No Concert Tonight

 No Concert Tonight

3 Oct 2025

(M/F, Spanking, Domestic Discipline, Maintenance)

All week I’d been waiting for Friday. Work had been a blur of meetings, emails and grading of a ton of student work, the kind that left me tired in my bones but restless in my mind. But energy was growing as I got closer to the house. Like the hour drive was recharging me. I was also excited by the fact we were going to an orchestral concert featuring Beethoven and Tchaikovsky music. Last night I made sure my long black dress was ready to go.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I could already feel the weight of the week of school sliding off my shoulders. Friday night was ours, and I expected a quiet evening at the concert. 

When I stepped inside, the house felt warm and safe, glowing with the soft light of the lamps. My husband was waiting for me, and he gave me that familiar smile and said kids are spending the night with a friend of ours. He thinks of everything. I tell him that I am going to text her and thank her for watching the kids. 

I put my travel coffee mug in the sink and headed to the couch. As I walked back to plop down on the couch next to him I noticed that on the end table beside him sat the hairbrush, perfectly ordinary to anyone else, but to us it was something more. A symbol of our little Friday ritual.

“Rough day?” he asked, even though the answer was written all over my face.

I laughed, shaking my head as I slipped off my shoes. “The worst. What’s that.” I said pointing at the hairbrush. He looked at me puzzled. “That is a hair brush.” I said “I know that’s a hair brush, what is it doing there?” He looked at his watch. I said, “I know it’s Friday, but the concert?”

He said, “You mean tomorrow’s concert?” I replied, “Noooooooooo. Today I swear you said tonight” I started looking through my text and when I came across it it said ‘2 tickets, Oct 4th 7pm.’ I stared at it in disbelief.  “I could have swore you said “Friday Night” He just stared at me. 

He reached for my hand, pulling me close. (*** for more detail see Next Section)  That simple touch steadied me, grounded me, and reminded me why I loved this ritual so much. It wasn’t about rules or scolding—it was about letting go. About closing the book on the week and sinking into the comfort of us.

There was laughter, a little bit of mock pouting from me, and the playful rhythm we’d fallen into week after week. By the time it was done, my cheeks were warm, my heart light, and the stress of work was nothing more than a memory.

I curled up against him on the couch, the hairbrush resting forgotten on the table. Friday night had reset me again, just like it always did. Our secret tradition, our promise to each other, our way of saying: no matter what the week brings, we’ll always find our way back here.

Now it was time for Netflix and Chill and fun later in bed. 

NEXT SECTION

***He reached for my hand, pulling me close then with a dominant tug he pulled me over his knee as I whined, “Noooooooooooo! I don’t want a spanking!” which is ignored by him. He knows that I will not be satisfied if I am not dominated. For me to let go I need to be told, to be forced, to be dealt with and for him to be the man I married. 

Holding my waist tightly, he adjusts me over his lap and starts to speak, “Seems like someone is in a tough situation right now!” I retorted, “That’s because you are a big meanie!” He laughs and lands his big heavy hand on my bottom with a thud because of my dress and I tell him it didn’t hurt. 

He says, “Good to know!” as he flipped up my dress to the middle of my back and I feel a cool breeze on the back of my thighs. I start to wiggle and say, “Noooooo” as his hand grabs the back of my panties. 

He pulls my panties down and it's stuck on my upper thighs and lower bottom and instinctively I lift my hips so he can pull my panties down. I know it doesn’t make sense when I don’t want a bare bottom spanking but I lift my hips so he can bare my bottom easier. Deep in my soul I must want to feel his hand on my bare bottom. He pulls them down and off over my feet. He places my panties on the coffee table 

His hand lands again with a loud slap and a millisecond later I feel the burn in my bottom. My squeal indicates that I have a handprint on my right cheek. I wiggle to try to ease the burn but I think that excites him as he lands over and over on my bottom which is transitioning between white, pink then red. 

I feel him slow down and then stop and I take a deep breath of relief. I think to myself. That was not too bad then I heard his voice ask me, “Be a dear and hand me that brush baby!” At that point I decided to escalate the situation without thinking by yelling, “NO!” as I grabbed the brush and threw it away from us. 

I hear a sigh from him and he pats my bottom to get up. I get to my feet and he sits there looking up at me. I say, “What? You don’t expect me to go get that do you? Well, do you? Because I am not getting that evil brush. I am not at all! Don’t even ask!” This whole time he is just giving me this stare and letting me jabber. “Don’t give me that look, I am not getting it!” I feel his stare get more intense and I say, “Fine! But I am not happy about it.” 

I walk over and pick it up and bring it to me. He smiles as he gently takes the brush from me. I heard his calm words, “Strip” and my knees turned to jello. I have no idea why him telling me to strip is so intoxicating but it is. 

“Yes sir”, I whisper and reach behind me and unzip my dress and slide it off my shoulders and down my torso and step out of them. I gently put my dress over the chair arm. Then I realize I am only in a bra because I am not wearing any panties. I reach back and unhook my bra and slide it off my shoulders. The folded bra joins my dress. 

I am now nude in front of the man I love and I can see the lust in his eyes. He pats his lap and I go over his lap without a complaint. He adjusted me and I can feel his arousal poking me in the tummy. He holds my side and then brings the brush down violently on my poor sore bottom. 

I scream and try to twist as the brush lands over and over on my bottom randomly between my cheeks. At this point I grab his leg tightly to hold on for dear life. My squeals get higher pitched until there is a breaking point.

I start crying uncontrollably as the stress starts melting away. “Please please please” I yell, “I can’t take it!!!” Of course he ignores me. He knows I would not be satisfied if he stopped now. He continues spanking my bottom for quite a while after despite my cries, my pleas, my promises, and my squirming. 

He slows and stops and rubs my bottom and back while I cry over his lap. He does not say a whole lot as he rubs some lotion on my bottom. In his comforting voice he says, “Shhhhh baby, its over”