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TRAINING JONAS WEATHERLY

by W. Arthur


Prologue

Jonas stood with his face against the light blue wall of the bedroom. An occasional stray tear leaked from his eyes and rolled lazily down his cheeks, dampening his closely trimmed beard. His trembling hands were behind his back, holding up the lower edge of his white tee shirt, keeping his bare and bruised bottom fully exposed.

His mouth was closed; his tongue was still. But inside his head, he was muttering words that echoed his highly ambiguous thoughts. It isn't fair. She set me up. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Twenty minutes after the spanking ended, he could still feel the sting and the heat radiating from his backside. She was way too hard on me, and I don't know why.

In reality, he knew very well why Marcia had been hard on him. His brown eyes shifted to the small piece of yellow lined paper taped to the wall next to him - his to-do list for the day. The list contained seven items, items that he should have been able to accomplish in three or four hours, if he had been diligent and not allowed himself to get distracted.

But he hadn't been diligent and had only completed two of the items by the time she came home from work. Instead of finishing the laundry and starting dinner, like he was supposed to, she had caught him sitting in the den reading a book. He had been so engrossed in what he was reading that he hadn't greeted her at the door (yet another rule violation), hadn't even heard her come in.

She was already perturbed when she stepped through the doorway. "Jonas, tell me you finished everything on your list," she said, her blue eyes blazing.

At first, he seemed a bit disoriented as he looked up from his book. "Huh?" he muttered. Then he saw the look on her face and closed the book.

She took a few steps into the den. "Where is the list I gave you this morning?"

Jonas tried to think. Where had he left the list? "Uh..."

Marcia scowled as she took another step closer to her husband of less than three weeks. "Never mind, Jonas," she said. "Obviously, you didn't get your work finished, did you?"

Now he was fully oriented, the book on his lap forgotten for the moment. "Uh... no, I didn't."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I don't understand," she said. "I thought my training method had worked and you were pretty well trained. Clearly, I was wrong." She paused and took a deep breath. "Okay. I knew this day would come and I can see that another more intense training session is necessary. Go into the bedroom, strip off your pants and briefs, and bend over the bed. Let's see if you can at least follow those simple instructions."

His eyes widened as the reality of his situation fully registered. "But Marcia... honey... I can still get the work done. I'll just get the list and get started. What do you want for dinner?"

"Yes, you will get your work done, I'll see to that," she declared. "But after the training. Now, I don't want to hear another word from you. You have your instructions and you better get to it. If I have to repeat myself, the training will be much harder. Do you understand?"

Jonas understood only too well. "Yes."

Marcia was angry again. She moved to where he was sitting and, grabbing him by his right ear, pulled him out of the chair. "Yes, what?"

Tears filled his eyes. "Ow, that hurts."

She twisted his ear, eliciting another shriek of pain. "You better answer the question, while you still have an ear. Yes, what?"

Jonas swallowed hard. "Yes... ma'am," he said. This was a side to his new wife that he hadn't seen emerge or fully appreciated.

She smiled triumphantly. "Good. Now, get going. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Pausing only to look sheepishly over his shoulder, Jonas moved fast toward the hall and into the bedroom he shared with his wife. He muttered to himself that she was being unfair but, when he heard her footsteps in the kitchen, quickly removed his jeans and briefs. Then he stood by the bed and waited.

Five minutes later, Marcia entered the bedroom. In her right hand was the heavy leather strap she had given him on their wedding night as a warning and a means to instill a healthy fear. She stopped when she saw Jonas. "I thought I told you to bend over the bed," she said.

His eyes practically bulged when he saw the strap. He tried to bolster his flagging courage. "Uh... I... don't think so," he managed to say in a near whisper.

She huffed. "I can't believe you just said that. As the Borg are fond of saying, resistance is futile, not to mention stupid and counterproductive. Now, get over the bed before I lose my temper."

He could feel his knees weaken, but he stood his ground. "But... Marcia... this is unfair."

She chuckled humorlessly. "What's unfair about it?" She looked at him with piercing eyes. "Jonas, what was the most important vow you made at our wedding?"

He thought for a minute, realizing that how he answered this question may very well influence the severity of his punishment. "Uh... to love and to cherish."

Her smile faded. "And...?"

He gulped. "And to obey."

"Good answer. Jonas, I know you have a doctorate in English and are quite capable of arguing semantics. However, there is only one definition of obey in this household, and that is for you to follow my orders. What did I order you to do when I left for work this morning?"

Jonas hated this interrogation. However, as he stood there, naked from the waist down, he had to admit that she was right, she was always right; she would always be right. That's the arrangement he had agreed to, the price he paid for her love, support, and companionship, the better life she had promised him.

"I know, Marcia, I know," he said. "I got distracted by the book and didn't finish the list of chores."

She pulled a sheet of lined yellow paper from her pocket. "From the looks of this list, you maybe accomplished two items." She set the paper down on the bedside table and shook her head, ruffling slightly her shoulder-length dark blond hair. "I don't even know why we're having this discussion. Get over the bed right now and take your punishment. You have a lot of work to catch up on." She slapped her left palm with the leather strap for emphasis.

He knew he was defeated. Once again, his wife was right: resistance was futile. He nodded and bent his upper body over the bed. She approached and kicked at his legs to get them spread, making his bottom a very inviting target. She clutched the end of the strap tightly.

"Don't move until I give you permission. Do you understand?"

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Yes, ma'am."

"This will be a very harsh lesson," she said. "But if you learn the lesson well, further lessons may not be necessary."

Once again he gritted his teeth and tightened his jaw. He wanted so badly to scream out another senseless protest, bring his legs together, stand up and confront her. But he knew he didn't dare. She was in control, and what she was doing, what she was about to do, in the end, really was for his own good. At least that's what he told himself as he waited for her to commence the spanking.

It was a short wait. The first strike came quickly, a solid stinger that impacted the center of both cheeks. He grimaced. This strike was quickly followed up by the next, this one hitting a centimeter lower.

After that, the strokes came hard and fast, one after another after another after another, relentless and merciless, turning his once pristine bottom into a vast sea of red flesh. He began to rear up. She pushed him back down.

"God damn it, Marcia, that fucking hurts. It's enough!" he screamed clearly without thinking.

Marcia replied by striking his tender upper thighs ten times in rapid succession. "I would expect more refined and creative language from a PhD," she declared calmly. "From now on, keep your dirty thoughts to yourself."

The whipping went on for at least another two minutes. To Jonas, it seemed like two hours. Tears streamed down his face as he started to cry like a little boy.

Finally, she stopped and tossed the strap onto the bed beside him. "Okay... go stand with your face against the wall. Don't move from that position, don't even turn around, until I give you permission. Is that clear?"

At this point, very little was clear to Jonas except that his bottom felt like it was on fire. It took at least thirty seconds for her words to penetrate the fog surrounding his brain. He took a deep breath to steady himself and stuttered, "Ye-yes, ma'am."

She touched his bottom. "Okay. Go on then." Her voice, which had been shrill and harsh, was now a little gentler, momentarily reminding him of his stepmother after she used to punish him.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bed and scurried over to the designated spot, cupping both hands to his heavily wounded bottom as he moved.

She followed him, holding the to-do list. "Get your hands off your butt and hold up the ends of your tee shirt," she ordered. "I want to be able to see that bottom of yours at all times."

He immediately complied just as he reached the wall. She taped up the list, touched his burning backside again, then turned and walked out of the room.

That was twenty minutes ago. Now, as he was still muttering under his breath, he felt a presence behind him. He didn't dare turn around, but he knew Marcia was there, watching him.

She put a soft hand on his bottom. "Still pretty warm and red," she said. "Jonas, you need to be careful what you mutter. I can hear you, and I don't like what I 'm hearing... I believe you need some more time to think about things, think about your place in this relationship, think about why you need me, why we need each other. I'll be back in thirty minutes. I've already ordered take-out, so you don't have to worry about dinner. However, I will expect you to finish the other chores on the list before bed time, which will be no later than eleven. And when you do come to bed, I will expect you to take care of me. Nod if you understand."

Jonas nodded.

Once he was sure she was gone, he felt the flesh on his sore backside. It was still warm to the touch. Then he thought about her instructions (no, her order) to think about things. He certainly hadn't wanted to be spanked, especially so harshly with the leather strap.

However, he had to admit two things. First, he had vowed to love, honor, cherish, and obey. In fact, he knew perfectly well that the obey part was put in just for him. He had understood beyond any doubt what he was vowing as he said the words at the altar in front of witnesses. Second, she had given him his instructions in writing this morning, and he hadn't followed them. In other words, he had disobeyed her orders. Thus, she had every right to punish him in order to train him to obey in the future. Today's lesson was one he was unlikely to forget any time soon.

Finally, as he thought about their relationship, he remembered how his life was before Marcia entered into it.



© W. Arthur
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.