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A Spanked Wife By Drea DeMarra, D/s spanking 

As she waits for her husband to discover her latest traffic violation – and deliver the punishment that’s sure to follow – Jennifer recalls her first spanking from the man who would become her husband. 

Copyrighted © 2010 by Drea DeMarra, All Rights Reserved. Not for sale. Not a part of a PF title.

“Oh shit” was all she could say.  “Oh shit, oh shit oh shit”.  No one was in the kitchen when Jennifer opened the official looking envelope and read about the place she’d be spending several evenings in the next month.  It was not a place she wanted to visit.  It was not a place she wanted to tell her husband about.  And it most definitely was not a place she wanted to be sporting a red, throbbing bottom and squirming around on an uncomfortable chair.  But unfortunately for Jennifer, what she wanted and what was to come were polar opposites.  If she ever wanted to drive again, she’d be going to traffic school this month.  And if she ever wanted to sit down again, she’d be swallowing her fear and confessing to her husband pronto. 

The only problem was – where to begin her confession.  He already knew about the first ticket, and unlike the officer who had pulled her over, her husband had let her off with a warning – a very stern warning, making it dismally clear what would happen if she didn’t learn to obey the speed limits. 

Sadly, that warning wasn’t enough to slow her down, and over the past months, she had gotten and hidden four other speeding violations.  She had become adept at hiding her dangerous habit.  With the chickens home to roost at last, she was just sick about it, and her stomach clenched at the thought of how disappointed Jeff would be.  Disappointed and angry, a particularly painful combination…for her that is.

How had she ever let herself get into this mess?  Jennifer looked around her tidy kitchen, and realized what a great life she had – a husband who loved her, a great house, a promising career, a fantastic sex life, good friends, close family.   From the breakfast nook where she sat, she could see mementos of her life with Jeff staring back at her.  Like that photo of them up on top of Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire, the wind nearly knocking her down, her hair whipping, the tip of her nose red from the cold and Jeff’s strong arms holding her tight, grounding her, as they both smiled for the photographer – a fellow hiker they met at the summit. That was a great trip.  Jeff was an accomplished hiker, and she was a beginner, but he put up with her frequent calls for rest, gave her the extra water bottle, stood guard when she went to pee in the woods and carried more than his share of the provisions.  She remembered walking a little behind him, listening to the crunch of their boots on the forest floor, watching him track the terrain for both of them.  She would stare at his legs, loving the way his thigh muscles swelled under his tan hiking shorts on the uphill climb. The visible signs of his exertion excited her and inspired her to keep up with him.  She so wanted him to be proud of her. 

With that thought, she came crashing down from the mountain, realizing how far from proud he would be when he found out about her deception.  She glanced at the wall clock and saw that he would be home in an hour – a long agonizing hour during which she would simply sit here and rehearse for the big event, the “Fall of Jennifer”, opening tonight and sure to have a long, long, run.

As she sat at the oak table, she tried to concentrate on what she might say, but her mind kept drifting to the notion of Consequences.  Jeff was very big on Consequences, along with Taking Responsibility For Your Actions and Making Better Choices In The Future.  Though they hadn’t even been married a year yet, these were already mantras in this house, but right now, Jennifer was kind of stuck on the Consequences piece.  Frankly, she was a bit terrified.  She had never been in this much trouble before with Jeff, caught in a web of multiple lies. The few times he had been really disappointed in her, it broke her heart to watch his normally cheerful face collapse into a frown, his eyes seeming to fade from sunlit emerald to stormy jade as his brow furrowed over them and his lips set in a line.  It was not a look that ever bode well for Jennifer, and whenever she saw it, she wanted nothing more than to whisk it away with her usual lighthearted banter.  But only her heartfelt repentance would restore his sweet temperament, and the path of the penitent was usually long and painful. 

Oddly, as much as she regretted being a spanked wife at the moment, this was the dynamic that they had fallen into from the very beginning of their relationship, as naturally as could be.  Jeff had made his expectations clear from the start, and she had found his commanding nature extremely stimulating, to say the least.  She thought back to their first meeting as adults, that is, after she graduated from high school and was no longer a student of his.            

As her mind drifted, she was transported to the local coffee shop where she and her friends had wasted many a happy hour.  The sound of Jeff’s voice filled her head as clearly as if he were in the room with her.    

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Cady.  Home from college so early?”

Jennifer had looked up from her double caramel mocha skim milk latte to see Jeff Howard – Mr. Howard, her high school English teacher.  Her unbelievably gorgeous should-have-been-a-movie-star English teacher.  And not the person she wanted to run into today.  It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving and she was home early for the holiday break, home in disgrace, failing English of all subjects, and working on an extra credit paper that her professor had assigned as her last chance of getting a passing grade.  So far, it was a bust.  In the two hours she had been sitting in the coffee shop enjoying free Wi-Fi, she had spent one hour on Facebook gossiping with old friends, another ½ hour surfing the net for good prices on designer jeans and a mere ½ hour googling the life and times of Louisa May Alcott, the subject of her paper.

“Hi Mr. Howard,” she said more cheerfully than she felt.  “I finished mid-terms early, and I’m home doing some extra work.”

She wasn’t in the mood for true confessions at that moment, but something about her former teacher’s look made her stutter a little and add “I’m not doing too well in English, and I’m working on an extra credit project.”

“You know, Jennifer, I always thought you were a very bright young lady who lacked the discipline to do your best.  You got a C from me, didn’t you?”

She couldn’t believe he remembered that.  She was a college senior, and had graduated high school almost four years ago.  Wow, she never knew her mediocre performance would be so memorable.  That wasn’t really how she wanted to be remembered, and she just looked up at him without answering.  He laughed at her obvious discomfort, and took her silence for assent. 

“I’ll tell you what,” he said.  “If you want me to, I’ll help you get going on this paper.  But, I’m warning you, if you sit around wasting time like you’ve obviously been doing, I just might have to give you a good old fashioned spanking.  Where discipline is lacking, a few well placed smacks can be very motivating.”

Jennifer couldn’t believe what he was saying.  Clearly, that was his idea of a joke, but instead of laughing, she wiggled around self-consciously, feeling an unexpected surge of arousal between her legs.  It made her blush, and Mr. Howard smiled at her, beaming perfect teeth and waiting for a reply.

“Uh, ok, I mean, that would be nice.  I mean the helping part, not…you know…not the other thing.” 

Jennifer felt ridiculous, tripping over her words, but all Mr. Howard did was write down his address and number in her open notebook and tell her to come by around 6pm.

 “You have four hours to get a rough outline written for me to review.  That’s not much time, so get busy.  And call me Jeff,”  he said as he headed for the door.

Jennifer tried to formulate her outline, she really did, but the task was made all the more difficult when three buddies came into the coffee shop, also home a few days early from college, and the four girlfriends got down to the serious business of discussing boyfriends, break-ups and parties.  They all left the shop to wander around town together catching up on old times, when suddenly Jennifer heard a clock chiming 6pm and she hurried back to her car.

She showed up at Jeff’s apartment at 6:30.  He opened the door, looking happy to see her, and he invited her in to sit at the dining room table.  He poured her some ice tea.  It was home brewed and delicious, and they made small talk for a few minutes before he interjected.

“OK, let’s get to work.  Where’s the outline?”

Jennifer was prepared.  She said “Well, I really tried to come up with one, but I’m having trouble structuring the paper, you know, coming up with outline topics.  I was hoping you might help me with that.”

Jeff stared at her for a few moments, a few long moments, and under his penetrating gaze, Jennifer’s bravado suddenly deserted her.  She looked down, feeling that he was reading her mind, that he knew exactly how she had spent the afternoon.

“So, in other words, you got no work done, and you’re half an hour late to boot.  Does that about sum it up?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess it does,” Jennifer tried to strike a light tone, but Jeff wasn’t smiling.

“Well Jennifer,” he said pointedly “since you didn’t bring me any work to review, I can only assume that you came here for the spanking I promised you.  Is that right?”

“A spanking?”  Jennifer felt color rising to her face.  “No, I came here to work, you know, to get some help, like you said.”

“Actually, what I said was that you should bring me an outline to look at and that if you wasted any more time, I’d have to spank you.  And here you are, no outline and a pitiful cover story.  I know you didn’t think I was going to do the work for you, right?  So, clearly, a spanking it is.  Come over here.”

Jeff had always been able to control his class with a few well chosen words, never loud but always convincing.  It was that tone.  When he spoke so firmly, there was no room for argument, and he was using that tone with Jennifer.  She looked at him and her stomach knotted up.  He must be right, she thought.  What else could I have been expecting, coming over here without any work done?  I remember what he was like in high school, no nonsense and a man of his word.  I must have come here to be spanked, just like he said.  What is wrong with me?

Jeff didn’t repeat himself.  He just stared at Jennifer as she tried to parse her feelings.   As the silence between them deepened, Jennifer made a decision.  How bad can it be, she figured.  And she had to admit to herself that she was intrigued.  She slowly got up and walked around the table to Jeff.  She was wearing a woolen tartan plaid skirt with black stretch cotton pantyhose to keep her legs warm in the chilly fall air.  She had a cream colored rayon button down blouse, tucked into her skirt.  The whole ensemble made her look younger than her 21 years, and she could see Jeff appraising her as she stood next to him. Abruptly, he pushed his chair out, reached over to her and pulled her down over his lap.

She gasped at finding herself upside down staring at the carpet.  Somehow, when he said “spanking,” she didn’t quite envision being over his knee.  It was so…so intimate and embarrassing.   Her hands felt the nap of the pretty Oriental rug with designs that made her a little dizzy from her current angle.  She winced as Jeff adjusted her position, moving her onto his left thigh and using his right leg to pinion her in place.  She went from standing on her own two feet to being totally helpless in about two seconds.  He seemed quite adept at moving a woman’s rear into the perfect “spank me” position.  Jennifer was suddenly afraid, and felt that she had to get out of this situation right away.

“I’m really sorry Mr. Howard.”  She just couldn’t bring herself to use his first name at a time like this. “I don’t know what happened.  I’ll just go home and get to work, really, I won’t waste any more of your time.”  

He laughed, though not unkindly.

 “I’m sure you’re sorry, young lady.  The position you’re in often inspires regret, but unfortunately, the regret you’re feeling now is a direct result of this affront to your dignity.  When we’re done, you’ll be truly sorry – sorry that you’re throwing away your talent and brains and indulging childish impulses.  It’s time to grow up Jennifer, and it starts here.”

With that, Jeff pulled her shirt out of the skirt waistband, lifted the shirt and the skirt and started smacking her bottom sharply.  She cried out, at first more in surprise than pain.  She could feel the sting of his hard hand through her hose and panties, and it was an unfamiliar (but, she had to admit, not entirely unwelcome) feeling.  Jeff continued, bringing his hand down on each cheek with a loud “thwack”, covering slightly different territory each time.  Jennifer started wiggling around as the pain became more pronounced with repeated blows.  He kept up a steady beat for about five minutes, and Jennifer was just starting to utter an occasional “OUCH”, when the blows stopped.  Jennifer gave a sigh of relief – that wasn’t too bad at all, and maybe he’d help her with her work now that this awkward interlude was done.  She tried to lift herself up, but found that Jeff was still pinning her between his legs. 

“Aren’t  we done here?” she asked, pushing up with her hands and throwing her body out of position. “I said I was sorry.  What more do you want?”

“Jennifer, we’ve hardly begun.”

Jennifer’s heart sank, but she tried once more.

“Please let me up.  I’ve learned my lesson, really.  You’re starting to hurt me.”

“That’s the point, silly girl.  Spankings hurt; they’re supposed to.  Now we’re going to discuss some rules before I start again.  Your job is to keep your position.  If you don’t, you’ll get a longer and more severe spanking.  Especially your hands – don’t try to cover your bottom.   It’s a dangerous habit.  Hands aren’t nearly as resilient as rear ends, and could get damaged.  Is that clear?”

He punctuated his question with several hard smacks, which on her already stinging cheeks, made his point convincingly.  

 “Yes,” she called out to make him stop.

“Yes what?” he asked her, increasing the strength of the blows.

“Yes SIR!” she practically shouted, her instinct for survival driving her actions.  She was getting a clear picture of how this was going to go, and she resolved not to antagonize him from her disadvantaged position.

Jennifer gasped as she felt him pulling down her cotton hose, reaching under her belly and then around her rear, rolling the black pantyhose down slowly until they just cleared her reddening cheeks.  She moaned, “please don’t, please,” but he persisted.   As if this indignity wasn’t enough, he tugged at the top of her white panties, and she whimpered as she felt the center of the panties lodge in her crack, like a thong, leaving her cheeks exposed and vulnerable.

 “What are you doing?” she asked, and she tried in earnest to escape him, only to be met by several hard and fast smacks which quickly stilled her.  His smacks said it louder than words – she wasn’t going anywhere, not until he let her up. 

Jeff started whaling on her bare rear end, much harder than before, aiming for the lower half of her bottom, hitting each cheek with no particular pattern.  Sometimes, he levied a continuous hard volley on one cheek, other times he’d slow down and alternate.  Jennifer felt her eyes tear as her ass heated up rapidly.  She felt like it was on fire, the burning was agitating her body and she writhed around.  Jeff stopped again to admonish her. 

“Stay put Jennifer, or I’ll introduce your butt to my paddle right now.  I’m doing all the hard work and you have only that one job…to keep still.  Now do it.”

“Yes Sir, I’m trying,” she whimpered.  “But you’re killing me, I’m burning up.  Please, please stop.”

“I’ll decide when we’re done,” he responded, and repositioned her rear, using his free hand like a bar on her back, causing her to arch up and bring her rear into a more suitable place.  Immediately, he commenced spanking her again.  He lifted his muscular arm up even higher, bringing more force to the blows, snapping his hand up against the bounce of her flesh, and Jennifer was quickly in agony. 

Her sobs were loud now, she sniffed rapidly and pleaded “please, I get it, I get it, I need to work harder, I will, I promise, please please let me up.”  Her skin was as red and raw as a bad sunburn, but still he landed blow after blow, until the only words she could utter through her crying were “OW, stop, OUCH, OUCH, please, no more” which she repeated over and over tearfully. 

Jeff took a break again, using the time to lecture her on the cost of academic laziness.

 “You need to focus on your work, young lady.  You’re smart, and you’re wasting your potential.  Someone should have done this a long time ago. You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing away opportunities others would love to have.  You’re spoiled and indulgent and lazy, and it’s time you turned over a new leaf.”

Jennifer was sobbing through his whole speech, but she heard every word, and found they stung as much as the spanking she endured.  While he spoke, her rear end throbbed, and she longed to move her hands up to rub away the pain.  She struggled emotionally to obey his edict, keeping her hands on the floor in front of her.  In some ways, just that act of obedience was more powerful than taking the blows.  She became an active participant in her punishment, she submitted herself to his will, and in doing so, she was flooded with feelings of contrition.  In her heart, she knew he was right about her, and her cries turned into sobs of real shame, shame she brought on herself by always looking for the easy way out.

As he felt her body collapsing against him and the fight draining out of her, Jeff said “OK, we’re almost there.  The last twenty are for good measure.  I mean for you to remember this for a long time – at least until you graduate.”

Jennifer groaned loudly at his words, especially the part about twenty more.  She honestly thought she couldn’t survive any more of his hard smacks; she was sure she’d faint from the pain, if not worse.  After the first few, she was crying uncontrollably, but lay perfectly still.  Her body had no energy to struggle against him, and her mind was crumpling as it focused only on pain, drinking in pain, holding the pain, knowing only pain.  The last strikes were the worst, being laid against very raw skin, and when he finally stopped, she was limp and totally passive.

Jeff helped her to her feet and brought her over to his couch. He sat down, and she lay down on her side with her head in his lap.  He rubbed some aloe on her rear end and began petting her head, smoothing her hair.

“It’s all over Jennifer, you’re ok, shhh, it’s over.”

She was so spent that she actually fell asleep for a little while, while he caressed her hair and neck, holding her until she woke.

Sitting in her lovely kitchen three years later, Jennifer thought back on that evening with nostalgia.  Something about that experience bonded the two of them.  He helped her with her paper later that night, walking her through the process of research, outlines, first drafts and editing.  She ended up working there almost nightly during vacation week, and more than once he reached over to her unexpectedly and smacked her on her behind possessively.  Unlike her first encounter with his hands on her rear, those playful smacks totally turned her on, even when levied against her already sore butt.  She fell in love with Jeff before Christmas.  He was caring and funny and good looking.  While his methods were a bit unorthodox, they got results.  Jennifer got an A on her paper, bringing her grade up from an F to a C.  She worked really hard her last semester at college, finishing with much better grades than usual.  She and Jeff were officially “an item”, and best of all, he didn’t feel the need to spank her again for many, many months – except of course for those playful spankings that her body soon recognized as foreplay.  

Over the years, Jennifer had earned her share of Jeff’s corrective punishments, not all of them corporal in nature.  He had very high standards for both of them, and Jennifer considered submitting to his discipline a small price to pay for everything they had together, for everything he had helped her to become and accomplish.  At least she felt that way until the day she found herself staring at an invitation to traffic school and heard Jeff’s car in the driveway.    

As she heard the garage closing, it occurred to her that, like that first encounter so long ago, another day of reckoning had arrived.  Suddenly, a realization came upon her.  However lost she felt, the strength of her marriage would prevail, and Jeff’s firm hand would guide them both to the next shore.  She knew that she would put her faith in him, as she always had.

With a sigh, Jennifer pulled the lexan paddle out of its hiding place in the lower cabinet, put the letter from the DMV on the table, placed the paddle on top of it like a paper weight and went to greet her husband.  Only the slight tremble in her lips hinted at her anguish, but that would be enough for Jeff … he knew her better than she did herself.  He would take in the situation quickly and handle it in the customary fashion.  And when it was over, he would hold her and wipe her tears away.  And as sure as the sunrise, her redemption would fill her from within, reminding her once again that she was loved and worth loving…always.