STUDIES IN SPANKING

Prequels, Sequels, and More Hot Tails

 

Ardie Stallard

 

© Copyright Ardie Stallard, 2022, 2025

 

Introduction to Domestic Discipline

 

Micah got the call a few minutes before three, not too long before his shift at Charley Culbertson's convenience store's oil-change bay was to end. He was scrubbing grease from his hands and forearms with pumice-laced soap when the phone rang, and he had to dry his not-yet-quite-clean hands in order to pick up the receiver. His eyes went wide within seconds. "Wait, wait," he interjected, "hang on. is she okay? Not hurt? Well... all right, I'll be on over in a few minutes. Thanks for letting me know. I'll deal with it." He hung up the receiver before sighing, "But I'll be damned if I can figure out how."

"What's wrong?" his relief colleague Trevor who'd just then arrived at work, asked.

"Listen. Tell Charley I had to leave a few minutes early. Family emergency. Gotta go by the high school, looks like," Micah answered, looking thoughtful.

"What the hell for? You graduated last spring, didn't you? Said you was glad to be done with that place."

"Oh, I was. Wouldn't want to repeat one day of those four years, not for all the tea in China. But it seems I've got a discipline problem to deal with. Not mine, of course."

Trevor shook his head. "That don't figure," he answered. "Little brother or sister sent to the office?"

Micah frowned. "No. Wife who just turned eighteen this year and who's finishing up her last semester come May. What she managed to get into trouble for, I don't know. They wouldn't tell me. Just asked me to get to the school as fast as I can. That was why I asked if Bree was hurt."

"I wonder if they gonna paddle her ass," chuckled Trevor.

"Will you shut your damned trap about stuff like that?" shot back Micah in a low reply. "How should I know what's wrong? I've gotta go find out, though. Surely to God they wouldn't treat an eighteen-year-old senior girl that way. Specially if she's married," he continued-his temper cooling in proportion to his growing uncertainty.

"Tell me all about it in the mornin'," cackled Trevor as he donned a clean set of coveralls.

"Ain't none of your business now and won't be tomorrow, neither," growled Micah as he kicked his way out of his own oil-soaked coveralls and stormed out. Once he was by himself he ran a hand over his hair and sighed again. "But it sure as hell is mine," he exhaled. The South could be a bizarre place, sometimes. Whoever had come up with paddling as a school punishment, through the nineteen states it was still accepted-and in many cases, expected-must have had something wrong with his head.

Micah and Bree had gotten married three months before, in January just after Bree had celebrated her eighteenth birthday and Micah, a week or two before his nineteenth. Lacking any better circumstances they were living in the basement apartment of his grandmother's house, rent-free in exchange for protecting the old lady from burglars, prowlers, and anything else her imagination could conjure up. Still, saving money was difficult even though Micah had gotten a fairly decent-paying job for a boy just a year out of high school himself-and worse, the nuts and bolts and disappointments and rough patches of married life had proven to be a rude awakening for Bree, who'd lost herself in a romantic fantasy from the time Micah had proposed until perhaps two weeks after they'd said their "I do's" in front of a justice of the peace. Since then they'd alternated brief periods of truce and lovemaking with arguments that Micah's grandmother could hear right through the floor and which made her even more nervous than the thought of a burglar snooping around. Bree had even threatened divorce once or twice, and Micah suspected that her parents were encouraging her to leave him. He'd never once laid a hand on her, but once or twice he'd come to believe that Bree was actually trying to tempt him to hit her so she'd have an excuse to end the marriage. He'd been told by another friend at work that Bree's sister had tried a similar stunt a few years before and that the ruse had worked. But still, it may have been a mere rumor. Who could tell?

Worse yet, they'd had the quarrel to end all quarrels the night before and that he'd told her that, if she was actually trying to provoke him into striking her, he didn't plan on giving her the satisfaction. She'd almost thrown a glass of water into his face but seemed to try to check herself just in the nick of time. Micah shook his head and walked towards his aged, decrepit truck. Bree had ridden the bus to school that morning, and had planned on taking it home in the afternoon as well, claiming she didn't like Micah's old bucket of bolts to start with. He wondered if he'd be riding solo for good soon.

The high school was only a mile or so from the convenience store and he was able to negotiate traffic easily and arrive within minutes. At least that was simpler than trying to get through the boisterous tide of students, fresh from their last classes of the day and streaming out the front door. As he stepped finally into the office's anteroom and identified himself, a chagrined-looking secretary pushed an intercom button on her desk and announced his presence, evidently to the Principal, and then told him that he could go right back to the office. Senses on the alert, he strolled down the hallway slowly, sighing again when he glimpsed Bree, a diminutive brunette with brown eyes brimming and lower lip quivering, twisting nervously back and forth in her chair just inside the half-open office door. He knocked and the Principal gave him a curt command to come in and shut the door behind him. When he did so he seated himself in the chair beside Bree, with a pat to her hand and a glance he tried to make sympathetic. Whether from anger or shame, she didn't seem to be able to let her eyes meet his.

"Mikey, we have a little bit of an awkward situation here," began the Principal, a heavyset, jowly, graying male. "You went to high school here yourself so you know my drill. When a student's gotten herself into so much mischief she merits a punishment, I call her parents and give them the option either to witness it, or administer it themselves in my presence. Bree here has accumulated enough tardies and missed classes to warrant a paddling, and since she's of legal age and married as well, we called you instead of her parents. So what'll it be, you two? Is Mikey going to swing the paddle, or shall I?" The old coot looked as if he'd savor either option.

"I'm so close to graduation I can't afford not to go along with this," quavered Bree miserably, showing absolutely nothing of the temper she'd displayed with such force to Micah last night and again this morning. "Believe it or not, Micah, I really am sorry for putting you on the spot this way."

Micah's lower jaw flushed in anger, and his mind raced. He'd never been able to stand this sanctimonious bully throughout his own four years at high school, and apparently the man's character hadn't improved any within the past eleven months or so. He couldn't tell whether all this was some complex ruse or other cooked up by Bree and her sister to end Bree's marriage, if he chose to paddle her, and yet he couldn't stand the thought of this tenured, self-righteous prick touching her either. After a moment he found his voice, though. "It's Micah, not Mikey. So what if I was to take her licks onto myself?" he asked curtly.

"Oh, please!" grumbled the Principal with a roll of his eyes. "What good would it do for one person to take another's punishment?"

"I thought that was the whole idea preached in church all the time," Micah shot back. "But what with separation of church and state, I guess it's your own personal rules that apply at school, huh? At least when it's convenient? School Board in your pocket that deep?"

"Don't get smart with me, young man!"

"What are you gonna do about it if I do? I graduated a year ago. I'm not offerin' you any bodily threat here. And what with sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me, it won't do you a bit of harm if I were to call you, say, for example, a low-down cock-wallopin' piece of shit son of a bitch. Speaking hypothetically. Sir. Right?"

"Are you trying to bait me?"

"Now, now, would I do that? Sir? You're not a fish, however fishy you might be acting right now."

Bree started to giggle, a pure nervous reaction, Micah figured, and the Principal, already almost purple with rage at Micah, now gave her a dirty, furious look. But before he had a chance to retort, Micah took Bree's hand in his again and addressed her: "Listen, honey. To heck with this foolishness. It costs sixteen dollars to take a GED exam and get your high school diploma in this state. I'll find a way for us to set that sixteen dollars aside if you want to just quit school and take the test. How about it?"

Bree's eyes, finally meeting Micah's, welled again. "You'd do that for me? Either? Offer to take my licks or pay for my GED?" she whispered. "After I've been so hateful and grouchy lately?"

"I took you for better or worse, sweetheart," he replied. "I just want us to work to make the worse a little better."

"She can't take the GED in this state until she takes the pre-test at an approved testing center!" spluttered the Principal. "and the only approved testing center in this area is right here in this building! Under my supervision! So if she wants to try to find work for the next few months until I take the notion to allow her to sit for the test, that's your business, I guess!"

Micah shook his head in disgust. "Can't wait to bend her over the desk, huh? Well, I'm sure you can tell how sorry I am to disappoint. But if she's got to be spanked, at least the spanking's gonna come from somebody who loves her, not a damn bully who gets his jollies by throwing his weight around," he growled as he stood up. Bree sobbed softly now and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You know the old saying that it's gonna hurt me more than it does you?" he murmured lowly to her, a woebegone look in his eyes. "Well, I'm thinking that's gonna be the case here. But... please don't hold this against me? Ot use it as an excuse to... well... you know... I've heard the talk..."

Suddenly and impulsively Bree hopped to her feet and wrapped her arms around his midsection in a tight hug. "I know I've been hard for you to deal with, but you've got to believe me, my sister's not like that! Remember, I've even got a big brother studying to be a teacher himself!" she whispered fervently. "I've got no intention of leaving you! I guess I've just had to grow up quick in the last few weeks and been maybe a little irked at you and more hateful than usual lately... so... maybe I've got this coming... I can't believe I just said that..."

The Principal stood up too, and as he handed Micah the paddle he added, "You realize, of course, Mikey, that these paddle licks have to be adequately severe. In other words, if they're not hard enough, I'm going to have to take over the job myself. Unless Bree perhaps wants to be expelled instead."

Micah flashed the Principal a look of pure loathing, but he accepted the paddle and, surprisingly, Bree now even managed to shine up the ghost of a tiny, nerve-filled, but mischievous smile at him. "Well, Micah..." she offered, "we might as well make the best of this, right?" Suddenly she bent over the Principal's desk, looking back over her shoulder in a combination of both tension and anticipation and wiggled her bottom, sexy and shapely in snug jeans, at her husband. Micah's groin stirred and his manhood began to come to attention in spite of his best efforts to control his body. Bree did have the most enticing butt, practically inviting rubs and squeezes and even kisses and nibbles when they were in bed, and she filled out her jeans perfectly; he wondered suddenly why he'd never noticed it in such vibrant focus before.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he hissed as quietly as he could, though there was no way he could prevent the Principal from picking up on what he said.

Bree looked over her shoulder again. "I'm absolutely scared to death!" she quavered, "but... I trust you, Micah." She swallowed a couple times, hard, before continuing: "Go... a-ahead..."

"Five good hard licks," interrupted the Principal, "and I want to be able to hear 'em echo off the wall. Oh, and check her back pockets first. Get to it!"

Micah took a deep breath, tried to adjust the front of his trousers to accommodate his growing excitement, and poked a finger down each of Bree's back pockets, half expecting to find paper folded and slipped in for protection. She squirmed hard, but no, there was only thin tight denim and sheer panties between the hard wood of the paddle and the soft, perky, velvety, inviting flesh of Bree's bottom. He let the paddle brush against Bree's sit spots as he took aim. She flinched but did her best to steady herself, resting her head on her forearms and waiting for whatever must come. He drew back... swung... and the paddle made contact with a most resounding, satisfying crack! Bree gasped loudly and raised up on tiptoe, but maintained her position.

"Count them off, Bree," ordered the Principal, who was enjoying this spectacle a lot more than Micah thought he should have.

"One... sir..." whimpered Bree quietly, her head still on her arms. But suddenly she raised up, looked the Principal straight in the face, and informed him, in a surprisingly steady voice: "Just so you know, the 'sir' was for Micah."

Before the Principal could reply, Micah swung again, amazed at the dynamic he and Bree seemed to be developing: he was punishing her, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she knew he was on her side rather than the Principal's. "OW! Twoooo, sir!" she responded as she ducked her head again, sniffling and wiggling her backside as if to try to shake the sting off it. "You're... you're very good at that..."

"Thank you," answered Micah, meaning it, just before he administered Bree's third paddle spank. Once again the sound of hard wood meeting soft butt echoed, Bren stood on tiptoe again, and although she still maintained her position she wiggled even more violently. "OH! THREE, sir!" she sobbed softly.

"Only two more," Micah reassured her. Eyes shut tight now, Bree nodded her head vigorously.

He swung again, with a will now since he sensed Bree was taking it well-amazingly well-and once more she stood to her tiptoes, wailing softly, "OH! OH! Four! Master! I mean... four, sir!" Now she not only wiggled, but twerked. God, Micah thought, it was getting hot in here. He swung a final time. CRACKKK!

"YEOW!" Bree howled, jumping up, grabbing her back pockets, and hopping from foot to foot with the intensity of the sensation. Micah tossed the paddle on the desk, gathered her in his arms, and held her tight. He couldn't tell whether she was laughing or crying, but he suspected her reaction was a mixture of the two. "Thank you, Micah, s-s-sir!" she half giggled, half sobbed into his chest.

"I'm not sure that paddling was hard enough," observed the Principal, sourly. He picked up the implement from the desk once more. "I think she needs three extra, at least, done right."

Micah saw pure red for a moment and opened his mouth to set the Principal straight, but as it turned out, Bree did the job for him. Swallowing and taking an instant to compose herself, she said in a low quaver, "Mr. Edmunds, my rear end's flaming so hot right now I don't think I could even feel three more licks, but if Micah consents, help yourself. Just remember it'll be him that I fall down on my knees in front of, and beg to give me a nice long gentle butt-rub and some more tender loving care once he gets me home. Not you." Micah snorted in an effort to suppress a laugh when he saw the older man's expression. He planted a kiss on top of his wife's head, savoring the fragrance of her hair.

"Get out of here, the two of you!" the obviously frustrated Principal raged. "And, young lady, don't ever run the risk of being sent here to this office again!"

"You need a nitroglycerin pill or something?" asked Micah blandly. "I don't think my wife'll be back in here, but if she does have that kind of ill luck, you can rest assured that I'll be taking care of her punishments for her. Any that may be needed. Oh, by the way: we never obeyed an order from a teacher so gladly as we are right now, getting out of this office. And of course, have a nice day." With this, he shouldered Bree's backpack for her, put an arm round her, and walked with her out of the office, easing a hand into her left back pocket and looking back at the Principal with a saucy grin as he did so.

"How's the butt?" he whispered to Bree as the couple exited the school's front doors.

"Careful how hard you flex your palm, honey," she whispered back, "My ass still feels like it's burning to a crisp, so much so I can hardly even think straight. But I meant what I said. When we get home and shut the door the first thing I'm gonna do is fall down on my knees at your feet and beg you for mercy. And if you make me blow you in order to convince you I mean it, well... oh, God, my clit's so swollen right now! I was so scared of you, and of that paddle, but you still had my panties soaking wet by your second lick! I had no idea a spanking could make me feel so... well... so naughty, but so sexy and so obedient too! Thank you... Master..."

Micah's heart thumped, and now he had to lean forward to try to hide his sexual excitement. Bree wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and smiled softly as she sensed what was happening-and came very close to throwing caution to the winds and grabbing his crotch for a hand job, right in the parking lot. Micah opened the passenger door of his truck for her, but before he turned and stepped back to let her sit down he reached behind the back of the seat, pulled out an old lumbar cushion he'd used for a few days when he'd strained his lower spine once, and placed it in the seat. "All I've got," he murmured apologetically. "Can you manage with it till we get home?"

Wincing slightly and wiggling again, Bree eased onto the lumbar cushion and smiled at her husband. "Not the best cushion I've ever sat on, but you're a real sweetheart to let me use it. I'll manage fine. Thank you. Now get us home!" she hissed conspiratorially, with a quick wink. "I really need a long, erotic butt-rub soon, perhaps with some aloe lotion while you're fucking my brains out doggie-style? That is, after I fall down on my knees and beg you for mercy and suck your cock while I can still savor my swollen clit and the hot fire in my ass at the same time?"

Micah's head spun and he practically had to hold onto the truck's hood to steady himself till he managed to get to the driver's side door. "Uh... honey?" he ventured as he settled himself beside Bree, tried to adjust the bulge in his pants once more, and looked over at her.

"Yes, Master?" she murmured back throatily, her voice heavy with arousal.

"You ain't got to call me that," he answered, "but... what on earth have we been fighting about the last little while, anyway? As God's my witness right now I can't remember!"

"What if I want to call you that because it feels right to me after you spanked me, Master?" she shot back as she fastened her seat belt and wiggled slightly uncomfortably. "But... no, I'm having trouble remembering our fights right now, too. Uh... has that old stuffed shirt of a Principal helped us come up with a new way to work through our problems, you think?"

"So long as we get 'em worked through, honey," he replied softly, "but I can't guarantee, and you can't either, that we'll never argue again. Still," he chuckled, "this would be one hell of a good way for us to try to settle with each other! And making up'll be out of this world!"

"Gonna buy me a paddle, Master?" Bree giggled shyly, blushing, "or maybe whittle me one?"

"Sure, Precious. And besides that there's my belts, and your big hairbrush and bath brush, and maybe even 'that personal touch,' shall we say, with my bare hand." Micah shook his head to try to clear it. Driving on a busy highway this evening wasn't going to be as easy as he expected.

"Ooo, I can hardly wait!" Bree enthused as she bounced, wincing again, on the lumbar cushion. "But for the paddle, will you promise me to sand it so you won't leave splinters in my butt?"

Micah took a moment to answer, trying not to visualize the possibility so completely that he couldn't drive safely. But he managed, and answered with a pat to Bree's knee: "I will. But if you ever do get splinters, I'll pluck 'em out with my teeth, okay?"

"You sure do know how to sweet-talk a girl, Master," Bree breathed in reply. "And look... we've almost made it back home."