Fantasy Friday - How did he get so good - Guy's story

AFTER you've read Rosie's story, please come by the Reading Room. It's a big day.

We're here for a very special Saturday Fantasy Friday! If you didn't see the first part go here and read Lizzie's story first. You can also real a little about our writer the week, Rosie.  Rosie and I have a lot in common and I'm looking forward to getting to know her better. But for now please enjoy this special extra story...

Guy’s story

The day started off so well. I had planned to spend the morning at my desk, working on a new project, while Lizzie, my wife, took her mother shopping in the nearby town. As she was leaving, I reminded her not to be late back and she smiled as she promised to be on time. At two o’clock this afternoon Lizzie would lay herself over my lap, presenting her beautiful bare bottom for a spanking.

 

If anyone had told me two years ago that I’d soon be spanking my wife, I’d have sent for the men in white coats to take them away. I was brought up to believe that boys shouldn’t hit girls and that men who hit women were the lowest of the low. It would never have occurred to me to hit Lizzie and I was shocked to the core when she asked me to spank her. We had been watching an old movie when a scene came up where the guy spanked the girl.  Lizzie turned to me and asked, “Would you spank me?” The very idea was repugnant to me but she said she’d always wanted to be spanked, she just hadn’t known how to bring it up. I flatly refused but my wife is nothing if not tenacious. She chipped away at me and, eventually, I caved in and agreed to give it a try. She assured me she wasn’t asking me to beat her, just to make her bottom sting enough to turn her on. 

Foolishly, I thought that, whilst the idea of being spanked might appeal to her, she wouldn’t like the reality. I was wrong, the evidence was right there, between her thighs. It certainly livened up our sex life and, over time, I began to relax and enjoy it. Lizzie says that once I got over my squeamishness I became a real bossy boots. If that’s so, it wasn’t consciously, nor was it a conscious action the day I first spanked her for real. She’d been giving me grief about a decision that hadn’t gone her way and she was seriously trying my patience. Before I knew what I was doing, I had hauled her over my knee, spanking her hard over her jeans. I thought she’d come up spitting tacks but, instead, she was soft and contrite, murmuring her apologies into my neck. I told her I should spank her more often. And I do. She’s always been headstrong but, nowadays, if a discussion gets heated so does her bottom.

Being spanked seems to keep her centred, so every few days she goes across my knee, supposedly for a reminder of who’s the boss but, really, just because it makes her happy. I don’t get it but there’s no denying it works.

After waving Lizzie off, I went into our office and sat at my desk. Lizzie runs our home like clockwork and attends to all the household paperwork. She had left me a couple of letters to sign. I reached for the handsome fountain pen she bought me some years ago and remembered I was running low on ink. I’d call her and ask her to get some.

That’s where it all went pear-shaped.

Lizzie doesn’t use her phone in the car, though there’s an integrated system installed. She says she needs all her concentration for driving and I can’t argue with that. I sent a text for her to pick up later. To my annoyance, I heard it arrive on her phone, which she’d left on her desk. We have a rule that she takes it with her every time she leaves the house, not so I can keep tabs on her but so I know that she is safe.

The rule was made some time ago, when I had business in town and we arranged to meet for lunch afterwards. I wasn’t unduly worried when she didn’t turn up on time, punctuality is not her strong suit, but after fifteen minutes I became concerned. I called her phone but after ringing for a while it went to voicemail. I checked the traffic app on my phone and saw a long red line on the route towards the town. What was worse was the little icon that showed the hold up was caused by an accident. My instinct was to go out and look for her but I knew that, logically, the best thing to do was to stay put. I love Lizzie more than life and the thought that she might be the one at the front of that queue, injured or worse, tormented me until she came through the door thirty-five minutes later. She was full of apologies for not being able to contact me; she’d forgotten her phone. That night in bed, I rolled her over onto her stomach and laid several hard spanks on her bottom. She knew what it was for.

We don’t have many rules but she seems to have trouble with this one. I have paddled her a few times and this is the last straw. She’ll get more than a sting in her tail today.

I call her mother. “Hello Lizzie,” she says “are you running late?”

“Mary, it’s Guy here. Lizzie’s on her way but she’s left her phone at home. Would you ask her to call me when she arrives?”

“Of course dear, anything else?”

“Yes, tell her she’s in big trouble.”

Mary giggles, “Oh Guy, you’re such a tease.”

I open my laptop and start to work. The minutes tick by and I drum my fingers on the desk; she should be there by now. I tap the traffic app with a feeling of déjà vu. The red line shows a hold-up but no indication of the cause. I call Mary again, telling her traffic is bad so that she doesn’t worry. She is a widow and Lizzie is her only child.

A long while later my phone rings and Lizzie’s face flashes on the screen.

“Lizzie,” I say, my voice flat.

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry I forgot my phone again. Where did I leave it?”

“On your desk. I sent you a text and heard it arrive.”

“I’m really sorry. Mum will have her phone with her, you can get me on that if you need to and I’ll call you from her house before I come home.”

“Lizzie, you’re not going to wriggle out of this, we’ve been here too many times.”

We say our goodbyes, then I realise I’ve forgotten the ink.

I’ve just finished lunch when Lizzie phones to say she’s on her way back home. I go up to our bedroom, take the large bolster from the armchair and put it in the middle of the bed. It elevates her bottom to just the right angle. Then I pull out the toy box and take out the wooden paddle that I made myself. That was another of my unconscious decisions. I was buying timber for new shelving and happened to see an offcut of cherry wood. I don’t know what made the idea come into my head but I took it home and fashioned it into a paddle in my workshop, also known as the shed at the bottom of the garden. Lizzie hates it; it hurts more than the leather paddle and the effect lasts much longer. I recall my angry thought from this morning, that I’d put more than a sting in her tail, and also take out a butt plug and a tube of lubricant.

Her car pulls up on the drive and I go to the door to greet her. That’s another rule, neither of us goes in or out without kissing the other hello or goodbye at the door. She comes into the hall and I take her bags from her before pulling her into my arms for a kiss. She hugs me and apologises again for forgetting her phone.

“We’ll be discussing that soon enough. Right now, I want you to leave your parcels here and go upstairs. You know the drill.”

It is half an hour before the time I set for the reset spanking but the game plan for today has changed. This isn’t going to be the fun afternoon we envisaged when Lizzie left this morning. I intend to leave her to her thoughts until two o’clock. She’s a clever woman, she’ll work that out for herself.

The sight of Lizzie over the bolster never fails to take my breath away. I pat her bottom and tell her to come to the other side of the bed, where I stand her between my knees, holding her hands. She looks like a child waiting for a scolding and for a moment my heart melts. “You’ve always been a handful, you know that don’t you?”

She raises her head and smiles, “Guilty as charged, but you’ve always known that.”

I think back to all the flouncing, pouting and door slamming that could have been avoided if only I’d known the answer was there in my hands all along. “I should have spanked you long ago.”

Then I tell her I am going to spank her twice, first the reset and then for her carelessness with her phone.  I pat my lap and she lays herself over my knees. I rub and squeeze her bottom for a moment, before landing the first smack. When her bottom is a uniform shade of dark pink, I up the ante and switch to the leather paddle. She begins making little squawks of protest as I turn the paddle over to the heavy side. Soon she is wriggling and twisting away and I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. I turn my attention to her sit spots and tops of her thighs and her protests turn to pleas to stop. “That’s not how it works Lizzie, I decide when to stop.” After a quick volley up and down each cheek I toss the paddle aside and sit her on my lap. I hold her for a while, rubbing her back and telling her how much I love her. When her breathing slows to normal I tell her it’s time for the second round and lead her back over the bolster. “I’m going to give you twelve with the wooden paddle.” I hear her breath catch. That paddle hurts and even twelve will be a challenge for her.

I catch sight of her phone on the dresser and, on impulse, put it in her hand, “That’s what got you into trouble, think about that.” I hope the link between the phone in her hand and the pain in her behind will reinforce the message.

I tap her bottom with the paddle before bringing it down hard on her left cheek. She cries out in pain and continues to howl, as the rapid fire of eleven more strikes turns her bottom a deep crimson. She lies spent across the bolster, her breathing ragged. I give her time to recover a little, but I haven’t finished yet.

“Part your cheeks for me.”

She doesn’t move until I give her a warning smack. The lubricant is cold and she winces at its chill, resisting as I guide the butt plug towards its target. I pat her lightly and tell her not to fight it. When it is in place, I tell her she may come downstairs when she is ready but she is not to remove the plug until I give her permission.

I return to the office, where I slump at my desk. I won’t claim that punishing Lizzie hurts me as much it hurts her, that’s an old cliché, but it makes my heart sore. I open my laptop and stare at the screen. It will be a while before she stirs so I load a game of Solitaire to pass the time.

I hear her footfall on the stairs and look up as she hesitates in the doorway. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she says, before her voice breaks and sobs fill her throat. I gather her into my arms and hold her tightly, “It’s okay baby, I’ve got you, it’s all over now.”

~o~

Rosie you did a wonderful job with this story. I really enjoyed it from both sides. I hope you'll write for us again and I hope I'll see you in comments sometimes. Thank you for sharing. Come on everyone - you know you can write one. Give it a try and sent it to elisspeaks@yahoo.com