She slowly walked into the bedroom where I sat and read. She slowly circled the bed with a sullen look on her face. “What’s up?” I thought as I pretended not to notice her strange demeanor. She was penitent, remorseful, sullen.
I paid the attention she was all but begging for. “ Hi.”, she said as she stood there, motionless.
She started to take her clothes off and that’s when she said it. “I have to confess something to you.”
The initial statement put me on edge, uneasy, almost afraid of what she was going to say as she is an incredibly attractive woman. She knows this as I and other men tell her all the time in one way or another.
“Ok.” I say preparing myself for the worst. I say it almost as a question noticing she is still taking off her clothes. I expected her to tell me she had an affair, spent lots of money again or something like that. “Tell me what happened” I said and patted the bed encouraging her to sit and chat. She looked at me with puppy dog eyes, at this point completely nude, tears started to well. It was obvious she felt tremendous regret and shame. She was acting incredibly guilty. Why, I did not know, but that was her demeanor.
I realized where this was going. In the past my wife came to me with an event that she felt incredibly guilty about. She needed immediate clemency and absolution which, at the time, to me, the crime was minor and did not warranted anything other than the talk we had. She had spent $2500 on a patio set. I understood. From the beginning we agreed that if one or the other wanted to spend over a certain amount, we would talk about it. I have a budget, I pay the bills. So obviously, at the time, we had extra. I wasn’t upset but she anticipated my displeasure over the expense.
When I reacted with amnesty and grace. But, then, that did not serve to abate my loving wife’s indiscretion. “Will you stabd up?”, she asked So internally, it was a hearted suggestion. Externally, I was stern, unforgiving and final. I told her to take her clothes off and lean over the bed for her first marital spanking.
She went through an emotional journey. At first, defiance and indignation. She was a grown woman. No man was going to lay hands on her least of all her loving husband, right? Then came the compromise. She was so cute. She tried to haggle with sexual favors. I was unmoved. I told her this was the only was she was going to learn. “ How do I know you won’t do this again?” I asked.
Acceptance and resignation was the last step. She saw there was no room for concession or negotiation. “I am your husband. This is my decision.” I said. Outwardly, I showed no movement. Internally, I was questioning myself and my decision. I was half playing but a smile did not come across my lips for a second.
I could see the fall of her defense. Her body language spoke all she wanted to say. She slowly began to undress. She did not look at me. I thought she was upset with me and might call out her safe word when we began. But so be it. I have done my part. It is up to her to to go through with it if she wants to or not.
She lay across our king sized mattress, he body bared for me to punish. At the time right up until I saw her drape her body across our bed, I didn’t think she would go through with it. I was excited. My breaths short and fast. As I slid my belt from my belt loops this time and took stance behind her, I began to sweat.
I swung my belt.
She turned her head away from me. I couldn’t see her face or the reaction other than the tenseness of her frame and the fists she made in pain.
I was hard. This excited me more than I thought it might. I thought I would be unable to give my dear wife the punishment she desired.
This went on for an hour before she broke in tears and I understood this act of contrition had gone to the core of her being and bruised more than her bare bottom. As the colors turned from the pink like her lips to the very bright and almost glowing red, she broke down and cried. It was then I knew she had had enough.
I dropped the belt, went to her and scooped her up like a ragdoll and held her in my lap as the cries in pain turned to the sobs of forgiveness she so desperately craved.
As I said, a rather large price to pay for such a small indiscretion. Had she asked, I would have given it to her. But to her, that was not the point. She had gone behind my back and done it without discussing it with me. The figure had no value to her.
She had gone to the bathroom to clean up. She washed her face and through the crack in the door, I caught her looking in the mirror at the damage to her freshly spanked fanny. I had to chuckle as I continued cleaning up myself.
I opened the bathroom door and stood behind her and just marveled at the beauty I beheld. I held her from behind and all she said, “Thank you. I love you.”
I just smiled at her in return. So that was then.
We are back in present time with my wife as she sat next to me completely naked, squirming and looking at me with that look again. “Just tell me what you need.” I said. “I need you to spank me, Paul.”
There is was. My wife needed that. It wasn’t something she wanted or thought might be cute. She needed that physical attention like she need food and water. Her body needed me to spank her.
“Ok. Go in the dining room, stand in the corner and wait for me.” I said with as stern and monotone a voice I could muster. She was already resigned. She had wanted this a long time but I did not recognize it. My wife, from time to time, needs to be spanked, really truly spanked to tears. I knew her job had caused lots of stress to her this week.
I went to my sock drawer, pulled out my leather belt, and went into the dining room. I positioned her on the corner of the dining room table. I knew she would be supported and if so inclined would be able to place pressure on her own clit with the corner of the table. I thought she might like that.
Very few words were spoken as I knew this was maintenance. The bruises from the first session had all gone and a fresh canvas was before me. I placed the belt on her back just above her coccyx and told her not to drop it.
This time, I lead with a hand spanking, slow at first and increased with speed and intensity. Her bottomed reddened quite quickly. That was followed by the belt and finished with the bath brush she didn’t see me grab before entering the dining room. She had fear in her eyes before the brush. By then, she was almost to her limit. But not quite. By the time I had finished with ten seats with the bath brush she was sobbing and had had quite enough then.
Again, like before, I scooped her up into my arms, cradled her and consoled her with all of the penance I could muster. The goal here was to make her feel while, complete, loved and satiated.
When she calmed down, I dot her a cool compress. I took care of her. I had to console myself in that this was her decision and I was helping her. Obviously
I had done some reading and it is said those that reach the pinnacle reach a place called subspace. I think I reached that myself, but I wasn’t sure. All I knew is that this was fun. And as long as Nora was having fun too, this may be part of our routine. We will have to do some more talking about this. Communication, I have decided, was a huge part of it.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked Nora.
She smiled and as she sat, she winced. She shook her head and said, “very much.”
God I love her. I would do just about anything for her and if this makes her happy, then so be it. Let’s make the most of it. We read together about different facets. We read different authors, books, articles. We joined a few websites and groups of people. I already had a FetLife account and was mildly knowledgeable about the different types of bdsm. But I think we would stick with the spanking portion.
We met some outstanding people there and have made some plans to go to a couple events. We have never been closer. She tells me everything when in the past I always thought there was a part of her she reserved. There are no reservations now and my accounting for it only leads me to think the newish part of our relationship has something to do with it. I hope it does.