by W. Arthur
Callie Watterson was trying her best to stand still with her nose pressed against the wall, just like she was ordered to do. Her panties were down below her knees and her small but curvaceous bottom practically glowed from the spanking she had received a few minutes ago.
However, in spite of her best effort, she began to fidget, moving first one foot, then the other, back and forth. Part of the problem was that her bottom hurt. Her husband Brent had used the paint paddle on her while she was draped submissively across his lap. The combination of the long paddling plus the awkward position never failed to reduce her to hot tears within a minute or two. Certainly, today's experience was no exception. She would feel the effects of this punishment for at least a day or so.
But another part of the problem was that she was conflicted. In her mind she knew that she had deserved the spanking; it was, after all, her fault and her fault alone that she had interrupted him while he was working on an important case. She knew logically that she shouldn't have interrupted him; she knew she should have been happy that at least he was working at home instead of remaining at the office, as he often did. Finally, she understood that, as a rising star in a very active law firm, Brent would be extremely busy and need to work at home in the evening and even on weekends.
They had discussed this at length before they were married three weeks ago (somehow it seemed much longer to Callie, almost another lifetime). Brent had told her in no uncertain terms that for the time being he would need to work as many hours as the firm required. And Callie said that she understood, especially since the law firm was representing her father's company, Roaring Meadows Pharmaceuticals, in several lawsuits involving patent infringement. She also knew that the preparation and litigation could very well drag on for weeks, if not months.
But this was Saturday evening, a time when most newly married couples were together, enjoying each other's company and doing what newlyweds are supposed to do. In fact, this evening, Callie had wanted to go out for dinner and maybe a movie, sit in the darkened theater and neck like a couple of teenagers. When she mentioned it at breakfast, Brent just shrugged, saying, "We'll see, Callie." She knew only too well what that meant.
Those had been the last words he had spoken to her, as he holed up in his office with the door closed, leaving her to stew about being left alone on a Saturday. Finally, at five-thirty, after she had entertained herself as much as she could, she worked up enough anger to push open his office door and practically storm inside. "Are you going to ignore me all day and all evening too?" she had blurted out.
However, instead of answering her, he simply looked up from his computer screen and glared at her.
She started to wilt, but then held her ground, knowing full well that she would more than likely receive a severe spanking for her bold and intrusive behavior. Might as well go for it, she told herself. "I thought you were going to take me to dinner and a movie," she said.
Brent took a deep breath. "Callie, what is the rule about interrupting me when I'm working?"
This wasn't the answer she was expecting and certainly not the one she was hoping for. She dropped her gaze to the carpet.
Brent continued to glare at her. "I asked you a question. Do I need to repeat it?"
Now she knew she was in serious trouble. "No," she said. Then she looked up and met his eyes. "Brent, I know I'm not supposed to interrupt you, but I'm lonely. I don't have my work to keep me company like you do."
He stood up. He was a solid six feet two and practically towered over her small five foot three-inch frame. "All right. If you want attention so bad, I will give it to you." He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and extracted a paint paddle that he had put there just for moments such as these. Then he moved a straight-back chair into the middle of the room and sat down. "Take off your pants and get over my lap," he ordered.
Even though she knew this was coming, that she had, in fact, provoked it, Callie was stunned. She didn't move.
Brent clapped his hands. "I said take your pants off and get over my lap. Now!"
Callie nodded submissively. There was no escape. She could try to refuse, to run away. She had certainly thought about it before. But she knew he would catch her. And when he did, the punishment would be much worse. She had learned through bitter experience not to question him.
Quickly, she stripped off her yoga pants and approached her husband, her blue eyes drawn to the innocent-looking paddle clutched tightly in his right hand. He grasped her left hand and pulled her body down across his lap.
Once she was in position, he lowered her panties to her knees, baring her pristine bottom. Then he became a spanking machine, raising and lowering the paddle with speed and skill, reddening her backside and reducing her to tears before she could even think to protest. When he was finished a few minutes later, she was sobbing. He pushed her off his lap onto the floor and stood up.
"Stand in the corner," he ordered. "And stay there until I give you permission to leave."
Callie collected herself, stood up, and moved to the designated corner. Brent replaced the chair and put the paddle back into the drawer. Then he sat down at his desk and went back to work, leaving his wife to deal with the pain and consider why she had so foolishly provoked the harsh punishment she had just received. Was five minutes of his attention truly worth the pain she was now experiencing?
As she fidgeted in the corner, she really did think about it. All I wanted was for him to acknowledge me, to take me out for a couple of hours. Her body became more animated as her anger rose.
All at once, she felt a hard hand on her warm bottom. "Callie, I can't concentrate with you fidgeting. You need to stand still," said Brent.
Callie turned her head slightly. I can't even fidget. And her anger rose another notch. "I'm sorry," she said, even though she wasn't. "But you're being very unfair to me and I don't like it." She hadn't meant to be that blunt, but that was the way she felt, and before her marriage, she had never been shy about expressing her feelings, especially to a man.
Brent took another deep breath - his way of calming himself. He retracted his hand and gave her a hard slap across the right cheek of her dark red bottom. "Apparently, I haven't been clear enough with you, so let's work on our communication." He stripped her panties down to the floor and grabbed her right hand. Without another word he pulled her away from the corner, out through the door of the office, and down a short hall.
When they reached the door to their bedroom, a large master suite, he went in, practically dragging her behind him. He guided her down onto the ornate queen-size bed. "Turn over on your belly and don't move from that position."
Now, Callie was scared. Obviously, she was no stranger to being spanked. In fact, in the short time they had been married, she had been spanked several times as she made the difficult adjustment from Daddy's princess to submissive housewife. But she had never seen Brent like this before, and she wasn't at all sure what to expect. She didn't move.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, not quite daring to meet his eyes.
Brent glared down at her. "That should be obvious."
Her eyes widened. "Brent, please, no more spanking."
He drew in a gulp of air, held it for a few seconds, then let it out slowly. "First, you don't ever question my judgment," he declared in a very controlled voice. "Second, your attitude has once again gotten you into trouble. You need to think before you act or speak so impetuously. Now, get into position. I won't tell you again."
Callie knew he was right about her attitude getting her into trouble. It probably could have been her life story, except that he was the first man to ever really call her on it. Now, as she dared to look up at him, she understood that he was going to do to her what he alone believed was best and what she no doubt deserved. It was not her place to question his judgment; that lesson was getting clearer by the minute. She nodded in submission and rolled over into the designated prone position. She put her arms out in front of her and waited. It was all she could do with her husband now in total control.
Brent removed his heavy leather belt and doubled it. With the belt clutched in his right hand, he moved to the side of the bed. "I need to get back to work, Callie. I really don't have time for this."
Callie closed her eyes and grimaced in anticipation. He had never used the belt on her before, but she had a strong feeling that this whipping would definitely not be a pleasant experience, perhaps even worse than the paddling had been.
The first strike slashed across the center of both cheeks. It was harder than she was expecting, and she cried out. But he paid no attention as he quickly issued five more strokes, darkening the red on her already sore flesh. Tears filled her eyes. Her fingers gripped the beige and mauve quilt on the bed so hard they turned white.
Brent continued the whipping, laying down stroke after stroke after stroke until her bottom, that was completely unmarked an hour ago, was now a dark red. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
Finally, he stopped. He looked at the damage he had inflicted, nodded to himself, and replaced the belt around his firm waist. He sat down on the side of the bed and gently touched her inflamed backside. She flinched. "I know this is difficult for you, Callie," he said softly. "But you have to understand that for right now the work comes first. Since this is for your father's company, I would think you of all people would appreciate that." He paused and kissed her forehead. He stood up. "Now, I have to get back to work. I am very close to finding what I need but your interruptions are counterproductive. Can I count on you to keep still while I finish for the evening?"
Callie wiped the tears from her eyes. Her bottom was still sending pain signals up and down her spinal cord. The anger she had felt earlier had been replaced by feelings of submission to his stronger will. But she wasn't quite ready to give up her husband to the great god of business that her own father had apparently unleashed.
"Please, Brent, can't you stay with me for a little while?" she whined.
He paused for a second as he processed her question. Then he leaned down, retracted his right arm, and gave her ten hard smacks that reignited the fire in her bottom. "Callie, we're not communicating here," he said.
The tears flowed once again from Callie's eyes. "Please... please... don't spank me anymore."
"I don't want to spank you anymore. I didn't want to spank you in the first place, but I need to keep you from interrupting me."
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