Thursday, January 15, 2015

On Courting (and Spanking) a Christian Girl, Chapter 8

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                                            On Courting (and Spanking) a Christian Girl
CHAPTER 8 ( Titus )

My bottom hurt for several days after Ruth punished me, but it was a good hurt, a hurt that cleansed away guilty feelings about my drunk driving.  Ruth hadn’t wanted to punish me, but our discussion with the Pastor just a few days earlier about how to deal with a guilty husband was still fresh in her mind.  So she unwillingly obeyed and delivered a credible punishment to my bottom.

I did everything I could to thank her and to make her feel comfortable with her role in my punishment.  However, her attitude quickly deteriorated.  She became bossy, sarcastic and vaguely insulting.  Her eye-rolls were constant, and she seemed to go out of her way to be late for anything we planned.  Three times I tried to talk to her about her behavior, but to no avail. 

Since her bratty behavior started shortly after my punishment, I correctly assumed that it must have something to do with that.  I could have argued with her, or returned her insults in kind, but that’s not my way.  I know that the real Ruth was still there for me to love, and that it was my job to somehow bring that lovable Ruth back.  The problem was, not being married to Ruth, I  lacked the necessary authority to correct her.

Mrs. Marsh, Ruth and I were still having those three-way “meetings” where we discussed our relationship, usually in the Marsh kitchen.  They weren’t as often these days because they alternated with our premarital counseling meetings with the Pastor.  So I decided to bide my time and simply document Ruth’s behavior.   

I was still young and inexperienced with women, but by our next meeting I had figured out that Ruth, consciously or subconsciously, was trying to engineer a spanking for herself.  Years later, I would realize that she was driven by a combination of guilt over causing me pain and her desire to regain the old balance of our relationship.  Regardless of her psychological details, the cure was the same, a spanking.  I had seen her spanked enough times to know that she always responded well to punishment.  I just needed to make it happen.    

Under the circumstances I guessed that she would respond best if I spanked her myself.  But that took Mrs. Marsh’s permission!

I bided my time until our next three-way meeting.  We prayed and then covered the usual stuff, and then I asked to speak.  Very carefully and without emotion, I documented Ruth’s behavior, mentioning specific episodes and describing the times that I had fruitlessly tried to talk to her.  Ruth seemed to arch her back at first, but by the time I finished she was in tears. 

I had Mrs. Marsh on my side immediately, “I was wondering when you were going to do something about this” she said.  “I also noticed her attitude.  What do you propose Tim?”

Ruth picked that moment to try to apologize, but it was far too late for that.

“Mrs. Marsh”, I said in a formal tone, “I’m asking permission to deal with your daughter.  I think a good hand spanking would set her straight.”

She answered quickly, “Just as I gave you permission to have Ruth deal with you as if you and her were married, I now give you permission, just this once, to deal with Ruth as if she were your wife.”

I waited for Ruth to object, but it didn’t happen.  She simply looked at me wide-eyed with a classic “deer in the headlights” look on her face.

“You may bare her for discipline, but you will otherwise obey all of The Rules.”  She gave me a hard look, “In addition to the usual rules, you will absolutely remain zipped until Ruth is safely re-dressed following her punishment.  Emotions can run high after a spanking.  You and Ruth must preserve your purity until your wedding night.  Is that clear?”

With a lump in my throat, I nodded and said “Yes Ma’am”.  Surprisingly, Ruth did the same.

“I will leave you now.  Have a nice long talk.  Get everything hashed out.  And then have a prayer together.  After that, you may give Ruth a good spanking.   Use the living room as you did before.”

As she left she threw over her shoulder, “Ruth, obey your man and learn from this!”

“Yes Ma’am”, Ruth said to her mother’s retreating back.

So we had that talk, and we even had the prayer.  It was good!  When we finished talking, I was convinced that I would shortly have my old Ruth back.  All I needed to do first was spank her!

Unusually, Ruth was wearing a skirt today.  Holding her by the elbow, I walked her into the living room.  I sat in her father’s overstuffed chair, and she automatically stood meekly in front of me.  For the first time in my life, I removed a lady’s skirt.  With her skirt off, I encountered a slip.  This caused unexpected problems because it had straps that went up under her blouse.  There probably was a way to remove that slip without removing her blouse, but I didn’t bother looking for it.  Off came the blouse and then the slip, leaving Ruth dressed only in panties and bra.  For some reason today’s panties were even briefer and wispier than usual.  Not that their wispiness mattered, because I soon helped her out of them.

That left her wearing only the bra.  I had permission to deal with Ruth “as if she were my wife”.  That arguably gave me permission to strip her naked, but I decided to leave that “first” for our wedding night.  So Ruth retained her bra.

Then I stood to embrace my lady.  I pulled her close, letting my hands drift down to cup those two wonderful buttocks that I was about to colorize.  And then I pulled her groin against mine. 

I mumbled into her ear, “I love you sweetheart.”

She squeezed in return, responding “I love you too Tim.”

Reluctantly I released her and then looked into her eyes, “You know I have to make a good job of this, right?”

She nodded sadly, “It’s OK.  I deserve it, so I won’t be mad at you.”

Putting a bit of no-nonsense firmness into my voice, I ordered, “Go out to the dining room and bring us back a chair.  You know where it goes.”

This obviously surprised her.  She had expected that we would use the couch like her mother always did.  But I wanted her to remember that it wasn’t her mother spanking her this time.

She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, but then seemed to rethink the wisdom of questioning my order.  Finally she turned towards the dining room.  The retreating view of her was simply wonderful!

She returned dragging an armless chair.  She placed in the appointed spot, and then looked at me expectantly.  I sat and then patted my lap.  Gracefully she laid her nearly naked body across my lap.

I adjusted her position a little differently that usual, urging her further forward so that some of her weight was on her arms and her toes dangled in the air.  That put her firm thighs over my right knee, exactly in my prime spanking zone.

I spoke gently, “OK Ruth, here’s the plan.  I’m going to spank you, spank you hard!  After that, we will both forgive each other and then I’ll have my old Ruth back, the Ruth I fell in love with.  Correct?”

From down near the floor I heard Ruth blubber, “Yes Tim.”


Now Ruth was about to learn that this was to be no ordinary spanking.   In my mind, this was the first “real” spanking that Ruth was to receive from her man.  This spanking had nothing to do with Ruth’s parents, and for the first time was wasn’t being directly supervised by Mrs. Marsh.  To give Ruth a mild spanking would send entirely the wrong message.  I wanted her to remember this!  Still, I intended to deliver this spanking with love and stay well within safe limits.

“Open your thighs wide Ruth, we’re going to start down there.”

She looked up at me with startled eyes, “Whaaat?”

“You heard me Ruth,” I said firmly, “Open your thighs wide and do your very best to keep them open for me until I tell you differently.”

She looked back down at the floor and nodded grimly.  Slowly, unwillingly, she obeyed.  The sight was as delightful as it was intimate!

I still had a lot to learn about women, but I knew from the sight of Ruth’s damp sex, from a special tang to her female scent, and from her constantly moving bottom that I had a very aroused young lady across my lap.  That seemed fair enough to me, since Ruth couldn’t possibly have missed the rock-hard and protruding evidence of my own arousal. 

But still, I wasn’t yet savvy enough to understand that the reason for Ruth’s reluctance to open her thighs was her embarrassment at her aroused condition.

Perhaps it was a selfish thought, but I wondered if the spanking I was about to deliver would kill her ardor for the evening.  I hoped not!  

Regardless, it was time for me to deliver!  


Using medium-force spanks, spanks what would be especially painful because I deliberately had omitted any “warmup spanks,” I attacked Ruth’s taut white thighs.  Ruth wasted no time on feigned  stoicism.  Almost immediately her stricken voice filled the room, “Oh no! Please! Not there!  Please spank my bottom first!  Nooooo!!!” Then, as her thighs magically morphed to increasingly brilliant shades of red, she lost coherence and dissolved into loud, shrill tears.

Naturally, since I had gone to the trouble of requiring her to keep her thighs parted, I didn’t neglect spanking the tender flesh of her inner thighs.  I know first-hand how much this hurts, because I had so recently enticed Ruth to do much the same to me! 

Despite herself, Ruth struggled some.  I had no particular trouble holding her torso in place, but I had no control over her legs.  I could tell that she was trying hard to keep those delightful thighs open for my attention, but several times they snapped shut and I was forced to remind her to open them.  As always when I spank Ruth, I tried my best to keep my voice firm but not harsh. 

It took me perhaps five minutes to spank her thighs to an even shade of bright red, inside and out. So far, I hadn’t yet touched her bottom, so it was still pure white, unspanked.  By the time I was done with her thighs, she was squealing and crying inconsolably. 

Until she described it to me later, I didn’t understand the depth of her discomfort.  Never before had she felt the contrast between an unspanked bottom and livid, freshly-spanked thighs.  She knew well the feeling of spanked thighs, but always her bottom had been spanked first.  What she felt at that moment was new to her and totally unwelcome!

I paused to allow her to collect herself before I continued.  Finally her cries decayed down to mere groans. 

What she said next, filtered through her tears and runny nose, surprised me: “Honey will you please spank my bottom?  Now?  I can’t stand to have just my thighs burning!”         

It was easy to accommodate her, because that was my plan anyhow!

I shifted her slightly on my lap so that her bottom was presented over my right leg.  Her toes dug into the carpet. 

“Here we go,” I warned.

I spent the next several minutes carefully spanking her twin nether cheeks to a nice even red that perfectly matched her still-livid thighs.  I wasn’t using full strength spanks, but from the start I used firm blows, applied without the usual warm-up treatment.  So from the beginning, she bawled loudly. 

I take this job seriously, and was there to do a good job, but still part of my brain appreciated and recorded the fantastically kinetic sight of Ruth’s roiling, bouncing, twisting, clenching and coloring bottom as it absorbed its well-earned punishment.

Soon this second part of Ruth’s punishment was over.  Again, I waited for her to calm down a bit so we could talk before we proceeded to the last part.  As she sobbed, I rubbed her back and spoke soothingly to her, but I kept my left arm firmly around her waist, a nonverbal way of communicating that this spanking wasn’t over.

Finally she calmed enough for us to have a 2-way conversation. 

“Am I getting through to you Ruth?”

She blubbered her answer, “Yes sir.  I’m sorry Tim, I really am.”

“OK,” I answered, “Then let’s finish your spanking.  After that we’re going to forgive each other and then I’m going to have my sweet woman back ... right?”

“I’m sorry Tim, I really am.  Yes, that sweet Ruth will return for you Tim.  You will see!”

“That’s good,” I said happily, “Really good. Let’s get you repositioned, and then we’ll have your punishment finished in a jiffy.”

From previous experience, Ruth knew that the hardest part of her punishment was imminent, but she cooperated as I slid my right knee from under her and used that leg to pin hers down.  Without being asked, she put her right hand into the small of her back so I could restrain it.

She felt my left arm tighten around her torso and felt that hand tightly grip her wrist, so she knew what was about to happen.  Before I even landed the first spank, she was sobbing loudly again. 

I didn’t give her any special number of spanks, my goal was to quickly spank her already-red buttocks and sit spots almost to the bruising point.  I do this with almost full-strength spanks, so it’s perfectly understandable that poor Ruth almost immediately began shrieking from the sudden explosion of sting and pain to her bottom.  Despite herself, she bucked and struggled as her bottom flattened and jounced from the blows, but I had her pinned so securely that all she accomplished with her antics was to wear herself out.

After only about sixty seconds of hard work, it was almost over.  I inspected my work closely, pronounced it good, and then delivered a few parting medium-strength spanks to her upper thighs.  Then the job was done.  I had delivered my very first unsupervised spanking to my beautiful future wife!  If I say so myself, it was a pretty good job too!  

Naturally, that treatment left Ruth sobbing inconsolably.  We were both a bit winded, me from my exertions, her from her fruitless struggling and her shrieking.  I gently restrained her, keeping her safely across my knee until she came to her senses.  As I waited, I rubbed her back and spoke forgiving words into her ear.  Finally I deemed it safe to help my darling up onto her feet.  Still sobbing and showing no regard for her modesty, she did a brief war dance, and then squatted knees apart while she gently reached back to explore her livid buttocks and thighs. 

Her eyes were still leaking tears, and her vision was likely swimming and distorted, but her eyes finally locked on mine.  I was almost afraid of what would happen next.  Was she angry with me?  With trepidation, I held out my arms.  Instantly she was in them!

Always before I had felt like a third wheel after Ruth’s punishments.  Mrs. Marsh had always been there.  Therefore, Ruth had always gone to her mother for those tender post-spanking moments.  Today there was only me, and I gloried in our tender mutually-forgiving moment.  It must have hurt her some to do so, but Ruth somehow ensconced herself on my lap, her arms tightly around me, her face buried in my chest.  Of course, it wasn’t lost to me that she was still naked except for her bra.  I marveled that my zipper held against the pressure of my arousal.  I was actually in pain, but what a wonderful pain!

The practical Mrs. Marsh gave us ten minutes alone after Ruth’s spanking, and then appeared bearing both a damp washcloth and that familiar jar of creme.   Her eyes widened slightly when she saw her nearly naked daughter in my lap shedding her last few tears into my chest.  She had a rear view of Ruth, who was lewdly straddling me on the chair.  Still, we were breaking no rules.  To my relief, I saw the lady quickly relax.  

Taking charge, Mrs. Marsh washed Ruth’s face and then ordered her back across my lap.  She inspected Ruth’s spanked nether regions, and then flashed me a “thumbs-up”.  It’s been a long time since I have felt so proud of myself!

It was my job/pleasure to gently slather cream on my darling’s bottom.  She purred as the lotion worked its magic.  I urged her thighs open so I could reach the inner spanked regions.  As I
treated that area, my fingers brushed her vulva.  Ruth bucked and her thighs opened up even more! 

Mrs. Marsh didn’t miss that intimate action, but she didn’t immediately object.  Finally she intervened,  “Let’s get Ruth properly dressed so you two can have some private time together.” 

She left the room, giving me an opportunity to fondle the willing Ruth once more.  Mrs. Marsh reappeared moments later with a fresh pair of panties and pajamas.  I helped Ruth back to her feet.  Lovingly, I dressed my woman.

After a suitable warning from Mrs. Marsh to “remember the rules”, we climbed the steps to the sanctity of Ruth’s bedroom.  Both of us were aroused to a fever pitch, so I really wanted to tear those pajamas and panties off and take her right there on her own bed, but we settled for a slightly amplified version of our usual mutual manual release. 

Reluctantly, I left my spanked angel in her bed and departed for my own house and my own solitary bedroom.

Another day in paradise!

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Thursday, January 01, 2015

On Courting (and Spanking) A Christian Girl; Chapter 7

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                         On Courting (and Spanking) a Christian Girl;  Chapter 7 (John)

There are many thoughts that go through the minds of young ladies, especially young ladies on the brink of marriage!  There are always concerns and doubts that bubble below the surface.  Sometimes those thoughts are confessed to others, sometimes they remain forever private and unknowable, sometimes they are even allowed to block her way to happiness.

Naturally there were many private matters that Ruth felt confident discussing with Tim, but there are certain intimate matters that a young lady can only discuss with her mother...if then! 

Ruth knew that any discussion of spanking husbands was a minefield as far as her mother was concerned.  Tim and Ruth talked about it only in general terms, because it seemed so unlikely to them that it could ever happen.  However, there was one very private conversation that Ruth had with her mother that is just too darling to be excluded from this story:

It was one of those rare evenings when Tim was off with his study group, so “the girls” had the evening to themselves.  Ruth made tea for herself and her mother, and served it with cookies.  It was a cozy, private moment between mother and daughter.  Perhaps that’s what made Ruth open up and finally ask a very private question that had been worrying her. 

“Mommy, there is something that worries me a bit, but it’s really embarrassing.”

“It’s just us girls Ruth, so spit it out and I’ll give you the best answer I can.”

“Well Mommy, you’ve seen Tim.”

She answered a bit testily, “Of course I’ve seen Tim.  What on earth are you talking about?”

“I don’t mean that Mommy!  I’m talking about the parts you don’t normally see.  I know you must have seen when you spanked him.”

The lady squealed, “Ruth, are we talking about Tim’s penis here?”

Ruth blushed nearly purple, “Yes”.

“Well yes, I’ve spanked him twice, so I’ve seen that part of him twice.  What about it?”

“Well mom. Isn’t he ... errr ... large?”

“Just how many penises do you think I’ve seen in my life?” The mother asked archly.  “How would I know?”

But then she dropped the pretense and offered her daughter an honest answer, “Yes, Honey, it’s a large one.”  

“That’s what worries me”

“Why Honey?”

It seemed impossible, but Ruth’s blush deepened, “Well, most couples get to sort of ‘try it’ before they actually get married, but we are staying pure. What if we get married and I’m not ... err ... big enough ... to accommodate him?”

The mother favored her daughter with a comforting smile.  “Don’t worry honey, the Lord designed that part of your body to be amazingly accommodating.  Most ladies agree that bigger really is better.  My guess is that you have an amazingly good sex life ahead of you.  There are millions of women who would jump at the chance to change places with you.”

Mrs. Marsh blushed and grinned as she continued, “And I’m a bit envious myself.” 

“Mother!" Ruth gushed, “I can’t believe you said that!”

Suitably comforted by this maternal advice, Ruth soon went to bed for the night.


It was around 11PM that night when the phone rang.  Ruth was asleep, as was her mother.  Ruth’s father was still at work.  The phone rang perhaps ten times before Ruth finally awoke enough to answer it.  On the other end was Tim, but his voice sounded strangely slurred.

“Ruth, can you come pick me up?  I tried to drive my parent’s car home but I almost caused an accident.  I’m pulled over OK, but I don’t think I should drive any more.  

It took five minutes of repeating his vague and conflicting descriptions before Ruth was sure enough of his location to hang up.  By then, Mrs. Marsh was in Ruth’s bedroom, a concerned look on her face.

Getting Tim home turned out to be mercifully uneventful.  Mrs. Marsh drove Ruth to the location, where they found Tim sitting in his family’s car with the engine still running.  Ruth drove Tim and his car to his house while Mrs. Marsh followed behind.  Tim was drunk and sleepy, but Ruth managed to get the general story out of him.  His “study group” had decided to take him out for sort of an advance celebration of his pending marriage.  Unused to alcohol, nobody, least of all Tim, had realized that Tim was dangerously drunk.  So they had let him drive home.  After a scary near-accident had momentarily sobered him, Tim had pulled off the road and called Ruth for help.

They got Tim and his parent’s car home.  Ruth kissed Tim before he staggered into his house.  He made it into his bedroom and his parents were never the wiser.

Ruth and Mrs. Marsh were back in bed before her father returned home from his evening shift at the Police department.  Mrs. Marsh decided that it would be best to delay telling him what had happened with Tim.


The next afternoon, his face a study in sadness and determination, Tim knocked on the Marsh’s front door at the usual time.  Ruth opened the door.  She had planned to scold Tim for last night’s drunk driving episode, but the look on his face stopped her.  She could see that Tim’s drunk driving episode was already weighing heavily on his mind, so there was really nothing for her to add.   

He started out with an abject apology, but Ruth could see that there was far more on his mind.  After an awkward silence, he finally said, “I need to talk to your mother Ruth, and then perhaps we can deal with this.”

That confused Ruth, but just then Mrs. Marsh appeared with an armful of laundry.

“Oh, hello Tim.”

“Mrs. Marsh, I’m really sorry about last night.  Can we please talk privately?”

She looked at him oddly, “It seems to me that we should be able to talk in front of your fiancee, but come along to the laundry room.”

In the privacy of the laundry room Tim came straight to the point, “Mrs. Marsh, let me say again how sorry I am about last night.  I promise you that it will never happen again.  But we need to fix this!  We spanked Ruth for that reckless driving incident, but now I’m guilty of far worse.  Fortunately I wasn’t caught, but that makes me no less guilty”

Her voice was kind but the question was direct, “Tim, are you asking me to spank you?”

His answer surprised her, “No ma’am.  As you probably know, I asked Pastor Lewis how a husband deals with his own guilt, and he told us how to deal with it within a marriage.  Well I’m not married to Ruth yet, but we’re engaged.  So I’m asking for you to allow Ruth to punish me as if she were my wife.”

Her face registered surprise, “What does Ruth think of that idea?”

“I haven’t asked her yet ma’am, but I think she would be willing to try.”

“But she has no experience.  She’s never spanked anybody.”

Tim had an answer ready, “Exactly!  So now is her chance to learn.  You could give her some pointers first, but please allow her to punish me in private.”

Tim held his breath as the lady considered her answer.  Finally it came, “You may do it in the living room, not her bedroom.  I will discreetly disappear, but will be within hearing range in case I’m needed.” 

With his punishment suddenly seeming very near and personal, Tim felt a sudden urge to pee.  Still he found the presence of mind to reply, “Thank you Ma’am.”

She looked at him appraisingly, “You haven’t said anything about what you might have Ruth use on you.  I will need to know.”

“I...I guess your hairbrush?”

She looked down at his waist meaningfully, “Yes, you certainly deserve that, but that’s what Ruth got for simple reckless driving.  You did worse.”

He followed her gaze and took her meaning.  This was a step beyond what he had been expecting, but he shakily fumbled at his belt, removed it, and then handed it to her.  “Can you also show her how to use this then?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Marsh said, accepting the belt, “that would be an appropriate choice.”


Tim rushed to the hall bathroom to pee.  He emerged just in time to see Mrs. Marsh escort Ruth into her parent’s bedroom.  Ruth’s facial expression was a classic question mark.       

Nervously, Tim waited in the living room.  Sometimes he looked longingly at the front door, an escape path that seemed to beacon to him.  He wasn’t sure, but occasionally he thought he heard sharp noises leaking from the bedroom.


Inside the bedroom, Mrs. Marsh first had a long talk with Ruth about the mechanics of delivering a punishment.  She warned Ruth that the biggest mistake she could make was to be too timid and to stop too soon.  But still she stressed safety and how far she could safely go.

Then she put a cushion in Ruth’s lap to allow her to practice spanking, both open-palmed and with the hairbrush.  Then she held the cushion over the edge of a chair so that her student could practice swinging the belt.

Tim didn’t hear about the rest until months later.  It was a sacrifice only a mother would make, but Mrs. Marsh actually bared her bottom and offered it up to ensure first hand that Ruth had the severity of her spanks properly calibrated.  First she put herself across her daughter’s lap for a few hand spanks and hairbrush spanks, and then she laid across that chair for a few painful strokes from Tim’s belt.

Her bottom newly stinging, Mrs. Marsh decided that Ruth was as ready as she ever would be.   


Tim jumped when he heard the bedroom door open.  Only Ruth emerged.  She held both the family hairbrush and Tim’s belt.

“We don’t need to do this Tim,” she pleaded.  “I know you’re sorry, I get that.  Let’s just move on.”

Lovingly he embraced her and planted a wet kiss on her lips.“Ruth, we talked about this in the Pastor’s office just the other day.  I think we both knew it would happen someday, but neither of us expected to face it so soon.  I appreciate that you are willing to forgive me without any punishment, but I can’t forgive myself.”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat and tears sprang to her eyes, “OK honey.  Tell me exactly what you wish me to do, and I will obey to the best of my ability.”

“I deserve more punishment than you received for your own driving incident.  So I’ll put myself across your lap for a good session with your hand and the hairbrush, and then we’ll figure out a position that works for the belt so you can finish up.”

“If you insist honey.”

Three things before we start,” he said.  Her damp eyes looked expectantly into his.

“First, my biggest fear is that you will be timid.  Please do this hard and get it over with.  OK?”

She nodded.

“Second, you’ve seen me get spanked before, so you know that should be bawling long before it’s over.  Don’t let that affect you, just continue the punishment.  And please don’t think any less of me because I cry.”

She nodded again, only more enthusiastically this time.

“The third thing,“ he added, “is this!”  He gave her a huge bone-crusher of a hug along with a deep kiss.  “I love you Ruth!”

She enthusiastically responded, hugging back and returning the long kiss.

By then, Tim needed one last nervous pee.  While he was in the bathroom, he picked up the familiar jar of lotion.  If Ruth did her job, his bottom would need it.  And if Ruth couldn’t manage a decent job on his bottom, he knew that Mrs. Marsh was nearby and ready.  In that case, he would still need that lotion. 

Back in the living room, Tim kicked off his shoes, and then removed his pants, a job made slightly easier by the absence of his belt.  Ruth watched with interest as his underpants followed. 

Then Tim paused for a moment to consider.  The normal spanking procedure in the Marsh household included waist-down nudity, but Tim decided to go further to show that he was holding nothing back.  He removed his shirt and then pealed off his undershirt.  For the first time ever, Tim stood nude before his fiancee.

One small consolation for Tim was that his protruding manhood would have been highly embarrassing if Mrs. Marsh were his spanker.  With Ruth it just felt natural.     

He walked into the dining room and returned with an armless chair that he placed in the middle of the living room and pointed Ruth to it.  She sat and looked at him expectantly.   He picked up the hairbrush and handed it to her.

“Spank me hard with your hand and then the hairbrush.  Don’t stop until you have definitely marked my bottom. After that, we’ll figure out a position for you to use the belt on me, OK?. 

“Yes sir,” she answered, “If I must”.

He smiled at her gentle bit of cheekiness, kissed her, and then put himself into position across his fiancee’s lap.  He settled into position, rigid penis between her thighs, hands gripping the chair legs, toes digging into the carpet, bottom nicely presented.    

“Here goes,” she said, as she raised her right hand high into the air.


Ruth differed from her mother in many ways.  Ruth was a petite girl who lacked her mother’s strength and her mother’s tough hands.  She liked athletics, but had never taken the time to excel in any particular sport.  Still, she was active, liked the outdoors, and was blessed with exceptional endurance.  What Tim didn’t know, was that Mrs. Marsh and Ruth had considered Ruth’s strengths and weaknesses and had developed a spanking strategy for her that differed from her mother’s “3-layer” approach.  So Tim was about to be surprised!


Ruth’s open palm slammed into Tim’s right buttock with all of Ruth’s strength.  Tim, expecting Mrs. Marsh’s usual mild beginning, grunted in surprise.  Then Ruth quickly landed nine similar blows to that same buttock as Tim squirmed uncomfortably.  Then Ruth did the same to Tim’s left buttock.  The first tears appeared in Tim’s eyes.

Ruth paused a moment to shake the sting from her soft hand, and then without warning attacked Tim’s thighs.  This was also an unhappy surprise to Tim.  But Tim wasn’t a person who desired happiness just then.  In fact, Tim had some plans of his own to help ensure he received a proper punishment.  It was difficult, Tim almost “chickened out”, but he opened his legs wide, offering Ruth unfettered access to his tender inner thighs.  Grimly, Ruth accepted the challenge, peppering that most sensitive spankable area.  It was all Tim could do to keep from shrieking at the pain. 

Her mother had warned her, so Ruth was very careful of Tim’s scrotum.  Because of the awkward angle and the resulting mild spanks, this part of the spanking was easy on Ruth’s hand. 
Tim did his best to choke back his sobs, but increasingly he failed.  Also, despite himself, Tim was responding to the growing sting in his bottom by wriggling more and more.

Pausing momentarily, Ruth rubbed the sting from her hand.  She decided that hand had a few more spanks left in it, so she expended them with a fusillade to each sit spot.  Tim’s sobs and urgent wriggles told her that he was feeling it!  This filled the young lady with a new confidence.  She had Tim in tears and she hadn’t even started with the hairbrush yet!  Ruth’s doubts were erased.  Now she knew that she could physically deal with this unexpected part of her wifely duties but that didn’t mean that she was happy about them!       

With that part done, Ruth massaged her hand once more, and then switched her target area back to Tim’s buttocks, delivering ten scorchers to the summit of each.  As she did, she noted with pleasure that they were having an obviously uncomfortable effect on Tim.

“Now let’s try this with tools” Ruth thought as she brandished the hairbrush.  Now she reverted at least briefly to her mother’s style, starting at the very top of Tim’s mounds and slowly spanking her way down almost to the backs of his knees.  For this “layer” she wielded the hairbrush with only half-strength blows, carefully and slowly spanking Tim’s bottom to a uniform bright red.  Mrs. Marsh would have done this with her hand, but using that hairbrush was Ruth’s way of compensating for her lessor strength and soft hands.

Only slightly out of breath, she spoke softly to Tim.  It wasn’t her place to scold him, so she spoke carefully, “Tim, I’m about to use the hairbrush full-strength.  Before I start, do you wish to remind us why you are being punished?”  

Tim had been openly sobbing, so it took him a moment to answer, “Because I drove drunk.  That was stupid, and dangerous.  I’ll never do that again.”

“That’s a good answer Tim,” she replied in the same deceptively soft voice, “This will hurt, but it will conclude this part of your punishment.  I hope to get it over quickly, but that depends on your cooperation.  OK?”

Gripping the chair legs with a new fervor, Tim nodded.

Ruth raised the hairbrush high.


In her bedroom, Mrs. Marsh listened to the action with undivided interest.  So far, Tim’s punishment sounded like a complete success.  She had heard Ruth start out with her hand, and then switch to the hairbrush.  She knew the punishment was effective because she could distinctly hear Tim’s sobs.

And then there was a pause...

Suddenly loud “pops” rang through the house.  Mrs Marsh properly identified the sounds as hard hairbrush blows.  Tim’s anguished howls soon gave proof of Ruth’s ability to wield that correctional tool.  The first dozen hairbrush blows came quickly and regularly, but the next dozen were irregular and spaced over perhaps three minutes.  Mrs. Marsh correctly guessed that Tim was having trouble staying in place for those final “bruisers”.


Still laying naked across his fiancee’s lap, Tim unashamedly bawled his eyes out.  Gradually he came to realize that his paddling was over, but his punishment wasn’t.  His paddling hadn’t gone terribly well.  Twice he had almost rolled off of Ruth’s lap, and three times he had interrupted Ruth by reaching back.  Ruth had been patient, but the practical effect was that he had prolonged his own punishment.  Tim knew that he had nobody to blame but himself.   

Gently, Ruth helped Tim to his feet.  He danced a little jig and wanted terribly to reach back to comfort his own bottom, but his punishment wasn’t over!  He still had the belt to go.  Dimly, Tim remembered the Pastor’s instructions.  In so doing, he remembered that he was supposed to be in charge of his own punishment.  During Ruth’s punishment for reckless driving, he hadn’t allowed her to touch her bottom between punishments.  Now it was him between punishments, but he desperately wanted to reach back to comfort his own bottom!

Still, fair is fair, so Tim somehow kept his hands from drifting back to his outraged nether regions.

He distracted himself by dealing with the unpleasant task of arranging his own belt whipping.  He started by gently taking the hairbrush from Ruth’s hand and replacing it with the belt, which she unwillingly accepted. 

His vision swam as he looked around the room.  His original idea had been to kneel in that dinette chair to present his bottom for the belt, but now he knew that he needed more support than that.  Then he thought of Mr. Marsh’s overstuffed chair, with its substantial arms.  That would do! 

But first he turned his attentions to Ruth.  He thought about kissing her, but his face was a nasty mess of mucus, tears, and drool.  Instead, he squeezed her hand in a gesture he hoped she found comforting.  It was hard to talk, but he croaked out a thanks and told her she was doing a good job. 

Then he busied himself preparing the scene for his whipping.  He borrowed a throw pillow from the couch.  He laid it on the seat of the chair, and laid his shirt over it for protection.

Then he turned to Ruth.  “Please don’t hold back honey.  I earned this, and things won’t be right until I’ve been properly punished.”

With tears in her eyes, Ruth nodded.

Finally Tim put himself over the well-padded chair arm, hugged the pillow tightly in an attempt  to immobilize his hands, and buried his face.  He hoped that his shirt would protect the pillow from his drool.

Now everything was up to Ruth.

She walked up behind Tim, appreciatively took in the view, and then carefully wrapped the belt around her hand, leaving a two-foot tail hanging.  Then she took a deep breath, fixed her eye on her target, wound up, and let fly.                             

Tim felt a breeze, heard the impact, and was just about to decide that hadn’t been so bad when millions of urgent signals reached his brain.  He shrieked, but somehow managed to stay vaguely in position, even though his bottom was literally dancing in place.

In the bedroom, Mrs. Marsh heard the impact and the shriek.  She nodded in appreciation.

Ruth only gave him ten lashes with that leather belt.  The first five or so were hell for Tim, but after that the fight had finally been spanked out of him.  He simply laid across the arm of that chair and bawled into the shirt-covered pillow.  Ruth’s aim had been imperfect, so the belt welts were distributed randomly and untidily across his buttocks and thighs.

Seeing the condition of Tim’s bottom, Ruth decided that justice had been adequately served.  She dropped the belt, laid a comforting hand on Tim’s back and spoke near his ear, “OK it’s done.  You were very brave and you have my respect for the way you handled this.  I’m going to call mom now to help me with you.”

Before Tim could protest or move off the couch arm, she had called for her mother.  In seconds she was there, inspecting Tim’s still-upturned bottom.  “For a first attempt, that’s an amazing job Ruth.  I see you already have the lotion.  Why don’t you treat his bottom while I find something to wash his face?”

At first, Tim really wanted to get up off that chair arm to indulge his impulse to dance and rub his livid and striped bottom, but he quickly changed his mind when Ruth began spreading that cooling lotion.  By the time she had completed that pleasurable task, Mrs. Marsh was standing there with a damp wash cloth.  They helped him to his feet, and then Mrs. Marsh washed his face as if he were a child. 

Looking at Tim, she made an instant decision, “Ruth, Tim is in no condition to go home.  So he will be sleeping in your bed tonight, which means that you will be sleeping elsewhere.  Let’s take him upstairs.  Leave his clothes here so I can wash them so he’ll have clean clothes in the morning.

So together, they helped the naked, livid-bottomed young man up to Ruth’s bedroom, where he thankfully collapsed on her bed. 

Mother spoke firmly.  “Ruth, this young man needs your attentions, but tell me now if this is too much temptation for you.  He might be naked, but every stitch of your clothing stays on you.  Is that a promise?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You have twenty minutes alone with him, but then I want you downstairs.  I will call Tim’s parents and then make arrangements for you to sleep at Aunt Mary’s house.”

Ruth started to protest, but then her mother stopped her, “There is no way that you and Tim are sleeping in the same house until your marriage.  I can’t stay up all night to watch you, and anyhow, people would talk.  Appearances matter!  I’ll see you in twenty minutes young lady.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Ardently, Ruth kissed and snuggled her man.  It felt far different with him naked, and she did indeed feel temptation to take things much further than The Rules allowed.  Still, there were things that she could do.  His punishment had erased his erection, but now that part of him showed visible recovery.  Those hands that had so recently felt so hard on Tim’s bottom now felt silky smooth as they enveloped his manhood.   

Efficiently she gave him relief, and then cleaned away the inevitable result.  Delivering that punishment had left her strangely aroused, so she would have appreciated similar relief for herself, but Tim was in no shape to deliver, nor was there time.  She would have to take matters into her own hands later that night.

After having had a long and trying day with little sleep the night before, and now freshly spanked, paddled, whipped and wanked, Tim wasted no time drifting off to sleep.  Ruth turned out the lights and closed the door behind her.  She went downstairs to find that her mother had already packed her a small overnight bag.

Ruth agreed to drive her mother’s car the few blocks to Aunt Mary’s house.  She would return early the next morning to cook Tim breakfast.


As Ruth drove, a thousand thoughts and emotions swirled through her head.  She had never expected anything more than a passive role in her marriage, because that was all that she had seen at home.  The idea of punishing her husband was new to her, and she wasn’t totally comfortable with it.  Would her relationship with Tim be the same as before?  Could she depend on him to still be the same strong husband that she had always wanted?

On the other hand, the success of this first attempt at punishing another person had left her flushed with a guilty pleasure.  She had felt an unexpected  frisson of sexual pleasure as she had swung that belt.  Along with that unexpected pleasure came a new sense of power, but one that was balanced against new feelings of guilt.  If she loved Tim, how could she take pleasure in his pain?

She didn’t know it yet, but tonight in her borrowed bed she would picture Tim’s roiling, bucking, twisting and reddening buttocks as she used her own hand to relieve the day’s sexual pressures.  In the morning, she would feel even more guilt.

Any psychologist could have predicted the problems that Tim would have with his fiancé over the next few days, but poor Tim was no psychologist!

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