I left Marsha's home, with three things that I didn't have when a arrived there.I had a cheque in my pocket to cover my wife's bad investments; the Reality Checker was on the passenger seat.
The other thing, I left with, was the resolve in my heart to bring Susie back down to Earth.
The new-found resolve was also backed up by what is known as the English Disease; a latent fascination with spanking and corporal punishment. That almost inborn tendency was dredged from the back of my mind and brought to the fore by Marsha's descriptions of Susie's disciplinary program.
As I drove along her words were still ringing in my ears.
“I can tell you now Ronnie, she will beg and plead to get out of a hair brushing, you have to be strong though, and ignore all of her empty words.
For once you decide upon this action there is no going back, cause if you do give in to her promises, she will see it as weakness. Then she will just play you like a cheap fiddle for the rest of your married life.
You have to bare her butt, and get her over your knees, and keep whacking her till either her ass is blistered, or she has a pool of tears on the carpet in front of her. Anything less is just a waste of elbow grease!
She will wail and pretend to cry, don't fall for it, keep going till you get the real tears falling, OK?”
Marsha's words seemed harsh, but I know she had said them from her heart and with love; not knowing the effect that those very words were having on me.
Once I got home, I planned out my strategy. I decided the kitchen would be the best place for her spanking to take place. That room faced back onto our high fenced garden, so was clear from prying eyes and inquisitive ears. Also, as it was in Marsha's kitchen where we had been talking earlier, it seemed somewhat apt, that our kitchen would be used for her chastisement.
I placed both the cheque and the Checker, in front of me on our little breakfast table. I then made myself a cup of tea and waited for my wife arriving home.
Susie came about five minutes later, she was all smiles, oblivious of what was about to come to her.
“You had a good day honey?” She asked as she prepared herself a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, I had a drive out to Opelika...it was...very informative.”
“Opelika? Really? What you go all the way out there for?”
“I just thought I'd pop over to see your mom,” I told her, trying to keep my voice as flat and even as I could.
“Mmmh...So, how was mom?” Susie said, now her voice had lost its chirpiness.
“She was good; I wanted to tell her about a call I had earlier; which was actually a call for you.”
“A call?” Now her voice sounded worried.
“Yeah, from the Mall, about a shop that we haven't even discussed.”
“Well, Ronnie I meant to talk to you....” Her voice then halted as she saw the Reality Checker lying on the table.
“You meant to talk to me about what Susie?” I asked, motioning with my hand for her to continue.
Instead of saying anything she just stood there dumbstruck, shaking her head in evident disbelief at what she could see on the table.
“OK, never mind the talking, I'll tell you what is going to happen,” I informed her, her eyes still locked upon the clothes brush. ”Whatever stuff you got on sale or return; you are going to return. All the other things, you are going to post on the internet tonight. Then whatever we get for it we will give back to your mom to cover, at least part of, the money that she gave me today. You are then going to ring the Mall to cancel your barrow stall; you are also going to tell them that you are not interested in a shop either.”
Susie nodded and sighed loudly, as she sighed forcing the air upwards it made her blonde fringe ripple in a little wave. That sigh and the look in her watery blue eyes almost broke my resolve. Then I heard Marsha's words again in my mind.
“she will just play you like a cheap fiddle for the rest of your married life.”
“All of that though,” I added, my resolve now restored, “you will be doing sitting on a nice soft cushion, because you will be doing it with a very sore arse, if you pardon my English. Now get over here!” I said motioning to the area of floor in front of the table.
I don't think I saw Susie move so slowly, or so despondently. Eventually, she arrived at the required spot, and my hands went to the waistband of her black jeans.
“Please Ronnie...” She muttered, her voice trailing off as I undid her belt.
“Your mom said the only way, to get through to you, is on your bare butt, and I fully trust Marsha's judgement on this.” I told her as I lowered her jeans, and then her pulled down her black knickers. I could feel myself tumesce at the sight of her freshly waxed pussy lips.
She quickly threw herself across my lap, apparently ashamed of being denuded in such a manner. Which struck me as odd, bearing in mind the status of our relationship, and our familiarity with each others bodies. But, of course, this was not our usual husband/wife situation, this was an altogether different dynamic.
“Please Ronnie, I swear nothing like this will ever happen again...ouch!” The first fall of the Checker cut short her well-predicted pleading.
After that initial shout of surprise, Susie remained almost silent for the first minute or so. The skin on the magnificent orbs of her buttocks was turning pink, but she seemed almost inured to the pain. All, I could do, was to 'up the ante' and to smack her harder, which filled me with both guilt and desire in equal measure.
It worked though, as the pinkness turned to red; her hips moved trying to escape the brush, her bottom cheeks tensed attempting to lessen the brush's effect, and she became vocal.
In fact, she became very vocal!
“You can't spank me like this; you're my husband, not my parent!...You bastard this hurts!...I swear I'm going to leave you!”
Then her previous indignation turned to regret.
“I'm sorry Ronnie!...Please stop; I've learned my lesson!...Please, I can't take anymore!”
Then another change came over her, she was gently sobbing, but her movements did not so much stop, as it seemed more that they changed.
She stopped her wriggling, and it felt as if she was now lifting her hips and arching her back to meet the Checker. Almost as if she was welcoming its contact, her bottom was now coming up to greet its touch. Then her hips would fall forcing her pubis hard against the outside of my left thigh.
“She is as turned on as me?” I thought to myself, somewhat shocked at the idea.
I had to check. I laid the Checker down on the small of her back, leaving it balanced on the little hollow above her buttocks; my hand then caressed her now blazing hot buns. My fingers then trailed down the cleft of her bottom, reaching the petals of her sex. I probed, lightly at first, into her damp folds.
She was wetter than I had ever known her to be, a quick glance at the tiled floor below her, and I could see the pool of tears that Marsha had told me to wait for. Seeing that pool of contrition, I knew that the spanking had worked. However, my fingers told me that the spanking had worked at a whole other level.
I helped her back to her feet, kissed her, then wiped the tears from her eyes.
“You know I only did that because I love you?” I whispered into her ear.
She nodded, then took my hand.
“Let's go to bed,” She said, with a dreamy almost content look upon her face. “I think I will have to be on top though.” She added; we headed to our bedroom, both of us giggling like naughty teens.