hoped it was the hairbrush because that would be sexy but what if she chose the paddle or the cane?**** What style would she use? She isd an akido black belt? He nunchuks downward strike probably? Would I cry? Would I grit it out? Would I rach back and try cover my bottom?

All these whirlwinds played in my head. My cock shrunk and hardened with each thought as I compared what might happen to my fantasy expectations. The hard hot flesh alternately pressing against the cold concrete wall and slumped between my legs.

All thoughts cleared as I heard the soft barefoot footfalls of her coming up the stairs. My cock turned rock hard as my time ran out. I felt her brush past me as she entered the room. Smelt her perfume and my cock throbbed. I couldn't see but heard the soft rusling material feminine movements flowing behind me.

Then

"Okay turn around"

My heart wobbled.

She had moved the chair of her mirror vanity to the middle of the floor and was sitting on it, knees primly together, bare thighs touching and in her lap lay the hairbrush. I think I felt some precum trickle down my cock.

She said:

"Okay this is how it's going to work. We do it my way or not at all. I decide when where and what and for what you get spanked. I decide how hard. If I decide, you obey. Otherwise this ends."

I gasped a whispered

"Okay"

"Good. Now... this time I'm going to use the traditional hairbrush and you'll be over my knee like that website said."

"Okay"

"when we are done, you back to that wall, and stand there exactly like now. Nose to the wall hands on your head till I say different. No touching your bottom."

"Okay"

"Hopefully when we're done you will show me you love me more like that lady says."

I nodded

"We'll see. Now, you know why we are doing this? Because last night you stayed out late and got drunk and never let me know what your plans were and I had to sit here like a dormouse waiting for a boyfriend who never came and I even made you dinner you never had."

"Yes"

"Well that changes now. From now on you call me if you're working late or going to clients. And when I say you come home... you come home."

 As she talked I noticed her cheeks and throat and upper chest blushing in anger. Her eyes sparkled in flashes of anger. I knew it was not going to be "not hard enough", but couldn't help but think that she looked the same she did during foreplay and after sex, so it turned me on.

"I see you're excited."

"Yes."

"Well keep that thought... come here."

She used the hairbrush to point to a spot next to her. 

I found myself mesmerised by how she used the hairbrush as an extension of her hands to emphasise points and gesticulate. I felt like a mouse trapped in a corner watching a cobra approach and sway its head from side to side.

I felt my feet walk to her and stood with my legs almost touching her bare thighs.

"Over my knee"

It was the moment of truth. I took a deep quick breath and leaned over her lap. Her thighs were warm and my cock throbbed against thir pliable inviting smoothness. I looked behind me as she grabbed my hip and pulled me closer to her. Then saw the hairbrush in her other hand as she brought it forth and I felt a different smoothness. The cold smoothness of hard ungiving wood resting heavily on the cheeks of my bared bottom. I looked down at the carpet and noticed minute knots of its cording. Felt my thighs tremble.

Felt the smooth hard wood caress my cheeks. Felt its heaviness lift away.

And she started.

It took me no more than two smacks to realise she was going to do a proper job. The lopud revereberating cracks of hard wood on soft bottom flesh sounded through our bedroom. The first few smacks landing on alternating cheeks numbed my bottom. Then in a delayed response the sting set in. I was astounded to silence by how much it hurt and felt a sharp intake of my breath as yet more of the stinging cracks smacked into my bottom cheeks. It was unrelenting. The pain was astonishing. Burning like searing fire. Like I was being branded with a hot iron over and over. The worst was when she would strike a certain area over and over in the same spot.

I did kick my legs. I did cry out a few "OWs" and "ahhhhs" and moans but I didn't scream or even cry. It took all my evaporating composure to stop from making a desperate grab to cover my bottom, but I managed it. Somewhere in the haaze of agony I felt that I was wriggling around on her lap, twisting my hips one way or the other to try and get her to hit areas that were not hurting so much. But it didn't help. She did a thorough job. I felt her nails dig into my waist as she held me.

At some point it stopped. I didn't even notice at first, but my body lay draped over her lap. My bottom was one fiery mess of pure pain.

"To the wall" she said.

I stumbled off her lap.

"Touch your bottom and we start over."

I was not going to let that happen despite the overwhelming urge to soothe the agony.

I was surprised to see my sight was blurry and tears were running down my face.

Stumbled to the wall. Nose to the cold wall, fingers clasped onto fingers as my hands locked onto my head. My ass burned. Like a flow of lava from a volcano. Hot and hurting and slowly fading till just the hotness remained.

"Turn around"

She had put the "toys" away and sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed.

"Lesson learned"

"Oh yes ma'am"

Came out in a gasp.

"Good."

She slipped the shorts to the floor, spread her legs wide and revealed she hadn't worn panties.

"Now... come and kneel between my legs and show me how sorry you are..."

The sex was mindblowingly wild. We scratched each other, pulled hair, bit, I smacked her bottom an at the end we lay next to each other exhausted.

After that there were regular spankings for me. Say about once a month or six weeks. They were all more or less the same. She never used the other implements and we never did anything but over-the-knee.

And my behaviour certainly did change.

It was weird.

I feared that hairbrush more than anything.

 But at the same time, if it hadn't worked in a while, I'd get kind of antsy and recall being spanked fondly.After that it would be quick and I would be remembering why I was not fond of it.

The next day as I went to shower, I caught a glimpse of my bottom in the bathroom mirror. It was a purple and dark red mess of bruises. My cock leapt up and I immediately masturbated in the shower.

When I got to work, I sat down at my desk and pain shot through my body from my bottom so hard I winced. I felt my bottom. It still hurt. Sat down again. It hurt if I sat down too fast and too hard. Nothing for it. Cock leapt up. I went to the bathroom and jerked out another teaspon of cum in under thirty seconds.

 We did eventually break up for other reasons.

And she once confided in me that spanking me turned her on which was why her cheeks, throat and chest blushed.

As it was we never had long moody silent treatment again.

After we broke up I never found another woman I could share this with.

Since then I have kind of wondered whether I wanted to. Nowadays it's just an occasional lustful wont. And this is solved by a quick masturbation session. To this day, thememory of standing there stark naked in the bedroom with one hand shyly covereing my cock, while she sat like a predator at her little chair with her hairbrush in hand staring me down turns me on.

Anyway, I noticed there were not many good male spanking pictures on the web in a nice sexy categories. So I am going to create a small gallery of my favorite pictures of male spanking.

* It no longer exists but you can read some of it in this link if you want.

** It was the eighties!

*** This was before booty shorts had a name

**** As a schoolboy the cane had been a thing of terror to me and that stuck with me.