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Submission
by W Arthur, M/f spanking
A hard spanking
for a deserving wife!
Copyright (c) 2004 by W Arthur, all rights reserved, Not For Sale |
Maybe
it was the submission, the exquisite loss of control she
experienced every time she went across his lap. Maybe it was the
way he held her afterward, cradling her in his arms, gently
stroking her face and neck until she stopped crying, until the
intense pain in her bottom dissolved into a warm pool of pure
pleasure. Maybe it was the redemption, the knowledge that no
matter what she had done to displease him, no matter what
mistakes she had made, she was forgiven. Maybe it was something
else altogether. She didn’t know. She had never known. She had
never really wanted to know.
In
fact, as she kept her nose pressed firmly against the wall of
the bedroom she shared with Edward, all Maribel really knew was
that some time soon — she had no idea when — he would come
through the door, sit down on the bed, and clap his hands once.
Then she would walk to him, he would pull her down across his
lap, and spank her bare, trembling bottom with her grandmother’s
solid oak hairbrush. He would spank her mercilessly and she
would let him because she loved him and she trusted him, and
because she knew — at least in her world — she deserved it.
Of
course, she hadn’t meant to come home late from shopping, to
burn his dinner, to get the wrong kind of apples for his lunch,
to forget to buy the glazed donuts he liked so much. She hadn’t
meant to do any of those things. But she had done them, and now
she would pay dearly for her carelessness. He would probably be
so hard on her that she wouldn’t sit comfortably or look in the
mirror without seeing marks on her bottom for more than a week.
But she would learn the lesson, and he would forgive her and
make glorious love to her, his big penis throbbing and twisting
inside her until she thought she would explode with the sheer
ecstasy of it. It was at these moments that she knew she truly
belonged to him, that she simply couldn’t imagine a life that
didn’t center around submitting to his will.
And yet, she certainly didn’t consider herself a slave — either
to Edward or any other man or woman. She was free to walk away
any time she wanted to, free to decide what kind of life pleased
her. She believed she had found that life with Edward and she
knew she would never walk away from it, no matter how much her
bottom hurt sometimes. After all, she would reason, what is mere
transient physical pain compared to the mental anguish and
torment of being alone, of being unhappy, of not having any love
in your life.
Maribel thought about all of this as she maintained her
position, her pretty face turned away from the world, her pert
bottom safe, for the moment, within a pair of white cotton
panties covered by a black corduroy jumper. Then she heard the
door open and her brain froze up like an overloaded computer.
Her body began to tremble involuntarily and she had to fight
back the temptation to turn around and look at him, something
she was strictly forbidden to do. In fact, if he detected even a
slight twist in her body, he would double her punishment. In all
the times Edward had spanked her, she had only made that mistake
twice.
Still, the temptation to turn was incredibly strong, almost
overpowering. It wasn’t that she needed to see him, to look into
his steel blue eyes or gaze at his finely chiseled face,
although that was always a delight. What she really wanted to do
was to see if the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled
to the elbows, a sure sign that he intended to be very harsh
with her — not that it really made any difference. He would be
as harsh as he thought necessary; there was no way she could
stop it, even if she broke down and begged or cried out for
mercy. If she did break down and try such childish tactics, he
would only spank her harder and urge her to take her punishment
‘like a good girl.’
Maribel couldn’t see him, not with her eyes closed and her
burning face buried in the corner. But she could feel him, smell
his aftershave. She could hear the bed sag as he sat down; she
could hear the rustle of the thin spread as he arranged himself
in a comfortable position. He’s always so damned precise, she
thought. Of course, she would never say ‘damned’ in his presence
— that was another strict rule he had imposed when she gave
herself to him, when she agreed to submit to his stronger will.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of waiting, she could hear
him take a deep breath. “You’ve been getting so much better,
Maribel,” Edward began in a low, soft voice. “In fact, you’ve
been so good that I had reason to hope we wouldn’t have to do
this anymore. I am surprised, disappointed, and concerned. And
it is for that reason that I feel I must be very hard on you
tonight.”
A
cold, electric chill rippled through her body. She hated it when
he prefaced the punishment with a stern lecture. However,
telling her that he was disappointed in her was the worst. Now,
she was reduced to a little girl and she could feel her eyes
begin to form tears. She had only to wait for the command to
complete the journey into repentance and absolution.
This time he didn’t clap his hands. Instead, he just sat there,
looking at her, tempting her to turn around, to say something,
anything. The silence was almost worse than the spanking. Then,
just as she was about to break the most sacred of all rules and
extol him to please get it over with, he took another deep
breath. “Maribel, please remove all your clothing and come over
here,” he ordered in the same soft but commanding voice.
Her jaw dropped and her trembling nearly progressed to
convulsions. Only once before had he ordered her to be naked for
a spanking. That was two years ago after she had gotten drunk at
a party and badly embarrassed both of them. The next day, after
she was sober and the hangover had passed, he had spanked her so
long and so hard that she nearly passed out. She had been unable
to sit comfortably or even wear underwear for three days
afterward and it was ten days before the marks completely faded.
It was a painful lesson, but it was a lesson learned, as she had
never gotten drunk at a party again.
At
first, she didn’t move, couldn’t move because she was shaking so
badly, then he clapped his hands to get her attention. “At once,
Maribel,” he said, his voice a little more assertive, a little
more impatient.
Slowly, as one who is reluctantly resigned to her fate, she
unbuttoned the straps on her jumper and let it fall to the
floor. Next, she pulled the white sweater over her head and
dropped it onto the corduroy. She hesitated, feeling suddenly
embarrassed, standing before him wearing only black tights over
white panties and a cotton bra encasing her full breasts. He had
seen her naked nearly every night for the past three years; he
had made love to her hundreds of times — but somehow this was
different, strangely humiliating.
Edward scowled and clapped his hands one more time. “Maribel,
you’re wasting time,” he noted impatiently.
This statement woke her up to reality. She knew only too well
how much he hated wasting time. Quickly, she stepped out of her
black clogs and stripped down her tights and pulled them off her
feet. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties,
but he stopped her with a raise of his hand. She understood
immediately what that meant. He wanted to further humiliate her
by reserving for himself the luxury of peeling her panties down
to her ankles. She nodded and transferred her fingers from her
panties to her bra. In an instant, she unhooked the front and
released her breasts; her nipples were already erect with
anticipation.
Edward gave her a long, hard look and pointed to his lap. He had
the dreaded hairbrush already gripped tightly in his right hand.
Her eyes widened when she saw it — a little, she supposed, like
looking at the blade of the guillotine just before sticking your
head underneath it. Still, she took a deep breath, approached
his right side, and offered him her left hand. He took it
without looking at it and deftly pulled her down across his lap.
For the moment at least, he would leave the thin panties in
place. However, his sleeves were rolled to the elbows.
With her right arm stretched tightly across her back, she was
helpless and she knew it. She closed her eyes and hid her face
in the spread to await the pain. True to his nature, Edward
didn’t waste time once she was in the proper position. He raised
his right hand high over his head, but paused before lowering
it. “I hope, Maribel, that I don’t have to do this again,” he
said solemnly.
He
always says that, she thought. And she was sure that he always
meant it too, that he didn’t actually enjoy spanking her. But
then, he was so good at it that she couldn’t help but wonder
sometimes if he didn’t like it more than he let on. What
difference does that make now, she chided herself. Her bottom
would hurt just as bad; she would feel just as punished whether
he enjoyed it or not.
At
last, the hand holding the brush dropped, impacting the right
cheek with a resounding thud. Her flesh rippled violently
beneath the cloth and pain radiated furiously throughout her
body, reaching all corners in less than a second. The second
strike hit her left cheek with equal ferocity and equal results.
He paused again. This was the dreaded warmup, preparing for the
intense pain that was to follow. Occasionally, he would tease
her for more than a minute before he unleashed the barrage that
counted as her punishment — his way of reminding her that he was
firmly in control.
However, this night there would be no teasing. The spanking she
had earned through her carelessness would be swift, hard, and
merciless, with little time to reflect between strokes. As if to
confirm this beyond any doubt, she felt his rough hands on her
hips. An instant later, she felt a sudden rush of cool air on
her bottom as he carefully peeled her panties down to her
ankles. Now she was completely naked before him, and she blushed
in spite of herself.
Once he had her in this most revealing and exposed position, he
no longer hesitated or delayed. He lifted the brush and brought
it back down again as though he were a blacksmith striking a
piece of molten metal on an anvil. Then, he struck again and
again. She grimaced and bit into the spread to suppress a
scream. Like a well seasoned and well conditioned athlete, he
was in top form tonight and he let her know it.
Whack! The brush bit into her left cheek. Thud! The brush
slammed into her right cheek. Hot tears flooded her sorry eyes
and spilled down the sides of her face, invading the corners of
her mouth in little salty rivulets. And as the spanking
continued, stroke after awful stroke, she tried to think about
the mistakes she had made to warrant punishment of this
magnitude; she tried to think about how much she had
disappointed Edward and how much she loved him for even
bothering to attempt to correct her deplorable behavior.
However, after a couple of minutes of the steady barrage of
horrible swats, all she could think about was the pain and how
sorry she was that she was being spanked. She vowed, as she
always did, that she would never again allow herself to get into
this situation, that she would dedicate herself from now on to
doing whatever she had to do to please him.
And still the punishment continued. Like a well-oiled machine,
Edward beat a steady rhythm onto her posterior, now transforming
from soft pink to deep red to ugly purple, while her overwrought
nervous system fought through the pain. Desperately, she choked
back the nearly irresistable urge to curse, to beg him to stop.
Her conscious, rational mind knew better than to display such
behavior. However, that part of her mind was rapidly fading out
of existence, almost as though she were drifting off into an
uneasy sleep and this was all a nightmare, an hallucination.
Finally, just as she knew she couldn’t take any more, that her
poor bottom simply couldn’t tolerate any more abuse, he stopped.
She opened her eyes, releasing a lake of tears. “I’m sorry I had
to do that, Maribel,” he declared in the same soft voice he had
used earlier. He released her right hand and rested his left
hand gently on her burning flesh.
The sensation was electric and she responded almost immediately
by slightly arching her back. Amazing how the body works, she
thought. She gathered her breath and tried to form the words he
wanted to hear her say, the words that would make him forgive
her, the words that would encourage him to move his hand just a
little lower, to bury his fingers deep inside her. “I...I’m
sorry too, Edward,” she managed to stammer between sobs.
Almost as if they were guided by her body heat, the tips of his
twitching fingers found their way to that special place between
her legs, stopping just short of her clitoris. “I love you,
Maribel,” he said. “Please don’t make me do this again.”
Involuntarily, she thrust her pelvis upward the way a dog might
raise its head to meet its master’s hand. When her anxious
clitoris made contact with the end of his finger, she had to
bite her lip to keep from shrieking with joy. She began to
lubricate freely, and the burning pain in her bottom was slowly
replaced by feelings of need and urgency. “I love you, Edward,”
she said in a raspy breathless voice she barely recognized. “I’m
so...sorry I disappointed you. I swear...I will work as
hard...as I can to keep from disappointing you again.” She heard
herself say the words and she knew she meant them. The memory of
the spanking so recently inflicted was too fresh, too
unencumbered to think otherwise. Only a crazy person would ever
want to endure this experience a second time.
And yet, memories fade over time and mistakes are sometimes
repeated and even magnified. Maribel knew this as well as
anyone; she knew herself and her own weaknesses. It might be a
while before she found herself in this position again. But
eventually, she would find herself across his lap, naked and
blushing. And she would again be sorry, very sorry.
However, for now, she wouldn’t think about the future and what
it may bring. She dared to raise her head and look up at him. He
was smiling and there was lust in his eyes. His fingers were now
covered with her juices as they tickled the inside of her
vagina. She blinked away the remaining tears and steeled herself
for an orgasm that would nearly throw her off his lap. Once she
was under control again, she returned his smile and gazed deeply
into his eyes. “Edward,” she started, “please, my lover, I need
to feel you inside me...please...have I not proven myself
worthy?”
His smile widened and he nodded. Then he picked her up and set
her down on the bed as though she were a feather. Quickly, he
stripped off his clothes and lay down beside her. A moment
later, she moaned and groaned as though the spanking never
happened.
W.Arthur writes for
www.spank-fiction.com
Write to warthur [at] hotmail.com
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