Room with a View

Room with a

View By

Kristin York

Room with a

View By

Kristin York A Newsite Web Services Book Published by arrangement with the author All rights reserved. Copyright 2008 © by Kristin York This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission of the author or Newsite Web Services, LLC Published by Newsite Web Services, LLC P.O. Box 1286, Loganville, Georgia 30052 USA [email protected] disciplineanddesire.com

Chapter One

"Wait for me upstairs." Liz stood near the far corner of the room — their special room — her forehead pressed against one of the cool panes of glass. Outside, rain lashed the windows and, with one finger, she followed one drop and then another as they ran in rivulets down to the sill. It felt as though the very heavens were crying and her eyes ached with the need to do the same, but no tears would come. Sighing, she wrapped her white cotton robe tighter about herself and looked out over the lake. Soon, very soon, she knew that would change. Turning away from the corner, she surveyed the third-floor chamber. Two years ago, when they’d been house hunting here at the cape, she and Tony had both seen the grimy, multi-windowed attic as something more than a place to store the family’s junk. And after a great deal of work, their vision had paid off. No longer dark and foreboding, the large chamber was now a warm, inviting place where wall-sconces threw gentle light against whitewashed walls and white woven throw rugs kept the chill of a solid wood floor at bay. Great mullioned windows began in the southwest corner of the room and stretched out along the length of two full walls, reaching from the chair rail to within two feet of the high ceiling and providing a breathtaking view of the sparkling water and lush foliage below.

1

Once the basic work had been done, they’d furnished the room with four simple pieces in a light oak. A massive four-poster bed was covered in a thick, quilted coverlet of pure white, with matching pillows and dust ruffle. To the left, in between the bed and one glassed-in wall, was a small bedside table; across the room stood a massive wardrobe and one simple, straight-backed chair which, just now, had been moved out away from the wall. Liz wasn’t sure if her husband would wish to sit in the chair or on the bed, but she knew to be prepared for either circumstance. She fervently hoped that he would not wish her to bend over the back, for that always signaled that she was in store for a difficult session. But surely she wasn’t in that much trouble. Or was she? She hadn’t meant to be so crabby — not really — but it had been such a stressful day. There had been errands to run, a deadline to meet and on top of everything else, the school had called to say that Aaron had forgotten his lunch again and could she please run it out to him. It was an exasperated Liz who greeted her children and husband that night and, when she managed to burn the pie she’d worked so hard on, she’d cursed soundly as she dumped the entire mess — glass pie plate and all — into the trash can. That’s when Tony had come up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It’s just a pie," he said gently as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Don’t let it bother you." "That’s easy for you to say," Liz responded. "But I don’t have enough ingredients for another one, so now I’m going to have to run out to the store and get some more pie filling or you won’t have anything to take for your office carry-in tomorrow." "You’ll do no such thing, young lady. It’s almost ten o’clock already. And besides — I told you I could just stop by the bakery and grab something on my way in."

2

Liz squirmed out of her husband’s arms and reached back to untie her apron, which was damnably knotted. "And have everybody think your wife is too lazy to do a little baking for you? I don’t think so, Tony. It’ll just take me fifteen minutes to run to the grocery and then —" "No." His voice was firm as he helped his wife unknot her apron strings and, taking the garment, draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. "It’s late and you’re tired and starting on another pie at this time of night is absolutely the last thing you need to do." He kissed her on the forehead before turning her around and, with hands firmly on her shoulders, guided her to the back staircase. "I want you to go get ready for bed and then head up to the third floor." Liz wheeled about. "Tony, I can’t go to bed yet! There are dishes to be done and Aaron’s lunch —" "I’ll take care of everything," he said in a tone that brooked no opposition. "You have your instructions. Now," he turned her back around and gave her a sharp swat on the bottom, "you go on. I want you to wait for me upstairs." And so, here she was, hardly able to keep from pacing as she waited for her husband to join her. She hated this part, hated cooling her heels while butterflies rioted in her stomach. She despised the way her mouth grew dry and her palms sweaty every time she even looked at that wardrobe, let alone the moment when she was instructed to go to it and withdraw one of the items they kept inside. Just opening the door was enough to make her heart slam against her chest for, no matter how long they’d been doing this, she’d never get used to the sight of all those implements kept in one handy place. "Her collection," Tony called it, and he was right. She’d been picking up razor strops, canes, wooden spoons and paddles at antique stores for years,

3

though she’d certainly never dreamt she’d one day feel the actual sting from even one of her purchases. But that had been before the week that a gall-bladder attack landed her, unexpectedly, in the hospital. It was then that she’d been forced to explain to her husband how to open one of the stories she’d written for an internet site, because her publisher needed the piece by the end of the week. Up until that time, Tony had been content with her explanation that she was getting most of her freelance pay from "romance" sites and he’d really shown no interest in reading her work. But the next day, when he’d come to the hospital to visit her, she’d seen it in his eyes. He’d read her story. He knew. She’d felt half sick at that moment, imagining how he must now see her, preparing herself for the words "perverted" and "crazy." But instead, he’d simply taken her hand and said, "Why didn’t you ever tell me?" That day had marked a new beginning for Tony and Liz, and for their marriage. In the nearly three years that had followed, they’d moved from the realm of purely erotic spanking to embrace the philosophies of those who advocated domestic discipline as the path to a happier, healthier marriage. And for them, it had worked. Their home had become a safe haven, a peaceful harbor from society’s storms. Tony had learned to read his wife, to anticipate her needs. At times, she thought ruefully, he could read her almost too well. "Tony," she said the moment he walked into the room, "I — I don’t want a spanking." "I know, honey," he soothed as he took her by the hand and, seating himself on the end of the bed, drew her to stand in between his legs. "But that’s not the point, is it? Right now, you need one." Tears stung Liz’s eyes. "I’m so sorry. I know I was horrible tonight but —"

4

He placed his finger on her lips. "Shh. This is not about punishment, babe. You’ve just been so stressed lately. I’m going to help you unwind." As he spoke, he loosened the sash on her robe and slipped it from her shoulders. After he’d lain it carefully on the end of the bed, he rubbed her bare arms gently. "You cold?" he asked. "A little." Nodding, he helped her gently over his left knee, shifting his position so that the bed supported her upper body. "We’ll get you warmed up in no time." Liz whimpered as her husband drew her long nightgown up, depositing the fabric in the small of her back. His touch was a soft caress on her tingling bottom and despite her apprehension, she responded by opening her thighs for his wandering fingers. "Hmm," she heard him moan. "We’ll get to that, love. But first things first." He brought his own thighs together, effectively pinning her legs into place. Then, wrapping his arm more firmly about her waist, he lifted his hand and brought it down with a resounding smack. "Oh," she gasped as the first stinging slap made its way through to her senses. Several more open palm spanks colored her bottom and she said through clenched teeth, "Please Tony, not so hard." He only chuckled and brought his hand down to make contact with the top of her right thigh. "That’s not the way this works, babe, and you know it." "It was worth a shot." "You think so?" he mused as he increased the force of his hand spanks. "Really?" "Oomph." Liz squirmed about; trying to find a more comfortable position as her husband rained down hard smacks over the entire surface of her bottom. "Tony, please. I’ve had enough. Really." "Elizabeth Ann," he scolded, his voice taking on a new implacability, "You do not decide how long or

5

how hard a spanking you receive. You know that." He brought his palm down hard several times. "What on earth has gotten into you tonight?" The young woman bit her lip, immediately regretting her words. "I — I don’t know, honey." Her breath hitched as his hand caught the top of her left thigh repeatedly. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me." "I do, babe. You’re exhausted." Smack! "You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for the last two weeks and you’ve just worn yourself out." Spank! "Now isn’t that right?" "I guess so," she said, grasping the coverlet with both hands. "But I had a lot to do." "I know," Tony agreed, never letting up on the movement of his strong right hand. "But you also put off getting that article written until two days before the deadline, which then added to your pressure. You could have managed your time better. Couldn’t you?" "Y-yes." Tony continued to spank, his open hand raising a warm shade of pink all over his wife’s upturned bottom. But still, she remained tense, refusing to give herself up to him completely. At last, he stopped and helped her to her feet. "My hand doesn’t appear to be making enough of an impression tonight," he told the pouting woman. "Go get the paddle." "Oh, no," Liz’s eyes grew round and she reached back to cover her stinging bottom cheeks. "Please not the paddle, Tony. I’ll be good." Reaching around to draw her hands away from her burning flesh, he reminded her, "We agreed to this, babe. It’s how we both wanted our marriage to be. Now, are you going to continue to argue with me? Because, if so, this is going to become a punishment session P.D.Q."

6

"No, sir." She knew better than to do something that would earn her that kind of a spanking. Withdrawing her hands from his, Liz went to the wardrobe and swung open the door. "Which one do you want?" "The leather paddle should do," he said. "Bring it to me." Reaching in, she took the leather paddle down from one of several brass hooks and returned to stand before her husband. She was chewing her lower lip, dreading the sting she knew the balloonshaped black leather would impart, but she only handed it to her husband and lowered herself back into position. This time, he held back nothing, but immediately began to spank hard and fast. The young woman squirmed about, kicking as best she could with her knees pinned down and clawed frantically at the bedcovers. The burn was terrible and each stinging swat only increased the biting pain. When her husband pushed her father forward over his knee, effectively opening up the crease between buttocks and thighs, her hand flew back in a futile effort to protect the sensitive skin. Tony only caught her wrist, however, and pinned her arm into the small of her back. "Come on, baby," he said, the soft tone of his voice a sharp contrast to the crack of paddle to flesh. "Let it go. You need this release." And just that fast, she did. All of the stress, the frantic running back and forth, the long days and even longer nights spent working on articles and stories began to drain from her body, in the form of hot tears that soaked into the coverlet beneath her face. And Tony — aware of the sudden, shuddering sobs that shook his wife’s shoulders — eased up on the force of his spanks. He continued, in fact, only long enough to be certain that she would allow the tears to continue to flow. Then, with infinite

7

tenderness, he lifted her up and cradled her on his lap. "That’s it," he whispered as he rubbed her back. "Just let it all out, honey. Nobody can put in the kind of hours you’ve been keeping and not burn out at some point. You just did too much, which is why I’m here. I want you to remember to take better care of yourself. Okay?" Sniffling, Liz nodded into her husband’s shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered as she pulled back to look into his eyes. "You always know just what I need." The truth of that statement was proven a moment later, as his mouth closed over hers in a demonstration of how gentle a passionate kiss could be. And later, as the sheets tangled about them and she cried out her husband’s name, Liz knew that it would always be true for them. This man, and this man alone, knew exactly how to keep her happy. And thankfully, he always would.

8

Chapter Two

"Hurry it up, Liz! We need to get a move on." Liz Turner looked up from her task of putting fresh sheets on the king-sized bed in the attic room. "I’ll be right down, honey," she called distractedly. Reaching for the roses she’d brought upstairs, she broke the heads off of several of the flowers and scattered the fragrant, red petals over the thick white comforter. Smiling to herself, she laid one rose — blooms still intact — across the pillows. "There," she murmured. "Perfect." "Yes, you are." Tony stuck his head round the doorway. "But if you don’t hurry up, you’re going to be in some serious trouble for making me late to this dinner. Now, will you come on? There’ll be plenty of time for this later." "Alright." Liz blushed as she turned toward her husband. "I just wanted things to be nice for when we get home. After all, it’s not every night that we have the house all to ourselves." "And believe me," Tony said, looking beyond handsome in his tuxedo, "I plan to make good use of the time. But for now —" "I know, I know. Your boss is expecting us to host this event." Liz smoothed the skirt of her figure-hugging sapphire-blue dress and retrieved her beaded shawl from the foot of the bed. "So, am I presentable, Mr. Turner?" "Always," Tony whispered as he stole a gentle kiss. "And just so you know, I cannot wait for this

9

party to be over with so I can have you all to myself." "Ditto," Liz said with a laugh as her husband escorted her down the stairs. "I just hope you have the energy to keep up with me." The cheeky comment earned her a swat and she was still laughing as she climbed into the van. "What’s so funny?" Miranda, a far too grown up eleven-year-old, asked her mother. "Oh, your father was just being Mr. Tough Guy," Liz teased gently as Tony backed the van out of the drive. "Yeah, and you know how well your mother listens," the man said as he shifted to drive and headed down the road. Taking Liz’s hand, he brushed his thumb across her wrist, a move he knew would quicken her pulse. "So, what are you two going to do with Grandma and Grandpa tonight?" he asked the kids. "Grandpa said I could take apart his old VCR," Aaron answered. "And then he said we would finish that model airplane and —" "Grandma and I," Miranda interrupted in a transparent attempt to silence her chattering younger brother, "are going shopping. Mom, you just have to tell her that I can wear a little bit of make-up, ‘cause she said she would take me for a make-over if it’s okay with you." Tony, the typical protective father, rolled his eyes. "Your mother —" "— Is putting ideas in her head." Liz finished the sentence for her husband. "I know, Tony. And I’ll talk to her." Glancing into the review mirror, she held her daughter’s eyes. "And you, young lady, are to stop begging Grandma for something that you know you’re not allowed to have." "Aw, mom! Everybody in my class wears makeup."

10

"And I’m not everybody’s father," Tony replied, his tone firm. "Enough said, Miranda?" "Yes, sir," the pre-teen sighed. "Shoot." Tony hit the brakes. "A train. Just what we needed." Turning her attention back to the road, Liz patted her husband’s hand. "It’ll be fine," she said. "See, this one is moving pretty fast." "Yeah," six-year-old Aaron piped up from the backseat. "It’s not one of those slow ones that Mom drives around." Just that fast, Liz’s heart was in her throat. At the railroad crossing, Tony put the car in park and turned around to look at their son. "Mom goes around the trains?" he asked with a deceptive calm. "You mean she turns around and finds another road where the train’s not stopped?" "Well, sometimes," Aaron answered innocently. "But last week, when the train was really slow and we were in a hurry to get to the doctor’s, she just went around those little bar thingies that go down." "I see," Tony said as, turning back towards the front, he pinned his wife with an angry glare. "Well, Mommy shouldn’t be doing that," he told the children. "If she ever got caught, she would be in a lot of trouble with the police. And," he continued, his eyes never leaving her face, "it’s a stupid, dangerous thing to do. One I’m sure she already regrets doing. Don’t you, honey?" Liz looked down, her cheeks suffused with color. "Yes, of course. Kids," she said, twisting around to look at the children, "your father’s right. I never should have gone around the crossing gates, and I am sorry. If something had happened to either of you because of my carelessness, I would never be able to live with myself. Do you forgive me?" "Whatever," Miranda barely glanced up, far too engrossed in her book.

11

"It’s okay, Mom," Aaron smiled, completely unaware of the trouble his words had caused. "Everybody makes mistakes." "Yes, they do," Tony said quietly as the last train car rumbled over the tracks. "And many times, our mistakes have consequences." Liz nodded her understanding as the van bumped across the tracks. "I am sorry," she whispered, her words low enough so that only her husband would hear. "You’re going to be much sorrier," he replied through clenched teeth, "when I’m done with you." Ten minutes later, after she’d seen the kids into her parent’s home — and reminded her mother that Miranda was not to wear makeup — she slid back into the van. "Tony, I —" "Not a word," he said as he put the van into reverse and backed down the driveway. "Not one word; not one lousy excuse, Liz, or I’ll pull this van over and blister you here and now. And then we would be late. But you had better believe we will discuss this tonight when we get home. You got it?" "Yes." Her voice was little more than a whisper. One furtive glance at her husband’s tense profile was enough to warn her off the subject, and they rode the rest of the way to the banquet hall in silence. The fund-raiser was a success, though Liz was hard pressed to show any enthusiasm. Although she smiled and did her part as hostess, her mind kept skipping ahead to the moment she and her husband would arrive home. Safety issues had long been a top priority of Tony’s, and carelessness behind the wheel was never permitted. In fact, the worst spanking she’d ever received had been for punching the accelerator to make it through a yellow light rather than stopping, as she should have. It was one of the few times he’d been a passenger while she drove and, despite the fact that she’d been

12

driving him to the doctor’s to have a minor cut stitched up, she’d still received a lengthy and decidedly unpleasant strapping for her careless disregard for her own safety. And to think he hadn’t even been all that angry that time! Liz shivered as she bid goodnight to the caterer and allowed her husband to slip her wrap around her shoulders. It was time to face the music. Tony said next to nothing on the ride home, and she was certainly far from talkative as she contemplated her fate. Would he use the strap? As much as she hated the bite of heavy leather and the welts it raised, she was fully aware that it could be worse. She drew her wrap more tightly about her as, staring out the window, she envisioned the rarely used schoolmaster’s cane that hung in the back of the wardrobe. "Please, not the cane," she chanted silently. "Please, please…not that awful cane." The silence was broken the moment Tony pulled the van into the garage. "I want you upstairs and waiting," he said, almost wearily. "You know what’s expected." Liz started through the door into the kitchen, but suddenly the awful anticipation forced her to do something she’d rarely attempted. Whirling around, she gave her husband a look of open defiance. "No." Tony, who’d been pulling his briefcase out of the back seat, was momentarily stunned. Slamming the sliding door, his voice took on a measure of icy calm. "What did you just say?" "I said no." Liz’s hands were fisted at her sides and she did not back down even as he advanced on her. "This isn’t fair, Tony. You haven’t even listened to my side of the story and I’ll be darned if I’m going to run up the stairs to do your bidding like some frightened child. I’m a grown woman! I do not have to allow you to spank me."

13

"Oh really?" Beyond the note of disbelief, there was a powerful resolve in the man’s voice. Taking her by the arm, he walked her into the kitchen. "I always listen to your side of the story first, Liz. You know that. But this is not the place or the time. Upstairs, after you’ve had a few minutes in the corner to think over what you’ve done, we will talk about it. But not before." Turning his wife so that he could look into her eyes, he spoke with measured restraint. "Elizabeth Ann, I’m going to say this one more time. Go upstairs and wait for me there." Liz looked away, unwilling to meet her husband’s eyes when she refused for a second time. Exasperated, Tony whirled around, his grip still firm on her arm. "All right, if that’s the way you want it, baby," he muttered as he spurred her toward the kitchen counter, "then we’ll have a discussion right here. This one, however, will be about your defiance." Pulling a heavy wooden spoon from the canister near the stove, he quickly kicked out a kitchen chair and sat. In the next moment, Liz found herself face down over his left thigh and, though she kicked, he managed to pin her legs between his. "No! Tony, you can’t," she cried, but to no avail. The wooden spoon cracked across her bottom with several sharp, stinging swats and she squirmed in a desperate attempt to right herself. "I don’t think so," Tony said as he pushed her skirt up and out of the way. "You’re not going anywhere, baby. Remember? You wanted to stay down here, so that’s just what we’re going to do. Now, I’m going to spank and you’re going to talk." He brought the spoon down on her bottom, considerably less protected now that the skirt was gone. "You wanted to explain, so get to explaining. I’m all ears." "Ouch!" Liz reached a hand back in an attempt to shield her bottom. "I can’t think when you’re

14

spanking me, Tony," she wailed. "Please, just let me up." Catching his wife’s wrist, Tony made sure her hand was held firmly in the small of her back before setting the spoon down on the kitchen table. Then, with a few rough tugs, he worked her pantyhose and blue satin panties to her thigh-tops. "No!" Liz cried, just as the first stinging swat tattooed her bottom with a bright red oval. "I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry! Please, I’ll go upstairs now." The spoon fell again, leaving a twin imprint on the other cheek and she began to cry. "I’ll go and we can talk about it there. I promise!" "No," Tony said as he fell into a rhythm, spanking with full, measured strokes over the entire surface of Liz’s backside. "First we’ll talk about what happens when you don’t do as your told. Then, when I’m satisfied with the outcome of that discussion you’ll go upstairs, where we will deal with the issue of driving around those crossing gates." She was crying in earnest now, her tears dripping onto the square of linoleum beneath her face. "I’m sorry!" she moaned. "I know I should have obeyed. I — I was just scared!" "Scared of what?" Tony asked, bringing the spoon down low to make contact with Liz’s lower bottom. "Scared that maybe, if you thought about it, you’d not be able to defend yourself?" Liz’s breath hitched around her words. "Y-yes. And the cane! I was scared you’d use the cane!" "And what about this notion that I wouldn’t listen to you?" Tony had lessened up the force of the spanks, but still, the rhythm was relentless. "Have you ever known me not to hear you out before making the decision to spank?" That question brought on more hot tears as Liz faced the truth of her own manipulation. "No," she sobbed, stung by a guilty conscience. "I’m sorry, honey. I — I shouldn’t have said that."

15

"All right then." Tony helped his wife to stand, and she stood between his legs, her face painted red with shame. "If you’re ready to obey now, I’ll give you another chance to go upstairs. But first, you might as well take your hose and panties off completely, as I’m sure you can’t get up the stairs with them down around your legs." "Yes sir," Liz whispered as, her cheeks hot with humiliation, she backed up just enough so that she could slide her underthings down and off. With the tangle of undergarments in her hand, she gave her husband a quizzical look. "What do you want me to do with these?" "You can put them in the laundry room," he said. "But first, turn around and I’ll unzip your dress. You might as well leave that down here, too." She turned obediently, half fearing another volley of spanks to assault her burning flesh, but her husband merely unzipped her dress. "Now hurry up," he said as he gestured toward the small room just off the kitchen. "Throw those things in the hamper and let’s get upstairs where we can finish this properly. Liz felt as though she could hardly move her feet. She had promised to obey — and she would — but it was hard to return to her husband’s side, knowing what awaited her. Dragging her feet did little good, however, for an impatient Tony did not wait long before entering the laundry room himself. Finding her still standing over the hamper, the dirty clothes held tight against her chest, he cracked the spoon hard against one thigh and then the other, causing her to dance away. "When I tell you to do something, young lady, I mean now." Hurriedly, she dropped the clothing and reached back to rub the injured flesh. The spoon, however, was brought down lightly across her knuckles before she could soothe away any of the sting.

16

"You’re not to rub, either," Tony ordered. "You’ve deserved every spank you’ve gotten and I want you to feel it. Now, up stairs!" Liz hurried to the staircase and Tony followed close behind, spoon still in hand. Several times on the way up to the third floor, he urged her along with swats that bit into her bare bottom or — worse yet — the backs of her thighs. She was desperate to rub the pain away, for each time the spoon landed, she felt as though she’d been stung by bees. She did not, however, attempt to shield herself again and she was soon standing in her corner of their special room, red-hot bottom blazing as Tony carefully removed his jacket, vest and tie. "Okay," he said just when she thought she might go mad from the heavy silence that had fallen over the room. "Explain to me exactly what made you drive around those crossing gates when a train was coming." Drawing in a deep breath, she told him how the kids had been dragging their feet and they’d been running late to the doctor’s office. "And you know how Dr. Raye is. If you’re fifteen minutes late, he won’t see you and he’ll charge you for a missed appointment. I had to hurry." "And the train?" "It was moving so slow, hon," she continued. "In fact, the kids had even remarked about how it was just crawling and then the damn gates came down just as we got to the crossing. I never would have done it, Tony, if I hadn’t been absolutely sure we were safe. You have to believe me." Drawing the straight-backed chair into the middle of the room, Tony sat down before calling his wife from the corner. When she had moved to stand before him, he began to talk in calm, quiet tones. "Okay, Liz, there are some things we need to get straight right away. First and foremost, I want

17

you to understand how hurt I am that you thought I would spank you without getting your side of the story first. Do you really think me that much of a monster?" That comment was like a punch in the stomach, and tears pooled in her eyes. "I — I just — Tony, you seemed so angry and all I could think of was that cane and that you were probably mad enough to use it. And — well, I was afraid." "I see." Tony leaned back and ran frustrated fingers through his hair. "I’m sorry to hear you’re afraid of me now. I didn’t ask for this responsibility, you know. I guess I never should have agreed to real discipline spankings." Liz gasped. "Oh Tony, no! I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not afraid of you, but of the pain. I knew it would hurt — will hurt — and I just panicked. But I know you would never really harm me." "Do you?" He looked up at her, and all she could see in his eyes was a profound sadness. "Do you really know that for sure? And if so, are you willing to submit yourself now? To whatever I decide is fair?" It was a hard question, but she did not falter when she answered. "Yes. I’ll do whatever you say. I know I was wrong." "Okay. Come here." He held out his arms and she went to him, sitting gingerly at first until she could find a comfortable place on his lap. When her head was nestled into the crook of his shoulder, he began. "This is how I see it. Basically, you broke the law. If a cop had happened to notice you going around those crossing gates, you’d have been ticketed. True?" She nodded, face flushed with embarrassment. "And not only did you do something illegal and potentially dangerous, you did it with the kids in the car. You set an example, honey — a bad one. Am I right?"

18

She nodded again, more miserable than before. "Yes, you’re right. Oh, Tony," she said as hot tears spilled over, "I’m so sorry. I was in such a hurry that I didn’t put any thought into what I was doing. And Miranda’s only a few years away from her learner’s permit!" "That’s right. And that’s why I believe you deserve to be punished." Sliding a finger beneath his wife’s chin, he forced her to look up into his eyes. "Do you agree, Liz? Do you deserve punishment?" Liz shivered with dread. She knew she had earned herself a hard spanking but after what had transpired downstairs, she wasn’t sure her bottom could tolerate any more. She realized, however, that she had no real choice. The pain she was feeling now was a result of her own stupid defiance and had nothing to do with driving around those crossing gates. With tears swimming in her eyes, she looked up at her husband. "Yes, I deserve it, Tony. And I promise to try to be still and accept this graciously, though I don’t know how successful I will be." Kissing her on the forehead, Tony helped his wife to her feet. "Okay," he said as he rose from the chair, "I want you to bend over the back of the chair and take a good hold on the seat. I know you’ve got to be sore already, and I’ll try to make this quick if only you’ll hold still." Liz moved into position and, closing her eyes tightly, listened as her husband opened the door to the wardrobe where all their implements were kept. For some reason, she simply could not bring herself to look at his reflection in the windows that offered a breathtaking view of the water. She didn’t want to know what he was going to use. She just wanted it to be over with. Tony found himself facing a difficult decision. His wife had done something very foolish and, worse

19

yet, had set a terrible example for their children. She deserved a harsh punishment yet, glancing back at her, he could still recognize the fading imprints of the wooden spoon and he guessed that she must still be hurting. He did not want to be overly harsh, but he knew he had to make a lasting impression. Also to be considered was her fear of the cane. He’d only used it twice before, and both times in play, but she’d taken an instant disliking to it. For that reason, they’d reserved it for punishment only. Now, he eyed the swishy, flexible rod that he knew would whistle as it cut through the air. The strap that hung next to it was heavy and would raise welts, but it would take less overall spanks for the cane to get its message across. Finally, he reached in and took down the long rattan stick with the shepherd’s-crook handle. She hated this cane, so he knew it would make the proper impression. In addition, he knew that a quick spanking would be more merciful at this point. Returning to his wife’s side, he placed a restraining hand in the small of her back. "Please stand still, honey," he said gently. "If you’re good, I’ll only give you six. Otherwise, there will be more. Understand?" Liz moaned and tears began to course down her cheeks the moment she realized she would be feeling the cane. She nodded her head, however, and grasped the seat of the chair with both hands. "Yes," she whispered. "I understand." The next thing she knew, a moment of dreadful silence was interrupted by the whining sound of the cane as it cut through the air. Then a line of fire made it’s way through to her senses and a cry forced the air from her lungs. She was just drawing breath when a second stroke landed, parallel and just slightly lower than the first. "Aieee!" she cried out.

20

Head tilted back, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in one of the mullioned windows. Her face was bathed in tears, her mouth a round o as she vocalized the horrible burning impact. Worst of all, she could not seem to shut her eyes against the powerful image of her husband behind her, drawing the rod back for yet another blazing stroke. She watched with dread as the cane sliced through the air again, clenching her cheeks in a futile effort to avoid the horrible pain. "Try not to tense up, hon," Tony said over the sound of heart-wrenching sobs. "It’ll make the bruising worse." Three more times the cane left its mark across Liz’s anguished bottom, the last stripe set at a diagonal so as to cross the others. It took every bit of willpower she had not to jump up then, but she remained valiantly in place until Tony had dropped the cane and enfolded her in strong arms. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry." She repeated the phrase over and over again as he pulled her up and against his chest. "Shh," he said as he smoothed her hair. "It’s all over now, baby, and you’re forgiven." "I’ll never, never do it again," she promised. "I know you’ll try real hard to keep that promise," Tony replied, "because you know now what happens when you don’t. Now, come on and lay down and let me take care of you." He led her to their bed then and, pulling back the rose-petal-strewn duvet, helped her to lie face down on the cool sheets. He disappeared into the adjoining bath for a few moments and returned with the petroleum jelly. "This’ll keep you from bruising too badly," he said as he gently applied the soothing balm to her naked flesh.

21

"Thank you," Liz said through tears borne of both pain and gratitude. "I’m so sorry you had to do that, Tony. And I’m sorry I ruined our evening." "Shhh," he soothed, kissing the back of her neck. "Stuff happens, honey. There will be other evenings. But, right now, I think you just need some sleep." Rising from the bed, the young man stripped and turned out the lights before joining his wife beneath the covers. "I’d make love to you," he whispered, "but I know you’re too sore for that just now. But I’ll be here if and when you’re ready." Liz closed her eyes then and let his soothing presence lull her into a dream. And later that night — or perhaps it was early the next morning — she did wake her husband, hungry for his touch. For though she knew she would be sore for some time, she also had the surety of his love. And perhaps that was the most important lesson, after all.

22

Chapter Three Liz Turner was miserable; had been miserable for nearly a week. That’s what secrets could do to you. The problem was that she’d broken one of Tony’s rules – well, one of their rules. And rather than face the consequences, which would certainly include a sound spanking, she’d lied to save her backside. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the necessity for a yearly physical. After all, she’d watched her sister go through the surgery and chemo necessary to treat ovarian cancer, a disease that had taken their mother at only 47. With a family history of such an illness, she fully realized how important preventative care was. But these things took time, which always seemed to be in short supply. She’d actually been due to visit the doctor in January, but school had been cancelled due to snow, and she’d not wanted to drag the children with her for what would surely prove to be a twohour appointment. Tony, a stickler where issues of health care were concerned, had understood that excuse. After all, sitting in a waiting room for two hours was a bit much to expect of the kids. But still, he’d firmly insisted that she reschedule the appointment for as soon as possible. The next day, Liz had called the office and gotten a new time, six weeks out. Tony had asked her about the appointment and been pleased that he’d not had to remind her to call

23

the doctor for an alternate time. "Thank you, honey," he’d said that night as he’d pulled her into an embrace. "You know how important this is to me – to our family. And by March, you shouldn’t have to worry about bad weather." He’d been right. It had been a perfect, unseasonably warm day in March when, just coming in from a ride along the bike paths at the State Park, she’d picked up the phone to hear, "Mrs. Turner? This is Sherri from Dr. Chaudra’s office, and I was calling because you missed your appointment this morning. Can we get that rescheduled?" Tony had not been quite so understanding that night. Once the children had been put to bed, he’d ordered Liz upstairs for his special brand of "reminder." By the time he’d let her up off of his lap, she’d had a new understanding of just how important this issue was to him. She’d promised not to miss the next appointment, which was scheduled for late April. "You’d better not," Tony had said, "because if I hear one more excuse on this, you can expect a sound strapping for your trouble." Was it any wonder, then, that she’d not felt she could explain to her husband why she’d rescheduled, yet again? He’d never buy her reasoning that doing that interview for her editor had been more important. So, she’d simply neglected to tell him that she’d changed the appointment time once again. Tony, however, had not forgotten the date. She suspected, in fact, that he’d written it down on his calendar at work; it had been the first thing he’d mentioned when he’d come home on Monday night. "How did the physical go?" he’d asked, and in a split-second, she’d made the decision to lie. "It was fine," she said as she busily stirred the spaghetti sauce. "All normal, as far as he could tell."

24

Wrapping his arms around her, Tony had smiled his approval. "Thanks, babe. That’s a real load off my mind. And you’ll get your lab results when?" "It takes a couple of weeks," she’d said. "They’ll only let me know if there’s something wrong." "Well, I think you should give them a call. You hear stories all the time about lab results getting mixed up or lost. The patient has to be proactive, you know." Smothering her guilt under a warm smile, she’d called past him, "Kids. Supper." That had been a week ago, and she was still trying to quiet her guilty conscience. It was getting harder, however, for her to live with the lie. Not only did she have to tiptoe around the house, careful not to accidentally mention the article she’d written, but she also worried that’d he’d read her article and ask how she’d managed to work in an out-of-town interview on such a busy day. But even worse than trying to cover up the lie, was the wedge that her dishonesty was driving between them. Every time Tony hugged her, every time he urged her to sit down and cuddle, she had to feign the need to attend to some household chore. She simply could not be so close to him, knowing she’d lied to avoid a spanking. And now he was holding her, stroking one finger down her stomach, and all she could think about was that damn doctor’s appointment. Staring up at the ceiling, she willed her body to respond. It was no use. "Honey?" Tony said presently. "Where are you tonight? It feels like you’re a million miles away." Tears stung her eyes. She had to tell him the truth, consequences be damned. In fact, at this point, she’d welcome the feel of the strap falling across her bared bottom for, no matter how much it hurt, she knew that Tony would forgive her. The slate would be wiped clean. Right now, that fresh

25

start felt far more important than the desire for selfprotection. Taking her husband’s hand, Liz spoke. "I’m sorry, honey," she said, "but I just – well, there’s something I have to tell you. And I know you’re going to be mad, but I just can’t keep this secret any longer." Tony rolled to his side and, propping his head up on his hand, looked down at his wife. His shrewd gaze took in her guilt-ridden expression and, when he spoke, his tone was one of firm resignation. "Okay. Should we be continuing this conversation upstairs?" Liz nodded and slipped silently out from beneath the covers. "I’ll go on up." Tony sighed. "Let me get some sweats on, and I’ll be right there." Their special room on the third floor was chilly, so Liz nudged up the thermostat. "Not that I’ll be needing the heat," she murmured to herself. It was reflex that made her run a hand over the back of her nightgown. Her bottom was tingling and a feeling of dreadful anticipation had settled in her stomach. Why the hell had she cancelled that appointment? Taking on that article at the last minute seemed silly now, and she wished she’d told her editor no. If she’d refused, she wouldn’t be up here now, waiting for her husband to come up and "bust her butt," as he often put it. "Okay, babe." Liz was staring out the window, close to crying, when he entered the room. Shutting the door behind him, Tony said, "Come over here and sit down. I want you to tell me what this is all about." He inclined his head, indicating she should take a seat at the foot of the bed and then brought the straight-backed chair over and sat, facing her. "Well?" They were knees to knees and she was finding it hard to talk. But at this point, silence was not an option. She’d opened her big mouth and Liz knew

26

there was now no turning back. Swallowing hard, she forced the confession past her lips. "Oh, Tony, I don’t know what I was thinking." She was speaking too fast, running her words together, but it didn’t matter. She simply wanted the truth out in the open. "I’m so sorry. I never should have lied to you." "About what?" he asked, and already he looked angry. When her answer was not forthcoming, he reached out and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Liz, what did you lie about?" A tear trickled down her cheek. "About my doctor’s appointment. And Tony, I’m so sorry." Tony looked as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "What do you mean?" He grabbed her hands and his voice was unsteady. "Liz, what’s wrong? What did the doctor say?" In her guilt-ridden state of mind, it took a moment for Liz to comprehend Tony’s question. "Oh! No, Tony, I didn’t mean that at all. Nothing’s wrong." Relief skittered across his face, followed quickly by genuine anger. "Then what the hell are you talking about? Liz?" Again, he tipped her chin up. "Don’t tell me that you didn’t go to the doctors." More tears filmed her eyes. "Oh, honey. I know it was wrong of me to reschedule, but my editor called that morning and they really needed my help. And since we had to pay the IRS this year, I thought…" "You thought what?" Tony stood, nearly knocking over his chair. "That a few dollars would mean more to this family than your health?" He paced, speared an angry hand through thick, blackbrown hair. "And then you lied to me, Liz! I cannot believe that you stood there last week and told me everything was fine, when you’d completely blown off your appointment!"

27

Liz blanched in the face of his anger. For heaven’s sake, why had she skipped that appointment? And why had she insisted on telling Tony now? She’d never seen him quite so angry, and she was certain she didn’t want the spanking she knew would be forthcoming. "I asked you a question," he barked, and she realized she’d not been listening. "I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you." Tony blew out a frustrated breath. "I asked you what we should do about this. What do you think is a fair punishment?" Oh no. Of all the things she hated about being punished, this was the thing she dreaded most. Being forced to come up with a suggestion about how he should blister her behind, what implement he should use, was daunting, to say the least. If she went to easy on herself, he’d take her over his knee and start with a hand spanking, until she’d rethought the situation and come up with a better answer. And she always wondered, too, what Tony would do if she suggested more than he thought appropriate. Would he just do it anyway? Certainly, he’d never told her before that she was being too hard on herself, and when he so readily agreed to her suggestion, she always wondered if she could have gotten off easier. "Please, Tony," she murmured. "Please don’t make me choose. We both know you’re going to spank me as long and as hard as you think is appropriate anyway. Please just get it over with!" He was standing at the window now, looking out over the lake, and she saw him nod. "You’re right, Liz. You are going to receive a long, hard spanking – a strapping, to be more exact – and I will not stop until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson." He turned and looked at her, almost sadly. "But I need to cool down first, so you can just take yourself over to that corner and stand with your nose to the wall.

28

I’ll be back when I know I’m able to handle this objectively." "Yes sir," Liz said as she hurried to bury her nose in the corner formed by one wall and the wardrobe. She did not turn when she heard her husband cross the room and walk out, shutting the door behind him. It seemed an eternity before his return—an eternity during which Liz had nothing to do save think about her own guilt and the heavy razor strop that would soon tattoo her bottom with broad, fiery welts. Her stomach churned and her legs felt like jello when she heard Tony return and quietly lock the door. Although she remained steadfastly in the corner, her ears picked up immediately on the jingle of his belt buckle, and she knew a brief moment of confusion. Tony rarely used his good belt on her, not that she would complain if he’d chosen to do so tonight. It certainly didn’t have the weight of the strop and she knew from the tone of his voice when he called her from the corner that she needed every bit of help she could get just now. "All right, Liz," he said as she turned to face him. "Before we get started, I want to know from you if there’s any legitimate reason why I shouldn’t blister your butt tonight. If so, speak now or forever hold your peace." Liz looked at the floor, fully aware that she was both without excuse and would soon know no peace. Sighing, she shook her head. "No sir." "Alright then," Tony picked up the chair and moved it into the empty area between them. "Get the razor strop out and let’s get this over with." He did not miss his wife’s surprise, nor her furtive glance at his belt, which lay coiled on the bed. "We’ll talk about that later. But you’ve been promised a sound strapping, and I always keep my promises." In two long strides, he closed the gap

29

between them. Reaching out, he forced her gaze to his own. "Don’t I?" Nodding miserably, Liz turned and opened the door to the wardrobe and, hands shaking, took down the heavy strop. She paused only long enough to latch the door before moving to stand facing the seat of the chair. Tony held out his hand and she obediently handed him the heavy length of leather before unbelting her wrapper and letting it slide to the floor. "Okay," he said gruffly, "Get into position, young lady. I expect to see your forearms and elbows touching the seat of that chair until I’ve given you permission to rise. Get out of position and we start over. Understand?" Liz nodded again, for it seemed her voice had completely deserted her. Silently, her stomach a riot of nerves, she bent over and placed her forearms on the seat of the chair. It was a horrible position, for she had to spread her legs wide to accommodate the stance— and that left her most sensitive areas completely open to the sharp, angry licks of the fire that would soon color her bottom. "Ready?" Tony’s voice sounded strained, though whether from anger or hurt she could not tell. With an involuntary shudder, she wrapped her fingers around the outer rungs that framed the back of the chair. "Y-yes sir." The first stroke fell and she realized that she had been wrong. There was no getting ready for the intensity of this pain, for the feel of the supple leather landing with a loud thwack to mold itself across her naked bottom and around her hip. There could be no preparation that would ease the reality of the strop and the way it tugged at her skin each time her husband drew back his arm to deliver another blow. No amount of mental warning could protect her from the broad, red welts that she could

30

feel being raised the third and fourth strokes and there could be no silence, either. The fifth time the strop landed —this time high across both cheeks—she cried out. "I’m sorry," she whispered immediately, but Tony’s hand found and caressed the small of her back. "It’s okay. You know this room is soundproofed and the door is locked. Cry all you need to, babe. I know it hurts." She broke down then, for the kindness of his words was more than she deserved. Tears streaming, she held onto the chair as the strapping continued. Ten, eleven…so complete was her torment that she lost the ability to count after the first dozen lashes, but still her husband continued to rain down punishing blows to her burning flesh. In the background, she could hear his voice, as unrelenting as the razor strop as he lectured her on her health and the necessity of taking care of herself. And in that moment, despite the pain—or perhaps because of it—she knew how completely this man treasured her. She began to sob out her apologies. "I’m so s-sorry," she said. "Oh Tony…c-can you ever forgive me?" She gasped as the strop landed again, then forced the words out. "I was wr-wrong to c-cancel. I’m sor-ry." The moment her heard the penitence in her voice, Tony placed a comforting hand on his wife’s lower back. "I know you are, babe. I know you are. Just try to hold still. It’s almost over." A small moan escaped her lips, but Liz simply tightened her grip on the back of the chair. "Okay," she murmured to the husband who waited patently, the razor strop held at his side. "P-Please just finish it." Tony did as he was bid. Five more times he lifted his arm high, then brought the strap down across her fiery red bottom. Five more times, Liz

31

accepted the stinging blows, her knees bending in reflex before she managed to regain her composure and reposition her bottom so that it was thrust out to receive the next lash. And finally, when it was over, she remained bent at the waist, her tears pooling on the seat of the chair as her husband rubbed her back in light, soothing circles. ‘Just stay put for a minute," he finally whispered and a sobbing Liz waited as he put up the strap, then returned to stand just to her left. One hand moved up her back to gently knead a tense shoulder as he crouched beside her and asked, "Can you stand?" Liz turned her tear-streaked face to her husband. "I-I think so." "’kay. Let me help you," he said. Standing, he helped her up, his touch tender. Then, pulling her against him, he lent her his strength as she collapsed against his chest. At last, careful not to further irritate her throbbing flesh, he laid her face down on the bed and went to the bathroom for the aloe gel. She flinched when he first touched her bottom, but soon she was breathing almost normally again, grateful for the comfort his touch afforded. Finally, her tears drying, she turned her face toward him. It was then she remembered the belt he’d left laying on the bed, and she instantly tensed again. "I’m sorry, babe," he soothed, unaware of her growing fear. "Did I hurt you just then?" "N-no," she answered carefully. The belt was yet coiled just beyond him, and directly in her line of vision. "It’s just that," she faltered, tears filling her eyes again. "I-I wondered why you brought your belt up here. Are—are you going to spank me more?" She felt Tony take a deep breath; knew he turned to look at the belt. His hand grown still and he seemed to be taking careful measure of the

32

situation. Finally, when she thought she’d go mad from wondering, he spoke. "I was going to, Liz. And I still will, but not tonight." She couldn’t help the tears that stung her eyes at that revelation for, at that moment, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to sit again—let alone withstand another spanking. Still, she knew in her heart that the twenty-five or thirty strokes he’d given her with the strop were no more than she’d deserved for skipping her appointment and didn’t even begin to address the way she’d lied to her husband. Seeing her shoulders begin to shake with fresh sobs, Tony maneuvered himself up against the headboard, tossing the belt onto the floor as he did so. Then, with infinite tenderness, he lifted Liz up and helped her settle with her head in his lap and all pressure off of her still-heated bottom. Gently, he stroked his fingers down her side and began to explain. "Honey, you lied to me about something important and we both know that’s not okay. Right? She nodded, miserable. "And not only that, but you allowed the lie to stay between us. For how long? Seven, eight days?" "Eight." "Okay." He paused, stroked back the hair that hid her face. "Honey, I brought my belt up here because I wanted you to understand how personal lying is. You need to see that keeping the truth from me hurts us both in a very intimate way. That’s why I’m going to use my belt—the one I wear every day—to make that point." "But you said you wouldn’t spank me any more," she cried. "Please, Tony…I don’t think I can take it." "Shhh," he soothed. "I said I won’t spank you again tonight, and I meant that. But you will be spanked with that belt for lying. And I want you to

33

understand now exactly how that’s going to happen." Having regained some of her composure, Liz spoke quietly. "Okay. I’m listening." She could feel him gathering his thoughts and then he spoke in calm, measured tones. "You lied to me about something and you deliberately kept that lie alive for eight days. Right?" "Uh-huh." "So now you are going to face another eight days—eight days in which you will be reminded of the very personal damage that lying does to our marriage." Liz shivered, certain that she didn’t like the sounds of that, but equally certain that she would submit to her husband as gracefully as possible. "Starting tomorrow night, and continuing for the next eight days," he went on, "we will come up here right before bed. You will bare your bottom, lean over the chair, and receive ten strokes of my belt." He felt her stiffen and rubbed her shoulders, willing her to relax. "No one spanking will be as bad as the one you’ve just received, but I do think you’ll find the cumulative effect will serve as a good reminder of what happens when you lie. Agreed?" Liz nodded, ashamed to have made in necessary for her husband to punish her like this. She knew he took no joy in disciplining her—hell, there’d been tears in his eyes when he’d helped her up from the chair—and she determined not to make this any harder for him by pleading for leniency she didn’t deserve. She’d accept further punishment with all the grace she could muster. Pushing herself upright—and wincing as her throbbing skin made contact with the bed—she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck. "I understand," she said when at last she felt able to talk, "and I’ll not fight you, Tony. In fact,

34

I’m grateful that you care about my health so much." She reached up, urged his lips to hers for a lingering kiss. "I love you, Mr. Turner." It was a long week for both of them, but despite their nightly appointments—or perhaps because of them—Liz felt far more secure and loved that she had ever imagined possible. Yes, the belt stung as it landed, more often that not, across the backs of her thighs and by the last of the eight nights, she knew she’d not wish for another spanking for a long time. Still, when her husband helped her up after the final, punishing stroke had fallen, she went into his arms, her eyes shining with love rather than tears. And when he took her to bed, making love to her until the wee hours of the morning, she thanked God for giving her the man of her dreams.

35

Chapter Four

Liz dropped down onto the couch beside her husband and burrowed her way into his embrace. At long last, the children were asleep and the best part of her birthday celebration was about to begin. She had been looking forward to this for days now. It was time for her birthday spanking. "So, you about ready for bed, babe?" he asked. "I’m really beat tonight and thought maybe we could turn in early." He chuckled when she looked up at him, a mutinous expression on her face. "Hmm, I’m guessing that’s a no?" "You’d better be kidding, buddy, ‘cause this birthday celebration has yet to begin as far as I’m concerned." "Do you mean to tell me you’re expecting something else?" He was teasing, of course — a fact she well knew — and she slipped into the role of brat easily enough. Fixing her lips in a mock pout, she gave his chest a teasing slap. "You know perfectly well what I’m expecting, Tony -- and I’ll be hell to live with if I don’t get that spanking tonight." "Indeed?" One dark eyebrow disappeared beneath the black hair that fell across Tony’s forehead. "Well, we can’t have that, now can we?" "No sir," Liz giggled. "So what do you say we head upstairs?"

36

"I think that’s a good idea. But first," he added, "we have to make a stop on the second floor. I have one more gift for you. It’s in our closet." "Another one?" Liz looked at Tony in surprise, then glanced at the beautiful Black Hills Gold watch he’d presented her with earlier in the evening. "But Tony, you’ve already spent a fortune on me as it is." Tony stood and pulled his wife up into his arms, favoring her with a lingering kiss. "You’re worth it, babe. And besides, the one upstairs isn’t exactly the kind of gift you can show to your mom or the kids." His wicked smile heated Liz’s blood. "Mmm… something naughty then?" "You’ll see soon enough," he replied as he steered her up the stairs. Standing in their bedroom doorway, he added, "Well, what are you waiting for?" Liz looked up at her husband. "Aren’t you going to wait to see me open it?" "Actually," he said with a grin, "I’m going to head upstairs. I want you to open the gift, follow the instructions that come with it, and then join me." "Instructions?" She was halfway to the closet by now. "This sounds intriguing." "I hope you’ll like it." Upon opening the closet door, she was greeted with the sight of not one, but two packages -- one the size of a large dress box and the other clearly a shoebox. She carried the boxes to the bed and went to work on the larger of the presents first. She worked the ribbon loose, carefully slit the rose patterned paper at the seams and at last drew back the lid on the large white box. Stunned, she caught her breath. She’d expected a barely there negligee, but the clothes inside the box were quite substantial. In fact, they were dull -- or would have been -- for anyone who’d not fantasized about

37

taking the role of a naughty schoolgirl. Liz, however, had long been enamored with that particular fantasy, so she was delighted as she pulled one piece after another from the box. White shirt, gray sweater, gray and blue plaid skirt, gray knee socks… and of course the requisite plain cotton underthings were spread out on the comforter; and underneath it all, a note that read: Miss Baker, You have been tardy to my class one time too many this semester. You will report to me after class for the appropriate discipline. Do not be late! Professor Turner A delicious sensation of nervous electricity settled low in Liz’s abdomen as she stripped out of her clothes and began to dress in the uniform. It had taken her quite some time to share this particular fantasy with her husband. For years, she’d kept the secret of her school pranks and her ability to evade detection a secret, but even at sixteen, she’d wondered what it would be like to be called to a classroom or the principal’s office for a sound paddling. In the note, Tony had referred to her by her maiden name. It appeared that he intended to make her fantasy come true. The uniform, once she was fully dressed, made her feel very young indeed. She opened the smaller box and found, to her delight, a pair of saddle shoes and a set of rubber bands and blue hair ribbons. Once she had finished dressing and had her light brown hair up in two pigtails, she felt every inch the naughty schoolgirl being called ‘on the carpet’ for her misdeeds. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and, after reading the note one more time, she hurried down the hall and up the stairs. Oddly enough, the room that she and Tony had made claimed as their own special hideaway was completely dark. She stepped inside, flipped the

38

light switch, but there was no sign of him. Puzzled, she crossed to the bathroom, but he was not there, either. "Tony?" she called out. "Tony? Are you up here." Much to her surprise, the door to the storage room across the hall opened and Tony, dressed in a old-fashioned suit and tie, said, "Miss Baker, I specifically told you not to be late." He glanced at his watch and set his mouth in a stern line. "You’ve dawdled away three minutes of our appointment time already. I suggest you get that naughty bottom of yours in here at once." "Oh!" Liz had no problem slipping into the role of a naughty high-school student. "Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir." She hurried across the hall and obediently followed her husband, in the role of high school professor, into the room. One look around the room and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Where there had once been rough-hewn beams, boxes of old toys and outgrown clothes, there was now drywall and an orderly "school room." Tony had taken a seat behind a massive oak desk, and a smaller student desk in the familiar light-colored wood, faced him. A large, green chalkboard covered most of the wall behind him, and a metal tray held sticks of plain, white chalk and several standard black erasers. A bookshelf, complete with an array of old textbooks rested against the wall to Liz’s left and a flagpole stood in the far right corner, behind Tony’s desk; but it was the display of two canes-- of different lengths -- and a large, multi-holed paddle that stole her breath. Before she could say a word, however, her "professor" spoke up. "Don’t just stand there with you mouth gaping, Miss Baker. Shut the door, please… unless you want any passers-by to be witness to the spanking you’ve earned."

39

"Yes sir," Liz mumbled as she shut the door. Then, putting on her best little girl pout, she said, "Please, Mr.… I mean Professor Turner… don’t spank me. I promise I’ll never be late to your class again!" "I suspect," Tony said as he pointed to a spot directly in front of his desk, "that you will endeavor to keep that promise, once you have experienced a taste of my paddle. Come here, please." "But sir -- ." Liz took an instinctive step back and reached around as if to shield her bottom from immediate threat. "You don’t understand! If I get paddled at school, I’ll be spanked again at home. And my Dad spanks hard. "So do I," Professor Turner replied as he rose from his desk. "In fact, it would seem that you’ll be doubly sore by the time you crawl into bed tonight. I’m pleased to know that your parents believe in upholding school rules. In fact, your father made that perfectly clear to me when I spoke to him an hour ago." "You… you spoke to him?" Muscles clenched in Liz’s lower body and she felt herself grow moist with an onslaught of sudden desire. "Wh-what did he say?" "He said most specifically that I had his full cooperation. That I was to take your panties down and give you a hard paddling, caning, or whatever I felt was appropriate, and that he would do the same as soon as you arrived home this afternoon." Tony shrugged out of his jacket and draped it carefully over the back of his chair, then made an elaborate show of unbuttoning his cuff and slowly rolling up his sleeve. "Fetch the paddle, Miss Baker," he said, without looking up. "I have papers to grade tonight, and I do not intend to dawdle about over this business." Liz’s heart was pounding rapidly, and her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. For someone she’d feared would not approve of her schoolgirl

40

fantasy, Tony was doing a superb job in his role of professor. She shivered as a bolt of electric arousal worked its way up her spine and took a deep breath to try to stave off the waves of pleasure that were already threatening to consume her. Heavens, just the words had aroused her to an almost fevered level, and now he was going to paddle her like a naughty schoolgirl? She was not at all certain that she would be able to maintain control once her panties were down around her knees and her bottom was being warmed by the wicked looking length of wood. "Miss Baker!" Tony interrupted her thoughts. "I am going to ask you just one more time to fetch the paddle and come here. If you do not cooperate, I will make another call to your father before I allow you to go home. You may rest assured, he will know of your continued defiance and I’d imagine he’ll have something to say about it, too." "Y-yes sir," Liz said as she scrambled to obey. She was obliged to scoot past Tony, who was leaning negligently on the edge of his desk, in order to take down the heavy wooden paddle. Her stomach rolled the moment she felt the full weight of it in her hands. This was going to hurt. ‘Professor Turner’ stood and held out his hand. "Give it to me please, and then lean across the desk and grasp the other side." The sexual tension built in Liz as she took her place across the desk. She longed to rub against it, to find the release she sought, but now was not the time. It was all she could do, though, to remain still when Tony lifted her skirt and grasped the waistband of her panties. They slid, albeit reluctantly, down her thighs; but his stern, "spread your legs, young lady," kept them from falling below her knees. "All right then," he said from behind her. "Up on your toes, Elizabeth Ann. You’ve fifteen swats

41

coming and you will thank me for each one, and ask for the next. If you get out of position, I will finish with the cane. Do I make myself clear?" "Mmm-hmmm," Liz murmured, barely able to contain her excitement. She could feel her natural moisture working its way down her thighs, and the combination of the warmth from her body and the cooling air made her shiver with want. "That will be yes sir," the professor barked. "Now, tell me what you’ve done to earn this spanking, young lady… and then ask me politely to give it to you." Liz licked dry lips and offered, "I was late to your class sir, on more than one occasion." She took a deep breath, fully aware that she was teetering on the brink of release. "Please paddle me, sir." She barely had the words out of her mouth when the paddle landed, with considerable force, across both her waiting bottom cheeks. She immediately when further up on her toes and, with a surprised gasp, took a firmer hold on the far edge of the desk. For a moment there was no sound save her harsh breathing, then Tony’s voice filled the gap. "Miss Baker? I believe you have something to say?" "Oh… oh yes. I’m sorry. That’s one, sir. Thank you, sir." The words felt like marbles in her mouth. "May I please have another?" Crack! The second lick visited the same fourinch-wide area that the first had covered, and she twisted and moaned as a mixture of pain and pleasure assaulted her senses. "That’s two, sir. Thank you. May I please have another?" Several more firmly delivered spanks colored her bottom and upper thighs and she repeated her part of the ritual -- counting, expressing gratitude and asking for the next one -- while she edged ever

42

closer to the peak from which she would tumble into ecstasy. Crack! "That’s ten, sir," she managed to squeak out, then the first wave of pleasure broke over her and she began to shudder. She held onto the desk, moaning, "Please Tony…please," until she felt his finger probe her wet passage. "Yes… yes," she cried as she rocked against his hand. "That’s it, baby," Tony leaned down to croon in her ear. "Let yourself go. Cum for me." She shivered, her internal muscles clenching his finger, until she collapsed, spent, over the desk. She felt his mouth, warm and moist, on the back of her neck, and then he was helping her to stand. His lips slanted over hers and he coaxed her mouth open with his tongue. "I take it you enjoyed that?" She felt weak-kneed and slightly breathless, but she pulled away and asked, "Liked it? Does that mean it’s over with?" A slow smile spread over Tony’s face. "Only if you want it to be." She stepped back and clutched her bottom, slipping intentionally back into her schoolgirl persona. "Oh, Mr. Turner! I’m sorry I got out of position… truly I am! Please don’t use the cane on me." Tony smiled his understanding. He strode to the wall, placed the paddle back on the appropriate hooks, and took down the shorter of the canes. His expression was grim when he turned back to face his "student." "Miss Baker, I promised that you would feel the cane if you chose to get out of position. I am a man of my word. Resume the position, please." "But sir," she sputtered in mock horror. "Please!" "Miss Baker, if I have to ask you again, I will add a penalty stroke with the senior cane. Is that what you want?"

43

Worrying her lower lip, Liz resumed her position. Tony tapped the cane against the inside of both thighs and reminded her, "Legs apart, young lady. And get up on those toes." The cane hummed through the air and, when it made contact, Liz had to force herself to remain in position. "Oww! Oh, that hurt!" she complained though, in reality, she knew that Tony had been intentionally gentle. "Oh, sir… Please stop!" "Don’t you have something to say, Miss Baker?" Tony asked dryly. "Oh! Oh, yes," she exclaimed as she wiggled her bottom back and forth. "That’s eleven, thank you, sir." "And?" She pretended to sob. "I can’t! I don’t want another, Professor Turner. Please don’t spank me any more." "You are trying my patience," the professor warned. "I suggest you cooperate so that we can get this over with." He blew out a deep breath. "Now, Elizabeth, what more have you to say for yourself." She gave a pathetic sniffle. "May I p-please… have another one, sir?" Thwick! The cane struck again, no harder than the last time, but she rocked farther forward on her toes and clung to the desk. "Oh, sir… it hurts so! Please, no more!" "Young lady," Tony snapped, "if I hear one more word of complaint out of you, I shall finish this with the longer cane. Is that what you want?" "No!" Liz’s pig tails whipped from side to side as she shook her head. "No sir. I’ll be good!" To prove her point, she said, "Eleven sir, thank you. May I please have another?" Tony put his hand in her back and, breaking character, quietly whispered, "Honey? Are you sure?"

44

Tears sprang to Liz’s eyes as she realized that her husband, though willing to play, was not willing to hurt her. "I’m sure," she replied, smiling back at him. "I’ll use my safe word if it gets to be too much." "Good girl," he said as he bent down to kiss her cheek. Then, straightening away, he tapped her bottom with the narrow rod. "Three to go, Miss Baker. Take them well and we shall be done." The little girl voice was back. "Y-yes sir." She heard the cane cut through the air and, when it landed across the very lowest portion of her bottom, she let loose with a shriek. "Oh! Owww!" she cried, relishing her last few moments in character. She hopped from one foot to the other, bent her knees up until the bottom of one shoe, then the other, nearly made contact with her heated flesh, then slowly pulled herself together. "Ththirteen sir, thank you. M-may I please have another?" Swish – thwack! She could feel the welt forming high across the crown of both cheeks. "Oh sir! Please…please not so hard!" "Miss Baker -- ." "I’m sorry," she said around pretend sobs. "Fourteen, sir, thank you. May I p-please have the last one?" "It’s going to be a hard one," Tony warned as he took careful aim. "Are you ready?" "Y-yes, sir." Liz clutched the desk tightly. Thwack! The last stroke of the cane exploded across her bottom and she hopped up, clutching at the welted flesh. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry!" She exclaimed as real tears sprung to her eyes. "I’ll never be late again, sir. I promise!" Tony nodded and putting the cane down, grasped his wife -- very gently -- by the earlobe. He marched her to the chalkboard, drew a small circle, and instructed her, "Keep your nose in that circle,

45

Miss Baker, until I tell you otherwise. And both hands on top of your head." Liz remember those exact words from a story she’d written, and the throbbing in her bottom turned immediately back into liquid heat. She bit her lip and willed herself to wait… just a little longer… until Tony was ready. She wanted desperately to share the powerful pleasure of the moment with him and, a glance at his lower body told her that their play had had a powerful effect on him as well. Tony noticed the direction of her gaze, and a smile lit his face. "Nose on the chalkboard," he said as, stepping behind her, he tucked the hem of her skirt into the waistband. "I want you to think about your behavior before I send you home." Liz was obliged to hold her head very high in order to keep her nose in the circle, but she knew that was all a part of the game. She heard him wind a timer, and then he said, "When this bell rings, you are to go straight home. Do you understand me, Miss Baker." "Yes sir," she replied, excitement and nerves rioting in her body. He left the room and she could not help but wonder if he meant to take the role of her father as well. The moment the timer rang, she pulled up her panties, untucked her skirt and hurried back across the hall. Tony had altered his clothing a little, having exchanged a cardigan sweater for the jacket and slippers for the shoes. He smiled, however, when she walked into the room and held out his arms to give her a hug that was anything but fatherly. "I was going to play your dad, too, honey," he said against her hair, "but I’m not so sure either one of us can stand to go there right now. He captured her hand and laid it lightly over his clothed erection. "What do you think?"

46

Liz smiled up at her husband and began to unbutton the uncharacteristic cardigan. "I think," she said in a voice raw with desire, "that I’m ready to be your wife again, Mr. Turner." He took her face in his hands, and gave her a warm, passionate kiss. "I was hoping you’d say that." They undressed one another slowly, peeling away their roles as they removed layers of clothing. Liz got Tony’s shirt unbuttoned and reveled in the feel of the crisp, curling hairs beneath her hands. When she put her lips to one of the tight pink buds beneath the dark hair, he stiffened and moaned, then twined his hands in her hair. "Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?" he ground out. "I want you so bad, babe." Liz smiled, then arched against Tony when he turned the tables and, slipping her shirt off of her shoulders, reached around to unfasten her bra. He cupped her breasts, rasped his thumbs against her aching nipples, and watched with satisfaction as the soft flesh hardened beneath his touch. She stood, transfixed, by the miraculous things he was doing to her body, then moaned when he lowered his mouth to suckle her. "Please," she gasped as she clung to his hair. "Tony, I can’t wait much longer!" "I know." His voice was rough with barely controlled passion. "Let me get you out of the rest of these clothes, hon," he said as he turned her away from him. He managed to lower the zipper of her skirt, and pushed it and her panties to the floor. Then, sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her to the bed. Her knee socks were the last articles of clothing to be removed, and then she watched from the bed as he stripped out of his pants and shorts. Sitting up, she reached for his aroused member, and pulled him down to settle between her legs.

47

Tony growled with a mixture of pain and pleasure as his wife guided his taut erection to her welcoming passage. She was absolutely drenched with desire, her body warm and accepting as he drove the length of his shaft all the way into her moist heat. "Yes," she moaned. "Oh honey…yes." He levered up on his elbows so he could see her expression, and was rewarded by the sensation of her legs wrapping around his hips. Abandoning himself to the wonder of her body, he let his head drop to her shoulder and moved again, this time to cup her buttocks and draw her hips up to meet his. It was his broad hands on her inflamed flesh that finally sent Liz hurtling over the edge. She stiffened, found just the right internal spot, then began to buck and grind wildly against the tip of his rigid member. He waited until the first sweet wave of release washed over her, then drove into her one last time and found his pleasure as well. "I love you, babe," he whispered in her ear. "I love you so much and I’m glad you were born." Liz giggled and twined her arms around her husband’s neck. "Well, you certainly make me glad, too -- that I was born, and more importantly, that I found you." Tony rolled off his wife and gathered her against his side. "So, what did you think of your birthday spanking, Mrs. Turner?" "I loved it," she said as she nestled into his embrace. "And most of all, I love you.

48

Chapter Five

"You what?" Tony Turner stood in the middle of the den, his gaze jerked away from the shipping boxes by his wife's defiant proclamation. "Elizabeth Ann, I thought I made it perfectly clear to you that there were to be no more Home Shopping Network boxes showing up at our door. What the hell were you thinking?" Liz was down on her knees, blithely unpacking the Christmas china she'd ordered. "It was on sale, Tony. I wanted it, so I bought it. It's as simple as that." "Simple?" He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, a sure sign that his blood pressure was on the rise. "Defying me was a simple thing to do?" She didn't bother to look up at him, but went to work on the next box marked with the traditional UPS seal. "Yeah, I guess it was. I picked up the phone, gave them my credit card number, and voila… Christmas china in less than a week. It's the easiest way to shop." He could hardly believe his ears. Her defiance was surprising; her blasé attitude even more shocking. She'd never been this bad – not even as a young bride – and certainly not since they'd adopted a policy of domestic discipline in their home. That she would do this now, after everything they'd been through in the last six months, left him feeling not just angry, but betrayed as well. Hadn't he been there for her, every step of the way, since her father's sudden death? Hadn't he taken over the

49

funeral arrangements and held her when she cried; done absolutely everything in his power to help her and the mother-in-law he loved, through the days and weeks and months since the accident? Of course he had, and he'd not begrudged her anything, gladly doing whatever she asked of him. His father-in-law had been a good man, a man he'd loved almost as much as his own dad. Being there for Nick Baker's wife and daughter wasn't something he'd done out of a sense of obligation, but because he wanted – even needed – to do it. But this attitude of Liz's, the bold way she announced her disobedience? It hurt. It hurt a lot. "I can't believe you did this, Liz," he said, his tone quieting to a low growl. "But I intend to find out why. Go get ready for bed, and I'll meet you all the way upstairs." "No." Her voice was so low that he was uncertain, at first, that he'd heard her correctly. "Excuse me?" "I said no," she replied as she continued to admire her purchases. "Elizabeth Ann Turner," he said, stepping closer so that his shadow darkened her features. "I will not tell you again." "Good." She looked up at him and, despite the uncertainty in her eyes, said, "If you're ready to go to bed, then go. I'll be up when I'm good and ready, and not a minute sooner." "God damn it, Liz. What's gotten into you?" He was shaking with anger, his tenuous hold on his temper badly frayed. Reaching down, he jerked her to her feet. "Answer me!" Her surprise was reflected in her eyes as she stuttered, "I – I don't… You haven't…." She closed her eyes for a moment, the opened them to reveal of look of cold fury, and something more he couldn't quite define. "What's it matter, Tony? This isn't

50

about the money, and we both know it. And since you don't spank me any more – ." That statement took him by surprise. "You think, huh? You believe you can get away with this, that I'll yell and it'll blow over and you'll have what you want? Is that it?" Her gaze slid away from his, but not quite fast enough to keep him from seeing the challenge in her eyes. "Yes." "Well, you're wrong, little girl." He turned her brusquely and, landing several swats to her denimcovered behind, walked her to the door. "I'm not about to lose my voice over Christmas dishes. I am, however, going to exercise my arm. I may not have spanked you in a while, but I doubt I've forgotten how it's done. Now are you going to walk up those stairs, or am I going to have to carry you up?" She gave him a mutinous glare. "Don't waste my time, Tony. You won't do it. You won't really spank me, and you sure as hell won't make me cry. I'm not sorry I bought the dishes and I'm not sending them back." "We'll see about that, sweetheart." He brought his face down to hers. "I promise you, if I have to carry you up those steps, it'll be a hell of a lot worse on your backside." "Fine. I'm going." She jerked away from him, pulling out of his grasp. "But it doesn't matter. You can't hurt me." She turned and marched resolutely up the stairs. Tony stood in the open doorway, watching his wife until she was out of sight. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered in a voice raw with emotion. "How could you think I would?" He went back into the den and slowly, in an effort to give himself some cooling-off time, repacked the china and other incidentals his wife had ordered. The master packing slip and bill were stapled together and he looked over the contents,

51

angered again to see that she'd blown almost four hundred dollars in one phone call. This was so uncharacteristic, so beyond the norm for Liz that he found himself seriously rethinking his initial reaction to spank her. Maybe this was a part of the grieving process, something else that she had to go through. Denial, anger, sorrow, acceptance – he was pretty sure he was missing a stage, though he'd have to look it up to be positive. Was this the anger part? Feeling now more confused than angry, he dropped down into a chair and willed himself to calm down. He couldn't go to her until he had a hold on his temper. ______________ Upstairs, Liz changed in a fit of temper quieted only by her desire not to wake the kids. How dare Tony tell her what she could or could not have, would or would not send back for a refund. She was an adult, a grown woman with a mind – and money – of her own. A big chunk of that money was, in fact, her inheritance from her father. She'd do as she damn well pleased with it. Not only was it her right, but she knew as well that his threats were nothing but hollow promises. He hadn't spanked her once since her father had died. He wouldn't start back up again now. Clearly, that part of their life was over. Her eyes swam with tears at the thought, but she brushed them away with a ruthless hand. There was no sense mourning what could never be gotten back. She had to be strong now, had to go on by herself. Once I get through this, she vowed, I'm never going to rely on anyone that much again. She changed into pajamas rather than a nightgown – she wasn't about to make this any easier on Tony – and took the next flight of stairs up to their special room. It took her a moment to find the light switch, but when light chased away the darkness, she caught a surprised breath. The

52

bed was unmade, her schoolgirl uniform a heap of gray and blue on the floor. She hurriedly picked up the things and dumped them in a heap outside the door, so she wouldn't forget to take them down to the laundry. Tony's old-fashioned suit coat and bow tie were draped over the single hard-backed chair in the corner, his shirt, sweater and pants discarded – along with shoes and socks – on his side of the bed. Memories hit like a tidal wave and Liz sank onto the bed, pulled under by the current of the past. It had been her birthday, and Tony had saved a special surprise to give to her that night. The uniform had taken her breath away; finding him in a mock schoolroom across the hall added fuel to her blazing arousal. He'd done it all so perfectly, had played the part of the professor and made her feel as she'd imagined an errant teen would upon realizing she was about to receive a dose of her teacher's paddle. They'd played the roles of student and teacher, then crossed the hall to make love as husband and wife. It had been the best birthday possible. The call had come in just as he was leaving for work the next morning. He answered the phone, his expression going from smiling contentment to shock in a matter of moments. "Okay." His voice was grim. "We'll be right there." "What?" she asked the moment he returned the phone to its cradle. "Honey, what's wrong? You're scaring me." "Come sit down." He took her hand, led her to the table. "It's about your dad." She was angry with him for telling her, angry with her father for risking the fog that morning. She realized, of course, that her anger was inappropriate, but couldn’t seem to control the questions that hounded her. How could Daddy have been so careless? Didn't he know what he meant to all of them, how much they all loved and relied on

53

him? How could he have left them like this, with no chance to say goodbye? And then, to make matters worse, Tony had left her, too – not physically of course, but he was gone just the same. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he skirted around her. At first she chalked it up to grief, and his desire to be gentle with her. But as the months wore on, she came to realize that things would never go back to normal. Tony handled her with kid gloves, when what she needed was to regain some sense of balance. He let her get away with things that normally would have prompted a spanking and, every time that happened, she felt shoved further away. He didn't care enough about her to be consistent, to follow through on his threats. She felt as though she'd been locked out with no key, like she was peering in on the warmth and light of her family from somewhere cold and dark, and terribly lonely. In one fell swoop, she'd lost both her father and, now, her husband. She was alone and nothing would ever be the same. ______________ Tony took the stairs quietly, not bothering to change his clothes before joining Liz in the upstairs room. If this spanking had been for pleasure, he'd have gotten ready for bed first, but that clearly wasn't the case. He kept his clothes on, an outward sign that would show his wife just how serious he was about her behavior. She would go over his lap, bare and vulnerable, while he remained fully clothed and in control. He trusted that the difference would help to focus her attention on the rules they'd established and her vow to submit to his correction when necessary. It was the pile of clothing that stopped him just outside the door. How could he have sent her up here alone, to find what would no doubt bring up

54

painful memories? All thoughts of china and the spanking she deserved fled his mind as he opened the door to find her sitting on the edge of their bed, her emotions held as still as her unmoving body. "I'm sorry, baby," he said as he eased himself down beside her. "I'd forgotten all about cleaning up." He reached for her hand, attempted to draw her into his embrace, but she remained stiff and unyielding. "I'm so sorry, Liz." She shrugged off his apology. "Whatever. It's okay." "No, it's not. I was a jerk… about everything. I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I shouldn't have sent you up here without making sure things were picked up first." He rubbed at throbbing temples. "Look, I screwed up tonight, so I don't think I should spank you. How about we just call it even and – ?" "I knew it." She stood up suddenly, turned to face him, and he wondered if she was shaking with grief or rage when she said, "I knew you'd chicken out, that you wouldn't be able to do it." Her hands fisted at her sides. "Why the hell don't you just admit it, Tony? You did this to hurt me, and we both know why." "What?" The accusation pierced him, a white-hot blade sliding between his ribs. "I did not remember about the clothes until just now, and I most certainly did not set out to hurt you tonight. And since that's the second time you've accused me of wanting to hurt you, I think you'd best explain what's going through your head." "Forget it." She took a few steps toward the door. "It's not important anyway." "The hell it's not!" She had her hand on the knob when he leapt up and placed a restraining palm against the heavy wood. "You are not going anywhere, young lady, until we've talked this through."

55

Chest heaving with frustration, she turned and shoved at him. He stumbled back, but managed to grasp her arm and pull her with him to the bed. He sat and, realizing that she had no intention of having a civil conversation, jerked her down across his lap and pinned her legs between his thighs. For the first time in months, he acted without worry for her fragile emotions or which stage of grief she was in. She was clearly out of control and he had to do something to bring her back to reality. His palm connected with her bottom, rapid-fire swats designed to get her attention. "Stop it!" She struggled and he wondered when his wonderful, loving wife had become such a wild thing. "Let me up!" "No." She'd worn pajamas to bed – no doubt to make the spanking more difficult for him – but he was beyond the point of caring. He simply rucked the elastic waist bottoms down her thighs and went to work, peppering her backside with smacks that stung his palm. He could only hope her bottom was faring worse than his hand. "I’m not going to let you up, Liz, and I'm not going to stop spanking until you're ready to talk to me." "Bastard!" She slapped ineffectually at his denim-clad legs. "You can't do this to me!" "I can and I will." He moved down to target her upper thighs. "Stop hitting me, Elizabeth Ann, or I swear I'll give you the entire spanking right here." Two open-palmed smacks left twin handprints on the backs of her legs. "Is that what you want?" "I don't care. Spank me anywhere, with anything," she said, even as her legs jerked in protest of the painful spanks. "You can't hurt me because I won't let you. I don't need you any more. I don't need anybody!" She stopped flailing at him and for a moment he thought she was going to settle down. When she shoved his pant leg up and sank her nails into his

56

calf, however, he knew she was far from surrendering. "Young lady!" He tipped her farther forward and refocused his attention farther down her legs. "Let go right now." She continued to cling to his leg, her nails painfully embedded in the flesh, and he realized how truly out of control she was. It cost him a great deal of effort to warn her, through clenched teeth, "Let go, or I'll get the paddle… the one with holes." "Go to hell." That was it; there would be no going back now. As much as he loved her, he couldn't let her get away with this kind of behavior. She might hate him tomorrow, but she'd do so knowing that there were limits she dared not push past. Wrapping his left arm around her waist, he pinned her to his hip and strode toward the oak wardrobe. She struggled violently, kicking and screaming obscenities, until he took down the paddle and cracked it hard against her backside. By the time he carried her back to the bed, paddling all the way, she was yelping furiously, the ability to put her anger into words greatly hampered by the rhythm he was tattooing into her bottom. "I'm sorry," he said, continuing to redden her once white bottom cheeks. "I didn't want to have to do this, Liz, but you've left me no choice." He sat on the corner of the bed, making sure that the mattress supported her upper body, not only for her comfort but so she couldn't claw at his leg again. Then, grasping both her wrists, he pinned them in the small of her back. He was certain he heard a small but well-controlled sob when he told her, "You're not going anywhere, young lady, until you've told me what's gotten into you and why you keep accusing me of wanting to hurt you." "You are hurting me," she ground out in between yelps. "You're hurting me right now!"

57

"Only because you wouldn't be reasoned with," he said, shoving away the sting of her accusation. "If you'd have talked to me, this wouldn't have been necessary." "I know," she countered. "That's what I mean! You don't care about me anymore." "What?" He brought the paddle down on flesh that was rapidly going from bright red to a deeper shade of purple. The realization that he was bruising her brought him up short and he stopped to take a deep breath. "I don't understand this, Liz. What have I done to make you think that I don't care about you? Don't you realize that you're my life, my world? I love you, baby. How could you not know that?" In that moment, while she was yet trying to form a coherent reply, all the guilt and grief of the past months bubbled up inside Liz. The sobs were like a physical force, launching themselves from somewhere so deep inside her that the crying was actually painful. Even after Tony had lifted her up and pulled her into the safe circle of his embrace, the sobs wracked her body so that she had to fight to breathe. "Shhh, honey." He stroked her hair and rocked from side to side on the bed. "It's okay, baby. It's okay now. I'm sorry." "No." She gathered enough strength to tell him, "I don't want you to be sorry! This is my fault, and I'm the one who needs to apologize." The vehemence with which she uttered those words left Tony feeling uncertain as to how to proceed. Yes, she'd disobeyed by buying the dishes but, somehow, he got the impression that she wasn't talking about that. This apology, these wrenching sobs, were coming from somewhere deep inside her. He realized abruptly that she hadn't cried this hard, even on the day of her dad's funeral. Truth be told, she'd hardly cried at all.

58

"It's okay," he murmured as the rubbed her back. "We'll talk about your purchases in a little while, when you're up to it." "No, it's not that." She leaned into him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry for the way I've been, Tony. I'm sorry for chasing you away." "Chasing me away? Honey, I haven't gone anywhere." He squeezed her gently. "I'm right here, and I promise I'll be here tomorrow and the day after, too. I love you, and the kids, and I'm not going anywhere." "Not physically." Her voice was very small, almost childlike, as she battled to control her tears. "But Daddy died, and everything changed between us. You – you acted like a stranger, like someone I didn't know. You treated me like a china doll, Tony. He was gone and everything was different, our entire life was changed. Nothing felt right anymore, or normal. I didn't – I don't know what to do to fix it." "Okay." Tony closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on what his wife was saying. "Tell me how things changed, honey. Tell me what it felt like from your side, because I really only meant to do the right thing." That brought on fresh tears and several minutes passed before Liz was again calm enough to speak. He waited, patiently stroking a hand up and down her arm until she had once again gained control of her voice. "You were wonderful at the funeral, Tony… and afterward, too. You've been there for me, you've comforted the kids when I couldn't and taken on all Dad's chores so Mom wouldn't have to hire someone in." "It was the least I could do. Your parents have always been good to me, honey. I couldn't have done anything less for them than I would have for my own folks."

59

"I know." She glanced away, and he could see she was ashamed of something. "That's why this is all so unfair to you. I know I ought to be grateful – and I am – but that doesn't replace what's been missing between us." "And that is – ?" "The spanking, Tony! And the way it made me feel – like I was safe because there was somebody in my life bigger and stronger than me. First my dad died, and he was one of the strongest men I knew. Then you pulled away, started treating me like I was something fragile, breakable. I tried to tell you what I needed, but you didn't seem to hear me, even when I asked you point blank for the kind of spanking that would help me let go and cry. I felt so alone and lost. I still do." Tony was silent for long moments, contemplating his wife's words. He knew how important spanking was to her, that it made her feel safe and cared for, but he'd avoided taking her over his knee because he though it best to cut her some slack after her father's death. The last thing he'd wanted was to add physical pain to her emotional turmoil. It simply had never occurred to him that she might need that more, rather than less, as she dealt with the loss of her father. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed hair back from her face, then set her out on his knee so he could look into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Liz," he said quietly. "You're right. I have been treating you like a china doll. Please understand, though, that it wasn't because I didn't care about you. It was because I cared so much, and I was afraid to hold you to too many rules when you were in such a bad place, emotionally. I just didn't want to hurt you, baby." He slid a finger beneath her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. "Can you understand where I was coming from? Do

60

you realize now that I was trying to help, not hurt you?" She nodded as more tears slipped down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Tony… for everything I've done. I didn't realize it at the time, but I can see now that buying the dishes was about pushing you into action. Can you forgive me?" "Of course." He gathered her into his arms once again, held her against his chest. "Now that I know how you were feeling, I can understand why you did it. You needed to know there were boundaries, that you were still safe. Do you see now that the limits are still in place?" "Yeah." She gave a shaky laugh. "I suppose that means the dishes go back?" "Oh yeah, that's a safe assumption. And," he said, locking his eyes on hers, "we have yet to address that issue. You will be spanked for defying me." She did not argue, but her nervous glance toward the wardrobe full of implements spoke volumes. He smiled and kissed the end of her nose. "Not tonight though, babe. I think you've had enough for now. We'll save that discussion for tomorrow night." "Thank you, honey." Liz wiped away the last of her tears, then burrowed deeper into her husband's embrace. "Both for letting me off the hook tonight, and for understanding how much I still need you to follow through tomorrow." Smiling, he set his wife on her feet and reached for her hand. "I'm not so sure you'll be thanking me tomorrow night, when you get your second spanking in as many days." He drew back the covers and helped her into bed, returned the paddle to the wardrobe, then stripped and climbed into bed beside her. "But I'll do it, honey, because I love you and want you to feel safe."

61

She rolled over and laid her head on his shoulder. "I know, Tony, and I love you for it. And about tonight, the way I acted? I'm really sorry." "It's okay." He kissed her thoroughly, then settled her against his side. "Now how about we get some much needed rest?" Tony smiled to himself as his wife snuggled deeper into his embrace. Given the outcome of their argument, and their renewed closeness, it was just possible that those dishes hadn't been such a bad investment, after all.

62

Chapter Six

On a warm night in late May, Tony Turner sat at his computer, playing with his new architectural program and listening to his wife's end of a telephone conversation with her sister. "Roast beast?" She laughed out loud. "How cute is that? I hope you wrote it down." It was a relief to hear her laughter again. Liz's father had been gone just a little over a year– taken unexpectedly on his way to work one foggy morning– and he'd grown so accustomed to her quiet grieving that he'd almost forgotten what her joy sounded like. He was the provider and breadwinner, the head of the household, but Liz was definitely the heart of their home. Finally, fourteen months after her dad's death, her strength and zest for life was returning. The tears fell with less frequency; her smile appeared with less effort and more sincerity. It was such a blessing to have his Liz back, in fact, that not even the skyrocketing phone bill– due in part to his mother-in-law's decision to do some traveling with a Senior's group– could put a damper on his pleasure. The tears he noticed in her eyes later that evening, however, were cause for concern. She'd been on the phone with Shelly, her older sister, for nearly two hours and the conversation had sounded pleasant. Now she was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of what he hoped was decaf coffee cooling in her hands and tears shimmering in her eyelashes.

63

"Liz? What's wrong?" he asked as he turned a chair around and straddled it, his arms folded over the back. "Has something happened?" "Oh– no." She seemed surprised to see him, as if she'd just now noticed his presence in the kitchen. "It's nothing." "Really?" He reached out to caress her cheek. "It doesn't look like nothing." "It's silly, really." Liz couldn't bring herself to look at her husband as she attempted to shrug off his concern. "Just something I remembered tonight– something I hadn't thought about in a long time. I shouldn't let it bother me," she added, heat suffusing her cheeks even as another bout of tears threatened, "but it does." "Maybe if you tell me about it, I can help." It was so like him to offer, so like him to make her feel safe sharing her secrets with him, that she couldn't help but cry. Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks, two streams of remembered shame that she hardly felt able to explain. She would make the effort, though, because this was Tony– and she could trust him with anything. "Shelly and I were talking about the kids, and then about growing up and how we used to drive Mom and Dad nuts. I don't know how they stood it sometimes, with the two of us only thirteen months apart. It was probably more like having twins than having kids with different birthdays. Somehow we always managed to get into trouble together." "Now why does that not surprise me? I've always said you and your sister together are a disaster waiting to happen." "That's not true!" Liz slapped playfully at her husband's bare arm. Damn the man looked good, sitting there in nothing but a pair of faded jeans and that lopsided smile of his. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him, in the scent of his body and the taste of his lips, but a past regret was

64

squeezing at her heart and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was long past time to own up to her dishonesty. Not that it really mattered, of course. The past couldn't be undone, but perhaps it would lighten her heart to at least share that shameful secret with her husband. "Well, maybe it is. Tony, can I tell you something?" "Of course." Sensing his wife's inner struggle, Tony took the coffee cup from her hand and asked, "Is it the kind of something that would be easier to say if we were sitting together on the couch?" She nodded, lips pressed together, and followed him to the living room. The stereo was on, classical jazz playing softly in the background, as Tony made himself comfortable on the couch, then pulled Liz down to sit between his outstretched legs. She relaxed against him, her back to his chest, and quietly told her story. "It happened just a few months before Shelly graduated. Mom and Dad had decided, at 18 and 17, that we were old enough to be left alone for a weekend. They went up to the lake and– and Shelly and I decided to have a party." "Sounds like the kind of trouble teen-agers get into all the time," Tony remarked soothingly. "What happened? Did you get caught?" "Oh yeah. It was Saturday night and we had a house full of friends over when Daddy's secretary drove by. I still don't know if he put her up to it or if it was just a coincidence– but either way, he called about ten o'clock to let us know that we were busted." "Ouch. Something tells me that spoiled your weekend in a hurry." "Mmm-hmmm." Liz snuggled deeper into her husband's embrace. "That's putting it mildly. Daddy didn't have to get after us very often but, when he did, we both knew to expect some serious consequences. The fact that he made the phone

65

call– well, Shelly talked to him, but we both knew we were in for it big time when he mentioned the belt." Tony gave his wife a reassuring squeeze. "So, you had how long to worry about what was coming? One night? Two?" "Two– and two whole days, too– because they weren't due home until Monday, late morning." "Poor kid. That must've been one hell of a miserable Monday for you." "Yeah. Shelly was tough about it– because she was the oldest, I guess– but I was always Daddy's girl and it practically killed me to know he was going to spank me. In fact, I got myself so worked up that I threw up during 8th period." "Wow, you were upset." Tony worked on kneading the tension from his wife's shoulders as he asked, "Honey, were you afraid of your Dad?" "No," Liz hurried to assure him. "I mean sure, I was afraid of the spanking. It was going to hurt like hell and I knew I wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a long time afterward, but it wasn't like I thought Daddy would ever really harm either one of us. I just– I was embarrassed– and I hated the thought of my dad being disappointed in me." "Okay." Tony let out a relieved breath. "So, you threw up during 8th period. Then what? Did you end up going home early?" "No. It was band– Shelly had first chair in the flute section and I was playing alto sax– so she knew why I was upset and talked the band director out of calling Mom. I guess she felt pretty sorry for me, though, because when we got home she told Daddy that the party was her idea and that I'd tried to talk her out of it." "Ah. And I take it you went along with the lie?" "Uh-huh." Once again, the sobs tore themselves from Liz's chest. "Oh Tony, I lied to my Dad and– and– ."

66

"And your sister got the spanking while you got off?" "Y-yes. But the worst part is, I n-never told him." She tried to take a deep breath, but it was useless. "I never m-made it right, and now I never can!" "Aww, sweetheart." Tony wrapped his arms more firmly around his wife and kissed the top of her head. "You were 17– just a kid– and you made a mistake. Do you really think you're the only person who ever lied to protect her backside?" "No." Liz twisted around to look at Tony, willing him to understand. "But there's something about not being able to fix it. You know? Daddy's gone now and I'll never be able to tell him the truth." "Would it really matter? If he was here, and you told him today, would it really make any kind of difference in your relationship?" She shuddered. "It would to me." "Okay." Tony rested his chin on the top of Liz's head. "And what would it mean to him? What do you think he'd do if he was right here and you could tell him exactly what you just told me?" "He'd laugh." Liz finally managed a deep breath. "He'd probably just laugh and say he knew it all along and all this guilt was way more of a punishment than any spanking." "I agree." Tony helped his wife swivel around so he could look her in the eyes. "I think he'd also hug you and tell you that you'd been forgiven for a really long time, and all that was left was for you to forgive yourself." Liz nodded, but the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "I know. You're right– I know that. It's just that I don't know if I can forgive myself, Tony. It hurts so much, knowing he died with that lie between us." It took a moment for her to work up the courage to add, "But maybe you could help me? Maybe you could spank me?"

67

"Oh, baby," Tony sighed. "I don't know. It was all such a long time ago, and you were just a kid. And besides, I lied to get out of more than one licking myself, so I hardly feel qualified to spank you for the same thing." "It's not about being qualified," Liz pleaded. "It's about you helping me get past something that's bothering me. If you'd just spank me, then maybe I could be done with it." He was clearly reluctant. "And what if you're not? What if I spank you and you still feel lousy? I'm not your dad, Liz, and I'm afraid I'll spank you and you'll end up resenting me because I couldn't really help." "Please, Tony." Liz laid her tear-stained cheek against her husband's cheek. "Please– I really think it would help." Tony was truly at a loss. He could see that his wife was hurting and he wanted to help, but he feared that he would only make things worse by spanking her. On the other hand, taking her over his knee had helped to heal other hurts, so it was possible that a spanking would allow her to let go of the guilt that tormented her. "Tell me what it was like to be spanked by your dad," he said at last. "I want to know what Shelly got that day and what you would have received if the two of you hadn't cooked up that lie." "O-okay." Liz turned back around so she could lean against Tony's chest. It was easier to talk about it when she didn't have to look at him. "Well, Mom never hesitated to spank us wherever we happened to be, but with Daddy there was a routine to it. I guess that's part of the reason it was such a big deal, because first there was the corner– no matter how old you were, there was always corner time for thinking about what you'd done wrong– and then Mom would come upstairs and walk you down to the kitchen. Daddy would

68

lecture while you stood there, knowing what was coming and dreading it like crazy. "Finally, when he was done lecturing, he'd say 'Get the stool, please,' and you had to go to the pantry for the old stool and bring it back to the middle of the room. He was never, ever mean about it, but I hated that stool and I especially hated having to turn away from him, take my panties down to my knees, and lay over it. "Then there was the sound of his belt coming off, and he'd put his hand in the small of your back and ask, 'Do you know why you're going to be spanked, young lady?' You had to say yes, and tell him why first. Then he'd say, 'I think you'd better hold on now,' and after that, you didn't think about anything other than how much it hurt and how, if it ever ended, you'd never get into trouble again." "Did your Dad have a set number or did you have to count? Anything like that?" "He probably always had an idea in his head– I noticed it was usually a five or a ten, if you know what I mean– but the only counting you did was what you managed to do silently, if you could keep thinking while your bottom was on fire. Twenty or twenty-five with the belt was normal if you were in a lot of trouble, but Shelly got 35 that day. I remember because my room was right above the kitchen, and I counted every one of them and cried right along with her. Tony hugged his wife briefly. "And afterwards? What happened then?" "Mom was always the one to pull up your panties and help you stand up. She'd give you a kiss and say something like, 'We love you, sweetie. Please don't make this necessary again.' And by then, Daddy had his belt back on and he'd open his arms up for a hug and– ." Liz broke down then, sobbing as if her heart would break. "He always made sure you knew you were loved and that,

69

whatever you'd done, it was forgiven and all you had left to worry about was just not doing it again." Tony was silent for a long while, but Liz was more grateful for that quiet strength than she would have been for any words. Finally, though, he said, "Okay." "Okay, as in you'll do it? You'll spank me?" "Yes." He spoke slowly, thinking over exactly how to proceed. "But we're going to do this my way. Understand? And when we're through, it's over with, just the same as it always was with your dad. Okay?" "Yes, sir." Liz started to rise from the couch. "I guess I should go upstairs?" "No." Tony pulled her back down into his lap and, cupping her face, forced her eyes to meet his. "The kids'll both be at birthday parties tomorrow. Right?" "Yes." She didn't want to wait– God knew she didn't think she could stand the hours of apprehension– but she knew better than to argue. "Good. What time do they leave?" "They're both going to Magic Mountain, actually– at noon." "Okay. I'll take them and when I come home, I'll expect to find you standing in the corner in our bedroom. Understand?" "Yes sir." Liz's stomach was already alive with nerves and she had an entire night and a morning to get through before the spanking even started. She was wondering how she would manage when Tony added, "In the meantime, young lady, I have an assignment for you." ______________ The next morning, while Tony supervised breakfast and the wrapping of birthday gifts, Liz sat

70

down to work on her assignment. She was to write a letter to her father, telling him everything she wanted him to know about the long-ago lie, and to ask him for his correction and forgiveness. It took most of the morning for her to put her feelings into words, and she shed a lot of tears in the pr ocess, but by the time Tony returned home there were two copies of the letter– exactly as he'd requested– on the kitchen table. He picked up the copy he'd requested for himself and read what his wife had written. Dear Daddy, I'm writing to you today because there's something I've needed to tell you for a long time. It's something I've felt bad about, but I didn't have the courage to say before. I hope you'll understand why I kept this a secret for so long, and that you'll forgive me. Do you remember the weekend when you and Mom went away and your secretary called to say we were having a party while you were gone? You were upset– you had a right to be, of course– and Shelly and I both knew we were going to be spanked when you got home. I was really upset about it, and Shelly felt so sorry for me that she told you it was all her fault. That wasn't true. The truth was that I wanted to have a party as much as she did, and I invited people, too. I was as responsible as she was, but when you asked me, I lied so I wouldn't get a spanking. I'm so sorry for the party and for the lie. I remember listening to Shelly's spanking. I counted every stroke– there were 35– and I was such a coward that I didn't own up to the truth. Now, all these years later, I still feel bad about it. I guess I would have been better off telling the truth and taking the spanking, huh? But I didn't. I lied, and that means that now I have to ask you to punish me for two things instead of one.

71

Daddy, I deserve to be spanked the same as Shelly was that night, and I also need to be spanked for lying to you. I'm still scared. I still don't want to be spanked, but I know it's the only way I'll ever be able to let go of this feeling. Please correct me, and please forgive me. I've never been sorrier for anything in my life. Love, Elizabeth Tony reread the letter several times, tucked his copy into his back pocket, and left the other on the table. Then, with as much reluctance as determination, he climbed the stairs and called his wife from the bedroom. ______________ When Tony called to her from the doorway, Liz found herself wondering if she'd been a fool to request this spanking. It had been a very long time ago and the kind of mistake that most kids make at least once. Maybe she didn't really need to have her bottom blistered to get past it. Her heart, however, told her different– and one look at Tony's face assured her that, no matter what misgivings she might be having, she no longer had a choice in the matter. "Come with me, young lady," he said, leading her down the stairs. "You have earned yourself a very serious conversation with the belt and it's time we got started." The lecture that followed while Liz stood, nervous and fidgeting beside the kitchen table, could not have been more realistic. Tony spoke of obedience, consequences and the issue of trust. "I cannot believe you and your sister would so blatantly disobey us," he growled. "What on earth were you thinking?" "I– I don't know, sir."

72

"Don't know, indeed– what nonsense! Either you were thinking that you'd get away with having that party or you'd decided that the consequences of your actions– by that, I mean the spanking you are about to receive– wouldn't be too bad. But now here you are, caught having a party while we were away, and about to receive the spanking of your life. And I promise you, young lady, this will be a spanking to remember. Now, go fetch the stool." They didn't have much in the way of a pantry– it was more like a large closet where they kept canned goods and the washer/dryer combo– but sure enough, Liz opened the door to find a stool. It was, in fact, not just a stool, but the stool– the very one she'd bent over for childhood spankings, the one that normally occupied a corner of her mother's pantry. Tears filled her eyes as she took in the site of the darkly stained wood and the cushioned top, complete with brown gingham covering that had, at one time, matched her mother's kitchen curtains. "Tony? You– you brought this over from Mom's?" Tony did not break character for so much as a moment. "We'll discuss that and anything else that's on your mind, Elizabeth Anne, when we're through. Now, bring that stool here and let's get on with it." Liz did as she was instructed, picking up the stool and setting it in the center of the room. She met Tony's grim expression, cringed when he said, "Well? What are you waiting for, young lady? Panties down and bend over, now." "Y-yes, sir." Her words came out on a whisper as she turned and lifted the hem of her simple jersey dress. Tony had so completely immersed himself in the role that she felt her face flame with embarrassment as she pushed her simple cotton panties to her knees. This was her husband, the man she routinely undressed for, but it didn't matter. Just now, she felt like an errant teen-ager

73

about to be soundly spanked by her father. Her stomach churned and protested when she settled, belly first, over the stool. A broad hand settled in the small of her back. "Do you know why you're going to be spanked, young lady?" "Y-yes sir." She was miserable with apprehension, already fighting the tears that threatened. "I had a party while you were away, even though I knew you didn't approve. I'm sorry, Daddy." "I'd imagine you are," Tony said as he unbuckled and removed his belt. "You're going to be even sorrier in a very few moments. Now, I think you'd better hold on, Elizabeth." Those words– her father's words– were Liz's undoing. She was crying before the first welt had bloomed across her bottom, and continued to sob all the way through the spanking. She lost count somewhere around 15– who could count with a belt falling fast and hard across her bare bottom?– and hardly realized that it had stopped until she felt Tony pulling her panties back up over her tender flesh. "Tony?" she hiccuped as he helped her to stand, "what about the lying? Aren't you going to– ?" "We're doing this my way, young lady. Remember?" Liz nodded her acquiescence and he added, "First of all, you need to know that you're forgiven for the party." "O-okay," she said, her hand moving back to rub her aching bottom. "Hun-uh." Tony caught her in the act and brought her hands back to her sides. "There'll be none of that. But– ." He tipped her chin up and peered into her red-rimmed eyes. "I want you to understand that it's over. You received a punishment equal to Shelly's, for the same crime.

74

Now, you're forgiven and it's time to move on. No more feeling guilty about the party. Understand?" "Yes sir." Her voice was small, meek and accepting. "I love you, Elizabeth," he added, using the name her father had always preferred. "And I trust we will not have to repeat this lesson?" "No sir, we won't." Liz stepped into the offered embrace then, finally able to let go of one piece of her past. She knew, however, that there was more to come. Tony stroked a hand up and down his wife's back, soothing her for several minutes before taking her hand and leading her to a corner of the kitchen. "Okay, sweetheart, I think you need a break and I have some things I need to take care of, so you just stand here for a while." He left Liz standing, nose to the corner, while he gathered up the things he would need when her second spanking was over. Then, having accomplished his task, he sat down on the back deck and tried to gather his thoughts into something coherent. He would never tell Liz– it would only cause her more guilt– but this experience was as draining on him as he imagined it was for her. Granted, he wasn't the one with the throbbing bottom, but he took no pleasure in spanking his wife with disciplinary force. Personally, he much preferred taking her over his knee and warming her with his hand. He liked what came after, as well– lovemaking, languid or frenzied, depending upon her mood– but there would be none of that this afternoon. Instead, there would be more of the belt, more of her tears and, soon after, he'd tuck her into bed for a nap. He could only hope that, once they'd finished, she'd actually be able to let go of her guilt and move on.

75

Tony glanced at his watch and stood on a sigh. It had been twenty minutes– plenty of time for the worst of the sting in her bottom to abate. It was time for him to finish what he'd started. "Alright, young lady. Come here, please." Liz turned from the corner, her face tear-stained but her eyes clear. She didn't want another spanking– had even contemplated telling Tony that she didn't need it– but here he was, belt doubled over and held loosely at his side, and she knew that she had to go through with it. The lecture concerning the lie was mercifully brief and she soon found herself back across the stool. "Hold on now," Tony ordered and she had just enough time to wrap her hands around the stool legs before the belt made a sharp, stinging visit to her already welted flesh. It hurt, badly, and she couldn't help but cry out against the pain. Her shrieks and tears did not, however, deter Tony from his task. Twenty times, he brought the belt down with a thwack across her waiting bottom. Twenty times he watched as she bucked and strained and twenty times, he applied enough pressure to her lower back to keep her in place despite the natural desire to jump up. No one was more relieved than Tony, however, when those twenty strokes of the belt were over and he could, at last, toss it away and pull his sobbing wife into his arms. "It's over, sweetie," he said as he gathered her against his chest. "It's all over now, and you're forgiven." "I– but do you– ?" Liz's tears soaked into her husband's shirt. "W-was it enough? Maybe I deserve more." "No." Tony lifted Liz right off her feet and sat her, none too gently, on the stool. "Now you listen to me, Elizabeth Anne Turner. I am in charge here

76

and I've given you what I believe was a fair punishment for that lie. Would you have argued with your Dad, if it was his decision?" Liz shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No." "Then what makes you think you can argue with me?" Tony's expression was pure steel. "Haven't you trusted me with the same authority he had when you lived in his house? And if so, don't I deserve the same respect you gave him?" "Yes sir." Liz sniffed pathetically, considered her husband for a moment, and then melted into his arms. "I'm sorry, Tony. You're right. Thank you." "It's okay." The tenderness had returned to his voice. "Just let it all out now, honey. It's over with and you're forgiven. The debt is paid. Okay?" "Okay." It was quite some time later when Tony helped his wife down from the stool and led her outside. On the picnic table, he'd left a foil pie pan, the letter to her father and a butane lighter. Without a word, he gathered these things and led her down to their private bench at the water's edge. "It's time you let this go for good," he said as he placed the letter in her hand. "Do you want to read it one more time?" Liz nodded, unable to speak. She read the letter one last time, held it against her chest until the tears stopped flowing, then placed it in the pie pan. Tony handed her the lighter and, without a word, she set the corner of the paper on fire. Together, they watched the letter– filled with her guilt and anguish– go up in smoke. When there was nothing left but ash, they carried it together to the water's edge. Liz sprinkled the ashes over the water and they stood, strong but silent partners, as the last remnants of her long ago mistake were carried away.

77

For his part, Tony decided to keep his copy of the letter. He carries it yet today, carefully creased, in his billfold– a reminder, should he ever need one, of his wife's tender nature and open, loving heart.

78

79