Fantasy Friday - Coronavirus Menaces

Happy Friday! I'm really happy to have a brand new Fantasy Friday for you today. This story comes from my friend Viola Vales. 

Like most of us out here she's a real grown-up, mature, we call ourselves. TTWD began for them three years ago and she has been a long time lurker on many blogs. As she said, "I'm grateful to all those bloggers who encouraged me to finally approach my husband. I'm a happy woman." 

 I hope you'll enjoy...

 Coronavirus Menaces

 

Ginny was first downstairs this morning because she wanted to be early for the 7AM appointment.  She and Doug were being extra cautious and had decided to take advantage of online grocery ordering and no contact pickup.  An employee would carefully load all the bags in her trunk and she would mouth words of appreciation from behind her car window.  She had requested over a hundred items this time which she hoped would include some of the scarce paper products, disinfectants and toiletries for her husband.  As suggested they only shopped every two weeks.  Ginny realized that she would be lucky to get half of her list so menu planning would be completed later with whatever meats, produce, and dairy she found in the bags.  

 

As their nest emptied and they moved outside the city,  Doug and Ginny entertained the notion of getting rid of one of their two cars.  It seemed like an extravagance until they considered the logistics of Doug meeting a friend for lunch on one of Ginny's volunteer days at the food pantry.  

 

Ginny always drove to the store while Doug readied the garage to triage, unwrap and disinfect their haul.  She put on vinyl gloves and carried a mask, just in case she ever had to exit the car.  Her 13 year old Honda had been so reliable that she had declined her husband's recent offer to replace it.  

 

Ginny turned the key in the ignition and didn't hear that familiar "ruh, ruh, ruh" noise.  The engine was not turning over.  She tried again.  Nothing.  She closed her eyes and sat very still contemplating the problem.  The grocery pickup was not the issue; she could easily use her husband's car.  It was all those polite reminders from Doug to start her car and take a spin around the neighborhood during these days when they were sheltering at home.  Her sweet husband asked so little of her.  What was so important that she couldn't spare ten minutes every few days to prevent this from happening? 

 

As she pulled out of the driveway in Doug's car, Ginny thought about the beginning of their spanking relationship only three years earlier.  Doug had listened with a mixture of amusement, disbelief and empathy for his wife as she struggled through what, for her, was one of the most difficult conversations of their marriage.  

 

Doug remained skeptical as he tried to understand exactly what she was asking him to do and the origin of this request.  Initially he was certain it had something to do with all those new blogs she had discovered.  Had Ginny come across some posts about adding new energy to their love life?   Spanking as a part of foreplay was worth exploring but words like discipline and accountability were incompatible with his concept of a healthy marriage.  

 

As the months went by, Doug noticed Ginny became somehow softer around him.  She paid closer attention to his opinions and his needs.  Ginny smiled all the time as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.  In some ways, these last weeks had seemed like a second honeymoon.   He found increasing confidence in decision making and pleasure in changing the hue of his wife's rear end.

 

Besides, those blogs weren't all bad.  Ginny was finally learning to ask for his help when she needed it.  Bloggers had finally gotten through to her that spouses were not mind readers.  He remembered that Steak and BJ Day was a blog suggestion.  He certainly wasn't about to argue with that.

 

Doug shook his head as he entered the garage.  When he saw which car was missing, he knew immediately what had happened.  What was he to do with her?   Conscientious about traffic laws, Ginny never maintained her car in the same way she paid attention to speed limits and other regulations of the road.  Always scrupulously attentive to the needs of home and family, she shrugged off any responsibility for yearly state inspections, oil levels, or tire pressure.  Last fall she even ran out of gas! 

 

While other couples complained about this period of social distancing, Ginny had never been happier.  She was willing to let their new dynamic evolve in a way that was comfortable to Doug.   She certainly did not fear the consequences today because Doug would most likely just make excuses for her oversight as he always did when she missed the deadline to renew her license or failed to inflate the tires.  She was angry at herself for ignoring the patient reminders from her husband and maybe angry with him too, although she wasn't sure why.

 

Popping the trunk for supermarket employees to fill, she could tell by the number of bags in her order that scarcities continued to exist.  By now, Doug would have discovered that she had opted to take his car and probably figured out the reason.  He would never confront her with questions, but instead wait for her to spill the story.  Ginny only hoped one of the parcels would contain his Old Spice.

 

The garage door was up and Doug, already wearing gloves, waved and motioned the car forward.  Together they sorted through the trunk to find all the frozen food and perishables.  They got busy cleaning each item with disinfectant wipes.  

 

Ginny made the first attempt at conversation,  "Hey, I saw they had your aftershave.  And I got an eggplant this week.  No frozen peas or chicken, but two pounds of ground beef so I can make moussaka!"  She paused for a response.  "I could make eggplant parmigiana if you prefer or maybe some baba ghanoush."  Silence from Doug was not unusual when he was concentrating on completing a job quickly.  Ginny continued her monologue emphasizing the part of the haul Doug had requested.  

 

Her speech became increasingly pressured and she began to clean and reclean the same surfaces.  "No dates, but of all things, they had a papaya!   I did get chocolate chips, but only a dozen eggs.  I could use a couple for cookies or maybe I should save them for a frittata?  What do you think?"  Without looking up from the work, Doug, aware of his wife's discomfort, raised his eyebrows and slowly replied, "I think...  you have wiped that box at least a dozen times around and it's about to disintegrate."

 

Ginny took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself.  She knew Doug wasn't really angry but he would continue to taunt her until she fessed up.  As she worked with more focus, Ginny knew how she would explain herself.  They finished the rest of the perishables in silence.  

 

"Let's stop for some coffee.  I can finish up after some breakfast while you work on your presentation.  Come on.  I scored a package of your favorite rum buns." Ginny coaxed. 

 

Everything refrigerated, Ginny set out a quick table with yogurt, fruit, and the prized rum buns.  As soon as Doug got the first big bite of pastry in his mouth, Ginny started,  "I'm really sorry.  You reminded me so many times to start my car.    Today of all days when you are so busy.  It won't happen again.  Really, I'm so, so sorry."  

 

"Give me your phone, please."  Ginny was confused.  "Give me your phone now," Doug repeated.  She reached into her pocket, retrieved her phone and pushed it across the table cautiously.  

 

Doug studied the phone maybe 15 seconds very purposely and seemed to be doing something.  Ginny's expression remained quizzical as he pushed the phone back to her.  "Okay, I set your alarm to ring twice a week and you are to get your car started those mornings.  Do you think you can manage that?"

 

Ginny smiled with relief,  "For sure.  Sure, I'll make certain this doesn't happen again.  You know I'm really sorry."  Hoping the matter would be settled with another coffee, she offered, "May I warm up your cup?"  

 

Doug nodded in the affirmative and Ginny moved around the table to get his cup.  As she reached across he grabbed her arm and simultaneously, pushing his chair away from the table, Ginny landed squarely over his lap.  She gasped and let out a squeal.  Before she could reorient herself, Doug lit into her behind.  

 

It was not unusual for them to be playful in the kitchen, but this didn't feel like his usual devilish teasing.  If she didn't know better, Ginny might have guessed he was using one of those new silicone spirtles she had not been able to resist from QVC.  These swats were stern, accelerated, and dead-centered on the sit spots.  Ginny had often wondered why some of her excess fat couldn't be relocated to the lower part of her glutes.  

 

"I said how sorry I was to ignore the car.  

 I'll listen for the reminders.

It won't happen again! 

Please stop!"  

Ow-ooo..." 

Her words became unrecognizable and the pleas stopped.  

 

Doug returned Ginny to her feet as abruptly as he had positioned her.  "Now how about that fresh cup so I can eat my breakfast?  We can finish this discussion after my Zoom call."  As Ginny poured the coffee, it felt to her like there had been enough communication on the subject.

 

She sat down gingerly.  Her husband was usually one for savoring every meal, no matter how modest, but today he was clearly preoccupied with his upcoming meeting.  As he stepped away from the table,  Doug asked a familiar question,  "Is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart, before I get busy?  I'll take care of your car later."  Moving around by her side, he motioned her to stay seated and planted a soft, tantalizing kiss on her lips, saying only "I love you," before he disappeared for the day's work.

 

Shifting from left to right on her chair, Ginny chewed slowly and could only think about mitigation.  Clearly the rum buns hadn't provided the distraction she had hoped for.  She had a long day ahead of her and was confident that her culinary skills could be her saving grace.  How her husband loved to eat!

 

While finishing disinfecting and storing the rest of the grocery haul, Ginny formulated her menu.  She would go Mediterranean, Doug's favorite cuisine.  He would prefer lots of potatoes as a substitute for the missing zucchini anyway and she had saved some real butter and cream for the Bechamel.  Yes, she had decided, it would be Moussaka.  

 

Stopping only long enough to do some finger plays, sing songs, and read with her youngest grandchild on FaceTime, Ginny went about slicing, chopping, baking and transforming the table into a more inviting space with fabric, linen napkins and warmer colors.

She added zinnias from Doug's prize garden.  She would use her mother's Lennox gold-rimmed bone china.  Ginny had often altered their living spaces for variety during the long weeks of home confinement.  

 

The warmth of the spanking seemed to be spreading and she was frustrated by the unsatisfied itch.  She or Doug would generally seek out the other somewhere in the house for a quick hug during the day.  Sometimes a kiss would turn into playtime but Ginny knew that was not an option today.  

 

While trying to focus her energy, the pandemic shortages became increasingly bothersome.  There weren't nearly enough eggs for creme brûlée, Doug's idea of a great dessert.   She could have spared a couple for avgolemono soup, but then she had neither lemon nor chicken.   Ginny decided to concentrate on incorporating her two little fresh pears into the salad and making vinaigrette.  No apples, she settled on a rustic jam crostata.  

 

Just as the garlic bread was coming out of the oven, Doug appeared in the kitchen.  His face was tired but he gave her a reassuring wink and a broad grin.  It would be more commitment than he had anticipated but he had been offered a six month gig on the spot.  

 

"Do you think you can take on more responsibility around here?" he asked her over dinner.  Ginny was beaming because she knew how enthusiastic he was for the project and she was happy to reassure him.  She sat back and enjoyed his account of everything that had transpired.  Exhilarated yet exhausted, Doug did not eat as much as usual but he noticed Ginny's efforts, praised her ingenuity and promised to enjoy the leftovers.  

 

"Let's leave the dishes tonight and go upstairs," Doug declared after a piece of the crostata.  Certain he had decided to forgo further 'discussion' of the car, Ginny was on board.  "I'll refrigerate a few things and lock up," she replied.  

 

He was out of the shower and brushing his teeth by the time she got to the suite.  Doug relaxed while Ginny completed her nighttime rituals.  He mulled over the car situation.  Anyone could forget; he occasionally let things fall through the cracks.  Everyone did.  

 

His wife had never been comfortable with change and he had been so pleased by her flexibility during this prolonged 'house arrest.'   She was trying so hard to make every moment of this lockdown enjoyable.  He could take responsibility for her car.   Doug was fast reasoning his way out of further spanking.  He could think of more interesting ways to celebrate this evening.  

 

Except she was the one always talking about 'accountability' and 'consistency.'   Ginny was spoiled!  She liked to pick and choose where her energy went. 

 

She exited the bathroom wearing his favorite of her nightgowns, the one with tiny flowers on a pink background.  Ginny hoped it would evoke his tender side.  Doug was sitting straight up against the headboard; it surely meant play, not punishment.  

 

She eagerly crawled up on the bed and under his outstretched arm.  Ginny took a deep breath and totally decompressed against his  chest.  They sat silently for a few minutes as he stroked her hair.  Doug was first to speak.

 

"I can program your phone, honey, but that won't change your mindset.  You know how much I love you,  but perhaps it is time to try an 'attitude adjustment' your blogs always talk about.  Consider it a coronavirus opportunity to make some desired changes."  

 

 Coronavirus hazards, Ginny thought.  "But you did that at breakfast!"  She tried not to sound as indignant as she felt.  

 

"You can consider that a warmup," Doug replied.

 

Ginny knew she shouldn't argue, but she was so sure she had figured how the evening would end.   She was so sure she could control the situation.  "I understand that you will be busier than usual and I intend to step up.  You know I feel really badly about what happened," she pouted.

 

Doug reached into the nightstand and retrieved their wooden salad paddle.  Before Ginny got another word out of her mouth, he pulled her over his lap resting his left hand firmly at her waist.  

 

"Hey, that thing is only for fun.  Remember, we agreed it's too hard!"

 

"We never agreed on any such thing."  He started swatting, slowly alternating cheeks and listing all responsibilities relating to vehicle maintenance and how each one was related to her safety, at least all the ones she had routinely ignored.  

 

Not that she was able to concentrate on what he was saying.  Each time the paddle made contact it was like searing a different piece of meat for the stew.  "Plea-ease!  Acacia wood was for the Ark of the Covenant.  Not my behind!  she gasped.

 

"Ginny, take a breath."  Doug picked up the pace and she lost the will to fuss further.  She just wanted it over and tried to concentrate on holding some kind of position.  Each time he hit the same place twice, Ginny would squirm and her feet jerked.

 

She gritted her teeth.  Tears welled up.  They didn't flow.  She unwittingly held her breath.  Ginny tried to vocalize a another plea to Doug but could only formulate garbled moans.  He sensed her stress.

 

Holding her firmly in place, Doug paused and reminded her again to take a deep breath.  "Please, I will take care of my car.  Please, you know I'm sorry.  I can't take anymore, please."  

 

"We're almost finished.  I want you to breathe!"  He followed through with ten rapid fire swats on each sit spot before he put down the paddle and began to gently rub her back.  Ginny unleashed those tears and sobbed.

 

Doug massaged until he felt her body had released the tension and her breathing had returned to normal.  He pulled her up next to him and she sighed, burying her head into the crook of his arm.

 

"I'll get your car started first thing tomorrow morning." Doug reassured her, "Put out your new decals with your keys."  

 

"Decals," Ginny repeated trying for a casual tone.

 

"Yes, I'll attach them to the license tags for you.  Tomorrow is the first of the month and you can't drive without the registration renewal."

 

"Oh...  right,"      Ginny snuggled closer and was relieved that her husband couldn't see her face.  

 

VV

 ~~

Thank you Viola! We can all relate to stories like this now, except poor Nick would be more likely to get a hot dog than the beautiful meal you described. But to me it sounds like things are going pretty well for you and I hope that continues. And I hope you have time to write more!

If anyone else has a story they are willing to share, please send it to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

*Just a note - next weeks Fantasy Friday - also a brand new story - will be posted on Thursday, Nov. 19. Don't forget to come by!

 

Is trying for a spanking relationship worth it even if it doesn’t last?

That thought has been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve met many people, couples, though my fourteen years of blogging. I’ve been close enough to have personal/email relationships with more than thirty couples over these years and I've met about a dozen in person. But of that largest group less than a handful still incorporate spanking into their relationship. 

 

My hat’s off to those who have been able to keep it alive. Bonnie, Ronnie, Hermione come to mind first. And I’ve wondered how they’ve done it. As I’ve thought about it I believe this come from the fact that both people in the relationship are spankos. I’ve come to believe that that’s the only way it can happen. 

 

It doesn’t matter how rabid a spanko you are – one spanko can’t keep the lifestyle going by themselves. No one could be more into the love of the lifestyle than me. I made up spanking stories by the time I was four. Rarely a day of my life when by that I didn’t spend part of it daydreaming about spanking. 

 

But it was only daydreams until twenty-three years in to my marriage at the age of forty-nine that I found blogs and like minded friends. These friends gave me the courage to come out to Nick. And... 

 

OMG!

 

The next few years were the happiest I’d ever know! Friends at church and work wanted to know what in the world had happened. Several asked if I was taking ‘happy’ pills. One fellow teacher commented, “I don’t think we could slap the smile off your face! What gives?” They never found out, of course, but the change was phenomenal.

 

Our sex life went from the missionary position occasionally to anything goes, bring on the sex toys! For me personally I had everything I’d ever dreamed of.

 

But nothing was ever going to change the fact that it wasn’t the lifestyle Nick wanted. He tried! Bless his heart, no one could have tried harder. But he wasn’t a spanko and he could no more change and be one, than I could change and not be one.

 

We kept up the trying on and off for ten years. I think that shows how willing he was. Toward the end I even wrote a whole book, Returning to Us, trying to explain what I wanted and needed. The couple mirrored Nick and I as closely as I could make them, but by then I guess it was too late.  Finally it was me that gave up. The trying was hurting me. Nick still brings it up occasionally, still spanks a little. But I’d just as soon he didn’t. It’s just a game and the ‘game’ never interested me. I simply went back to what I’d been doing the first forty-nine years of enjoying my spanking fantasies in my head.

 

But, back to my original question – Was it worth it to try?

 

YES!

 

Because we tried this lifestyle for a time we are closer than we were before. Out sex life is better than it was before. I’ll never have the regret of saying to myself when I’m in my eighties, ‘Why didn’t I try it for real?’ I have met amazing friend with whom I can discuss the joys of the spanking lifestyle and it lead me to write my books. They bring me great joy. And I have such love and affection for a husband who was so willing to try this strange request his wife brought to him. Yes, yes, yes – everything is better because we tried.

 

So if you are a spanko, please come out and tell your partner. Go in with the understanding that it probably won’t last your whole life – but boy, it will be great while you're trying. And you never know, it could last for months, years or even a lifetime. Just know that the trying is worth it!

 

A wonderful New Beginning 

Fantasy Friday - Another Chance, part seven

It's been quite a week and I think it's a good time to leave reality and go for a Fantasy Friday.

Sadly, this is the end of Annie's story, at least until we can beg, bully, cajole, or twist her arm to continue. I wouldn't want Bill as my husband any more than I'd want Tom - but there is still something that draws me to him and the story. You can you can find parts one, two , three,  four, five and six here.

Please enjoy...

Another Chance

Chapter 7

“Do you have an answer for me or do I need to start over?” Bill barked.

Sylvia jumped, startled out of her misery by the harsh tone of his voice.

“I am so sorry, honey.  I don’t have an answer.  I don’t know why I try to hide things from you, I really don’t.”

“Then you are stuck with my answer.  You do it because you want me to punish you.”

He pulled her from the corner and turned her to the light so he could inspect her bottom. It was a hot, red mess.  Welts from the strap crisscrossed to her knees.  Sitting through a three hour family dinner must have been difficult, but the kids fussing over how her “sciatica” was acting up surely helped. 

“On the bed, on your back, pull your legs up so I can see if we’re done for the night.”

Whimpering, she hurried to comply, spreading herself open and praying he was satisfied.  There was more coming, once he promised it there was no getting out of it, but not tonight.  Tonight she was exhausted, physically and emotionally.  Bill poked and pinched, making her hiss, before landing a sharp swat to one cheek and ordering her to get ready for bed.  Grateful for the reprieve, Sylvia ran to the bathroom as fast as her scalded rear allowed.

Bill sat in the darkened room watching his wife sleep.  She was a smart, beautiful woman, far too smart to keep making the same mistakes.  Whether she admitted it, or he wanted to believe it, he had hit the nail on the head earlier.  She did it because she wanted, no, needed to be punished.  For the first time it began to come together.  Sylvia had always had a reckless streak, and had always fought against any attempts to settle her down.  Maybe she needed to be safe enough to fight against her own needs.  Bill felt like an idiot, late to the party again.  She might not have words for this, but she had been behaving loud and clear their whole marriage.  He just wasn’t listening.  He had been so busy telling her what to feel he had failed them both.  Bill sighed and pulled himself out of the chair, wincing at the ache in his back and shoulder.  She would never believe it, but a punishment like this was as hard on him as it was on her, both physically and emotionally.  Sighing again he climbed into bed with his wife and tried to forget about the unsolved issues lingering between them.

The next day was a reprieve for both of them physically, as they battled their emotions and memories through the biopsy.  Careful of the small bandage on her breast, and certain to end each evening holding her tightly, Bill kept their fears at bay by fulfilling his promise of six days of punishment.  No matter how his resolve wavered at the sight of her welted bottom, or how frightened he was of losing her, he strapped her to exhaustion.  Ending each session with the rubber spatula she hated, her gulping sobs nearly breaking his heart.  Yet each day she was calmer, steadier, leaning in to him as if to comfort them both.  By the end of the week she was glowing.  At peace in a way he had never dreamed possible.  Bill spent hours holding her, watching her sleep, and wrestling with demons of his own.  It was clear to him that the failures in their marriage lay at his feet.

Growing up in the 1940’s and 50’s there was a clear set of rules for men regarding how to treat a woman.  Men spanked their children and their wives, to make a point, to enforce rules, to maintain order.  It was a brief, somewhat painful, flurry with hand or belt that was clearly demonstrated in yards, parks, and even on TV.  It was nothing like the brutal punishments Sylvia endured at his hands.  Certainly it was never portrayed as the intense pain/sex connection she seemed to feel, or the desperate need she had to reconnect with him afterward.  Looking back on their marriage Bill was shocked at the progression her punishments had taken.  He would never dream of inflicting that level of pain on her for his own needs, but it was clear he was shortchanging her needs with his idea of what was acceptable.  It was also clear that ship had sailed, he was far into uncomfortable territory long before this.

In the wee hours of the final morning Bill devised a plan; a starting point for the next chapter of their life together.  He had spent years failing to meet her needs, leaving her to fight for his attention.  Now, he intended to make up for that by giving her maybe a little more than she bargained for.  Keep her off balance, keep her backside tender, and keep her attention on him instead of mischief.  All they needed was another chance, a clean bill of health to start their cross-country sightseeing and spanking tour.

The call came while Sylvia was in the shower, giving Bill a chance to process his emotions and pour champagne.  He met his wife coming out of the shower with a soft robe, a glass of bubbly, and the good news.  Just a cyst.  After the crying, laughing and toasting he led her to bed to celebrate.

Sylvia was busy packing and sorting, trying to figure out what would be needed as well as what else could be crammed into the woefully small closets in the new RV.  A slight, lingering soreness as she stretched and bent kept a smile on her face.  The week of punishment was awful, he pushed her past her limits every single day of it, but, she had to admit she also loved knowing he loved her enough to keep his word.  Now she just needed to get him to the middle ground; some punishment, sure, and more often, but that strap and that spatula needed to go.  In fact, there clearly was a space issue on that RV, no way would those two make the cut.  Satisfied with herself, Sylvia hummed along with the radio, wondering what else needed to be forgotten while packing.

Bill let things ride, caught up in the flurry of details involved in his retirement and getting ready to head out on their inaugural voyage.  There was plenty of time.  He wanted to be certain her biopsy site and her bottom were completely healed before he started the new plan.  Finding the strap and spatula hidden in the bottom of the toy box after she “packed” them made him laugh out loud.  Staying one step ahead of Sylvia was going to keep him too busy to miss work.

On a bright fall day they waved goodbye to the family and drove off on their grand adventure.  First stop was the cabin for a final stay before winterizing it and locking up.  It was perfect for Bill’s plan, bringing them full circle to the place where it all started so many years before.

After unpacking, making the bed, and a simple dinner together they snuggled on the porch and watched to sunset over the lake.  Once twilight settled Bill started his story.

“Do you remember that old Triumph I had in high school?”

“The one that was always breaking down?  Sure I do.” Laughed Sylvia.

“That car was like a woman.” Bill said, smiling at the indignant snort from his wife.  “She was never willing to do her job unless I coaxed and pleaded, she made sure I put my hands on her, fiddled with her, kept her ahead of everything else.”

“I thought when I got such a deal on that convertible that it would be a babe magnet when I got her running.  I had no idea she was the babe and I would never have time for other girls if I wanted her to run.”

“I used to have a picture of Kay and me sitting up on the back of that red devil, we looked hot, but I was too smart to ride in that thing.  Kay was always getting stranded with no ride because you never made it to get her.”  Sylvia snuggled a little tighter and giggled, “I wouldn’t have put up with that for a minute.  That car would have been long gone.”

“And that brings me to what I want to discuss.”

“You’re getting a TR3 for your midlife crisis?”

“I already have one, you.  You are just like that car.  If I let you get to thinking, or don’t have my hands on you long enough, or hard enough, you run off the rails and leave me stranded not knowing what went wrong.”

“Well, I am not flattered to be compared to an old rusted out bucket of bolts that rarely started, sucked all of your time and money and ended up not worth the effort.” Sylvia huffed, ready to work up to a full on temper at the notion she was anything like that damn old car.

Bill pulled her tight against his side until she stopped pulling away and kissed her, long and deep, like he meant it to lead somewhere.  As soon as she softened against him, confirming he was on the right path, he went on with his story.

“I learned quite a bit from that car.  Looks aren’t everything, for starters.  And it is past time I used what I learned.  You, my love, are just like a shinier, brighter and smarter TR3.  You need my hands on you, you want me to set the boundaries, and you need me to be strong enough to hold them no matter how hard you test them.”  Bill waited to see if there would be another outburst but he had her attention now.

“I will be the first to admit that the shortcomings in our marriage are mine.  I am an idiot who refused to consider you might need things that I didn’t feel comfortable with.  You have done an excellent job helping me, showing me that whatever we want to do together is okay.  It has been hard for me, going through the biopsy scare, and especially the punishments at the same time.  But, it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

Pausing to drink a little wine and order his thoughts, Bill plowed on.

“I was so worried about some of the things we do together being too much, that they crossed the line into abuse that I let you wander off too far, too often.  You do need my limits, my attention and my punishments.  And I need you to be happy and feel safe.  Thinking that I might lose you scared me out of the safe zone and made me see how we need to change things so we can both have what we need.”

“Oh, darling, I am so happy you can see how much I need you, how I need your time and attention.  This early retirement is the very best present ever.”

“You left out needing to be punished.”

“What? Oh, sweetie, I certainly love when you spank me, nothing gets my motor running faster than feeling your hand warming my bottom.”

“I’m not talking about the slap and tickle when we are making love.  I mean the butt busting, sobbing, no doubt who is in charge punishments that you so clearly need to function as the sweet wife you are after said punishments.”  Bill growled.

“Wait just a minute now, I hate those punishments, they are awful, and…and brutal, and I never want to have another one, do you hear me, William?”  Sylvia bristled like a cat caught in the rain, indignant at his acting like she wanted that.

“My point exactly.  Those punishments are terrible for both of us.  I don’t want to ever go through what we did last week again.  In fact, I intend to make sure we don’t.”   Bill settled in for the hard part, and steeled himself for the outrage that was coming.

“I also have no doubt that you truly do need much more discipline that I have been giving you.  Therefore I have devised a plan.  This is non-negotiable; we will follow my plan for the next month, after 30 days we can talk about how it is working and whether we need to add to it.”

“You can’t just decide something like this all by yourself!” Sylvia sputtered.

“In fact, I can.  You are happiest when I take charge, not just in bed, but everywhere else, too.  That is a fact.  What is also a fact is that you are happier after a punishment than any other time.  You may not enjoy the strapping, and I know you don’t enjoy that little spatula, but for weeks after a punishment you walk around sweet and glowing like a new bride.”

“Now, I am not saying you need what you got last week every time, but I know you need much more than you have been getting from me, and I intend to correct that.  For the next month I am going to spank you every day.  This is non-negotiable so don’t start whining or you will end up with a punishment added.”  He gave her a minute to settle and continued.

“Most days it will be a hand spanking, nothing serious but enough to make you feel it.  Some days I might split it into two smaller sessions.  But, at least once a week we will have a reminder session with the strap and spatula, not a full punishment but a shorter version to help you remember to be honest.”

 “You bastard, you just want to beat me for no reason.”

Bill cut the expected shriek off by jerking his furious wife across his lap and spanking her hard enough to get her attention even through her pants.  Setting her on her feet he pushed her toward the door.

“Go inside, take off your clothes, put the strap and the spatula on the bed, and wait for me in the corner.  DO NOT make me repeat myself or you will get double what I have already decided on.”

Bill struggled not to laugh out loud at the way she stomped off to carry out his directions, and wondered what the story would be for the missing items.  He gave her ten minutes to think about it and wandered into the cabin.

Standing in the corner, shivering in dread of what was coming, she looked like a little girl.  There was barely a blush of pink on her backside; he would send her back to the corner with a red hot bottom several times before they were done.  He loved the stages she went through.  Lost little girl, trying to make him feel sorry for her, red hot mama ready to fuck him anyway he could imagine and a few he couldn’t, rebel who couldn’t be broken by something as silly as a spanking, and finally, repentant wife resigned to her fate. He intended to see them all.

“Where is the strap and spatula?”

“Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry, but there, well you know I am used to a full house and then, of course, the biopsy, and”

“ENOUGH! I told you to put them on the bed.  We’ll start with the paddle and see if you want to be obedient after I am finished with it.”

“No wait, sweetheart, I will explain, honest, just give me a minute.”

Bill jerked her out of the corner, deaf to her pleas, sat on the bed, pulled her across his lap and started off with a very hard volley with a little maple paddle he had placed in his back pocket.  It was the perfect size to get her started, it stung like a swarm of bees but was fairly light and thin, safe to use down the backs of her thighs while she screeched.  Once she was bright red and reduced to crying, he sent her back to the corner to think about her answers.  This time he enjoyed the view and her wiggling along with a glass of wine.  Calling her to him, he positioned her between his legs and laughed out loud when she sank to her knees and grabbed his belt, desperate to divert his attention.

“You can do that if you really want to, but it isn’t what I asked for so there will be consequences added to what you have already earned.”

He laughed again when she dropped her hands like a shot, and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Just stay there, on your knees, I like that, makes it seem like you are really listening to me.  Last chance, so be smart.  Where are the strap and spatula?”

“At home.”

“Did I ask you to pack them?”

“Yeah.” Mumbled softly.

“So how did they get left at home?  And tread very carefully here.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ah, baby, why do you lie to me?  You know what is coming, you know exactly how this ends, and you prove my point.  You may not want this, but you do need it.  I thought you might have difficulty packing those so I bought some backups.  They won’t be as soft and broken in, but you deserve what you get for thinking you could slide this by me.  Go get the new ones out of my dresser and put them on the bed.”

The debate raged across her face, to fight or surrender, finally she slowly stood and made her way to his dresser.  The new strap was shorter, with a handle, making it possible to use OTK, but the leather was stiff.  The spatula was identical to the old one, but bright red in color.  She tossed them on the bed and looked to him.

“Get back in the corner and think about the apology you owe me while I drink my wine.”

She stormed to the corner, stomping her bare feet, the naked rebel in full swing.  He gave her a full thirty minutes this time to cool her temper.  He knew it must have felt like hours to her, and her attitude clearly was shifting when he call her to him for the last time.  Without a word he guided her across his lap and paddled her hard and fast, making certain there was no chance for her to acclimate to the blows.  With no warning he switched to the new strap, easily raising welted lines across her already crimson skin and reducing her begging to incoherent howls. 

“We would be finished with this now, just a sample so you would know what it felt like and how hard you might want to work to avoid a full punishment.  I gave you several chances and yet here we are, again.  I think we’ll spend a few minutes exploring this before we move on to the spatula.”

Without further comment Bill laid into her with a steady pace.  He liked the new style with a handle; it was much easier on his shoulder and seemed to be making a deep impression on his wife.

“Let’s move on, scoot over to the edge of the bed, on your back, and get those legs up nice and high.”

The spatula was pure torment, striking such tender skin over and over until she was limp and exhausted.  Tossing it aside he finished with his hand, to drive the point home.  Pulling her onto his lap he held her as she sobbed her apologies, rubbing her back and marveling at how needy she was for his touch.

“That was much more than I intended, and it was your decision to turn it into a punishment.  This proves that my plan is sound.  You need to spend more time over my lap.  You need to do a lot more crying.  You need to know I will give you what you need, not just what you want.  And I need to know you are getting all of those things.”

Helping her into her nightgown Bill settled her on her stomach and got out the lotion.

“You better let me rub this in.  Tomorrow is a spanking day.”

The teary smile she gave him, and the way she moaned and pushed against his hand settled any lingering doubt he might have had.  

It was going to be a very interesting 30 days.

~o0o~

Awwww... somehow that is so satisfying to me.  Annie we can't thank you enough for this story.  I will think of Bill and Sylvia out there touring the country, loving and spanking.  They have become pretty real for me. Oh, and by the way - Annie sent the picture of the car for me to use... Makes me wonder just how much of this IS fiction.

Next week we have a brand new story from a friend of mine. She sent it not long after I began posting this multi-part story from Annie so she's had to wait a while for it to be up. I hope you'll be back.

Fall's here and that's a good time to fantasize.  Let your mind roam over the fantasies in your head and write one up.  Send those stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Please!

 

I'm ready

I’m trying to calm my mood for tomorrow. I’ll probably be up all tomorrow night watching the news – even though I know fully well my answer won’t be available then. I just can’t help myself. 

 

 

So I’m spending today looking at calming picture.

 

 

Cute pictures.

 

 

Pictures I chose for myself and got exactly what I wanted.

 

 

I'm ready for peace and quiet and dignity and beauty.

I’m ready to take a deep breath and pray for the best.