Paul and Donna are happily married. Maybe their marriage isn't the hot, pulsing sex romp it was when they first said their I dos on the beach so long ago, but it's safe, dependable. Boring.
Donna, ever the bookish librarian, spends time playing online puzzle and word games. Paul's work in the military weapons development industry requires that his computer remain safe and virus free. State secrets are at stake. That's why his lovely, but sometimes naughty wife is forbidden from playing her games on it.
Ignoring his instructions once too often, the inevitable happens and she infects his computer with an internet virus. Understanding the depth of her mistake and willing to do almost anything to atone for her sins, she accepts a spanking as punishment. Despite the pain, and much to her surprise, she finds the whole ritual exciting, awakening feelings that have lay dormant for years.
Much to his chagrin, Paul feels the same way and after they both confide in a close friend, Peta. Peta then puts into motion a chain of events destined to change forever the tenor of their lives.
Paul walked through the front door and marched back into the living room. I had heard the door open and stood facing him, my face streaked with tears, my eyes red. I was still genuinely contrite and I looked up at him with that ‘I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you’ look in my eyes.
“I’ve decided you are going to get a good old fashioned spanking. I’ll give you ten minutes to think about it. When I return you’d better be on your knees waiting for me.”
I looked at him aghast, my eyes opening wide, my jaw dropping open but no words came out. He turned and left, walking back out into the garden. I watched him pace back and forth while I wondered what to do.
What if he returned and found me standing in the same place I was when he left, defying him? What if I was actually kneeling? What would he do? How would he spank me? How many times would he spank me before it crossed the boundary and became abuse?
The first five minutes disappeared in a flash. What was I going to do? I didn’t want to be spanked or physically hurt by him in any way. Maybe it was just a threat to see how I would respond. Maybe he wanted me to beg and grovel. Maybe he wanted to face me down and get something else out of the confrontation. I wanted to talk with someone I could trust. I wanted to rationalize the whole thing before making a decision. Dang! There was no time.
All too soon, he walked through the door and there I was, kneeling with my head bowed, eyes closed, hands clasped behind my back in an effort to control my trembling. I had stripped down all the way to a skin-toned matching set of satin and lace bra and panties. When had I last worn them for him? They were always some of his favorites. Would they help or hinder my case? They certainly weren’t what I usually wore around the house. I waited, knowing that whatever he did, it could not, in a million years, make up for the damage I had done.
If I was to go over his knee he would need a chair to sit on so, acting on auto-pilot, I had placed a dining chair in the middle of the room.
“Right. Let me explain why you are receiving this spanking,” he said as he did his best impression of a school principal.
I found his tone and his words exciting but scary in equal amounts. It kind of reminded me of that feeling I had when Peta had talked about putting me over her knee. I turned timidly, my head bowed and my hands behind my back. “Yes, sir,” I whispered. All of a sudden I needed a bathroom. Was it a genuine need or was it arousal? My panties were wet but I wasn’t sure what had caused it. Would he notice?
“Your refusal to listen to me when I told you not to use my computer to download and play your games has possibly cost me the best part of three months' work. The virus you downloaded has wiped my hard drive and we are still trying to determine if it got through the firewalls at work. If it did, there will be a whole new level of hurt that my company may not recover from. I can’t even tell you how disappointed I am.”
Tears were flowing freely from my eyes, running down my cheeks and dropping onto the floor. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “I promise it will never happen again.”
My usual response was to go on the offensive but this time I was genuinely sorry. It was definitely not the time for that strategy. I had no intention of trying to play on his sympathy and I figured it would have had the opposite effect if I tried.
“Come and put yourself over my knee.”
I moved demurely towards him, all the while hiccupping with the strength of my sobs. My husband was about to punish me like I was a misbehaved school girl. My god! My body was reacting. I could feel it – fear mixed with arousal. My nipples were forcing themselves out against my bra, my panties were moist, and as I draped myself across his lap, I felt his cock harden. Holy cow. He was excited, too.
“This is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.”
“I doubt it,” I replied between sobs.
Draped across his knees, my fingertips pressed against the floor for balance. My toes only just reached the floor on the other side of the chair and my hamstrings and calves were stretched tightly leaving my glutes ripe for his picking, or spanking as it were.
One hand came down on my back to hold me still before his other crashed against one of my exposed butt cheeks, and then the other. Okay, this hurt.
I was determined not to respond. I stifled my sobs and bit my bottom lip as I stared at the floorboards with quiet resolve. Then I felt two more, harder this time, on each cheek. I couldn’t help but react, my body stiffened and a most unladylike grunt burst past my lips.
The spanking continued. Counting didn't really distract me, mostly it focused me on how it much hurt. I really didn't want to know how many times he smacked me anyway. My stoic silence continued until the final two blows. They were the hardest yet. I yelped and my feet lost touch with the floor. He paused, tenderly caressing my butt.
Right, that wasn't much fun, but could have been worse. Surely he would have to give me more than this, I thought, as my butt lifted slightly in a silent request. He moved one side of my panties into the crease of my butt.
“Hmm. Your exposed skin is taking on a delightful pink hue and is warming up nicely. But too much rest of it remains cool and white. That will never do.”
Once he'd exposed my other cheek, he rubbed both of them before sliding his hand over the gusset of my panties. Now he'd know. He was a smart man. The wetness there wouldn't be lost on him. The silk of my panties slid, spreading the lubricating juices around. Oh, goodness, that felt good. Wait. What?
As he withdrew his hand I squirmed and thrust my hips upwards, yearning to feel more of his touch. Despite his anger, his efforts at punishing me were turning me on. Sliding me onto the floor on my knees, he said, “Don’t move. We haven’t finished yet.”
“No sir… I mean yes, sir… I mean I won’t move.” As my fingers slid across his lap, they left a feather light touch on his raging hard on before I bowed my head and put my hands back behind me. He got up and turned away from me. He was probably walking around to get the circulation back into his thighs or maybe he was trying to ease the discomfort of his erection. Either way, it was pretty difficult to take him seriously with Mr. Woody trying to stab me every time we moved.
He re-entered the room. “Drape yourself over the end of the settee. We’re going to continue.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied as I scurried across the floor and took up my position. I knew I was in trouble, but I was really liking this new side of my husband. What a turn on!
With each step he took towards me, the wood floor vibrated, sending a tingling sensation from the bottoms of my feet up to my pussy. With one hand on my back he started spanking me again, landing three quick blows on each cheek. They were harder than before, but I didn’t move. He stroked his hand over my rapidly warming skin. Oh, that felt good! But, he wasn't finished yet. The warm tenderness was replaced by another hard swat. The shock of alternating from tenderness to pain caused me to cry out. Still, I was raising my butt to meet each blow.
“Maybe I should get a hairbrush or a paddle,” he said. "It seems that you are enjoying yourself far too much. This is a punishment, not a party!"
“Yes, sir. If you think you must,” I replied. My voice sounded dreamy and far away to me.
This wasn’t going the way either of us intended and I wondered if I should have responded differently. But how?
“You will receive six more. Three on each side and then we’ll be done.”
No response. What could I say? Please sir, don’t stop until I tell you to?
He didn't hold back on the final blows. I no longer raised my butt to meet his hand. I actively tried to avoid it. But he held me solidly against the back of the settee until he was finished. Until we were both finished and I was sobbing softly. He took me in his arms, soothing me and telling me he forgave me. I let him comfort me, feeling closer to him than I had for a long, long time.