An Act of Contrition

She slowly walked into the bedroom where I sat and read. She slowly circled the bed with a sullen look on her face. “What’s up?” I thought as I pretended not to notice her strange demeanor. She was penitent, remorseful, sullen.

I paid the attention she was all but begging for. “ Hi.”, she said as she stood there, motionless.

She started to take her clothes off and that’s when she said it. “I have to confess something to you.”

The initial statement put me on edge, uneasy, almost afraid of what she was going to say as she is an incredibly attractive woman. She knows this as I and other men tell her all the time in one way or another.

“Ok.” I say preparing myself for the worst. I say it almost as a question noticing she is still taking off her clothes. I expected her to tell me she had an affair, spent lots of money again or something like that. “Tell me what happened” I said and patted the bed encouraging her to sit and chat. She looked at me with puppy dog eyes, at this point completely nude, tears started to well. It was obvious she felt tremendous regret and shame. She was acting incredibly guilty. Why, I did not know, but that was her demeanor.

I realized where this was going. In the past my wife came to me with an event that she felt incredibly guilty about. She needed immediate clemency and absolution which, at the time, to me, the crime was minor and did not warranted anything other than the talk we had. She had spent $2500 on a patio set. I understood. From the beginning we agreed that if one or the other wanted to spend over a certain amount, we would talk about it. I have a budget, I pay the bills. So obviously, at the time, we had extra. I wasn’t upset but she anticipated my displeasure over the expense.

When I reacted with amnesty and grace. But, then, that did not serve to abate my loving wife’s indiscretion. “Will you stand up?”, she asked So internally, it was a hearted suggestion. Externally, I was stern, unforgiving and final. I told her to take her clothes off and lean over the bed for her first marital spanking.

She went through an emotional journey. At first, defiance and indignation. She was a grown woman. No man was going to lay hands on her least of all her loving husband, right? Then came the compromise. She was so cute. She tried to haggle with sexual favors. I was unmoved. I told her this was the only was she was going to learn. “ How do I know you won’t do this again?” I asked.
Acceptance and resignation was the last step. She saw there was no room for concession or negotiation. “I am your husband. This is my decision.” I said. Outwardly, I showed no movement. Internally, I was questioning myself and my decision. I was half playing but a smile did not come across my lips for a second.

I could see the fall of her defense. Her body language spoke all she wanted to say. Sullen. She slowly began to undress. She did not look at me. I thought she was upset with me and might call out her safe word when we began. But so be it. I have done my part. It is up to her to to go through with it if she wants to or not.

She lay across our king sized mattress, he body bared for me to punish. Her head to my left, her feet dangled above the floor and her beautiful round supple ass, in my lap. At the time right up until I saw her drape her body across our bed, I didn’t think she would go through with it. I was excited. My breaths short and fast. As I slid my belt from my belt loops, I began to sweat.

I swung my belt.


She turned her head away from me. I couldn’t see her face or the reaction other than the tenseness of her frame and the fists she made in pain.


I was hard. This excited me more than I thought it might. I thought I would be unable to give my dear wife the punishment she desired.


This went on for an hour before she broke in tears and I understood this act of contrition had gone to the core of her being and bruised more than her bare bottom. As the colors turned from the pink like her lips to the very bright and glowing red, she broke down and cried. It was then I knew she had had enough.

I dropped the belt, turned her over in my lap, scooped like a ragdoll and held her in my lap as the cried in pain turned to the sobs of forgiveness she so desperately craved.

As I said, a rather large price to pay for such a small indiscretion. Had she asked, I would have given it to her. But to her, that was not the point. She had gone behind my back and done it without discussing it with me. The figure had no value to her.

She had gone to the bathroom to clean up. She washed her face and through the crack in the door, I caught her looking in the mirror at the damage to her freshly spanked fanny. I had to chuckle as I continued cleaning up myself.

I opened the bathroom door and stood behind her and just marveled at the beauty I beheld. I held her from behind and all she said, “Thank you. I love you.”

I just smiled at her in return. So that was then.

We are back in present time with my wife as she sat next to me completely naked, squirming and looking at me with that look again. “Just tell me what you need.” I said. “I need you to punish me, Paul.”
There it was. My wife needed contrition again. It wasn’t something she wanted or thought might be cute. She needed that physical attention like she needed food and water. Her body needed me to spank her.

“Ok. Go in the dining room, stand in the corner and wait for me.” I said with as stern and monotone a voice I could muster. She was already resigned. She had wanted this a long time but I did not recognize it. My wife, from time to time, needs to be spanked, really, truly, sternly spanked to tears. I knew her job had caused lots of stress to her this week.

I went to my sock drawer, pulled out my thick, black, leather belt and went into the dining room. I positioned her on the corner of the dining room table. I knew she would be supported and if so inclined would be able to place pressure on her own clit with the corner of the table. I thought she might like that.

Very few words were spoken as I knew this was maintenance. The bruises from the first session had all gone and a fresh canvas was before me. I placed the belt on her back just above her coccyx and told her not to drop move.

I knew more now. I recognized this was in her. Part of her. I read somewhere there were signs someone that likes this would need to stop without warning. So while the belt rested on her lower back, I handed her my handkerchief. “If you need to stop for any reason, Nora, you are to drop this handkerchief on the floor.” “I understand” she said.

This time, I lead with a hand spanking, slow at first and increased with speed and intensity. Her bottomed reddened quite quickly. That was followed by the belt and finished with the bath brush she didn’t see me grab before entering the dining room. She had fear in her eyes before the brush. By then, she was almost to her limit. But not quite. By the time I had finished with ten swats with the bath brush she was sobbing and had had quite enough then.

Again, like before, I scooped her up into my arms, cradled her and consoled her with all of the penance I could muster. The goal here was to make her feel while, complete, loved and satiated.

When she calmed down, I fetched her a cool compress. I took care of her. I had to console myself in that this was her decision and I was helping her. Obviously
I had done some reading and it is said those that to reach the pinnacle , you reach a place called subspace. I think I reached that myself, but I wasn’t sure. All I knew is that this was fun. And as long as Nora was having fun too, this may be part of our routine. We will have to do some more talking about this. Communication, I have decided, was a huge part of it.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked Nora.
She smiled and as she sat, she winced. She shook her head in a contrite and almost embarrassed demeanor she said, “very much.”

God I love her. I would do just about anything for her and if this makes her happy, then so be it. Let’s make the most of it. We read together about different facets. We read different authors, books, articles. We joined a few websites and groups of people. I wanted to learn more for her.

We have never been closer. She tells me everything when in the past I always thought there was a part of her she reserved. There are no reservations now and my accounting for it only leads me to think the newish part of our relationship has something to do with it. I hope it does.

Sixth Sense


When I was little, my mother, my father and two siblings lived in a century old home in the heart of coal country, Pennsylvania. It was the early seventies when we moved in. My Mother stayed at home with us while we were young. She got a job as a legal secretary shortly after. My father went to work for the railroad. The house was half of a duplex. When you entered the home, there was a small seating area which lead to a hallway leading into a kitchen to the rear of the home. Naturally, we spent a lot of our time in the kitchen eating, cleaning or just spending time together.

From the bottom of the stairs that landed in the kitchen, you could see up the stairs to the second floor. To the left, a bathroom and the master bedroom. To the right, two smaller bedrooms. My brother shared a bedroom and my sister had the nursery, which later was turned into her bedroom.

My high chair, before my sister arrived was positioned next to the rear door of the home in the kitchen. From my high chair, I could see the landing and the tip of the staircase. I can not honestly remember whether these memories I have are impressions from my parents or if they are real memories.


We were not alone. My parents, my baby brother and I lived with a spirit, a ghost. I do not know who he was. My parents did not know who he was. My mother saw him. And I do not know if my father actually saw him or if he just went along with my mothers version of events.

My memory is of an elderly gentleman dressed in dress slacks, a white button down and a long tie. He wouldn’t say anything and if engaged would look at you. But he liked to walk across the top of the stairway while we were eating and gathering in the kitchen downstairs. I remember this happening occurring several times, more that several times.

When we moved out of that house in ‘79, it never happened again. We moved into another duplex but this one, newly built on newly developed corn fiends in a suburb of Allentown, PA.

All during my growing up and all during my young adulthood, I never saw another ghost.

My Mother died in 2016. She had died of cancer. She had at least two, possibly three types of cancer during the last ten years of her life. She had several surgeries to combat and used natural medicine to combat it during the last three. As I said, she fell to cancer in 2016. After she died, I took over the payments for my mothers car. It was new, we needed one. It didn’t seem right just to let it go. So I took it home, parked it in the driveway and that became my wife’s new car.

It was close to Christmas on a weekend in 2016. I was off. So was my wife. It was early in the day. It was a warm afternoon in December. I crossed in front of the car which was parked facing the garage.

When I returned walking toward the front door and recrossed in front of “Mom’s car”, I looked into the car. I saw her. The likeness of my mother, deceased two months prior was sitting in the the passenger seat of her own car. I could not believe my senses. She was seated like anyone in the passenger seat but she was looking up the street. Her “body” was facing the front of the car but she was looking out the side window. She looked at me and then she turn her head and looked back down the street again. She said nothing.

My wife, my siblings all had remarked I had not cried since Mom had died. I consoled them all in their grief and even at the memorial service we had at the church and later at the burial, for me, no tears were shed. Not until she visited me. When I saw her likeness, I lost my emotions. Tears flowed and I can not remember ever being so upset in my life since or before.

When my mother was alive, my brother and I and even my sister consented that she was the baby in the family and the favorite to them both.

When I told my brother and my sister of my mother’s spiritual visit, both responded in the most peculiar way. Both were still grieving, particularly my sister as she had an uncommonly close relationship with Mom.

They both responded in jealousy. As if to say, “why you?” I am the oldest and Mom had a special place in her heart for all of us. I can understand their reaction.

In the days to follow, I spoke out load to her as if she could hear me. I asked her not to visit me anymore as it was just too painful to see her in the body when my mind tells me I am not seeing what I knew I was seeing. To understand that we would have to open up the can of worms labeled “Catholic upbringing” and I have put all of that away. We aren’t going to crack it open here. Just suffice to say, I do not enjoy this “sixth sense” my mother has passed onto me. She could know things. Things she had no way of knowing about her kids, me included. She was touched with many gifts. She was highly intelligent. She saw the man at the top of the stairs. We talked about it while she lived.

Believe or don’t believe. I have never told anyone except those closest to me and to date, has not happened again.

2016 Deborah Jordan

You’d think I’d be used to not having her and most days it’s ok. But this day is the hardest. Constant reminders all day that she is gone. It really sucks.


She appeared again. It was later one night I’m August when I was in my bathroom just finishing up my shower. I have a clear glass shower door. I had just turned the water off and grabbed the door to get out when, all I can call it is, a spectral light hovering over my garden tub. It hovered a minute or so then it was gone. What was it? I don’t know. My mind is open to any possibility.

May the fourth

Photo credit to Geeks Diane Nivins

I was inspired by a fellow blogger to put out a post and if you are a Star Wars fan or you are a “Trekie” please tell me who your favorite character of all time? I know, how can you just nail it down to one, right? As a kid, and as a Star Wars fan, there was only one answer for me. Obviously.

Photo credit to Geeks and Diane Nevins

But as an adult there are multiple answers to this question as George Lucas in his ultimate wisdom has expanded the power to women and men of all different ages and species. Bravo George.

Rey, of coarse.

Older and wiser Princess Leah

Analysts Lando.

Cara Dune from Mandalorian

Jyn Erso, the scientist behind the Death Star

Padme from the earlier movies

Captain Phasma, I’d love to see what is under that hard exterior.

And the intellect of MaZ Kanata. She’s old but still very flirty and sexy.
This list is not in respect to the cartoon characters released by Disney and Lucas Films.

GEeks Diane Nivins

An honorable mention is L3. She was written as a female and has an interesting relationship to Lando. She also frees all of the droids in Solo. So I vacillated mentioning her. But I agreed with Diane Nivins as she also mentioned her in her write up. I also agreed she had a very courageous character.

So there they are. As an older , wiser Star Wars fan, I am attracted to wisdom, intelligence and even a little power.

If you need reference material to see who these characters are, links have been provided below.

Check out the link and see if there were any missing. I can only think of one. Rose Tico from the Last Jedi episode eight. I think they could have done so much more with her character than they did. But in her own right has a little bit of a sexy potential.

Photo credit goes to Diane Nivins

At any rate, these are all of my picks for the sexiest of sexy in the Star Wars series. Let me know what you think.