Happy Friday to all! I’m headed out this weekend to my first writing workshop – I guess it’s about time I learned how to write. I’ll tell you about it next week.
Today there is a wonderful brand new Fantasy Friday. Rosie has written for us before, but it’s been a while and I’m so happy to have her next story. You can find her first two stories here and here. To refresh your memory here is the introduction I put for her the first time.
I'm very pleased to he hosting Rosie this week. A little background on Rosie: She and her husband of more than forty years live and enjoy their empty nest in rural England. Although her husband turned down her first request to be spanked decades ago, the recent interest in 50 Shades and good old Sheldon spanking Amy on The Big Bang led him to rethink his initial refusal. I love the way Rosie put it, " Things evolved and a little discipline entered the mix, though we don't 'do' punishment. Mostly I'm spanked just because it makes me happy." I don't guess we could ask for much more than that.
“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine. Coffee’s on your table.” Isobel’s eyelids fluttered open in response to her husband’s soft kisses. Harry drew back the curtains, “It’s a lovely day for your outing.”
Isobel stretched lazily. She was looking forward to the day. First she was going into town to buy a new outfit for her niece’s wedding and then she was meeting an old friend for lunch. The only snag was the rendezvous being some distance away on unfamiliar ground. Harry had plotted the route for her and they had gone over it together. If she got really lost she could resort to the maps on her smartphone.
As she was about to leave, she discovered the battery on her mobile phone was in the red zone. Too bad, there was nothing she could do about it now. After kissing Harry goodbye, she said casually, “Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me, my phone battery’s low and might die, so I’ll save it just in case of emergency.” Harry told her to take his car, which had an in-car charger. She refused; she wanted to take her own car. His practical people carrier or her sporty roadster with the roof down? No contest, the sun was shining!
The shopping centre was huge and Isobel had sometimes found herself losing heart in the past, trailing round shop after shop in search of something special. This time, she had booked the services of a personal shopper, who would source a selection of clothing based on the criteria she had supplied by email. She’d also had the foresight to ask her sister for a photo of her outfit beforehand. They had similar tastes and had fallen out many times in their younger days over who was copying whom and she didn’t want to risk upstaging the mother of the bride.
It was wonderful to sit back on a leather couch and have clothing brought to her for selection, though she declined the proffered glass of Champagne. After trying a few outfits she settled on a cream dress patterned with dusky pink roses, with a plain dusky pink jacket to go on top. She had planned to wear a pair of nude, go-with anything, heels but needed no persuading when the assistant produced a pair of sling-backs to match the jacket. A jaunty little hat and she was done. She was looking idly around whilst her purchases were being packed when her eyes lit on a darling handbag. She had a bag at home that would go with her outfit but this little number was calling her name. It was a leather clutch in a pretty green, which would complement the leaves on her dress and provide a pop of colour to contrast with all the pink. With the bag safely stowed alongside the other purchases and her mission accomplished, she walked away with a smile on her face, stress free and ready for the hour and a half journey ahead.
She found her way to the country inn where she was to meet her friend with only one wrong turn along the way. She and Sally hadn’t seen each other in a long while, so they had a lot of catching up to do. The afternoon sped by amid much gossip and laughter and Isobel stayed far longer than she’d intended. She realised she was going to get caught in traffic but, in the flurry of her departure, she forgot to send Harry a text to say she was on her way home. She knew he would be worried but didn’t dare stop to use her phone on the narrow country lanes and, once on the main roads, there was no chance of pulling over.
Back at home, Harry was trying to put dinner together without looking at the clock. He had expected Isobel back long before now and couldn’t help a twinge of anxiety. She was notorious for getting lost and was the first to admit she had no sense of direction. Many years ago they had been shopping in a large department store in London, where she had dithered over buying a handbag. They had just left the shop when she decided she had to have it after all. She told him to wait for her at the door; she would only be a few minutes. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. He daren’t go and look for her in case she turned up and panicked when he wasn’t there. Finally, she burst through the doors, full of apologies. She had become disorientated and gone out of another set of doors on the opposite side of the store, taking a long time to realise she was on a different street. He had never let her forget that, retelling the tale many times. She still had a thing for handbags. There must be more than thirty in her wardrobe, preserved carefully in their dust bags, only a small number of them ever used. She would take them out from time to time, for the sheer pleasure of owning them. He shook his head, smiling indulgently, before glancing involuntarily at the clock. Where is she?
Harry was putting the finishing touches to dinner when Isobel got home. She dropped her packages in the hallway and rushed towards him, “I’m sorry to be so late home darling, I lost track of time, then got stuck in traffic.’’
He was relieved to see her and resolved not to make a fuss. “I’m glad you’re back, I was worried, you know how easily you get lost,” he said, hugging her tightly. “Did your day go well?”
“Yes, it was lovely. I have the perfect outfit for the wedding, I’m kitted out from top to toe thanks to Sophie, the personal shopper. I’ll give you a fashion show later. I only went wrong once on the way to meet Sally. It was good to see her again, we had so much to talk about and time just ran away with us.”
She looked at Harry’s handiwork on the counter top. “Dinner looks good, is that my favourite dressing you’ve made?”
He smacked her hand away as she made to dip a finger in the bowl. “Go and get washed up while I put your car away, then you can tell me Sally’s news over dinner.”
Harry always put her car in the garage for the sake of its paintwork and Isobel’s peace of mind; she wasn’t confident manoeuvring in small spaces. This time her peace of mind was shattered when she heard the car’s engine fire up and a horrible thought occurred to her. The fuel light was on and Harry was bound to see it. The evening had looked promising until then. There had been no recriminations over her lateness or her dying phone and she’d spotted a bottle of Chablis chilling in a cooler on the counter top. They hadn’t had a falling-out for a while but she knew he would be angry about the low fuel, he’d read her the riot act once before when she’d run out of petrol and had to call him to bail her out with a jerry can. With a sinking heart, she resigned herself to a gloomy night ahead.
Sure enough, Harry came into the house with a face like thunder. “You have no idea what went through my mind when you didn’t get back on time. It’s bad enough that you let your phone battery run down but also you’re nearly out of fuel. What would have happened if you’d run out and your phone was dead? I’m so angry with you, I could tan your hide.”
She took a step backwards in surprise; where had that come from? “But the warning light only came on a few miles back, I wasn’t in any danger,” she protested, his anger putting her on the defensive.
“That was more by luck than judgment. Another wrong turn and the outcome might have been very different.”
“I’m sorry darling, I know you were worried but I’m back safe and sound, no harm done. Let’s not spoil the evening by arguing, please.”
“You don’t seem to realise how serious this might have been. You could have been stranded in the middle of nowhere. I should have insisted you took my car instead of letting you go off without a functioning phone.”
“But I wanted to take my car. It was a lovely sunny day and I wanted to show it off to Sally. You couldn’t force me to take yours, it was my choice.”
“It was a bad choice and I shouldn’t have let it happen. I’m as angry with myself as I am with you.”
“Well, go ahead then, spank me if it will make you feel better!” she flung at him, temper flaring.
“You know what? I’ve a good mind to do just that but I need to cool off and you need to think where your carelessness could have got you. In fact, why don’t we do it the traditional way? Go upstairs, take off your jeans and knickers and stand in the corner between the wardrobe and the dresser. You can do your thinking there.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You have got to be joking, you don’t seriously expect me to stand in the corner like a naughty child do you?”
“That’s exactly what I expect you to do, right now.”
Throwing him a mutinous stare, she flounced off to their bedroom and leant back against the door. “I won’t do it!” she thought, “It’s ridiculous.”
But what was the alternative? If she defied him it would stoke up his anger again and they could be going round in circles all night. Sighing, she slipped off her shoes and peeled off her jeans and knickers, before reluctantly making her way to the corner, where she stood with her arms at her sides, fists tightly clenched. It was humiliating standing there naked from the waist down and she wished she’d worn a longer shirt that covered her bottom.
“But you deserve it,” a little voice in her head told her. “You put swanning around in your fancy drop-top above Harry’s peace of mind and your own safety.”
As she breathed a heavy sigh her tension evaporated and her fingers unfurled. The little voice was right; she deserved it. She wasn’t afraid of a spanking; they had been spicing up their love life that way for some time. Harry spanked pretty hard anyway, so how bad could it be?
She heard him come through the door and turned towards him. “Nose back in the corner until I’m ready for you,” he said, in a voice she scarcely knew. She could hear him moving about near the bed and recognised the sound of the toy box being opened. Well, she had expected the paddle, no surprise there.
He picked up the throw from the armchair, folding it over the footboard and placing a pillow over the top.
His stern demeanour unnerved her and made the three short steps to the bed feel as though she were walking in treacle.
“Why am I going to spank you?”
“Because I deserve it,” she faltered.
“Indeed you do but I’m looking for a more specific answer.”
She’d had plenty of time in the corner to think about that. “Because I didn’t make sure my phone battery was charged before I went out and I let my fuel run low, putting myself in danger.”
“I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again,’’ he said, patting the pillow. “Bend over the bed.”
Harry had always admired his wife’s shapely bottom and the sight of her creamy globes stretched tautly over the pillow almost weakened his resolve. The thought of her stranded at the roadside at the mercy of heaven knows who or what swiftly brought it back.
Isobel yelped involuntarily at the first crack of leather on flesh. Subconsciously, she had been expecting the rubbing and squeezing that usually preceded a spanking. As the second smack fell she realised there was to be no warm up either. Soon, Harry had covered every inch of her bottom and Isobel began making little mewling sounds of protest as the sting intensified. A smack on the top each thigh taught her not to reach back to relieve her smarting dérrière.
Harry continued to apply the paddle until he had turned her bottom a hot crimson and her loud protests had turned to sobs. He wasn’t enjoying the experience any more than she was but wanted to make sure he didn’t have to repeat the lesson any time soon. He remembered her wooden hairbrush, left out on the chest of drawers behind him. “Don’t move,” he told her, turning round to pick it up.
“Hold on to a pillow Bella, I don’t want your hands getting in the way.” As the brush came down hard on her sit spots she wriggled and squirmed, trying to move away but he held her in place with a hand in the small of her back.
“Harry, please, it hurts.”
“It’s supposed to hurt,” came the time-honoured response.
“No, please stop, I can’t...” she broke off as her body sagged and she began to sob in earnest.
“Six more, then we’re done.”
Measuring the spanks slowly so she felt the full effect of each one, he brought the brush down six more times, before tossing it aside and telling her it was all over. He helped her up, pulling her into his arms.
“I love you so much Bella, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he told her, stroking her back until the sobs subsided.
“I’m so sorry,” she quavered, gulping back tears, “I know that was hard for you too. I promise not to be so careless again.”
“I’m going to help you with that,” he said, lifting her chin, “I’m making some rules. In future, you are not to go out without your phone being fully charged and you are not to let your fuel tank get below a quarter full. Breaking a rule will earn an appointment with the hairbrush.”
Isobel was tempted to ask him who he was and what he had done with her husband but, with her backside already on fire, she thought better of it. Instead, rubbing her bottom ruefully, she asked him whether they could eat dinner in the kitchen as the chair cushions were softer there than in the dining room.
“Oh, I think I can allow that just this once,” he said, smiling. “Let’s get you dressed in something comfortable, dinner’s waiting and the wine should be well chilled by now.”
The evening was looking promising after all, though they’d have to take a rain check on the fashion show.
Thank you so much Rosie! I really enjoyed your story very much and I'm so happy you were willing to write for us again. I hope you'll keep in touch. If anyone else is willing to share a story with us please send it to firstname.lastname@example.org