Fantasy Friday - How Did He Get This good? Lizzie's story

Thank you Friday for finally getting here! You sure did take your time. But I shouldn't complain, it's here and we have a new Fantasy Friday story. Actually we have two stories, one for today and one for tomorrow.

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.

Please enjoy, Lizzie's Story and come back tomorrow for a special Saturday Fantasy Friday - this story from 'the other side of the paddle', Guy's story.

Lizzie’s story

How did he get this good?

I knew I was going to be spanked today; I had an appointment for two o’clock sharp. I wasn’t in trouble; it was a regular reminder of who is in charge in our house. Before I left home this morning my husband, Guy, warned me not to be late. Lateness incurs extra spanks.

I was taking my mother shopping and headed off with a light heart, looking forward to a spot of retail therapy. I hadn’t gone far when I came to a halt; traffic was at a standstill and I could see flashing blue lights ahead. My mother is a worrier, so I reached into my bag for my phone to warn her I was held up. To my horror, I realised I had left it at home and my stomach turned a few flip-flops. Guy is pretty easy-going but he is very hot on personal safety. One of our few rules is that I have my phone with me whenever I leave the house.  I’ve had several trips over his lap for being careless with this rule and didn’t relish the thought of going there again. I’d only be out for a few hours; maybe I’d get away with it. Oh, who was I kidding? My bottom was tingling already. I’d call him from Mum’s and confess, then maybe he’d be lenient with me.

It took a while for the traffic to clear and I arrived at my mother’s house too distracted to notice she didn’t seem fazed by the delay. I told her I’d left my phone at home and must ring Guy to let him know we’d have hers with us, otherwise I’d be in trouble. The corners of her mouth twitched in an attempt to keep a straight face, as she remembered she had a message for me. “Oh, you’re already in trouble dear, Guy phoned and told me to tell you that.” Mum loves Guy. He’s a wind-up merchant, always joking and teasing. She probably pictured him wagging his finger at me, scolding me with mock severity. Little does she know.

She left me alone to make my apologies to Guy, who swiftly dashed any hope of clemency. Of all the places I could have left my phone why, oh why, did it have to be on my desk? My desk in the office Guy and I share. He’d sent me a text soon after I left and heard the telltale trill of its arrival, revealing my guilt from a few feet away. He’d had plenty of time to stew and my bottom was going to pay the price. In my heart I know it’s no more than I deserve. His anger stems from his fear for my safety, not simply that I’ve broken a rule.

Mum and I had a pleasant morning in the mall. We both had our nails done and made a few purchases without denting our finances too much. I was particularly pleased with a pair of skyscraper heels, reduced in a sale. I’d tried to keep thoughts of the afternoon at bay but, as we sat down to an early lunch, I couldn’t help wondering when I would next be able to sit comfortably.

I am home now, half an hour before the appointed time, and have been sent straight upstairs. I am relieved; it will be over sooner than I thought. I like waiting for a fun spanking, the anticipation excites me, but waiting for a punishment makes me nervous. As I open the door, I see that Guy has prepared the room. The fat bolster is positioned on the bed with the wooden paddle next to it.

I take off my skirt and knickers and lay over the bolster, my bottom mooning the ceiling, and I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more.

I glance sideways at the clock on the nightstand and see that nearly fifteen minutes have passed. It finally dawns on me that we are not starting early; he is leaving me here to contemplate the error of my ways. We don’t do corner time but this is a very effective alternative. How did he get this good?

Guy used to be a dyed-in-the-wool spank-no and took a lot of persuading to try erotic spanking. He didn’t like it much at first but he liked the effect it had in the bedroom. It took him a while to overcome his natural instincts but, eventually, he began to enjoy it, not least because it makes me happy. I don’t know why it does; I think I’m just wired that way.

He had never been a pushover but, unless he felt strongly, he usually went along with what I wanted. As he gained confidence in turning my bottom red, a subtle shift occurred in our dynamic. He became more assertive and less likely to let me have my own way. That didn’t always sit well with me and I would make my displeasure known. One memorable day, I was giving him a really hard time when, by some sleight of hand, I found myself upended over his knee receiving some very sound spanks on the seat of my jeans. It’s hard to say which of us was the more shocked but there was no going back, the genie was out of the bottle, discipline had entered the mix.

Discipline makes me happy, punishment not so much. Since we started this thing I get a bit cranky if I’m not spanked for more than a few days. Guy prefers a contented wife, so over his lap I go for a good spanking, punctuated by some rubbing and fondling and a fair bit of laughter. Afterwards, all is right with my world and my equilibrium is restored. He’s also adept at delivering a short, sharp, shock to quell rebellion or a warning swat or two when I’m getting too close to a line.

Thankfully, punishment is rare. If I could only remember my phone every time I go out, it would be pretty much extinct. I hate punishment, not just because it hurts but also because I don’t like Guy to be disappointed in me. To top it off, it means a date with the cherry wood paddle.

I have a love/hate relationship with that thing. I love it because Guy made it himself.  It’s beautifully crafted, smooth and polished. I hate it for obvious reasons. 

The first time I made its acquaintance my bottom was simmering nicely, when a heavy thud made me squeal in shock.

“Yikes, what was that?”

‘What, this?” The other cheek received a similar blast.

“Owww, yes! What is that?”

He leant down and held it in front of my face.

“You bought a wooden paddle?”

“No, I didn’t buy it, I made it specially for you.”

“Ouch! It hurts!”

“Then be a good girl and you won’t feel it again.”

As I said, if only I could remember my phone every time I go out...

I hear his footsteps on the stairs and glance again at the time.  It is exactly two o’clock. The door opens and he comes to stand beside me. “Come round to the other side of the bed,” he says, patting my bottom. I stand up stiffly and do as I am told. Butterflies dance in my tummy as he stands me between his knees, taking my hands in his. I think I am in for a stern dressing down but, to my surprise, he says with a smile, “You’re a real handful, you know that don’t you?”

I smile back, “Guilty as charged, but you’ve always known that.”

“I have, and to think the remedy was in my own hands all the time. I should have spanked you long ago.”

He gives my hands a little shake, all levity gone. “I’m going to spank you twice. The first time for our arranged reset and the second to address your continuing carelessness with your phone.” He shifts backwards, patting his lap, and I lay myself obediently across his knees. He rubs and kneads my bottom for a while and then I jump as the first smack lands on my right cheek. When he has peppered every inch of my behind with his hand, I feel the coolness of the leather paddle as it glides over my well-warmed skin, before he raises it and brings it down with a loud crack. He spanks steadily, alternating cheeks, building up the heat. The paddle is double-sided, with different weights of leather on each side and, not for the first time, I wonder how the two sides deliver a different level of pain when the overall weight is the same. I always know when he switches to the heavier side, it has me wriggling and squirming in no time. I protest loudly as he wields the heavy side on my sit spots and the tops of my thighs, and before long I am begging him to stop. After a final flurry to remind me who decides when a spanking is over, he discards the paddle and sits me carefully on his lap. He rubs my back and tells me how much he loves me, but the respite is all too short.

“Time for the second round Lizzie, let’s get it over with.” He leads me back to the bolster. “I’m going to give you twelve with the wooden paddle.” In truth, I expected more; we’ve revisited this infraction more than once. It won’t be a walk in the park though, that thing hurts like the devil and my bottom is already throbbing from the reset. He takes my phone from the dresser and puts it in my hand. “This is what got you into trouble, think about that.” I feel a light tap, then yelp as an explosion of pain erupts in my left cheek. He delivers the remainder in quick succession, leaving me limp and gasping for breath as I wait for permission to rise.

“Part your cheeks for me.”

“What!” I am bewildered and don’t move. A sharp smack prompts me to do as I am told, tensing, as I feel the cold lubricant at my rear entrance and realise what is coming next. “Please, Guy, don’t,” I beg. I’m no stranger to a butt plug for play but he’s never used one for punishment before. “Relax, don’t fight it.” He inserts the plug fully and tells me I can remove my hands.

His voice is quiet but firm, “You may come downstairs when you are ready but you are not to remove the plug until I give you permission.” Then he is gone, leaving me thoroughly chastened and utterly submissive.

I ask myself again, “How did he get this good?”

~o~

Rosie, you did a great job and I thank you for sharing with us! Come back tomorrow everyone. And if you're willing to write for us send you story to elisspeaks@yahoo.com