Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Rick
I stopped spanking my darling bride’s naughty backside for a moment.
“Your real punishment doesn’t start until you take down your jeans and panties for me, Dee,” I said, not really knowing where the words came from but also knowing they were the right ones. “A wife’s lessons should be on the bare. Yours always will be, anyway.”
I wasn’t sure why the way Mandy squirmed, when she heard this news, made me so very certain that I had done the right thing by bringing her here and putting her over my knee. Something about how the movement seemed not so much designed actually to escape as to suggest that she wanted to get away without really doing it, maybe.
What had taken me by surprise, more than anything else that had happened in the New Modesty airport lounge, was how few doubts I had experienced. From the moment I had started the car back up and pulled away from the curb for the drive to the airport, I had known that I would probably have to spank Mandy within the next few hours. It had happened much sooner than I had expected, thanks to the chain reaction created by the Franklins.
I had experienced a moment’s hesitation, I supposed, when it had become clear that Mandy’s attention was fixed on the fate of Heather Franklin’s backside. Almost immediately, though, I had decided that Heather and John, people I had never met but who seemed to share some of our challenges, had done us an enormous favor. The Franklins’ embarrassing, arousing little scene—just like Scott and April’s inadvertent couples therapy of Mandy and me—had moved us along, very firmly, toward the kind of marriage we needed. Or at least the kind I felt certain we needed to try.
Much, much better, I thought, for my wonderful, confused bride to get on the flight to Chicago with an already sore bottom, to help her think things through. This way, she would have a concrete reference point for the offer I had decided I had no choice but to make: live by my rules and truly be my wife, fulfilling all her conjugal duties, or end it, as painful as that seemed, so that we could both get on with our lives.
“Forget it!” Mandy said, right after the squirm that told me I had done exactly the right thing in bringing her to this little room for her first lesson in obedience. The squirm must have told her something too, I thought: that she had no chance of escape. Her response to that discovery seemed to me to bring something new to the heady mixture of this first marital discipline session: I heard in that Forget it! the bratty tone I knew lurked inside my usually quiet and even demure bride.
I remembered the thing Scott had told me that morning—the one that had made the deepest impression.
“If my and April’s experience is anything like yours, there are things Mandy can’t show you yet, because even though she thinks she trusts you, she can’t, yet, really. Tough as it’s going to be at times, you need to show her how firm a hand you’ll use, to help her be the woman she really longs to be. There’s a brat in there somewhere; I saw it in her eyes last night.”
I had heard it only once, during our courtship. I hadn’t known what to make of it. After pizza with my roommates one Friday night, I had suggested we go to my room. I had gotten horny, to be absolutely honest, just watching her eat. Her self-conscious glances over at me, as if she wanted to see whether I approved of the way she folded her cheese slice, and the little quirk of her mouth as she caught me looking at her… they had made me want to kiss that mouth—and to do a great deal more.
I had murmured the suggestion into my future bride’s ear, and I had watched a strange look come over her face. A conflict seemed to break out in her eyes as she turned to look at me; a blush came into her cheeks and she bit her lower lip gently. I had thought she might even get up from the table, take my hand, and lead me to my bedroom. I had even wondered if Mandy might actually say yes when I asked if she felt ready for sex.
Then her face had changed. Her mouth had twisted to the side in an unmistakable attitude of skepticism. She had shaken her head, but the keen look in her eyes seemed, for just a moment, to say Make me. She had said—I suddenly remembered this detail, there in the private room with her upended over my knee for a spanking—Forget it.
I started to spank her delicious, impudent backside anew. Three hard smacks to the middle of the seat of her jeans.