Chapter One

 

"Are you sure that's what you want?" my wife asked.

I nodded; my throat felt dry and my heart was beating fast.

"Okay," she said. "Give me some time to think about it."

After five years of marriage, I had finally gotten up enough courage to tell my wife, Justine, how desperately I wanted her to spank me. Oh, she'd done it plenty of times during sex and sometimes playfully around the house, like when we hugged or walked by each other in the kitchen. She knew that I liked it. I just didn't think she knew how much I liked it.

Neither of us had really been into bondage, and we hadn't really worked much kinky stuff into our sex life. But I wasn't really looking for full-fledged domination or anything like that; I just needed a good spanking once in a while. I'd been hinting at it for at least a year and then talking more openly about it, but I think she still thought I was just talking about how much I liked it when we were in bed.

So I thought I should take things to the next level. I started looking at websites that dealt with this sort of thing, and I would "forget" to close the browser window when leaving our computer (or I'd "accidentally" minimize the window instead of closing it), so that Justine would get a glimpse of what I meant. I left open informative sites about light femdom, some with polls and interviews. One poll featured questions like "How often do you spank your husband?" (The multiple-choice answers varied from "once in a while" to "every day"-I wanted to give my wife an idea of how regular a thing this could be). I found places with F/M spanking stories, and I saved some of these to the desktop, knowing that Justine would be curious when she sat at the computer and saw new documents there.

This went on for a few months, but she only mentioned it on rare occasions, giving a playful smile when she did. I knew that she was thinking about it all, but taking her time, getting used to the concept. As I said, neither of us had done much of this kind of thing before, and while I had been fantasizing and daydreaming about it for years, she needed some time to catch up, internally. I knew that it wasn't her natural inclination to just give me spankings outside of bed or to take on any sort of dominating role. But we loved each other deeply, were together for life, and would try with all our hearts to please each other. Knowing the intensity of our mutual affection gave me hope that she would find a way to fulfill my fantasies.

After some more obvious hints, I decided I should step things up again. I looked through F/M spanking pictures online and saved some onto our computer. There were countless images available, so I spent time looking only for the ones that really portrayed the things I wanted-the positions I wanted to be in, the positions I wanted her to be in, the implements used, and the level of punishment. I didn't want to bleed or have scars or anything, but I did want to try both light, fun smacks and also more serious stinging. The asses in the images I picked ranged from ordinary skin tone to bright, shining redness. I didn't know how much I could take-but I did want to try to find out.

Finally, after allowing a few weeks for the images to sink in, I went to an adult store and bought a paddle and a riding crop. The paddle was small and rounded, not too heavy; I thought it would be a good intermediate step between Justine's hand and the crop. One afternoon, I showed her these items and explained how much I was hoping that she'd find some time and some way to use them on me. I pleaded with her. I couldn't help the desperation in my voice. That's what led her to ask, "Are you sure that's what you want?" When I nodded, she asked for some time to think it all over. She also took the toys and said she'd hang on to them.

Many days passed without me pushing any more. I figured I'd already done all I could, and now I would just have to wait and see if my wife could find it in herself to be interested in this. We went about our routines and I let my desires fade into the background, deciding not to drive myself crazy wondering if this thing would ever happen.

Then, one Saturday morning, I was pleasantly surprised. We'd just finished breakfast, which we ate sitting on the couch in our living room, watching some crime dramas we'd taped on TV during the week. After finishing our food and the show, I brought our dishes to the kitchen and returned to the living room, where Justine remained on the couch, having shut off the television. She looked at me in a way I hadn't seen her do before. It was suddenly very quiet in our house.

"Well, what should we do today?" I asked.

"I know what I want you to do," she stated.

"What?" I asked, feeling just a touch of nervous excitement.

"I want you to go to the windows and pull down all the shades. We don't want anyone looking into this room at the moment. Then I want you to go upstairs to my bedside table and get something out of the drawer for me."

I began pulling down the shades, definitely more nervous now. I had an inkling of what was coming, and I had indeed asked for it-asked for it repeatedly and insistently. Why, then, should I be nervous? I didn't know, but that's how it was. "What do you want me to get out of your drawer?" I asked shakily as I pulled down the last shade.

"Oh, I think you'll know," she said flatly.

I walked slowly upstairs, no longer feeling as sure of myself. I went into our bedroom, walking almost as if in a dream, and watched my hand reach out and pull open the drawer on my wife's bedside table. There, on top of all the other items she kept in there, was the paddle I'd bought and given to her. My heart was beating very fast. I picked up the paddle with some trepidation and headed back downstairs.

As I stepped back into the living room, now somewhat dim from the shaded windows, I saw that Justine had not moved from where she sat on the couch. "Ah," she said. "I see that you found it. Now bring it to me." Her voice was not exactly sharp or stern, but there was a commanding firmness there that was unfamiliar.

I approached the couch and handed her the paddle, licking my lips, which had become dry. She hefted it, looking at it and smiling briefly, then placed it on the low coffee table in front of the couch, where our breakfast had been only minutes before.

"Now come closer," she said. "This side of the table. Stand in front of me. Hands on your head."

"What...?" I asked feebly as I moved to stand only inches in front of her.

"You heard me," she responded, looking up at me. "Get your hands on your head. I'll have to add to your punishment for the hesitation."

I quickly raised my arms and placed my hands on my head. Justine reached forward and undid my belt buckle, then unbuttoned my pants, which fell to my ankles from the weight of my belt. I felt a rush of excitement. I was wearing briefs that morning, and my erection strained against the fabric.

"Oooo, I see you're a little excited," she said and flashed a brief half-smile. "Now get across my lap." I let my hands drop from my head and got myself into a position I'd been dreaming about for years, lying across the lap of my beautiful wife with my pants down. I was trembling with glee, but I also didn't know what she would do, how far she would go. My whole being ached for what was coming.

"So," she said and landed a swat on my underwear. "You've been wanting some of this." She was timing her smacks to coincide with some of her words. "You need it, you told me. You want it. You're just desperate for it. You need to be spanked. Spanked! Spanked! Well! And Hard!"

Her spanks were firm but still somewhat light. She paused and then went on speaking. "You asked for it, so you're going to get it. I had to think about it for a long time, but because I love you, I've found it in my heart to understand just how much you deserve a thorough spanking. You're so good, though, that it's been hard for me to think of things to punish you for. I know it's more of a reward for you than a punishment, but still... I've got to have some premise to work with here. I can think of a few things. Feel free to help me out and tell me some bad things you've done. The first thing that comes to mind is you hesitating when I told you just now to get your hands on your head. When we're in spanking mode, you're not allowed to hesitate or to question me. That will be one of our rules."

"Okay," I whimpered.

"I'm glad you agree," she said. "Here's another rule: No reaching back to rub your bottom. Yes, it's going to sting, but you just have to take that. You've been telling me it's what you want, so I'm telling you that you'll just have to deal with whatever pain I inflict. And another thing: For certain bad things you do, you and I will agree on a number of swats you should receive. Because I'm new at this-and so are you-I'll leave some room for negotiation when we come up with these numbers. But once we agree on a number of strokes, you must receive them all, no matter what. I won't stop until you've taken them all, not even if you yell out or start crying. So be warned, and think carefully when you have the chance to help me decide on your punishments."

"Okay," I said again.

"Good. I see you don't have much to say. That leaves me to come up with some things on my own. Now let's get started for real."

She grabbed my underwear then and yanked it down, then immediately brought her palm down hard on my right buttock with a loud smack! I gasped a little at the unexpected force. "What was that?" she said and smacked me just as hard on my left cheek. "I thought I heard a little sound coming from you." She continued smacking, slowly and deliberately, about once a second, with a definite pause between each blow. "This is just to get the hang of things," she said. "Is this what you like? Are you enjoying this?"

At this, I nodded. Suddenly, she gave me a bunch of swats very rapidly and a little harder. "I didn't hear you!" she yelled, raising her voice for the first time.

"I... asked... if... you're... enjoying... this!" she said sternly, while smacking me fast and hard.

I cried out, "Owww! Yes! I said yes!"